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Though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  I  will  fear  no  evil;  for  the  shadow  is  mine  and  so  is  the  valley.

Indie.  Private  and  selective  multi-fandom,  multi-muse  rp  blog.  Ft  muses  Henry  Creel  of  Stranger  things,  The  Penguin  of  Gotham / DC,  Loki  Odinson  of  The  MCU,  Albert  Wesker  of Resident  Evil, and Davy  Jones  of  Pirates  of  the  Caribbean.  Mourned  by  Ire.  18+  only.  Please  make  sure  you  read  my  carrd  thoroughly  before  interaction. Caution  warnings  advised  for  horror  and  other  potentially  triggering  themes. 

𝑪 𝑨 𝑹 𝑹 𝑫 🪦

Olivia Gatwood, from Life of the party

    WHEN EDWARD SMILES,  he looks like the man he’d been when izzy first met him.  the silver streaking his hair  &  the creases that form when his lips curl make no difference ; he still has that same glint in his eyes that refuses to go out.  & regardless of all that has happened since then  — &  everything he might have said to the contrary — izzy did not regret his decision.  he would choose to save edward again, every time, no matter what the consequences might be.  &  when he playfully jostles their hands ( the idea that he might not talking about stede leaving him breathless ), izzy can only hope that ed knows how he feels.

          but in spite of all they've discussed recently, all the agreements they have come to in hopes of moving forward together, there is still a lingering sensation of guilt.  in the quiet moment where they sit with their fingers entwined, izzy hears the memory of his own voice returning to haunt him.  &  even when edward dismisses him from his post, izzy doesn't move, eyes downcast  &  shadowed.  hoping that he knows is no longer good enough ;  edward deserves to hear the truth.

        ❝ ed — ❞  he starts, voice soft  &  low.   ❝ you know, when i … when i said that i should've let the english — ❞  he breaks off.  he can't even bring himself to say it a second time, even now. &  after a beat he gives up  &  moves on.  ❝ i never should have said that. i'm sorry. ❞  &  slowly, as though it's a real challenge, izzy drags his eyes up from where their hands are still curled tightly together  &  back to ed's face.  ❝ i didn't mean it. you know that, right ? i didn't mean it. ❞

his gaze doesn't drop,   it holds fast to izzy's face,  nearly unblinking.  for years,  for two whole decades   (  un-fucking-believable!   ),  edward had looked at his first mate without really seeing the whole of him,  the answer that was nestled right there,  between unflinching devotion and fierce protection.  edward had suspected,  at the very least,  yet in the end failed to connect two very important dots:  this is not something he had clearly seen before,  on the deck of a ship or in more or less clean taverns,  a passing fancy.  this is a larger than life feeling,  almost,  and edward has finally learned to feel comfortable enough in his own skin to not bolt away from it in terror.  nah,  he runs towards it and doesn't let go.

he smiles a bit to himself,  then,  but it gets comically dispelled by izzy's words.  he opens his mouth in protest   (   you little—   ),  in fact,  only to begrudgingly close it shut on the basis that izzy hands is,  unquestionably,  right.  as he often is.   '  yeah,  alright.  stayed out of trouble this time,  though,  didn't I?  '   his smile returns,  shifting into a grin with no small amount of mirth to it.   '  knew there was someone important waitin' for me here.  '   he gives their still joined hands a little shake,  as if to say yeah it's you,  feeling absolutely mad with giddiness under the moonlight and loving every second of it.  which is why it takes him a couple more minutes to actually get to what got him climbing up to the nest in the first place.   '  hey,  you should get some rest.  i'll take the watch.  '

this is a bit that i cut from that last reply because it was getting tooooooo long, but i didn't want to lose because it kinda sent me :

his every move hurts, but izzy has become quite good at managing pain over the years.  &  tonight, he has no time to dwell on it. so he ignores it. at least, as much as he can given that every step of his ruined left foot carries with it an involuntary flinch. it's a clear sign of a weakness that he cannot suppress no matter how hard he tries.

he doesn't know if his captain will enjoy it, the constant reminder that edward has always been his weak spot, or if he will reprimand izzy for showing weakness at all.

      IZZY HAS NEVER BEEN THE GODLY SORT, no matter how intensely his father had tried to instill the faith upon him in his youth.  &  yet when he hauls lucius’ unconscious form out of the waves, he considers voicing a prayer to any deity that might be listening that the boy is still alive. he’d been floating for a few hours ;  it was already something of a miracle that the sharks didn’t have him for their supper, that he didn’t drift farther from the ship than he did, that izzy was able to find him in the dim light of a slowly approaching sunrise.  &  it seems that someone had afforded him one more.  because before he can utter a word to anyone, lucius is awake, eyes going suddenly wide  &  terror-stricken.

