NO WORSE FOR WEAR. Save The Missing Toes, The Sleepless Nights, & The Damnable Bleeding Heart In Edward's

❝ NO WORSE FOR WEAR. ❞ save the missing toes, the sleepless nights, & the damnable bleeding heart in edward's chest that insisted upon making the rest of the caribbean bleed with it. but izzy knows better than to say so aloud. whatever the cause of edward's good mood today, he doesn't anticipate it to last — but he also doesn't intend to befoul it. ❝ we're already older than most of our lot will ever be. must be doing something right. ❞

You are not the burnt and broken shell of a man that I believed you to be. — for ed from izzy ( @musecraft )

"And you're not the listless, browbeaten husk of a man that I feared you'd become. Look at us. How many decades? And no worse for wear then when we started."

Our Flag Means Death 2.03 "The Innkeeper"

     THERE’S A DELAY, but it only lasts a breath. then a hand is closing around his, strong & determined, the pirate pulling himself to his feet. yet no sooner does he straighten than he stumbles again, his injured leg evidently unable to hold him. izzy is quick to slip himself beneath his arm, taking on some of the weight from his weakened side. ❝ it's up the stairs or under the hull, so up you go. ❞ he half-carries the taller man as they hobble together first up the narrow stairs & then across the empty deck. it's slow-going, but they don't stop even for a moment. when they reach the waiting rowboat, there is a brief breathless laugh at his side. & izzy thinks to himself that enduring a lashing would be well worth it for the chance to hear that sound again.

                    ❝ i told you, didn't i ? ❞ he responds softly, smiling in spite of himself. ❝ come on, get in. ❞ at his bidding, the man slips out of his arms to pull himself over the railing & into the dinghy. izzy misses the touch immediately. but there’s no time to mourn its absence — if they are caught now, it will all have been for nothing. ❝ row east, into the sunrise. the current is with you, & so is the wind. we shouldn't be able to easily follow you. ❞ his voice is little more than a breath, his hands moving fast to unfasten the tie-offs & prepare the rowboat to be lowered into the inky tide below. ❝ there's rations & water enough for five days, but you should reach land well before that if you keep your heading. ❞ the main knot falls open, but izzy holds it taut to allow himself one last look at edward teach. he truly is beautiful, almost unbearably so. the sky above is scattered with stars, & his wide dark eyes seem to reflect them all as the two men look at each other. they are from entirely different worlds, izzy knows, one clad in a pirate's leathers & the other in a royal navy uniform. but for a moment it seems their hearts beat in tandem, matching the steady rhythm of the waves. then izzy clears his throat & the moment passes, the final rope ready to release. ❝ you have to go. now. ❞

try as he might to make sense of the situation,   edward can do nothing but watch the man as he approaches,  slowly,  with no sneer or taunt on his lips.  his head spins,  sight faltering again and for a moment,  all he can see is the awful blue of his coat,  his words entirely forgotten   (   on my mother   ).  for a moment that stretches on forever,  he is surrounded and helpless again,  at the doubtlessly nonexistent mercy of the navy,  not for people like him anyway.  but then again,  even if they were to offer him a way out from certain execution in the form of service to them,  he'd only spit it back in their faces.  he finally shifts his stare to look up at the man's face,  realizing with some delay that he is talking,  in the middle of some long speech that edward only catches in fragments.  he's got the relevant bits,  and they make enough sense with the offered hand,  but he can't help looking at the officer like he has suddenly grown a siren's tail.

