#again - i can only apologise for the sheer insanity that is this post

[cherrygorilla]

Ok, so you may or may not have inspired me with your Outsiders post to interrupt my usually sparse story post schedule and indulge in my own obsession with a certain musical. And as chaotic and random as it sounds, I promise it is good haha. But even if you disagree, please just let me vent and get all this out of my brain so that I can go back to writing the next part of TMM 😂

Alright, I've loved Starlight Express ever since I saw it when I was around... 7 or 8, maybe? It used to be my favourite show for years, and (fun fact) it was actually how I found out about fanfiction haha. I never wrote anything properly for the show, just like one or two pages in a random notebook when I was, idk 11 ? But it was around that time that TBM then came out, which I was obviously more drawn to writing-wise - I suppose because it gave me more freedom with stories and characters, since this show is just...you know...about trains lol.

And from the few times I've mentioned it before, I know it probably sounds insane, but if you just suspend your disbelief and accept it for what it is (a bunch of trains singing and falling in love), it is a lot of fun hahaha. I like to think of it like a mix between Cats and Cinderella, but the basic gist of the story, so you can have at least somewhat of an idea of what's going on lol, is that Control (a little kid - I don't think they have a name, they're literally just known as Control) sneaks out of bed one night to hold this big race between all his toy trains to find out who is the best - so the story essentially takes place within his imagination, as all the trains come to life to tell the story. It's like Cats in the regard that most of the first act is everyone kind of introducing themselves in turn. There's Greaseball, the champion diesel train, Rusty, the little steam engine who wants to race with the big trains, and Electra, the electric engine of the future - and a bunch of other trains and coaches, but I won't bore you with all that (just yet 😉). So, to cut a long story short, it's basically a big competition between those three main trains to see who's fastest, with Rusty being the obvious underdog, and hence the centre of the Cinderella story element.

The plot itself is nothing groundbreaking, and neither are the songs tbh, but it's just such a fun show that I can't help but love it anyway. I mean come on, the whole thing's done on roller skates - that's pretty damn cool! And although I've loved it for years, it had taken quite a backseat for a while, but the recent revival that has recently opened in London has really reignited my obsession with it all over again 😆 Because how do you make my favourite pairing in the whole show even more iconic? ...you turn them into lesbians 😎 Plus the costumes were all reimagined by Gabriella Slade, who did the costumes for Six, and they look SO cool!

Now, a big part of why I loved your Outsiders post so much was all the story ideas/similarities for characters you included, but I can't really do that here because (once again)... they're all trains, and none of them are really that deep or serious anyway. BUT, what I did think might be fun, would be going through who I think each of our characters would be good at playing if they were (for some bizarre reason) to ever put on the show - because I do have some strong opinions about that haha. And, as a little bonus, I have written some little random one-off story snippets that are Starlight Express adjacent that I'll throw in at the end lol - more as a reward for you wading through all my nonsense than anything tbh. But they were fun to write too haha.

So yeah, welcome to the insane workings of my brain - and pull up a chair; this could take a while 😅

Ok, I think the best place to start would be with going through the characters in the show and, like I said, matching them up with potential characters of ours I think would be good at playing them. I'll sort of elaborate on 'why' for each one too to help keep things entertaining from an outside perspective lol - and hopefully to help back up my arguments for each lmao. Because, let's face it, none of our characters have particularly...train-like characteristics. 😂

First up we've got Rusty, who's essentially the show's main character. Most of the conflict in the show centres around him; the 'better' trains all totally disregard him, a lot of the coaches tease him, and although he loves Pearl, she's more interested in the newer, more exciting trains than boring, quiet little Rusty. BUT, as with all Cinderella stories, he comes out on top in the end; he wins the race (I would say spoiler alert, but it's also like...duh 🙄😂) and gets his dream girl. He's a really likeable underdog character throughout the story though, and he does put up a good fight to come out victorious, which I appreciate - he doesn't just lay down and let everyone walk (well, roll 😉) all over him.

Now, who do I think would be good to play Rusty? Well, as I mention later on in the one-shots, and have potentially mentioned elsewhere too, I weirdly feel like Riven would really like the show. Maybe he has some childhood nostalgia linked to it like I do - maybe his dad took him to see it when he was younger since it involves skating? I don't know all the details, but something within me tells me Riven would like this show lmao. And so, in the spin-off scenario where our characters put on this show (which is the one I'll always lead with in these things), I think he'd want to take a leading role in the directing side of it - and probably spear-headed the campaign for putting it on in the first place tbh haha. BUT, I feel like a lot of people at Camp (because yes, I think they'd do this at Camp; I don't know when else they would all want to put on a show like this lmao) would think the whole thing was an insane idea, and wouldn't want anything to do with it (because it kind of is an insane idea). SO, I think that Riven would not only end up directing most of the show, I also think he'd have to step into Rusty's skates - which wouldn't be as daunting as he initially expected since he knows the show so well already. Plus, besides the backstory element, I just think he'd be a really cute Rusty; his auburn hair is perfect for it, he's a quietly determined guy, and he's an experienced skater, so he'd have no trouble taking on such a demanding role in terms of the skating.

So yeah, Riven would be my first pick. BUT, this new revival of the show that's being performed in London is playing Rusty and Pearl (his love interest, who we'll get to in a minute) in a much more innocent, shy way - and it's freaking adorable. And I think if we were leaning into more of that version of the show, Royce would make a brilliant Rusty if Vivien could be his Pearl. I don't know how likely he'd be to take on another leading role after being thrown into Hairspray like he was in your last Camp Wanamaker story, especially one that required him to be on roller skates the entire time, but I think he'd really nail it with that more innocent, down-trodden interpretation of the character.

