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[ninetoes]

« BASILICA » TEXT ✧ AUDIO ✧ VIDEO ✧ ACTION IZZY HANDS ✦ OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH
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GEMBOND ✦ Ruby

You've reached Izzy Hands. Leave a fucking message.

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text; un: blackbeard

[treading_water]

The mountain ⛰️ is SQUIRTing 💦 and storms 🌩 are on the RISE 🍆 ⬆️ guess 😱 what that means?! 💦✨️💦✨️💦
HOE WEEK BEGINS 💦✨️💦✨️💦 get 👅 ready 👄 for ur SPANKINGS 👋👋👋
send this to 1️⃣4️⃣ hoes 💅 who need to be spanked 😵‍💫 by daddy 🤠 if you get this message ✉️ 💌 you will get a special 😵 spanking 👏 from SUGAR DADDY 💰 🤑 💸 forward this to 1️⃣4️⃣ fuckgirls 💃 💋 🎀 to get
some 🍑👈 in-the-BUTT-ACTION 💨 if u dont 😣 be prepared 😰 for 6️⃣9️⃣ days without the d 🚫❌️🆘️

text; un: Basilica

[ninetoes]

What the actual fuck

[treading_water]

what do u mean

[ninetoes]

what do you mean what do I mean, what the fuck was that?

[treading_water]

u messaged me dickhead

Action - Early July Monster Week

[unlucky7]

It's maybe the furthest Ginia has gone out for a booty call with someone who may not actually be down to bang. She's taking Blackbeard's word for all of this, which is frankly quite questionable, but she doesn't think he'd lead her entirely astray either. If all else fails, she can always dive somewhere deep and enjoy the ocean for what it's worth. Maybe the cold water will help take the edge off her heat, maybe she'll distract herself enough to ignore it, or maybe things will work out.

The novelty of being on a ship is pretty cool too. She takes a raincheck for a tour later and is shown to where her possible company is. Truthfully, even if fucking during monster week isn't anything she's a stranger too—her anatomy is even humanoid this time—but the imperative drive of heat is a bit much. Her hooves don't give the best traction on wood either and she has to step a little more carefully. Four hooves might actually be easier to walk on though she has no idea how she'd even handle fucking as a centaur, even if there is a sex guide for that purpose.

Small blessings. A thing at a time. Ginia sizes up her company, the lilac horse ears on her head flicking forward. She's a sight to behold from the patches of pale purple scales on her skin and the gills on her neck to the light purple fur covering her legs as she balances on black hooves. Coral-like protrusions coming off her elbows, knees, down her spine, and curl back from her head like coral antlers. Fish and horse combined together make a ridiculous look for so things go.

"You must be the guy Blackbeard knows," Ginia signs dryly, sizing up her present company. "I'm Angela."

[ninetoes]

It's an interesting time to visit the ship. The dynamic aboard is, quite frankly, a total shit show. Not particularly unusual in Izzy's opinion which he attributes entirely to Stede Bonnet existing, but there's precious little he can do about it.

He's tried. And as a result, he has been put in his place time after time after time.

Even here in Noctium.

Especially in Noctium.

The Big Richard is not a large ship, ironically. More a skipper than anything, she's roughly forty five feet in length and small enough for Edward to sail alone should he need. The cabin below deck is just big enough to house her crew of four, with precious little space for privacy. Which is why Izzy is, more or less, hiding at the back of the boat in the small lower half deck where someone might lounge and nap or, on a lucky day, even fish.

He's there, waiting, because he has been told to by his captain. Put in a state of obedience through the tattoo of kraken ink freshly embedded in the flesh of his chest. All wired up with need and told to wait for a guest of Edward's who Izzy is supposed to make feel...welcome.

There's no disguising what he is supposed to do, and pulled taut the way he is, he doesn't really have any objections on the subject.

Like Edward, Izzy is older. Distinguished in his middle age but not without the fire of his prime still burning away. Unlike Edward, he is quite short, even during transformation week. His Basan self manifesting with large black wings and a tail of long, arching feathers that glimmer jewel tones in the sun. Little feathers work their way along his temples into salt and pepper hair, as well as up his wrists and forearms, currently covered by a shirt of fine, black linen - split up the back to accommodate his wings.