'  what the fuck,  man.  '   it has to be a quick decision,  he knows that,  there's no time for hesitation.  his only other option is doomed from the start  —  he can do jack shit on his own,  not with the state of his leg,  even if he were to incapacitate him somehow and steal his sword.  he'd still make a stupid,  insane,  bound to fail effort,  however.  you can trust me.  he grabs the hand,  of course he does.  he tries to kid himself,  half heartedly thinking that what comes next won't be so bad,  but getting on his feet,  putting even the slightest amount of weight on his bad leg is agonizing.  face blanched,  he almost passes out cold,  a black cloud obscuring his sight for a heart beat.  he doesn't remember deciding to do it,  yet lets the solid body near him hold him up with no resistance.   '  up the stairs,  huh?  gonna be fun.  '   he tries for humor,  even through teeth clenched so tight they start to hurt.  and up the stairs they do go indeed,  even though edward feels so sick he thinks he might loose it any moment, clutching that blasted coat with near to numb fingers.  when edward finally catches sight of the rowboat,  waiting for them just like the man said,  he feels like deliriously laughing.  he gasps out a startled half chuckle,  instead.   '  you really weren't kidding.  fuckin' lunatic.  '

some Random Things about tommy :

he is the oldest of four siblings — three younger brothers & a baby sister. as a result, his house is incredibly loud & rambunctious, but very full of love.

part of his bully behavior is to scare other kids in hawkins away from talking shit about his family background. as recent immigrants from central america to a mostly white midwestern town, tommy's parents face their share of prejudice. though his actions are wrong & misguided, tommy acts the way that he does in hopes of protecting his younger siblings from ignorant comments at school.

his parents are both predominantly spanish-speaking ( though his mother knows more english than his father ). the kids speak both spanish & english at home.

tommy's parents enrolled him in multiple sports as a child for three reasons: in an attempt to get him socialized with other american kids. to give him ample opportunity to learn & practice english. & to try to tire him out.

in addition to basketball, baseball, & football, tommy also loves wrestling.

he is a tagger. one of his favorite ways to kill time in hawkins is tagging public property. he will spray paint doodles, write random phrases, & practice his graffiti fonts on billboards, train cars, highway signs, & abandoned buildings. it is also him who repeatedly defaces the ' welcome to hawkins ' sign.

he doodles. the margins of his homework are always covered in weird little cartoon characters. if art wasn't a ' nerdy ' hobby, he would lean into it more.

as a bully & a jock, tommy is practically required to hate eddie & the rest of the hellfire club. he bullies them often & aggressively. which is a shame because he & eddie are actually a lot more alike than either of them may think, & could maybe even get along if tommy wasn't such a douchebag.

tommy eventually channels his hidden artistic talents & lack of desire to work a 'regular' career into learning tattooing. carol helps save up to get his first gun, & when they move out of hawkins, he opens up his own tattoo shop.

     WHEN HE TAKES HER HAND, nadja expects to feel teeth sink into her wrist. for what could be more important to a newborn vampire than their thirst for fresh blood? she remembers that, too : the way that her throat had seemed dry to the point of pain only a few hours after her change had finished, & the way that water had only made her ill all over again. he must be hungry. but instead, he only kisses the back of her hand, the image of a perfect english gentleman even as he rises from his deathbed & steps into immortality.

                      the tender gesture is enough to surprise nadja into temporary silence. & he seems to take advantage of her shock to cling to her hand a little longer. yet though their fingers remain entwined, his bright eyes drift out of focus, as if he is distracted by something, or deep in thought. but when he poses his question, it makes nadja laugh, the outburst reminding her where her voice is.

     ❝ cure you? don't be ridiculous, laszlo. i didn't cure you, i killed you, ❞ she clarifies, her tone unapologetic. ❝ perhaps i should apologize. i didn't mean to kill you. really, i didn’t — it's just that i saw you through your window & you were so handsome. & then when you let me in, & i suppose it's possible that i got a little carried away in our lovemaking. your fragile throat simply couldn't handle my passion, my sweet. ❞ & now it is nadja's turn to shrug. as if it's her fault that mortal men were so lovely & yet so easily broken.

             ❝ but i wasn't ready to let you go, so i made you swallow some of my blood as you lie dying. & now you're a vampire. ❞ & then she grins widely, her red lips pulling back to reveal a pair of long, needle-sharp fangs. ❝ like me. ❞

     SHE WAS LIKE A LIONESS encroaching on her prey, moving faster than he would have imagined possible. Common sense would dictate that he should be afraid. But how could he be? The past few days were a blur of pain and fever of which he thought he might not survive. Yet through that muddled haze, he had felt her presence. She, a stranger who owed him nothing, had watched over him like a guardian angel. For the first time since childhood, he had felt safe. 