But if everyone was willingly getting involved in the show, and they wanted to lean more into the old-school portrayal of Rusty and Pearl, that feels a little older, and more heavily romantically driven, then I feel like Miles and Carrie make SO much sense for those parts. The whole 'chasing after a girl you think is out of your league' thing has both Miles and Rusty written all over, and I think Miles would, again, play that fluctuating determination and defeat really well. Plus, I know this doesn't really mean anything, but his struggles for money do parallel Rusty being this rundown, tattered, but persistent little steam train pretty well... 😂

Ok, now we'll move onto Pearl. Pearl is the newest coach in the little kid's collection, and is therefore the most sought-after racing partner (since all the trains need to race with a coach - idk why, it's just part of the story I suppose lol). Sometimes she's a 'first class' coach, sometimes she's an 'observation car', it doesn't really matter - all that matters is that all the trains want to race with her, and although she has a soft spot for Rusty, who has loved her all along, she gets seduced by the flashiness of his competitors, and it takes her almost getting wrecked in the final race for her to see sense. She can be a little naive sometimes, or will sometimes just blatantly play the field (depending on how you play her), but her heart is always in the right place, which is what still makes her so likeable.

Again, for Pearl I've got multiple options for who could play her, but I'll start with Juliet. The new all-white version of Pearl's costume that they use in the current Bochum production just screams Juliet to me: that sleek sophistication and quiet confidence, but also a touch of flirty, girly charm is so her! And I think she'd make a great leading lady - which is why she's my pick for that spin-off scenario version of the show. Pearl has some great songs, which would be perfect for Juliet to show off more of her voice, with her wanting to be a singer eventually, and with you hinting at Riven and Juliet maybe having a little bit of a fling or something in your last STDP post, having them play the two leads here seems like a perfect fit for them! Rusty thinking Pearl's way out of his league, but Pearl falling for his kindness and good heart anyway - that just screams Riven and Juliet to me! Pearl also has a strong sisterhood-type friendship with the other coaches, which I think really works for Juliet too. And Pearl does try to stand up for what she thinks is right when the bigger trains start taking the competition a little too far - so I think Juliet could bring a great deal of her own strength to her portrayal of the character as well.

Now, my second choice for Pearl, links with the second choice for Rusty above, which is, obviously Vivien. I feel like the new London revival Pearl was MADE for Vivien to play; the whole space-y vibes of the show, the fact that they made her purple, and the fact that they made her this happy little ball of excitement, with a touch more innocence than previous Pearls - she's perfect for Vivien. And the awkwardly adorable, friends-to-lovers arc Rusty and Pearl have in this new revival was practically written for Royce and Vivien lmao - I just think they'd be able to play them brilliantly. And again, like with Juliet, I think Vivien's fiestiness would allow her to bring a lot of strength and determination to Pearl's character that isn't always there - she can sometimes be played quite airy and 'damsel-in-distress-like', but I think Vivien would really ground her.

And my last choice for the role is Carrie - she's not my favourite pick for the role, and I think she'd be better at other parts (as we'll see in a minute lol), but as I said earlier, if Miles is playing Rusty, I think Carrie would make an amazing Pearl opposite him. Their dynamic just fits them so well - Miles pining for her but not feeling like he's good enough, Carrie being blinded to her true feelings by other options (in this situation I feel like Eric would make a great Greaseball lol) but coming around in the end - it's just perfect! And, I truly believe that the song Pearl sings in the original London production, Only He, can only be bodied in the way it deserves to be bodied by my girl Carrie haha. I'm not a big fan of Next Time You Fall In Love, but I do quite like I Do (the replacement options for Only He), and I think Juliet and Vivien would do great renditions of them, but there's just something about the thought of Carrie singing that song that just makes so much sense. I've got an idea for her to sing it in a legitimate story too (that's how obsessed with that song I am lmao), probably linked to the heartache referenced in the little drabble I'll post below, but I feel like she needs to sing it for an actual audience too haha. It's just such a beautiful, powerful, swelling theatre ballad - she'd kill it!!

Alright, now we're getting to the good stuff. This is Greaseball: arguably the main antagonist of the show because, although most of the characters rag on Rusty, a lot of them do so to show their support for Greaseball. They're the reigning, undefeated champion when it comes to the races, so they have quite the ego on them. They're brash, and cocky, and a little brute-ish, but they're also incredibly competitive, which often gets in the way of their better judgement, resulting in a total disregard for everyone else (including their undeservingly loyal girl, Dinah). They're a total showboat and narcissist, but they do have a dopey, lovable side that Dinah helps to bring out towards the end of the show, which does help redeem them haha.

Now, there are two ways that Greaseball can be played: the traditional way, or the new way. For the traditional way (the sort of wannabe-Elvis, old school rockstar portrayal), Butchy feels like an obvious pick. And although I don't think he's anything like Greaseball's character, you know if he had to play him he'd take to the greaser caricature like a duck to water lmao. Plus, if Mick was playing Dinah (which, you'll see in a bit, I think works perfectly for her), they'd make an adorable duo in the show, and I think they'd have a lot of fun hamming up the roles to make them even more ridiculously cartoonish. And if Mick was his Dinah, I think Butchy would do the whole 'crawling back to her with his tail between his legs' schtick soooo well - he'd just melt into a puddle for her the second he apologised for being such a brute haha. The only thing that's holding me back with Butchy is that I don't know how good he'd be at being so mean to his friends - especially if someone like Miles or Royce was playing Rusty haha; he's just too nice! Plus, I don't know how well he could roller skate lmaoo.