                ❝ i’s all right.  you’re all right, now, ❞   he says, flinching when the boy clings to him  &  shifts some weight to his freshly bandaged foot.  his tone is rough  &  uncertain, his voice not used to offering comfort. ❝ don’'t make me regret it. ❞ why izzy had come for the scribe  —  infuriating as he had been  —  even he cannot say. he had  felled countless men on blackbeard’s orders, never once hesitated to end a life if it meant protecting edward.  but this felt different ;  lucius was no threat to anyone.  he had simply been too close to ed when he’d snapped.  in the wrong place at the wrong time.  &  as izzy helps the half-drowned man steady himself, he recognizes the familiar sensation of guilt, heavy in his gut.

            it was his fault — so the least izzy could do was save his life.

           ❝ don’t worry about the others right now. ❞ before he had finally fallen asleep clutching his empty bottle, edward had mentioned a plan to leave any who would not be useful to them on a spit of sand somewhere, but izzy knew better than to say as much to lucius.  was cooking in the sun preferable to drowning in the sea ?  izzy didn't know which was a kinder fate.  ❝ we need to get back to the ship  &  you need to find a place to hide before the captain wakes up. ❞

voice hoarse and spent,   he doesn't have the energy to shout anymore,  so he just clings to the piece of wood beneath him like a lifeline.  it's safe to say lucius is nearly terrified out of his mind:  he is alone and surrounded by open water,  again.  it's pitch black,  again.  and who the hell knows,  there might be sharks lurking nearby.  oh,  great!  now he is even more terrified.   '  please  —  guys?  anyone?  '   his scream is met with silence once again and lucius chokes on a sob,  letting his head fall weakly against the wood.  the storm has been bad enough and now he is stranded,  stuck in one of his nightmares  —  has been for what seems like forever,  when it couldn't actually have been more than a few hours.

water ripples around him,  jerking lucius awake.  and he nearly lets out another scream when he sees a shadow looming over him.  he scrambles for some excuse to spill out,  in case it's the navy,  but he doesn't need to.  he half collapses against @musecraft 's smaller,  but much steadier frame and breathes out the first relieved breath of the night,  right against his shoulder. ( found )  

'  thank god,  i thought i was going to die.  '   shivers wreck through his body now,  making it harder for him to speak,  but that doesn't deter him from cracking a weak smile.   '  aw izzy,  didn't know you  —  you cared.  '   a bit lame,  he knows,  but he thinks a near death experience should grant him some leniency.  jokes aside,  they have come quite far from their less than amicable start..  so,  did izzy actually worry about him?  he has certainly found him first,  at any rate.  reason,  however,  makes it back into his brain at last and lucius gathers himself upright.   '  wait.  what about the others?  are they okay?  ' 

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

The Lady of the House of Love, Angela Carter

@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. ❞

      HUMANS WERE ALWAYS dim, slow creatures, but they were especially pathetic at night when they could barely see. convenient, considering that venturing out of her coffin & onto the deck during the daylight hours would quickly cook her alive. but after the caribbean sun had slipped beneath the horizon, it was a simple matter for nadja & laszlo to turn into bats & fly over to their targeted ship before returning to their human bodies & feeding upon the crewmen. once their thirst had been sated, it was much easier to plunder whatever they pleased from the cargo. & between the two of them, they often left the cabins & the hold alike picked clean.          this crew had put up a particularly heartfelt fight, but nadja still cut through them without much difficulty, their dedication to protecting whatever the vessel carried only encouraging her to move faster. when the spanish soldiers had all been felled, nadja left laszlo to feed & pressed on below, eager to discover what cargo the humans seemed so ready to give their lives defending. a locked door awaited, but it barely delayed her as she crashed through, tearing the iron padlocks from one chest after another & flinging their lids open. & when each one had its contents revealed, she squealed in delight, calling for her husband to come & see the spoils for himself.        she was untangling a long strand of pearls from a cache overflowing with gold chains & jeweled pendants when laszlo appeared behind her, sweeping her into his arms & drawing out another adoring squeal. ❝ look, my love, look ! it's the most gold i've ever seen in one place — & it's all ours ! ❞ his compliment earned him a kiss, nadja pausing in her celebration long enough to to lick a few lingering droplets of the captain's blood from his lips before she found her feet again. ❝ but must we really tell the rest of crew ? we did all the work of taking the ship after all — is seems fair that we should get all the reward. ❞ she mused, returning to the pile of jewelry & freeing the pearls from the chest at last before draping them loosely around her pale neck. ❝ i think we deserve to keep the finest things for ourselves for once, don't you my dear ? ❞

