Jabllon
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like an ocean being warmed by the sun by foxtails for mossgroves
Fandoms: Our Flag Means Death (TV)
16 Feb 2024
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“Hey,” Ed says softly, and Stede wishes, only for a moment, that the world could see this. This man that sits beneath the legend and the myths and the stories. This man, this very human, very delicate man, in his robe, with his book, eyes all sleepy and soft.
This man, finally getting to live the life he never thought he was capable of having.
Bookmarked by Jabllon
14 Dec 2025
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“Shhh,” Ed says, though who he’s shushing, Stede has no idea. His head lolls helplessly, and he lurches forward into Stede’s arms like a sack of sexy, drunk potatoes. “Shhhhhh, s’late.”
“It is,” Stede agrees, amused. “Did you have a good time?”
“Mm. We stayed in. Fang made old fashioneds.”
“You hate old fashioneds.”
“Made old fashioneds for him,” Ed clarifies, his voice slack against Stede’s neck. “For me, he made. Uhh. This thing with, like. Birthday cake vodka?”
“Sounds yummy. What were the other ingredients?”
Ed loosens himself from the embrace, teetering backwards to squint at Stede.
“What other ingredients?” he slurs.
(Or: Ed comes home plastered. Stede has a few moral reservations about giving him what he asks for. A modern era two-shot about communication, vulnerability, consent and birthday cake vodka. It's mostly drunk sex. Happy birthday, SD!)
Bookmarked by Jabllon
10 Dec 2025
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Ed is doing a really really good job at taking it slow, so he made up a song about it that he keeps forgetting.
Bookmarked by Jabllon
01 Dec 2025
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tell me i'm what your hands were made for by apocryphalia
Fandoms: Our Flag Means Death (TV)
21 Apr 2022
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Ed is still wearing Stede’s cravat.
Sometimes, when they’re in bed, he peels back the leather surrounding it but leaves that little piece of silk in its place, a reminder of how far they've already come in their few short weeks together. Sometimes, he watches the black cloth sway against tan skin, against the scars darkening its surface and the faded ink beneath, in time with the rhythm of their bodies. Other times, he tosses it aside, the better to worship that skin.
This time, Stede has another idea.
Bookmarked by Jabllon
28 Nov 2025
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“We’re supposed to go slow,” Stede says.
“We will, we will.” Ed shifts closer, rough sackcloth rubbing along Stede’s bare legs. “I just thought—maybe I could, very slowly, put my hand on your dick?”
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Set after The Curse of the Seafaring Life. Slowly going into the foreshadowed handy.
Bookmarked by Jabllon
08 Nov 2025