OR, the other way Greaseball can be played is like how they've done it in the new London revival of the show: by making her into a fiesty little lesbian. And this is the role I feel like Carrie could really excel at. I just think she'd have sooo much fun with all the showboating and playing up the bravado. It's so different to anything else she's played before that I think she'd have a great time getting to try it out too - and I think she'd really enjoy getting to lean into playing a villain as well. I'm just obsessed with everything about the London revival Greaseball - her costume is so cool, her attitude is so iconic, the way she's adapted the character I just, uh- it's brilliant! And as cool as it could be to try out a male Dinah by getting Miles into some frilly gingham (lol), I think having either Juliet or Mick be her Dinah would work really well. I'll get into why I think Juliet would be a perfect Dinah later, but her dynamic with Carrie if they were to take on these roles would just be perfect; Juliet's mild scolding of Carrie's bruteish behaviour, but her unwavering loyalty regardless, Carrie's brushing off of her affection for the sake of winning, but then realising she didn't know how good she had it with Juliet by the end - aaaah, I love them. But for the spin-off scenario, where Juliet would be playing Pearl, my pick for Dinah would have been Mick - again, I'll elaborate more on why that works so well for her in a bit, but there's something about Mick and Carrie being paired up romantically like this that just entertains me so much, and low-key kind of intrigues me too haha. In my head, the way it would have played out was that they'd approached Butchy with the offer for the role first, hoping that if they also offered Mick to be his love interest, he'd be more likely to accept it. But after he dismissed it so blatantly, and they couldn't get anyone else to convincingly fit the role, Carrie was called upon to take his place - and to get back at Butchy for not even considering the part, Mick decides to take the Dinah role anyway, but doesn't tell him. Because imagine his face when he realises that this role they'd said couldn't be played by anyone but him was not only being played by Carrie, of all people, but that his wife was playing her love interest (and was practically throwing herself at Carrie the whole show)! They'd have so much fun torturing him with it, I just know it haha. And omg Carrie would have a whale of a time with Pumping Iron lmao. Plus, her skating skills can finally come in handy for something lol; she'd be throwing in all the tricks.

Alright, so here's where I started grouping people together because I realised I was rambling far too much about the rest lol. As cool of a character as Electra is concept-wise, I don't think I can talk about them in that much depth haha - they're just not one of my favourites! I don't feel like they have that big of an impact on the story tbh; it feels mostly Rusty/Greaseball centred to me, but it's nice to give Greaseball a bit of real competition in the races I guess haha. Their futuristic, diva-ish vibe is really interesting though, and the fact they have their own entourage is pretty iconic too. But with that all being said, I just don't think there's any of our characters that really fit their archetype, even just in terms of who'd be best at playing them - especially males, since that's what Electra has typically been played as (even though they're nonbinary in the new London revival). I thought it might have been fun to get Donny to play them in the spin-off scenario, because I like to think he's a good enough actor to pull off any role haha - and like with Carrie and Greaseball, I think he'd have a lot of fun with doing something totally different to any of his other roles. I don't quite know how it would come about that he'd ever get involved in an amateur production like this, but in my head I thought it would be cute if, besides Carrie's constant begging and pestering about how they don't have enough people to fill out the cast, he's swayed by the fact that his son's in his 'train' phase at the moment - and so he agrees purely for shits and giggles and getting to make his son excited hahaha. Plus, I think he and Carrie would have a lot of fun getting to play rivals for once instead of lovers lol. And I just know they'd really lean into the comedic side of One Rock 'N' Roll Too Many. But besides Donny, I really have no other good picks. I thought if it was maybe the situation where Butchy was playing Greaseball they could do a female Electra and cast Carrie - because she'd do a fabulous job at selling the glitzy, diva vibes and overall over-the-top dramaticness of the character, and a female Electra would be incredible - but like with Pearl, it's just not my favourite pick for her. More out of necessity than anything haha - although it would be perfect to have Butchy and Carrie playing enemies like that lol.

And then the second one on this list is Poppa/Momma McCoy, who's an old steam engine that takes part in one of the races to help encourage Rusty and prove that steam trains aren't outdated after all. The role has been played by both male and female actors, but it tends to lean more female lately. And whilst I'm sure Grandpa George would happily help the kids out with their show, I have much stronger feelings on different female characters taking on the role.

Firstly, how iconic could it be if Nonna Dawn surprised everyone who wasn't helping out with the show by rolling out to sing Momma's (Poppa's) Blues?? Because that's my main pick for the spin-off scenario and I feel like Viv's face would just be a picture lmaoo. She helped out quite a bit with the stuff in the playhouse in Camp Wanamaker too, so she obviously likes theatre, and she just has that kind of fun, mischievous charm about her, so I feel like when Riven and Carrie would approach her with the idea, she'd love it - especially with that added element of surprise for the audience. And the whole mentor/advice-giver role Momma takes on in the show would work perfectly for Dawn; she's like the embodiment of the voice of reason haha.

My second pick, if you wanted to play Momma a little younger, like the London revival has done (with her playing both Control's mum, and Momma), would be Charlie, because she took a big role in helping out at the playhouse in Camp Wanamaker, and obviously cares a lot about theatre. And she has a really close relationship to Carrie and Riven, so I feel like they'd be able to talk her around to taking part eventually. My only thing holding me back is that part of my feels as though she'd want nothing to do with the production because she'd be too scared someone was gonna get hurt since the whole thing's done on rollerskates - her pseudo-motherly instincts couldn't cope with the stress lmaooo. And if it's in the spin-off scenario, where in my head Vivien's organising a rival production (probably of The Outsiders since you're enjoying it so much atm haha), I feel like Vivien would have already snagged her to help with directing on her project.

And my last potential pick for Momma, in an AU version, and one where Royce or Miles was Rusty, would, of course, be Mrs Murphy. I don't know how she would have done with performing, but Momma obviously takes on a motherly role to Rusty, and the freight/fuel trucks too - so Mrs Murphy taking on that role opposite one of her actual sons, and helping to give them the confidence they need to succeed, just makes so much sense to me! Pretty unlikely scenario, but a fun one to consider nonetheless haha.

Ooh ok, more of my faves again haha. Dinah used to be my all-time favourite growing up, so I have lots of opinions about her. But basically, she's another of the 4 coaches (along with Pearl), and her main role in the show is that she's Greaseball's racing partner (and therefore, essentially also their romantic partner). They have a kind of strained relationship most of the show, because Dinah's totally head-over-wheels (😉) for Greaseball, but Greaseball's also being fawned over by pretty much every other coach, and is reluctant to give in to Dinah's affection for fear of showing any weakness to their opponents - so they can be pretty mean sometimes. BUT, they do have a really cute moment when Greaseball loses in the end and goes back to Dinah to apologise, realising that they still love each other without all the glory of being champions.

She's a pretty confident character though, and is good at standing up for herself when she doesn't think something's right - but she's still able to show her softer, more vulnerable side, which makes her a really well-rounded character imo. There are a few good options for who I'd want to play her though, and although I mention later that Carrie would be a good Dinah, I only think she'd really get cast in the role if she it was an externally produced show, since she only ever lands secondary parts haha. I think she'd be a great Dinah, don't get me wrong, but I just think that if all our characters were in the show, there are better choices for her.

