This is a very strange plan, one that Lucius really hasn't quite wrapped his head around, but if he asked questions then it would be explained to him and...no. No, thank you. So, it is with a very tired sigh, that he drags himself out of bed at the very crack of dawn to gather up the first of several...dozen? Yes, several dozen shirts that he's meant to give to Izzy.
He's also gathered up a book and some tea, nominally from the Captain, but mostly just so that Izzy won't actually murder him on sight if he catches him dropping this all off. Given how hideous the first shirt is, he certainly might try.
That's how Lucius finds himself carrying a handful of sundries and an awful linen shirt down the hall at five in the morning. He's dressed in his normal fare for once, save for the mustard yellow yeezys, and hopefully his new shoes are quiet enough that he can just sneak by Izzy's door after dropping this all off. If he can, then he's in the clear...but that does, however, conjure a new question. How is Izzy meant to know it's there if he's stealthy enough to slip away?
Maybe if he just, sets it down, knocks really fast, and then runs?
It's far too early for normal people to be awake, lulled into relaxation and lazy hours on a pleasure vessel. But then again Izzy is not normal people. Like Lucius (maybe), he is accustomed to rising at dawn, and if you think he's had any sort of restful sleep you are sorely mistaken.
The knock takes him by surprise and he rises to answer, thinking it may be Edward with something useful.
It is not. It is a pile of items accompanied by the soft thud of quickly retreating feet.
How sad for Lucius then that the hall is straight and long, with Izzy down the far end.
"Spriggs!" A sharp bark. Enough to stop anyone in their tracks. He hasn't been up long enough for this shit to start so soon.
"What's the meaning of this?"
Oh shit, already? That's his favorite time of day.
Lucius had tried to make a break for it but, well, he's not fast and...for some dumb reason he'd knocked, then put everything down, so he's not even really very far away. He stops, as demanded, because there's no playing it off and lets out a long, put upon sigh. When he turns back to Izzy it's with an apologetic sort of grimace.
"Welcome gifts, I guess," Lucius answers and, since he's not getting out of this, meanders back begrudgingly. "Captain's orders."
Ed's intention was certainly not to ask Izzy. When he leaves his cabin, he is mainly looking for Ava or Clarke, or Lucius, someone who presumably already knows Ed's reading difficulties and hasn't yet made fun of him for it, and someone who also would be a safe and fucking sane option to show mail from Stede (because it's definitely from Stede. Even if Ed's reading comprehension isn't top notch, it's pretty clear the only person who would send him such a pretty letter would be one Stede Bonnet).
"Iz!" And as soon as the greeting leaves his mouth, he regrets drawing attention to the letter flapping in his hand. Before all this, it would have been Izzy's job to read and filter through any correspondence or documents and bring the necessary details to Blackbeard. Here, Ed's found there's an abundance of people who can read, write, etc, but it's still habit to consult Izzy. "Uh, hey." He shoves the letter into an inner pocket of his jacket as he approaches his first mate. "How's progress on the crew?"
Now is an extremely odd time to catch his first mate. He is in. Mmmm... a bit of a state, to be honest.
Normal Izzy, buttoned up, tightly wound, Izzy, is momentarily put to bed as an aftermath of very good tequila and a foray into the land of just what the fuck a hot tub is.
Very good, is the answer. A hot tub is very, very good.
He's wearing one of his ugly shirts, a malicious gift from Stede, but it is black with a tolerable amount of tropical leaf line work, and very, very soft. The one drawback being that his single glove looks even stranger with short sleeves.
Izzy hears Ed approach before he even speaks, having committed the sound of his footsteps to memory, and just catches him hiding something away. He stops in the hall, casually leaning against the wall of the corridor lest he sway and betray himself, and wills his entire body into sobriety as fast as possible. It is only marginally successful in the way that drunk people think it is successful to act sober.
"Uh? It's is. Good."
Good, right? Yeah, fuck it why not.
"I'm assuming your crew is Bonnet's crew, but I've got another name. Darcy, young thing but rabid as a fucking wolf hound."
He clearly likes her, so that's saying something.