     THE DRAINED CORPSE OF THE FINAL SPANISH FOE dropped unceremoniously to the ground. The sound of his wife’s voice beckoned him down the hull until he found his way to a door halfway ajar. “ What have you found, my darl-? ” His words were cut short as he stepped into the room, the sight before him truly being one to behold. Several chests all opened to reveal an array of glistening jewels and coins. However, it was the sight of Nadja standing there, the light of her lantern flickering against her skink, which would have made his heart skip a beat was he not already dead. “ Look at that! ” Laszlo wrapped his arms around Nadja’s waist, momentarily lifting her in his excitement. “ Were you not here those jewels would be the most gorgeous thing I’ve seen today.” He let her go, although one hand lingered on the small of her back as the other scooped out a handful of the gold doubloons. “ We should probably let the rest of the crew know… ”

‘wait ‘til you see what’s down here. we’re going to be… um, rich.’ — for laszlo from nadja sent by @musecraft

🪐 — CALYPSO / dash games ; WHAT JEWELS ARE YOUR BONES MADE OF?

OPAL. oh you are everything! ❍ indecisive, chamelonistic, flighty ❍ multitalented, innovative, extraordinary ❍ jack of all trades and master of all you touch ❍ containing multitudes ❍ you catch the light in different ways and all of them are you ❍ you get more selves than the rest of us, my darling. take this gift and use it well.

TAGGED BY: @spynorth — thank you, friend ! TAGGING: @thecodekeeper + @khrused + @munsontm + @trickstercaptain + @walkpathe ( for aro maybe 👀 ) + you reading this rn !

BLACK LADIES IN FANTASY

naomie harris as tia dalma/calypso in pirates of the caribbean: dead man’s chest (2006) & pirates of the caribbean: at world’s end (2007)

      HIS EVERY WORD HITS HOME, & for a moment rae can only nod her head in utter shock. ❝ yeah, actually. i know exactly what you mean. ❞ it was almost unbelievable that jackson marchetti ( the swim team icon, head boy, & indisputable hunk ) of all people would struggle with anxiety. he always seemed so confident all the time, so unbelievably handsome & cool. but the symptoms of an impending panic attack are instantly recognizable — especially to someone who has firsthand experience with them. ❝ you're going to be alright. listen, just forget about it all for a second, close your eyes, & count to ten. slowly. it's something ti- something my friend showed me to do when everything seems overwhelming. it sounds strange, but it works. ❞ & rae reaches out to rest a friendly hand on his shoulder, hoping that the point of contact will help steady his breathing. ❝ here, i'll count with you, alright ? one ... two ... ❞

@musecraft​ ( rae ) sent a meme for jackson:

33. west end girls  /  pet shop boys

        “ Too many whispering voices. If, when, why, what… It just doesn’t fucking stop, you know what I mean? ”

      ❝ I NEVER SAID i don't love you. ❞ the baron should know by now exactly how carlisle feels for him, & so his anger does not dissipate with the obvious ploy for pity. if anything, it only runs hotter. ❝ it's like you don't even listen to me when i speak. i may as well discuss moral philosophy with a brick wall. you think you know everything one could possibly ever know already & that no one could possibly have a valid argument if it's from a viewpoint you don't want to consider. it's infuriating. you infuriate me. ❞ & yet, when he considers taking the suggestion & leaving, the idea is repellant to him. something nameless keeps carlisle here, an unseen tether compelling him to continue arguing with this man who he knows will never agree with him. for yet another long night just seems more bearable if they are together — even if they find themselves once again at each other's throats.

100  —  the chain  by  fleetwood mac - from @musecraft​ (carlisle) for baron

“ Go back to hiding in the shadows with your rats. Damn your lies. If you don’t love me now you have never loved me.”