My first one, as mentioned earlier, would be Mick. The brunette hairstyle she's been given lately, as opposed to the blonde, works for Mick so well, and with red being her favourite colour, taking the red from the new London costume but applying it to the more traditional gingham style - aaaah, she'd look adorable. Plus, like I said above, having her play this role opposite Butchy just makes so much sense - but, having her play it opposite Carrie (like she would in my spin-off scenario) would be brilliant. I just think they'd have so much fun with it, especially knowing how weird it would make Butchy feel watching them together, and oddly, I feel like it would help their friendship grow even stronger😂 It's just such an iconic pairing, and I really think they'd do it justice. I think she'd make a really strong-willed Dinah, and as unsteady as I think she'd be on roller skates at first, I think that'd make everyone all the more impressed when they saw her racing and dancing around with everyone else haha - Riven and Carrie would work their magic with teaching her.

And with Dinah being typically played as a sort of 'Southern Belle' type, the obvious pick for Dinah, and one that also makes a ton of sense to me, would, of course, be Juliet. And if she wasn't playing Pearl, this is definitely who I'd have her play. I think she'd be able to lean into the more sensitive, emotional side of Dinah, whilst also keeping a bit of the strength that Mick would bring to her - and you just know that if Carrie was her Greaseball they'd be in their element playing lesbain lovers 👀😂 They'd peak here, I feel. This and Maureen and Joanne in Rent - they'd be untouchable.

I didn't even know whether to include CB in this or not since he's been taken out and put back into the show so many times, but I reference him in one of the one-shots so I thought it was best to. Basically, he's a caboose coach that, in the second act, reveals that he's got a little evil streak behind his oh-so innocent appearance, and that he's actually notorious for wrecking the trains he races behind. So, (although I don't think it's ever actually explained why lol) he teams up with Greaseball and Electra to trick Rusty into racing with him, only to try wrecking him in the big final race. Naturally, it doesn't work, but hey, he acts as a zany little extra antagonist, which I'm never going to complain about haha. 

Like I mention later on, I think Riven would feel kind of drawn to this role - especially because of the softer side we see with him when he comforts Dinah after Greaseball ditches her (for being too moral for their dirty racing tactics lol). Plus, there's that 'red' motif again that would work with his auburn hair - and I think he'd be able to play that coolly sly, kind of crazily sadistic twist well because of how chill he is normally. That switch would be so jarring! But, perhaps an even more jarring option, I think Bentley could also do this part really well. He'd be the perfect, innocent mask to begin with because he's so little and smiley - but then I think he'd have a lot of fun getting to flip that on its head and be the complete antithesis of his usual ball of sunshine personality to be a little crazy criminal instead. Obviously he's nothing like that normally, but acting-wise, if he felt confident enough with it, I think he could really do it justice! And it'd make an even cooler contrast if one of his brothers was playing Rusty; that betrayal would be even harsher!

Alright, now onto the coaches. Let's try to speed through these because I already know I've wasted far too much of your time lmao. If you're still reading at this point, I'm actually pretty impressed 😂 The coaches have changed a bunch over the years, mostly for things going out of fashion (*cough cough* Ashley the smoking car lol) - but the current ones in the London revival are Belle the sleeping car and Tassita the quiet coach. Since these are smaller, more generic parts, I don't really have as much to say about them. But, for Belle I thought that Jade might be a good pick, because I know she can sing since she's in Riven's band, and idk, maybe she naps a lot? 😂 Either way, even though she's said before that she can't act to save her life, I don't think she'd have to act a great deal in this role - but she can sing and skate, and that's enough to give her the confidence to agree to help out in my book haha. And for Tassita, who's the first coach to ever be played by a male performer, which is pretty cool, I thought August might be a fun pick - you know, because he's such a quiet guy himself lol. Besides that though, I've always thought he'd be a good performer (he was originally going to have a part on Find Your Voice after all), and although, like Jade, I don't think he'd have a great deal of confidence at first - especially in a role that still appears quite feminine when he's not totally secure about his sexuality - but I think they'd be able to tweak both the part and the costume until it was something he'd feel comfortable doing. And once he started working on it, I think it'd be really good at bringing him out of his shell! Plus, I like to think he's got a really good voice hidden behind all that shyness - so this is an excuse to finally bring it out into the open hehe. 

Other coaches that could be worked in from other productions are Buffy the buffet car, Duvet the sleeper car (an alternate to Belle), Carrie the luggage car (what a coincidence lol), or, the original Belle the sleeping car, from the original London production way back in the 80s. Belle didn't really do a great deal plot-wise besides help motivate Rusty, and Dinah and the rest of the coaches in the second act when they're ditched by the trains they race with (please, Starlight Express producers, bring back the Rolling Stock reprise; it's iconic lmao) - but if for some reason they wanted to use her in the show, I think Charlie would be a great pick for her. She'd give her all the old-school glamour and girl-power she deserves haha. And I think she'd look iconic in that red costume. 

Finally, my last category: the freight/fuel trucks. Well, actually just the fuel trucks. I thought about including the freight trucks too, but tbh, I don't really have any strong opinions on any of them, and this post is already far too long, so I just left them out lol. But, like the coaches, the fuel trucks are just more racing partner options for the trains. Some have bigger parts than others, but their main purpose is providing fuel (shocking, I know ha). They're new to the London revival though, and tbh I like them more than the freight trucks; they feel more central to the plot - even if it did make the song Freight significantly worse lmao.