Even through his soggy brain he can hedge a bet that Ed hasn't come looking for an update on something he was not particularly engaged with previously. Izzy crosses his arms. Be casual, be casual.
It's somewhere around three in the morning when Lucius ends up at Izzy's door. This is early, even by his standards, or it would be if it weren't just egregiously late at night. He's tired, he's sore from cleaning and setting out the party, he's in a strange mood, and...if he's honest:
He's worried about his friend.
That's such a strange notion but, overall, it's true. Izzy is his friend. Sure he has others, but the locals are not...the same. Izzy is the only crewmate who is an actual, legitimate crewmate and literally the only tie Lucius has to his old life that isn't...well a Captain.
He knocks on Izzy's door primly, not the jaunty tune he usually uses but something similar, and waits. He shouldn't be doing this. This is a terrible idea. And yet, here he is.
Even if the knock is slightly different Izzy knows who it is immediately. He is drunk as well, but awake. Just... laying on his bed wondering what the fuck he is doing with his fucking life and hating the fact that he has literally no control over a single fucking facet of it right now.
He has never felt so fucking low, and he has been very low before.
A sigh. He waits to see if Lucius will fuck off, but pulls himself up anyway. It's habit, broken only by the last few days where they have been doing a sterling job of avoiding each other at all fucking costs. It has been lonely work.
Izzy sways as he stands, the whole world tilting a little. When he opens the door he is disheveled but dressed, and leaning on the wall.
Lucius had a plan, at some point. He'd been running over what to say to Izzy for several hours now, as he cleaned, as he partied, as he meandered around the hall in front of Izzy's door worrying. He thought he had a pretty solid plan, a good framework to build off of, unfortunately his stupid mouth fires off without consent from the rest of him.
"What's your problem?" Lucius asks as he breezily pushes past Izzy and into the room. He will not have a door slammed in his face. Not tonight. "I mean yes, I know shit, but I knew shit about you before and you never flipped out and got all..."
He gestures wildly with one hand to all of Izzy.
"Like this about it. How is this different from Earl Grey?"
Wow, this is literally the worst fucking time to come to 143. Why? Because two of the inhabitants of this room that should only be for two inhabitants, have gifted the third, original, inhabitant with a gift. A gift that must be worn. A gift that looks fucking ridiculous on a man not at all used to wearing such a thing so far away from his normal aesthetic.
But, you know, it's a useful item and so he's been trying to find a way to fold it into his normal clothes, it's just awkward because there's so much draping fabric and FUCK GOD HE FUCKING WHO IS THAT!?
The scraping at the door makes him think it's Stede in the immediate, and it's so fucking irritating that he pivots and yanks the door open.
[ Early on in the month, a new folder of photos appears on the recipient's phone. Inside is a selection of photos from various points in Darcy's childhood. Key photos are as follows;
-baptism and confirmation
-a handful of pictures from her first fencing lessons at 8, and subsequent first competition at 12. Features a medal presentation with three other girls about her age.
-Darcy on an idyllic looking farm somewhere mountainous, looking bored and uncomfortable in gumboots
-Darcy at a Christmas market, utterly delighted and chewing on some cured meat.
-a slightly blurry picture of her asleep on someone's shoulder as a toddler, drooling a bit.
-a single picture of her at a princess themed birthday party. Darcy wears the haunted expression of a war veteran and a bright orange flouncy dress.
-several embarrassing photos of her doing dumb kid shit that she is willing to murder over.
Any additional or specific photos I leave up to your discretion, go nuts have fun physically kill her with embarrassment. ]
The ship is ours and the rules no longer apply. Try it out right now! They can't stop all of us. Start a fire! Take some goods without a pointless charade! For fun, for freedom, just because you can!
[This is not strictly true, but Ari would love it very much if you caused as much chaos as you possibly can at this precise moment.
Replies to queries or complaints may be limited; Mission Control is very busy right now.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Log - What time is it? Shirt O' Clock Apparently.
He's also gathered up a book and some tea, nominally from the Captain, but mostly just so that Izzy won't actually murder him on sight if he catches him dropping this all off. Given how hideous the first shirt is, he certainly might try.