When approached, he stands and turns, taking in the unfamiliar voice of a woman before his brain catches up and she-

-Edward didn't say she was a fucking horse. What the fuck.

"I uh- Izzy," he answers after a moment.

"Blackbeard's first mate."

[unlucky7]

At six feet tall unaffected, Ginia tends to be among the taller of the Gembonded. Her height isn't much different transformed as she looks down at Izzy. Blackbeard didn't say his company was a cock but then again he didn't say much about things at all. First mate. Ah, that does explain things.

...Kinda. There's a logic she's working through. It doesn't matter.

"Nice to meet you," she signs, letting the magic of the world translate for her. There's a bit of a hunger in the way she looks over him, fidgeting slightly on her hooves. There's a memory of being chased by rooster-like monsters a few months back. Basan, she think it might have been called. It's certainly a striking look on a person. He's maybe older that she leans toward, but she's not very picky right now either. At the same time, there's a lot she wants to clear first.

"Did Blackbeard tell you I'm looking for someone to hook up with?"

[ninetoes]

"He said to make you feel welcome," Izzy replies. British. The tone is low and smoky. He casts another appraising once over. It's a hell of a shock, but her form isn't displeasing. Just new. Interesting, even. And the threat of what might happen if he rejects her is far too strong to find out.

"But I had the feeling that's what he meant, yes."

text; private | @GentlemanPirate

[finethings]

[It's nearly two weeks to the day since The Blowjob when Stede finally gives in to the curiosity burning in his chest, and breaks the radio silence between them other than what's been strictly necessary. Just a short text, because he can't stop thinking about the photo Lucius sent him, and what it means.]

Heard you've got a new tattoo.

text; private un:Basilica

[ninetoes]

[Ugh.

2:45 Read.

3:05:]

Do you want to see it?

[finethings]

[Rude to keep a man waiting, Izzy!]

If you're offering. Your cabin?

[ninetoes]

[It is by design. But. Hm. This has not played out the way he wanted it to. He assumed Bonnet would say yes in which case Izzy would send him the selfie he just took of him flipping off the camera and call it a day.]

Absolutely not.

[finethings]

[A few weeks after the cure, once they've all more or less settled into their fantastic and beautiful new ship, Stede finally gathers the courage to slip a note beneath the door of Izzy's cabin. He considers, for an agonizing moment, just saying fuck it and knocking, but he doesn't even know if Izzy is inside, and it all feels a bit...silly, really.

The note is hand-written in Stede's elegant script, with a few small inkblots where he'd pressed pen to paper in a moment of indecision, and one big scratched-out word at the end.]

Izzy—

I hope you're finding the new ship to your liking. Ed is having a hell of a time figuring out how to run it, but it's quite lovely I think. I want you to know that I have not forgotten about our conversation from before, and if you want to talk about it, my door is open.

Yours Signed,
Stede

[ninetoes]

[The small scuff of paper across fine wood flooring should be hard to hear in a room this size. Izzy’s never been aboard a vessel this grand. It’s like a palace on the sea, and he’d say it was disgusting if he didn’t know it had been picked out specifically for…him.

He hears it. His room is silent. No music. No tv. Nothing but the scratch of a pen as he marres the page of his journal. Izzy pauses before he pulls himself up from his desk, an ornate thing that has no right to be on the water where the salt and moisture will devour it and is far too lavish for the likes of him. Stede’s fine taste. Taste Izzy doesn’t understand if only because it has always been out of his reach. A long career with Blackbeard, more riches and raids and success than most, all of that for years and still it was out of reach.

Your class shouldn’t matter when you have freedom, but it’s a hard wound to salve all the same.

Sure would be easier to fold and let himself think he deserves nice things. Accept it how he accepts the sun will rise. That the tide will come.

It isn’t. Maybe a few weeks ago. A few weeks ago he’d been in heaven. An existence so twisted and dark and steeped in blood that it should be horrifying. The blood didn’t bother him. The taking of lives, the power, the riches, the sex. None of that. What’s horrifying to him, is the stark sobriety now it’s all gone. Getting comfortable, building something for himself for once and settling into it graciously- and then it all fell to nothing. It dropped, that nasty other boot. It always does.