And speaking of central to the plot, Hydra, the hydrogen fuel truck is the new reason why Rusty wins the final race (because before it didn't really make that much sense tbh lmao); he's now powered by hydrogen steam, which gives him the advantage over his opponents. And throughout the show, despite the other fuel trucks ragging on Hydra for being too new and dangerous in comparison to their more reliable fuel sources, he ignores them and stands by his belief in his fuel. The only pick in my mind for Hydra because of this though is Ethan - and although I have no idea if he'd ever have any remote interest in acting, especially in a musical theatre production, you know he's so loyal to his friends he'd do anything to help them out if they asked. And, I think he'd just think the idea was so weird he'd be down to participate just for the hell of it lol. But Hydra's way of not caring what anyone else thinks of him, and sticking to his own beliefs, is so Ethan to me - plus, they just have that same, chilled, laid back vibe. And, naturally, they both have that kind of green motif 😉🍃 So yeah, for me, Ethan has to be Hydra - and no matter who's playing Rusty, I feel like he'd vibe enough with all of them for him to jump at the chance to help them out like Hydra helps Rusty in the show. And it'd finally give him an excuse to use those roller skating skills I know he's hiding somewhere despite his usually terrible clumsiness ha. 

For Porter (the red coal truck) I think Zack could maybe play him? Not completely sold on that idea because I don't think he'd really vibe with musicals, but if August roped him into helping out I think he'd begrudgingly agree - and Porter basically does nothing anyway, so he couldn't really complain lol. And for Lumber (the blue timber truck) I picked Erica - not only because her blue hair would look sick with an all-blue costume like that, but also because the thought of Jade and Erica flirting as their characters during the little bickering section between the coaches and the fuel trucks in the song Freight had me weak at the knees. So if they were both in it, their characters would 100% be in love, no questions asked - I need flirty trucks and coaches hahaha. 

So then the final role I'm passionate about is Slick, the oil truck, which is the new London revival's answer to CB, since she not only takes on his main song, but also the whole concept of wanting to race with Rusty to wreck him and help out the competition. This revival also gives her a monetary aim though, which is good for giving her more of a motive, I suppose. I don't really know how trains are supposed to use money, but it's at least a reason, which is more than we had before lmao. I think Abby would be such a good pick for Slick though - I'd want to make her a little more girly, giving her some different hair (like my little reference picture, or maybe something like some fun bubble braids or something - like oil bubbles 👀) and a more feminine costume - but I think having a pretty important role like that would help bring out her confidence with performing a lot, without totally throwing her out of her comfort one with a big main role. I think she'd like the added challenge and fun that the villainous twist Slick has would bring though; it'd give her something a bit different to play with. And with Slick's colour palette mirroring Greaseball's, and her being an oil truck, makes me thing that Abby would really want to lean into making Slick a little Greaseball fangirl, who is constantly looking up to her and wanting to impress her (and hence giving her even more motivation to wreck Rusty and help Greaseball win the race) - which I think would also nicely mirror how much Abby would look up to Carrie (an established actress already) if they were to ever meet. I just think it works really well for her, and I love how the show's leaning more into mixing the genders of the coaches and the freight trucks - even if the costumes are still leaning more feminine and masculine respectively, I think our characters would have more fun tailoring them to each performer's preferences. Because come on, Abby being a pretty girly, but still menacing, little secondary villain would be so cool - she needs to let her rebellious side shine!

Excuse the TMM spacer lol, I'm too lazy to go make a new one lmao. Anyway, if you made it through all that, you really are a true friend haha - because that was soooo much insane rambling. But, I do feel better for dumping it out of my mind and onto a page. Maybe now I can finally stop obsessing over it and get back to writing the stories I should be working on. But hopefully this was a little fun post to switch things up a bit! And hopefully you at least liked it half as much as I enjoyed your Outsiders post haha. If, for some bizarre reason, you actually are interested in the show, then just let me know because I have a slime tutorial (*wink wink*) of the new revival I'd happily send you the link to, because I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. But even if not, like I said, this was just a bit of silly fun to give all these ideas a home. It's not a complex show, and it doesn't have particularly elevated songs or characters, but the orchestrations are clever, the costumes and theatrics are amazing, and it's all done on roller skates - so it'll always have a special, fun spot in my heart hehe. I've linked a video of the megamix at the end of the new London revival for you to get a bit of a vibe of what the show's like without having to watch the whole thing too if you want hehe - at least this way you can see some of the skating and costumes in action! And, as promised, as a reward for sitting through the insanity of this post, here are two little drabbles with our characters as a reward.

The first centres around the song There's Me, and a pairing I think works particularly well for it, that I'm dying to see/write more of - it's also plucked out of that Camp Wanamaker spin-off I wanted to do that I'm not sure will ever materialise. But consider this a sneak peek into what would have gone down lol. And the second is a litle bit of what the chaos the concept of Riven and Vivien putting on rivalling productions would have brought about haha. For context, I think although Riven would have bagged Carrie for his show straight away, Vivien would have furiously retaliated by claiming everyone else in their cabin for hers - hence the competitiveness that ensues. Enjoy! Hopefully they're not too weird to not still be enjoyable anyway 😅😂

The dusty deck creaked as a scuffed, black Converse nudged into her periphery. But her eyes never left the lake - as grey as the thick blanket of clouds overhead, and as bleak as her outlook. 

"The laundry house, really?" the voice demanded, pausing to give the girl a chance to explain herself. 

She did not. 

Sighing, the guest realised this was going to be harder than he expected. After all, he wasn't used to her being this…subdued. "You know, I just think it's a testament to our friendship that I was the only one who knew to look for you here," he offered with a playful smile…that went completely unnoticed. Frowning as the girl continued to ignore his very existence, he let out another sigh, this one as he lowered himself down and took up the space beside her, nudging the sole of her now off-white sneaker with his knee to draw her out of her thoughts. "Come on, Carrie. I'm trying here," he said. But when he leant forwards to try to get a clearer look at her face, and found her cheeks marred with glistening tracks in her foundation, and her puffy eyes speckled with remnants of her mascara, his frustration waned. "You can't hide from them forever," he gently added.

"I want to," Carrie murmured.

"You don't mean that," he tried.

"I do; at least that way I wouldn't be able to fuck things up any more than I already have," she limply insisted.

"You didn't-"

"Don't give me that, Riven; I know I did," Carrie said, cutting him off with an exasperated huff. "I shouldn't have done it, I shouldn't have yelled at them like that. But I was just in such a bad mood after that class, and I was so fed up with everything, so then to come back to all that I just…"

"...Let all those years of bottled up frustration out?" Riven offered.