That's how Lucius finds himself carrying a handful of sundries and an awful linen shirt down the hall at five in the morning. He's dressed in his normal fare for once, save for the mustard yellow yeezys, and hopefully his new shoes are quiet enough that he can just sneak by Izzy's door after dropping this all off. If he can, then he's in the clear...but that does, however, conjure a new question. How is Izzy meant to know it's there if he's stealthy enough to slip away?
Maybe if he just, sets it down, knocks really fast, and then runs?
It's suck my dick o'clock
The knock takes him by surprise and he rises to answer, thinking it may be Edward with something useful.
It is not. It is a pile of items accompanied by the soft thud of quickly retreating feet.
How sad for Lucius then that the hall is straight and long, with Izzy down the far end.
"Spriggs!" A sharp bark. Enough to stop anyone in their tracks. He hasn't been up long enough for this shit to start so soon.
"What's the meaning of this?"
Oh shit, already? That's his favorite time of day.
"Welcome gifts, I guess," Lucius answers and, since he's not getting out of this, meanders back begrudgingly. "Captain's orders."
well you know I'm here to serve
Servin looks.
Every damn day babe
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
6/28
"Iz!" And as soon as the greeting leaves his mouth, he regrets drawing attention to the letter flapping in his hand. Before all this, it would have been Izzy's job to read and filter through any correspondence or documents and bring the necessary details to Blackbeard. Here, Ed's found there's an abundance of people who can read, write, etc, but it's still habit to consult Izzy. "Uh, hey." He shoves the letter into an inner pocket of his jacket as he approaches his first mate. "How's progress on the crew?"
no subject
Normal Izzy, buttoned up, tightly wound, Izzy, is momentarily put to bed as an aftermath of very good tequila and a foray into the land of just what the fuck a hot tub is.
Very good, is the answer. A hot tub is very, very good.
He's wearing one of his ugly shirts, a malicious gift from Stede, but it is black with a tolerable amount of tropical leaf line work, and very, very soft. The one drawback being that his single glove looks even stranger with short sleeves.
Izzy hears Ed approach before he even speaks, having committed the sound of his footsteps to memory, and just catches him hiding something away. He stops in the hall, casually leaning against the wall of the corridor lest he sway and betray himself, and wills his entire body into sobriety as fast as possible. It is only marginally successful in the way that drunk people think it is successful to act sober.
"Uh? It's is. Good."
Good, right? Yeah, fuck it why not.
"I'm assuming your crew is Bonnet's crew, but I've got another name. Darcy, young thing but rabid as a fucking wolf hound."
He clearly likes her, so that's saying something.
Even through his soggy brain he can hedge a bet that Ed hasn't come looking for an update on something he was not particularly engaged with previously. Izzy crosses his arms. Be casual, be casual.
"Did you need something?"
After Birthday Party Log
He's worried about his friend.
That's such a strange notion but, overall, it's true. Izzy is his friend. Sure he has others, but the locals are not...the same. Izzy is the only crewmate who is an actual, legitimate crewmate and literally the only tie Lucius has to his old life that isn't...well a Captain.
He knocks on Izzy's door primly, not the jaunty tune he usually uses but something similar, and waits. He shouldn't be doing this. This is a terrible idea. And yet, here he is.
no subject
He has never felt so fucking low, and he has been very low before.
A sigh. He waits to see if Lucius will fuck off, but pulls himself up anyway. It's habit, broken only by the last few days where they have been doing a sterling job of avoiding each other at all fucking costs. It has been lonely work.
Izzy sways as he stands, the whole world tilting a little. When he opens the door he is disheveled but dressed, and leaning on the wall.
"What."
no subject
"What's your problem?" Lucius asks as he breezily pushes past Izzy and into the room. He will not have a door slammed in his face. Not tonight. "I mean yes, I know shit, but I knew shit about you before and you never flipped out and got all..."
He gestures wildly with one hand to all of Izzy.
"Like this about it. How is this different from Earl Grey?"
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
Fuck off stalkers we’re 🍆💦 over here
LMAO.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
8/2
𝓘𝔃𝔃𝔂,
ℳ𝒆𝒆𝓽 𝓶𝒆 𝓪𝓽 𝓢𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓓𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓼 𝓪𝓽 𝓼𝒆𝓿𝒆𝓷-𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓻𝓽𝔂.