HIS EYES COULD BE  chips of jade, shallow  &  glassy yet reflecting little.  but howl's smile is strangely sincere;  he likes this one.  & the wizard inclines his head, an arm sweeping widely out to accent his bow with a flourish of royal blue silk.  ❝ it seems that my reputation precedes me. ❞  he does not deny it. & she does not cower away as most women would upon recognition, drawing a little closer instead.  it’s undeniably intriguing.  ❝ & yet you do not seem too frightened  —  for your heart, or any other lovely part of yourself. ❞  she seemed to embody not only her obvious beauty, but bravery as well.  oh yes, he liked her very much.   ❝ perhaps it is because you have me at a distinct disadvantage already, knowing my name while i do not know yours. ❞

🪐 — NADJA OF ANTIPAXOS / dash games.

𝕊𝔼𝕏, 𝔾𝔼ℕ𝔻𝔼ℝ & 𝕃𝕆𝕍𝔼 ℍ𝔼𝔸𝔻ℂ𝔸ℕ𝕆ℕ𝕊 𝔽𝕆ℝ ℚ𝕌𝔼𝔼ℝ & 𝕂𝕀ℕ𝕂𝕐 𝕄𝕌𝕊𝔼𝕊 bold what does apply to your muse, italicize what applies in sometimes / some verses, strike what never applies & leave regular what's indifferent to your muse!

♡ GENDER IDENTITY: cisgender / intersex / gender-nonconforming / transmasc / transfemme / transman / transwoman / nonbinary / gender-fluid / genderqueer / agender / demi-girl / demi-boy / bigender / pangender / omnigender / two-spirit

♡ SEXUALITY: queer / gay / lesbian / bisexual / pansexual / omnisexual / asexual / androsexual / demisexual / fluid / non-labelled / graysexual / gynesexual / homosexual / monosexual / polysexual

♡ DATING PREFERENCES: monogamous / ethically nonmonogamous / monogamish / relationship anarchy / open relationships / polyamorous / doesn't date / dates casually

♡ ATTACHMENT STYLE: secure / anxious preoccupied / dismissive avoidant / fearful-avoidant / disorganised

♡ SEXUAL INCLINATIONS: sex favourable / sex adverse / sex indifferent / hypersexual / sex-repulsed / bottom / top / versatile / vers bottom / vers top / service top / power bottom / stone top / pillow princess / submissive / dominant / switch / brat / baby girl/boy / soft dom / pleasure dom / caregiver

♡ LOVE LANGUAGES / STYLES: words of affirmation / quality time / acts of service / receiving gifts / physical touch / activity / appreciation / emotional / financial / intellectual / physical / practical

♡ PHYSICAL ACTS OF INTIMACY: holding hands / kissing / cuddling / massages / bathing together / washing partner's hair / skin on skin contact / forehead kisses / playing under the table (e.g. hand on thigh, footsy etc) / playing with partner's hair / playful tickling / seeking them out in bed to hold / eye contact / reading to your partner / being read to / napping together / couch cuddles while doing separate activities (head in lap etc)

♡ KINKS & TURN ON'S: dirty talk / quiet in bed / loud in bed / having hands pinned / pinning partners hands / having hair pulled / pulling partners hair / being watched / watching their partner / voyeurism / receiving oral sex / giving oral sex / receiving penetration / giving penetration / praise kink / biting / marking up your partner / being marked up / impact play / edge play / teasing / being teased / using toys on partner / having toys used on them / choking / being choked / being restrained / restraining their partner / shibari / breeding kink / piss kink / worshipping their partner / being worshipped / humiliating / being humiliated / degrading / being degraded / pegging / being pegged / frotting / face sitting / dom/sub dynamics / DDLG dynamics / aftercare / anal / bdsm / light bondage / outdoor sex / sensory deprivation / roleplay / rough sex / threesomes / wax play / sensory play (eg. pinwheels etc) / knife play / blood play / caging / cbt / sounding / collars / exhibitionism / rimming / pet play / dressing up for partner / partner dressing up for them / daddy kink (recieving) / mommy kink / master/slave dymanics

tagged by: @shadowcovcn peer pressured me until i did this tagging: i have no idea who has done this already so. steal it from me !