"Something like that," Carrie mumbled, dropping her gaze to her lap, knowing that if she actually made eye contact with the boy her resolve would start to crumble in an instant. 

"Hmm," he began, murmuring his understanding as he took his turn to look out across the lake. "I heard it wasn't pretty."

Although Riven was no longer looking at her, he saw her dark blonde curls trembling out of the corner of his eye as she shook her head.

"I'm so embarrassed," she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. A fresh tear plopped onto her thigh as she kept her watery gaze steady, praying she'd be able to get a handle on her waterworks for once. "They hate me for sure now."

"They never hated you, Carrie," Riven promised, turning back to her again as though it would persuade her to believe him. 

But Carrie proved to be as stubborn as ever, completely bypassing the comment with a mournful smile she still couldn't bring herself to lift from the floor. "All that time I spent trying to win them over…down the drain, all because I had a shit day and lost my cool."

"I don't know, I'd still say you're pretty cool," Riven tried with a playful lopsided grin, bumping her shoulder until she turned to see it for herself.

When she did finally turn to face him though, it was with that flat, annoyed frown that always just egged him on more. "This isn't a joke," she grumbled, but Riven's little chuckle said otherwise. 

"I'm not saying it is," he countered. "I'm just letting you know it's gonna take a hell of a lot more than one dumb argument for me to stop thinking you're cool. Come on, you're Caroline Cole: entertainer extraordinaire-"

"Why are you doing this?" Carrie stopped his playful bolstering in its tracks with a weary sigh.

"Because I want to," Riven said, standing firm in his optimism. "Come on, I hate seeing you like this," he pressed on fitfully, uneasy with her uncharacteristic despondency. She was usually the life and soul of the party in that playhouse, now she had all the energy of a wet paper towel. Hoping to distract her with a little healthy competition, he added, "We should be out there crushing Erica's cabin at volleyball right now."

"Well forgive me, but I'm not really in the mood," Carrie flatly retorted.

"What are you in the mood for?" he challenged, with a primarily jovial tone, but a hint of creeping frustration. "Moping about like a kicked puppy?"

"Yes, actually," she snipped. "Hate to be the bearer of bad news but I can't be the 'smiling showgirl' 24/7…" Her frown twitched into the faintest of wistful smiles as her voice trailed off, carrying her focus back into the turmoil unfolding within her own head. "I'm allowed to have emotions, I'm just not allowed to show them," she went on to explain with a quiet, self-loathing huff. "'Cause that's when things always turn to shit."

All Riven's teasing intent slipped away, seeping into the damp wood beneath them, as it began to dawn on him that there may have been more to her dramatic disappearance than what he'd initially thought. "...This is about more than just you yelling at the boys, isn't it?" he slowly asked, treading carefully, as though to not set off a bomb.

And yet, Carrie dropped one on him anyway.  

"I think Miles and I are gonna break up, Riv."

The words hung in the muggy air between them, not daring to be believed.

Stunned, hazel eyes settled on Carrie's profile, unable to tear themselves away until she explained herself. So, she began to talk. Slowly but surely, she unravelled the tangle of thoughts in her head, laying them out before her friend, praying that his sensible, perceptive mind could help her make sense of them. "It's just…not felt right this summer. It's like he's…pulling away, or something," she started, still avoiding eye contact at all costs. At least that way she could keep a handle on her tears, even if her mouth did start to run away from her instead. "And the arguing with Royce never helps, but it's just been getting worse instead of better and I can tell he's getting frustrated with it, but I'm trying and nothing's working and I don't understand why and that's making me frustrated, which makes the bickering worse, I just-" She stopped to snatch a breath, only to blow out all her remaining self-confidence with it. "I feel like I've got no fight left anymore. I can't see it getting better. And when I know Miles would always side with his brothers, and everyone else would side with him if things went south… I don't know, it just kind of stings, I guess; one wrong move and I lose them all. No matter what I do, I'd still be left out on my own."

"Don't lump me in with that."

Startled, Carrie lost her focus and turned to the boy; she'd been so lost in her own thoughts she'd forgotten she wasn't alone anymore. But even when she searched his expression, his comment still made no sense. "What do you mean?"

"Well don't say I'd never speak to you again if things with you and Miles didn't work out," he explained as though it was the simplest thing in the world. "Which they totally will by the way, but that's beside the point," he tacked on as that playful chuckle of his started creeping back into his voice. "Of course I'd still speak to you; you can't get rid of me that easily."

"Really?" Carrie asked, wary despite the hopeful glint in her ocean eyes. 

"Yes, really, idiot," he snorted. "I'm not just friends with you 'cause you're dating Miles, you're my drama buddy," he went on to explain with a grin holding nothing but fond sincerity. "You're the only one that keeps me sane in that playhouse, and even then you're so ridiculous I can only take you seriously like 60% of the time. Plus, I did see you naked that one time-"

"I was not- it was just my top."

The frustrated tone shining through in the way she had cut him off, and the way she had hurriedly returned to avoiding his gaze, struck Riven down. "Oh my god, you didn't even laugh at the bikini story. This really is bad," he said - again, half-joking, half-genuinely-concerned. Reaching behind him, his fingers closed around glossy wood as a teasing smile started to tug at his lips. "I didn't want it to have to come to this…"

Hearing fingers start plucking at guitar strings, Carrie's bewildered frown deepened as she turned back to him. "What are you doing?"

"I can't help it, you've left me no choice," he chuckled, cheesily grinning back at her and continuing to lazily pluck out a melody. "I'm not leaving until I've cheered you up - even if that means resorting to music."

"Come on, Riv," Carrie wearily groaned, not nearly as amused by the offer as he'd hoped she would be. "Stop, I'm not in the mood. Can't you just leave me alone?"

The plucking stopped and Riven sat the guitar fully back in his lap, his own brows now starting to furrow. "They really got you this time, huh?"

Carrie sighed as she dropped her gaze to her lap again. "I don't like to show it normally 'cause I know they don't always mean it, they just want to get a rise out of me," she slowly confessed. "But it was…different last night. It's felt different since we arrived."