     Perhaps it was merely a side-effect of his prolonged sickness, but he found himself acutely aware of his surroundings. Lights seemed ablaze and the sounds of the occasional carriage rolling down the cobblestone path below his apartment were thunderous. But her touch, by mighty her touch, was more poignant than anything he had felt before. Despite having been indoors for quite some time her fingers were cold- though he did not find this unpleasant. He shifted his weight onto his knees so they met eye to eye and gently grasped the fingers pressed against his neck. “ Leslie. Leslie Cravensworth, ” with that he pressed a kiss onto the back of her hand.

     The faint smell of blood on her hand left him with the overwhelming urge to suck on her fingers if only to have a chance at a glancing taste. He pulled back, brows knitted together as he struggled to put the pieces of this strange puzzle together. This was all quite peculiar. Leslie was well-read on the latest medical literature however when considering all his symptoms from the past few days to present no ailment sprung to mind. What’s more, he had gone from being deathly ill to feeling as if he had been reborn. Did the maiden before him have anything to do with this? Leslie was not one to believe supernatural babble, but could this truly be a coincidence? It was impossible to say. His memories of their night together were patchy. “ I’m terribly sorry, my darling, but I don’t seem to recall much of anything. Last I remember you had me on the verge of climax and then- ” he gave a shrug. “ Not a damn thing after that. What was it that you did to cure me. ”

      IF DROWNING COULD BE PLEASANT, it might feel something like this, izzy thinks as he feels himself drift deeper down down down into the kiss. the sensation of someone touching him so gently is pleasant, & the hand pressed against his chin is large & soft. & he does like it, he decides at last. so much so that when lucius stops to speak, izzy can’t help but groan quietly in protest. & it quickly turns into a scowl when lucius taps the side of his head. ❝ what is it with everyone on this fucking ship's obsessive need to — ❞ he cuts himself off with an aggravated sigh, refusing to let bonnet's favorite phrase leave his mouth. not here, not now.

            but izzy still doesn’t release his hold on lucius’ jacket, eyes downcast as he fiddles absently with the lapel. it takes him a moment, weighing the words carefully on his tongue before he lets them out. ❝ i don't want to talk, ❞ he finally says, voice low but steady. ❝ i want to keep kissing you. i want to touch you. ❞ as if to make the point, his gloved hand reaches out to rest just above the other man’s knee. & izzy slowly pulls his eyes up lucius’ body, for the first time truly allowing himself to appreciate the slope of his torso, the broadness of his chest, the kiss-flushed shade of his lips. ❝ i want to see you, & — ❞ he pauses, breath going shallow. ❝ & i want you to see me... underneath all this, i mean. ❞

izzy curls his hand around his light jacket again,   bringing them closer still and lucius lets out a laugh,  small,  more breath huffing out of his lips than sound.   '  like that,  do you?  '    lucius has certainly no complaints about it to make.  and besides,  he has better things to do,  like for example shifting just enough so that he can put one hand on izzy's leather clad shoulder while the other daringly comes to rest at the man's jaw,  skin on skin.  heart skipping a tiny beat,  lucius has to remind himself that izzy asked to be touched,  that this is fine,  all good,  nothing to worry about.  the angriest,  possibly most repressed man he's ever met,  allowed lucius to touch him, to lead him to a bed,  and is currently kissing him carefully..  gently even?  which is nice,  sure,  but. 

'  i'm not going to break.  you don't have to hold back if you don't want to.  '   on his part,  lucius is keeping his own touch considerate,  grounding rather than hurried  —  not because he is scared or inexperienced,  god no,  but simply because this should be a safe space,  one where izzy can let himself have this without shoving it away as fast as he can.   '  tell me what's going on in here,  '   he speaks quietly,  voice steady,  as he lightly taps a finger to izzy's temple.   '  tell me exactly what you want.  '