Still, weighted like his boots are lead, Izzy pulls himself up and crosses his too large quarters past his too nice bed. He sees the note and bends with a small grunt to retrieve and read it. He knows who wrote it without unfolding the paper. Edward doesn’t do notes. Lucius is avoiding him. The paper smells softly of Stede’s hand. His lotion or perfume or something. Izzy hates that he fucking knows that. Makes his stomach roll.

It rolls harder as he reads.

He hasn’t forgotten either. How could he.

Izzy swallows and closes his eyes for a moment, jaw clenching. His molars creak as they grind together. What the fuck is he supposed to say, yes? Of course he’s delighted? That the ship is a dream, a fairy story, some kind of technological wonder he could never fathom in a million years. That no, he hasn’t forgotten he’d made a proposal but wishes he could more than anything. That he has no place with Stede and, painfully, probably no place with Edward, either. That he knows but he’s too weak to say anything about it so he’s been hiding in his quarters and ghosting around the ship like a phantom because he’s fucking terrified?]

Ffffuck.

[Just a hiss of the word. He folds the letter and lets it, and his hand, drop to his side.

There’s a split second where Izzy lifts like he might throw open the door. Like he might lose his fucking mind and go after Stede to.. to do what.

The momentum flags away as quickly as it arrived. He’s a coward. It’s too much. He’s lost too much. He’s gained too much. This sort of thing isn’t meant for men like him. Just like wealth, like class, like extravagance, it’s out of reach.

The door goes unanswered but not forgotten. The note is read a hundred times. Two hundred times. Obsessed about for hours. The words wound up and down and picked to pieces. Secret meanings and signs and code looked for and dissected and held to light. No secrets divulge themselves. By evening, he’s in the same spot he was hours ago, just tipsy and confused and a little angry. A little horny. Extremely wired. Treading water. Somehow managing to drown at the same time.

Pathetic.

The Dutch courage is what finally makes him move. The agony of yearning. The memory of soft kisses and softer hands and hard, raw power. Poetry in every line of Stede’s body. In his every word. In the courage of his convictions.

It’s the Dutch courage that makes him finally leave his cabin, newest clothes abandoned for his old faithfuls. Washed and dressed, hair carefully, anxiously combed into place. Beard checked over and over, the hair conditioned soft with oil gifted to him. He’d trash it if it wasn’t so nice. If he didn’t convince himself to keep it because vanity had a hold on his shrivelled black heart.

Izzy hopes beyond hope that Stede is alone when he finds him. That Edward is somewhere in the bowels of this vast floating kingdom. That they have a moment.

He brings the bottle. Knocks softly. Prays it isn’t answered and he can disappear again.]

[finethings]

[Stede dithers in the hall for a moment or two longer, but soon absconds back up to the master suite he shares with Ed. He spends the next several hours pacing the room, sitting down with a swirl of his coat only to stand right back up again and prowl back and forth in front of the window like a caged panther. Ed is in the control room with the ship's manual Stede had finally tracked down, leaving Stede to fidget and worry and glance at his device every few minutes as if Izzy would do anything so ridiculous as text him. He finds himself lying in the middle of the frankly massive bed and remembering how empty it feels, just the two of them, once he'd gotten accustomed to sleeping with Ed and Izzy. Now the empty space just burns, a jangling in his nerves of right-wrong that he's come to associate with Izzy over time.

He feels...conflicted. Clearly, Izzy had had he and Ed under some kind of vampiric hold. A thrall. He'd known as much as soon as he'd snapped out of it, and his ears burn now at the thought of everything that had transpired between them. The blood, and the sex, and the promises, his cheek pressed to Izzy's knee, and what had followed after...

It had all felt so real, so easy and right. And even though he knows it was all wrong, all skewed, a thin veneer over the reality of what they really are to each other...he misses it. Misses how simple things were, for a little while. He hadn't felt conflicted about wanting Izzy, because it had felt like the most natural thing in the world. But now, he's not so sure. Can't even begin to know what Izzy is feeling, whether or not he regards it all as a huge mistake. An embarrassment.

Impossibly, there's a knock on the door. Stede's heart, mercifully beating once more, flies into his mouth, and he leaps to his feet only to turn in a little circle and sit right back down. It's probably Lucius, he tells himself sternly. Don't get excited.