"I really thought you guys were getting somewhere," Riven softly mused, just as perplexed by the sudden nosedive in amiability as the others in the cabin.

"So did I," Carrie agreed, smiling painfully down at a knot in the wood. A million things she wanted to say swirled in her head, but none of her thoughts were quite able to be fit into words - nothing that could make a coherent sentence anyway. She didn't know whether to get mad, and let the rest of her pent up anger spill across the deck until she'd rid herself of it completely. She didn't know whether to just push it to the back of her mind again, put on a brave face and swan back into camp as though nothing was wrong at all. She didn't know whether to stay hidden, avoiding everyone at the cabin and all her problems at the same time. At least that way she wouldn't have to face them again, or have to try to explain herself and her inexcusable temperament to Miles. God, he was probably so mad at her right now. 

More and more thoughts flew through her mind, hitting the walls of her skull like rabid animals until her head pounded and her resolve broke down. Helpless tears started to slip from her eyes as the hopelessness of her position washed over her all over again. She felt a hand on her back that brought her back to her senses in an instant though - having forgotten, yet again, that she wasn't alone out here. She sniffed and hurriedly patted away the tears, trying to salvage what little of her makeup still remained. "Guess I'm not such a heartless bitch after all," she offered, managing a melancholy chuckle at her predicament that, although was an improvement, still did nothing to show Riven that she was feeling more like her usual self. 

In fact, he just felt more concerned than ever. Carrie was strong-willed and stubborn, bold and exuberant - not the shying, insecure, tearful shell of a girl before him. He'd already suspected that her confidence had been knocked this summer thanks to the rather personal disruption at the playhouse, but this was worse than he thought. And he couldn't stand by in good conscience and watch her fire be extinguished. 

Setting his guitar back into position, he began plucking at the strings again. Carrie shot him another questioning look, with a slightly annoyed huff, but he stuck to his guns and kept playing, offering her nothing but a cheesy, comforting grin in response. "Complain all you want," he chuckled. "But I'm not gonna stop playing." 

Although Carrie just rolled her eyes, she did manage a small, resigned laugh as she gave up on the pushback. And soon, to her surprise, lyrics began to accompany his playing - as gentle and reassuring as his own intent.

All alone, you think you're on your own You think there's no one in the world who cares for you That isn't true, there's me May not be, the one you want to see But if you need someone who's kind then look behind And then you'll find, there's me

I'll be near, standing by Never fear, you can cry But in a while, you will smile And I'll be there to see

By yourself you have to cry yourself Nobody else can cry the tears you have to cry But I will try, there's me Until then, when you're okay again You'll look around, find I'm no longer there I'll still be near somewhere You're not alone, there's me There's always me

I'll still be near somewhere You're not alone; there's me There's always me...

The soft, yet cheeky smiles Riven kept shooting the girl as he sang, paired with the meaning behind the words, and the added special meaning to them both, meant that by the time his strumming faded to silence, Carrie was finally grinning back at him. 

"You really came all the way out here to serenade me with a musical theatre song from the 80s?" she asked with a teasing chuckle, wiping away the last traces of any tears with the heel of her hand. 

"It worked, didn't it?" he teasingly fired back with a satisfied smirk. 

"Touché," she giggled, before hitting with a further pointed eyebrow raise. "But Starlight? Really?"

"Again: it worked, didn't it?" he retorted with a snort of laughter she was all too happy to reciprocate.

"You are way too attached to that show," she chuckled, teasingly bumping his arm.

"It's about roller skating trains - how can I not be attached to it?"

"I don't know, ask literally anyone else at camp," Carrie snorted back, referring to the many attempts the pair had made to try to get even just one of their friends to give the show a chance.

Knowing exactly what the blonde was talking about, Riven just shot her a grin. "They'll come around eventually, trust me."

Giving an equally confident, yet slightly more playful grin back, Carrie conceded with another giggle before continuing. "And when they do, I think you've proven you'd make an excellent CB."

Riven pressed a hand to his chest. "I think that might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me," he said with a comically dramatic earnestness that just had Carrie rolling her eyes again.

"Shut up, I compliment you all the time," she retorted, and her smile only broadened when Riven showed no signs of pushing back. "I'm serious though; if you ever manage to convince Nonna you don't need to be sectioned for suggesting we stage the show, I think you'd be great."

Biting back a laugh, Riven instead decided to lead with sincerity. "Only if you'd be my Dinah," he bargained with a fond, yet knowing grin she, again, gladly shared. But it wasn't long before he started rambling again. "But I'd sacrifice that if it meant you could be Pearl…"

With an affectionate shake of her head, Carrie playfully sighed, "I never play the lead - I can't break my streak now, you know that."

Taking his turn to roll his eyes, he retorted with. "Pearl is not the lead; the whole show's about Rusty."

"Ok well maybe you can play Rusty then, Mr Know-It-All," Carrie teasingly fired back as the pair fell back into their typical, theatre-based ramblings - idly chattering away without a care in the world as the wind pulled the clouds across the sky.

It wasn't until Carrie saw the sunlight skittering across the lake, and heard the distant chatter of counsellors start up again, that she realised her head had finally stopped pounding, and her chest no longer felt as though someone had carved a giant hole into it. Astonished, but grateful nonetheless, Carrie turned back to Riven with a smile. "Thanks for coming to find me, Riv."

Grinning contentedly back, he replied, "Well, I don't like thinking of you being sad. You're like my fun, crazy, big sister - I can't have you moping around like a sadsack."

"You really think of me like a sister?"

"Of course. We don't always understand each other, and I tease the shit out of you at every opportunity I get, but that doesn't mean I don't care about you. You always make me laugh, you're insanely talented, you give the best advice, but you're honest when you need to be - you're everything I'd want in a big sister. Plus, like I said, you're my drama buddy. The shit we put up with from those campers has bonded us for life, whether you like it or not."

Unable to hold back her laughter any longer, it spilled out from her grateful smile as she reached out and wrapped him in a big hug, nestling her face into the well-worn cotton of his hoodie. 

"And you give great hugs," he playfully added, mumbling through her mane of frizzy, golden curls.