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?  '

i'm officially using beta on replies from here on out ! for anyone who replies using legacy, i'll likely just trim both previous replies so the post just shows mine until we all make the switch. i'm figuring it out a little at a time, thanks to everyone for being so patient with me ~

What We Do In The Shadows S01E09 | The Orgy

      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? ”

SHE DOESN'T STAY AWAY for longer than she must, curling instinctively back against laszlo’s side the moment the furry little thing has disentangled itself from her skirts. after months with a vast ocean forcing their seperation, nadja cannot bear to leave even a meager gap between them, one of her hands taking hold of the one that laszlo offers & lacing their fingers tightly together. ❝  if you were getting lonely here on your own, surely you could have found some more entertaining company to keep than these little beasts.  didn't the neighbor man come  &  check on you ?  i sent a raven to ask him to see that you were still bathing  &  eating. ❞  nadja had worried about her husband being left entirely on his own. without her, laszlo had a tendency to forego his own needs in favor of whatever whim had captured his attentions in that moment — usually some kind of pornography. but she had hoped that the strange thing that had escaped from the corpse of colin robinson for would be enough of a reason for him to keep himself functioning, especially considering it had been enough to abandon her to face london alone.  &  to her relief, it seemed that while the house has fallen into disrepair, laszlo has been able to keep himself  (  &  indeed, an entire herd of odd little beings )  alive  &  thriving amongst the manor wreckage.

still, nadja fusses over her husband. she simply cannot help it, free hand smoothing the wrinkles out of the undershirt he wears  &  running through the thick waves of his hair.  ❝ when is the last time you fed ? ❞  concern bleeds into her tone, pulling it higher in both putch & volume.  ❝ how many times have i told you — you need to drink at least one fully grown human every week. you want to keep your strength up, don’t you, my great beloved ox of a man ? ❞

     HOW HE HAD LONGED FOR HER TOUCH THIS PAST YEAR- THE LONGEST YEAR OF HIS ETERNAL LIFE. They had never been apart for this long. Of course, taking care of the boy had occupied much of his time, distracting him from the impulse to play the piano and wank until her return, or better yet join his darling Nadja in London. However, in the early hours of the evening when there was nothing to do but slumber beside the empty space where her coffin once stood, those were the moments when his aching heart became impossible to ignore. With her return those torturous mornings were all but a distant memory. Laszlo haphazardly kicked rotted debris to the side as they bounded up the stairs hand-in-hand. He only paused once at the sound of her voice, turning to her, and pressing a kiss against the back of her hand. “Every second away from you was a second too long.”

     The feeling of Nadja's tongue against his hand sends goosebumps up his skin. He shuddered, wanting nothing more than to be with her, inside of her. For one's pleasure to become the others--- and then she squealed, pulling away from whatever diabolical creature had temporarily broken the moment. His free hand reached out to steady her as a black and grey miscreant scurried out from under her legs and into one of its many newly made holes. Laszlo squinted at the raccoon. At first, he had tried to get rid of them, but it had been a lost cause. They were roguish creatures that seemed to procreate at an astonishing rate. He simply couldn’t deny the sense of comradery he held for creatures that liked to fuck as much as he did. “ They’re raccoons, my darling. They took up residence in the walls some time ago. That’s Rocket, Toby, and Mozart, ” he said, pointing them out one by one.  

@musecraft

MAKE YOURSELF A MYTH AND LIVE WITHIN IT, SO YOU BELONG TO NO ONE BUT YOURSELF. 

independent captain jack sparrow. adored by lottie. established august 2014, rebooted february 2020. promo credit

🪐 — 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.

i saw a post awhile back that talked about how as you become a better writer, you also become more able to recognize ' flaws ' in writing — including your own. so it can actually become harder for you to actually write, because you're so critical of what you're putting down that you stifle your creativity before it even has a chance to get up on its feet. so while you're technically a better writer than you were before, you're actually writing a lot less because you're fighting against your own inner critic the whole time. & i think that's a big thing for me lately, tbh. at the risk of sounding cocky, i'm a good writer, & i know i can write some really readable yet evocative scenes. but the flip side to that is that because i know i can write incredible things, that means that i don't want to post ' average ' things. so i get really in my head about making sure what i put down is ' good enough. ' but the only standard for ' good enough ' is also only in my head. & i just become my own worst enemy because i feel i could always do ' better. ' & like, when i think back to me when i was first playing around with fiction writing over a decade ago, like, yeah her stuff was pretty predictable & relied on a lot of tired cliche's but you know what, she was learning & having fun ! & sometimes that's more important than making sure your writing is technically flawless, you know ? so consider this a reminder to me, but also to you, oh dear rp writer who is often too critical of your own work : this is tumblr rp. you're not going to win a pulitzer for anything you do here. literally the only goal in writing here on this site is to have fun. so don't take it too seriously that it stops being fun.

while you were attending therapy i was studying the blade