All the same, he pushes his golden curls away from his face, and straightens the collar of his peacock blue satin-lined dressing gown, draped over the day's outfit like a security blanket.]

Come in, [he calls, trying and failing to sound like a normal, unbothered human being.]

[ninetoes]

[Yeah, perfectly normal. Sounds about as perfectly normal as Izzy would, if he thought about it. There's still an opportunity to leave. To turn on his heel and go back to his sickeningly quiet bunk and lay there swimming in shame. There's time.

But while this is a large ship, it isn't large enough to just. Never see or speak to anyone ever again. Sooner or later he and Stede will have to be in the same room with each other for more than a few awkward minutes and sooner or later they will have to talk about this. There's not even a crew for Izzy to boss around, instead, this is so bullshit.

The doorknob turns. Izzy lets himself in and closes it quietly behind him, as though making noise would somehow announce his crippling, anxiety as well as his presence. He isn't sure what to say. He isn't sure there's anything to say. If Stede was going to banish him off the boat then he could have done that with the note. Edward, surely, would have come with him. There would have been a confrontation. There would have been something more than an invitation to talk- fuck. He doesn't know. It's too hard to fucking think as Izzy drifts into view from the bed - tightly laced and looking ready to come undone at the seams any second.]

un: GentlemanPirate

[finethings]

[In the immediate aftermath of this thread, Izzy receives a series of text messages, each spaced out by a few minutes. The last one comes after nearly half an hour.]

Isreal? Did you tell Ed he was broken?!

I hope you know you’ve crushed his spirits. I found him trying to drown himself in the heated bath.

I’m going to need you to return to the ship.

We need to talk. All of us.

Please come back, Izzy.

Please?

un: Basilica

[ninetoes]

No.

[finethings]

[WELL.

Honestly, though, he's not sure what he expected.]

Well, why in the hell not?

[ninetoes]

Because I'm sick to fucking death of listening to your lots bullshit about new lives and sparkly rainbow promises but getting the shit end of it when I dare to fucking do something for myself.

He's fucked off I haven't let him control one insignificant aspect of my life and you know what? I don't care.

Also he can breathe under water. He's being dramatic to manipulate you.

[treading_water]

Twas the beginning 💆‍♀️of Hoevember🍂 Spanksgiving🍁day🌞 And all🌎the Spanksgiving🤗hoes👯‍♀️ were out👀to play😈
Mr. Turkey 🦃👨🏻 Mr. Turkey 🤩🦃 Nice and Fat 🐷 Nice and THICC🍑😳 Give👹me stuffing😤 Give me🐽stuffing🤰 Give me DICK😈 Give me DICK👁👅👁
But poor😥Mr. Turkey🦃 could not🙅🏻‍♂️give his seed🌾💦 For it was “No🙈🥜nut🥜🙈November🍁” To get cumpkin🎃pie🤤 They’d👉have to wait😳 till🍆Dickcember❄️☃️❄️
Mr. Turkey🦃please😖 All the little👧hoes cried😫 If you can’t👎give your seed🌾💦
And🧘‍♀️gobble🦃my ass🍑👅😈”
Send📬this to 🔟 hoes💁‍♀️by 🍂Spanksgiving’s🍁 end And the🥩getting eaten👄🍴 Might🧘‍♀️be your rear🍑👅end🤩

[ninetoes]

I'm confiscating your phone Edward.

[treading_water]

FORWARD THIS MESSAGE ⏩️✉️ TO ALL THE TURKEYS 🦃🥩🐦 YOU'D LIKE TO STUFF 🍆🍑😩 THIS HOELIDAY 🫦💄💅👯‍♂ SEASON 🧂🌶️ GET 3 3⃣ 🤏 BACK AND YOU'RE A DRY TURKEY HOE 🚰🚫🦃 GET 5 5️⃣😮 BACK AND YOU'LL GET STUFFED 🥙🍆💦 WITH DADDY'S SECRET 👨‍🍼👨‍💼🤫 RECIPE 👅🥛

[ninetoes]

[He doesn't even know 5 people!!!]

Curdled milk
cinnamon
mud
my own fucking toe
a tow rag