IZZY ALWAYS HAS A PLAN, & Tonight Is No Different. As He Descends Silently Belowdeck & Makes For The

IZZY ALWAYS HAS A PLAN,  &  tonight is no different.  as he descends silently belowdeck  &  makes for the brig, the only step left to execute is don't get caught.  he didn't know exactly what would happen to him if his majesty's finest apprehended him in an attempt to free a pirate they had taken prisoner.  but after the brutality he had witnessed them inflict upon the beautiful young man they had captured by chance, izzy had not been able to stop himself from taking the risk.  it had been all he could think about then — when he'd screamed, when he'd doubled over, when the soldiers had laughed  &  taunted him  —  how to get the man off this ship before they could harm him again.  &   izzy is quite sure that he can do it, but he has to act quickly.  so with a stolen key  &  no hesitation, he opens the cell  &  steps inside.

an injured predator can be dangerous,  &  izzy remembers well how quickly the man had thrown himself at the leutienant when he’d attacked his mother's heritage.  but while there is a sword at his belt, izzy makes no move for the blade.  it is not meant for this man.  instead, his hands extend, palms up to show that he means no harm. ❝ no tricks.  i swear it.  on my mother.  ❞  his tone softens when he speaks of her, as it always does.

the dim light in the brig makes it hard to assess the scale of the man’s injuries.  but he had heard the crack of the rifle against the bone himself,  &  he can imagine the pain must be immense.  izzy can help him up the stairs  &  across the deck, but the plan will fall to pieces if he can't hold himself upright enough to row.  ❝ listen, i have a tender rigged  &  waiting for you.  i’m on deck watch tonight, so no one will see you leave.  i can help you get up the stairs  &  into the boat,  &  you should be able to put enough distance between yourself  &  this vessel before daylight if you row hard  &   travel with the current.  but you have to go now. ❞  &  then he extends his right hand, a clear offering of help.  ❝ it's ok.  you can trust me. ❞

he must have lost consciousness,   between a rifle smashing against his knee and officers dragging him carelessly to the brig of one of his majesty's damn ships.  at the very least they weren't laughing on their way down,  nobody was:  the agony rippling through his bones had triggered the worst of his temper like a dynamite fuse being lit.  even bound and with nausea threatening to empty his stomach right there on deck,  edward had scratched,  bitten,  and attempted to throttle at least one blue coated bastard   (   no such luck,  the fellow's still breathing   ).  the whip he could have endured,  he's tasted it a few times on hornigold's ship,  the sneers too   (   boring,  unoriginal,  the same old drivel that could have been directed at any pirate   ),  but then it had gotten personal.  then they thought it would have been funny to tell him that a cage is the only fit place for someone like him.  and his mother both.  to make it absolutely clear it wasn't about pirates anymore.

the sound of a door closing causes his head to snap up from the floor,  where he was laying curled around his knee,  and agony jolts through him anew as he scrambles to sit with his back to the wall.  vision blurs and then doubles,  but @musecraft 's voice makes it above the ringing in his ears enough to be heard:  hey, how badly are you hurt? can you move? you think you can walk?

'  fuck —  '   the first thing out of his lips is a pained gasp,  followed by a few shaking breaths.  he almost wishes the man would bludgeon him in the head and return him to blissful darkness.   '  stay away from me.  '   he manages to hiss a weak warning,  finally.  but even with pain clenching his jaw leeching his face of color,  he doesn't remember this one being among the laughing bastards above deck.  edward has learned to analyze a dangerous situation quickly and he's sure of it,  as much as he is sure that his knee is utterly fucked.  brows furrow then,  and he blinks in a desperate attempt to clear that awful fog from his eyes.   '  are you trying to fucking trick me?  '

Absolution. A clean slate for all those willing to accept it.

Olivia Gatwood, from Life of the party

🪐 — LUCIUS SPRIGGS  for  izzy !

‘  yes.  yes,  izzy you—  wait.  ’   half exasperated tone grinds to a halt.  his brain fights for control,  pushing back the bewilderment of it all and the dizzy   (   no pun this time   )   feeling spreading through his body.  it’s a bit comical,  this whole situation  —  they haven’t been on a first name basis until,  well,  now,  not without a bite of thorny sarcasm on lucius’ part anyway,  but this is not why he calls for a stop.  a break,  rather.  thing is,  he’s noticed it:  the limp. the..  whatever the hell happened to izzy’s foot.  and it’s late in the evening,  which means the man must have spent most of his day on his feet.  despite the infuriating sentiment izzy stirs in him almost without fail,  and the way past week’s words still kind of prick at the skin,  lucius spriggs is not,  at his core,  cruel.  and if he’s done the math right,  not even izzy deserves that.  did izzy notice it,  by the way?  how lucius breathes a little easier now that edward has left,  how his eyes don’t look for a way out and away from the man at any given time. 