𝓣𝓱𝒆 𝓬𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓱𝓪𝓼 𝓸𝒇𝒇𝒆𝓻𝒆𝓭 𝓶𝒆 𝓪 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓪𝔂. 𝓦𝒆 𝓫𝓸𝓽𝓱 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓘 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝒆 𝓷𝓸 𝓲𝓭𝒆𝓪 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓘'𝓶 𝓭𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓲𝓽, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓘 𝓭𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓔𝓭𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓭 𝓹𝓻𝒆𝓼𝒆𝓷𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝓬𝓪𝓼𝒆 𝓽𝓱𝒆 𝓬𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓻𝓲𝒆𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓭𝓸 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝒆𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓷𝓪𝓼𝓽𝔂. 𝓦𝒆 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓽𝓪𝓵𝓴 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓱𝓲𝓶 𝓵𝓪𝓽𝒆𝓻 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔀𝒆'𝓿𝒆 𝓵𝒆𝓪𝓻𝓷𝒆𝓭.
𝓢𝓽𝒆𝓭𝒆
𝓟.𝓢. 𝓘𝒇 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓪𝓷'𝓽 𝓻𝒆𝓪𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼, 𝔀𝓪𝓿𝒆 𝓲𝓽 𝓪𝓽 ℒ𝓾𝓬𝓲𝓾𝓼. ℋ𝒆'𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝒆 𝓪𝓫𝓵𝒆 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝒆𝓵𝓵 𝔂𝓸𝓾.
no subject
(Honestly, I don't think he's going to take it very seriously, he's a puffed-up punk who wants to prove his dick's bigger than mine.)
no subject
Of course.
A ghost from the ship's crew?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
text; monday(tomorrow)
un:Basilica
Does it involve deadly projectiles?
(no subject)
I will retire to the Salton Sea, at the age of 23
is the offer for you to teach me how to drink still on the table?no subject
Offer stands.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
10/9 Text
Thinking of you. Hope you're having a good day.
I am pretty sure something is on the horizon, but what I can't say.
Keep on your toes.
Regards,
Stede Bonnet (Captain)
no subject
And he does. For an hour or so before giving in. Remembered he can read, have you.]
Literally or figuratively?
IH
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
At some point in October prior to Skulduggery Talk
no subject
But, you know, it's a useful item and so he's been trying to find a way to fold it into his normal clothes, it's just awkward because there's so much draping fabric and FUCK GOD HE FUCKING WHO IS THAT!?
The scraping at the door makes him think it's Stede in the immediate, and it's so fucking irritating that he pivots and yanks the door open.
"Bonnet enough- ooh... fuck me."
Not Stede. Darcy.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
( txt; un: BOMBSHELL )
( txt; un: Basilica )
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
Not from Darcy
-baptism and confirmation
-a handful of pictures from her first fencing lessons at 8, and subsequent first competition at 12. Features a medal presentation with three other girls about her age.
-Darcy on an idyllic looking farm somewhere mountainous, looking bored and uncomfortable in gumboots
-Darcy at a Christmas market, utterly delighted and chewing on some cured meat.
-a slightly blurry picture of her asleep on someone's shoulder as a toddler, drooling a bit.
-a single picture of her at a princess themed birthday party. Darcy wears the haunted expression of a war veteran and a bright orange flouncy dress.
-several embarrassing photos of her doing dumb kid shit that she is willing to murder over.
Any additional or specific photos I leave up to your discretion, go nuts have fun physically kill her with embarrassment. ]
Mid November
you seen jinx lately?
shes not in the infirmary anymore
havent seen her in a few days
no subject
Did you threaten Captain Blackbeard with a gun?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
text
MUTINY!
The ship is ours and the rules no longer apply. Try it out right now! They can't stop all of us. Start a fire! Take some goods without a pointless charade! For fun, for freedom, just because you can!
[This is not strictly true, but Ari would love it very much if you caused as much chaos as you possibly can at this precise moment.
Replies to queries or complaints may be limited; Mission Control is very busy right now.]