'  we could sit,  you know.  it’s not much,  but i do happen to have something slightly better than the cold hard floor in here.  ’   the hand that was slowly moving through izzy’s hair   (   pretty soft,  actually   )   gets dislodged only so he can wrap it around the man’s wrist.  he doesn’t ask.  it’s a bit early in their tentative truce to go for the metaphorical throat like that.  maybe they’ll get there,  maybe they won't  —  for now,  lucius simply leads him towards the small cot stored against the opposite wall.  he mostly sleeps by himself now,  though pete visits sometimes,  because he ended up waking half the people on deck once,  screaming for help and tasting saltwater on his tongue after a freakishly vivid nightmare.   '  hello,  ’   he greets with a small grin curling around his mouth.   '  it’s still yes,  if you’re wondering.  ' 

     GENTLENESS IS ALMOST UNBEARABLE  to izzy hands  —  not because he doesn’t like it;  it’s far too early for him to try to work out how he feels about any of this  —  but because he has no idea how to respond to it.  he’d expected rushed hands  &  whispered instructions.  but lucius surprises him at every turn, seemingly content to take things at a more leisurely speed. he stops izzy before he can kiss him again, the younger man takes him by the wrist just above his glove  &  leading him deeper into the little room.  only when they're seated facing each other, his injured foot hanging off the edge of the meager sleeping cot, is izzy brave enough to meet his eyes.  &  to his surprise, he finds lucius looking back at him with a kind smile. still offering. 

                        something about being on a bed makes everything feel a little more serious,  &  izzy feels his breath hitch as heat floods his face.  the fear is still there, familiar as ever, a deep-seated instinct that urges him to fight or flee from some vaguely perceived threat,  but he knows that lucius won't harm him,  &  edward isn't here to be angry with him for forgetting his place.  &  izzy may be many things, but he is not a coward.

            so he pushes defiantly through the unpleasant sensation to press their lips together once again, more gently this time.  his skin flushes at the point of contact, but izzy forces himself to match lucius's unhurried pace, lips slow  &  explorative as they move against each other.  meanwhile, his left hand reaches out  &  finds the lapel of a cotton jacket, fingers curling into the fabric  &  tugging himself a little closer.  &  izzy has never smoked the opium that ed favors for the pain, never particularly cared for tobacco or felt the need to indulge in rum.  but as he leans further still into the kiss, he finds himself thinking that if he isn’t careful, he could quickly become addicted to this.

      LONG AGO,  she might have told him he looked dashing — even regal.  &  nadja could certainly admit that he was still handsome, especially now that he was returned to his former self by the djinn's magic.  but the fact remained that staten island was an entirely different world than the one they had met in all those centuries ago, back when the baron had wielded broad power  &  influence  —  &  he had very little of either now.  & nadja almost feels sorry for him.   ❝ that's just it, baron :  no one really wants to look like a noble anymore.  in twenty twenty-three, the hot look is more sporty peasant.  it’s much better to be relatable, you know. ❞  &   she pulls up her layers of skirts to reveal a pair of air jordans underneath.  ❝ like these.  i killed a man in the park for these.  i think they really boost my street cred. ❞

❝ why are you dressed like a sad silk trader? ❞  — for baron from nadja sent by @musecraft​

     IT HAD ONLY BEEN THREE HUNDRED YEARS AGO when Baron had been setting the latest fashion trends. But now, it seemed, time had gotten away from him. The world was becoming an ever stranger place— the New World specifically was a very strange place. One where kings mingled with paupers and vampires assimilated rather than thrived. Baron shook his head incredulously, his fingers tracing tenderly over the finely embroidered silk. He already suspected the answer but felt compelled to ask anyway, “ Is this not what all the nobles are wearing? ”

@walkpathe ( aro ) — sent to carlisle : ❝ have I not proved to you my friendship? ❞

THE FIRST THING that crosses his mind is that friendship is for the humans, not their kind — that to bond with another being without some ulterior motive is an experience incompatible with immortality. but carlisle regrets the thought instantly, certain that aro will dislike the hesitation, no matter how brief. ❝ please do not misunderstand ; you have been very kind to me, & you know that i'm very grateful for being permitted to join you all here, ❞ he responds, head inclined to show he is earnest. there is no lie here, nothing to conceal. after being cast out for his so-called defects by his sire & his distaste for the baron's proclivities reaching a breaking point, carlisle had precious few places to turn. aro alone had welcomed him in, & the volturi had proven to be cultured & sophisticated by comparison to the baron's cult — if ultimately just as bloodthirsty. but at least here, the philosophical queries that tormented carlisle were not scoffed at. aro may have disagreed with his assessment of the mortals as beings of value, but at least he humored their dissent with debates in good faith rather than defaulting to mockery. but for what reason aro actually wanted him here, carlisle still couldn't say. aro's thoughts, at least, remained well guarded. ❝ i only fear that i may be overstaying my welcome here. i know that there are those in your guard who disagree with my ... alternative lifestyle. i wouldn't want to cause any undue stress within your court. ❞