"Thanks, Riv," she murmured between giggles, letting herself melt into the comforting reassurance of his embrace.

"Any time, Care Bear."

Sitting back, scouring his half-finished painting with an acutely analytical gaze, Bentley didn't even hear the door to the art barn open, let alone the footsteps that followed. He squinted his eyes, tilted his head from side to side, screwed up his mouth in concentration… And then his vision went dark.

Blinking, eyelashes brushed against an old t-shirt masquerading as a blindfold. But before he could try to question the ambush, a quiet voice broke through his haze of confusion.

"Alright, listen to what I say, or this is not gonna be pretty."

A chuckle couldn't help but slip from Bentley's lips, immediately relaxing as he recognised the voice. "Is that your attempt at sounding threatening?"

"I was actually trying to be reassuring," August countered with a bashful chuckle of his own.

"Oh, well then consider me reassured," Bentley laughed, still idly toying with his paintbrush. "As reassured as anyone can be when they're randomly blindfolded on a Wednesday afternoon. What are you doing anyway?"

"I need to take you somewhere, so put the brush down and get up - but don't go too fast; I've gotta make sure you don't bump into anything," August ordered, tying the old t-shirt in place before clumsily helping the blonde stand, taking him by the shoulders and leading him towards the door.

"Where the hell are we going?" Bentley asked, after they had navigated the stairs in a (somewhat) successful manner - consisting of only one giggling fit, and one almost-total-collapse - as he felt them move from the wooden deck to the uneven grass. 

"I'm not allowed to tell you, but it's nothing bad, trust me."

"Who's forcing you to kidnap me and parade me across camp like a prisoner?"

"You'll find out in a minute," August chuckled, steering him around a tree stump. "But just know that it's nothing bad."

"Well I'd hope not - I'd hate to think you'd willingly be involved in leading me to my demise," Bentley snorted, before continuing with his idle rambling. "Who's roped you into taking me captive anyway?"

"I don't know if I can say; they didn't give me much briefing, and I don't think they expected you to be this…chatty."

Bentley laughed. "Well then they should have sent a more intimidating kidnapper."

"They didn't want to scare you, they just needed you away from Vivien," August admitted, immediately falling silent for a few steps. "...I don't know if I was supposed to say that."

"Ohhh, ok then, so I'm being taken hostage by the competition?" Bentley chuckled through a smirk as he began to piece the puzzle together.

"...Maybe," August confirmed as he rounded the blonde and started to lead him up a new set of steps from the front to make sure he didn't lose his footing. "But if they ask then you figured it out on your own - you didn't hear it from me."

"Well it's not like I had many options; it was either that or some weird camp event I didn't pay attention to the announcement for," Bentley laughed to himself as he blindly stuck his foot out, almost completely missing the step until August repositioned him. "What do they need me for? Information about how our rehearsals are going? And how are you in cahoots with them anyway? Are you abandoning our show for theirs?"

"What? No, just… Hang on, gimme a second," August fumbled through his excuses, fighting to nudge the door open with his foot before carefully pulling his friend inside. "Alright, we're here. Just sit down and listen to what they've got to say, they'll explain everything," he continued, keeping his voice down as he offered the boy further reassurances he was sure he wasn't supposed to. 

Once Bentley was situated on what felt like a metal fold-out chair, August gave his shoulder one last reassuring squeeze before untying the old t-shirt and lifting it away from his eyes. Oddly though, even with the blindfold removed, Bentley could hardly see a thing; whatever cabin they were in had black-out cloths draped across the windows, leaving the room in complete darkness. Well, at least that explained why it had taken August so long to navigate him across the room. 

"Uhh… Hello?" Bentley tried, calling out into what felt like a completely empty room if the thick silence he was met with was anything to go by.

But before he could question his situation any further, a light sprang to life beside him, so bright he had to jerk his head back to save himself from temporary blindness.

Wincing, he tried to take in his now significantly more illuminated surroundings, only to find that he was sitting at a scuffed, fold-out table, occupying the very lamp that seemed to give off more light than the sun itself. Other than that, the rest of the room was swimming in darkness, creating a rather effective interrogation set-up, which he suspected the masterminds behind his kidnapping had hoped for. 

And speaking of these masterminds, just as the afterimages were finally starting to fade from his vision, a figure rolled out of the darkness and up to the table. Yes, quite literally rolled. 

They set their hands on the tabletop in front of him and presented the boy with a smug smile. "Hello, Bentley."

"What are you doing?" Bentley asked, snorting out a laugh at the surreal nature of the entire situation. 

"We have a…preposition for you," Riven slowly explained, his smug smile only broadening. 

"We?" Bentley questioned. "There are more weirdos than you tied up in this thing?"

Suddenly the lamp head was wrenched back, sending the beam of light directly at his face, once again making him jerk his head back. "And just who do you think you're calling a weirdo?"

Eyes watering from the visual assault, Bentley squinted through the brightness until he found a tanned hand clamped around the lamphead. Following it up, he found an all-too-familiar, shadowed face, framed by a mane of unruly golden curls. "Not you?" Bentley offered with a lopsided smile.

Thankfully, the gesture was enough to appease Carrie, who tilted the lamphead back into position - but not before she shot the boy a satisfied smirk in response. 

"You got any other questions? Or can we get down to business?" Riven asked. 

"Uh, yeah: what's with the kidnapping?" Bentley fired back, sporting an amused smirk of his own. "You so worried you'll lose the bet you're turning to torturing the competition?"

"What? No! We just needed you away from the boss," Riven laughed, his comically threatening act disappearing in seconds as he referenced his pint-sized figure skating partner. "Like I said, we've got a preposition for you."

"Couldn't you have just asked me in the dining hall? Or in my room or something?" Bentley went on to ask, still having to squint from the light.

"Well yeah, but where's the fun in that?" came Riven's snorted reply, to which Carrie just grinned and nodded in agreement.

Bentley shook his head at the pair, evidently equally matched in their passion for dramatising the most menial things. "This is so dumb," he breathed, fighting back a smile at the ridiculousness of their whole set-up. "What do you want then? What's this preposition thing?"

Carrie and Riven exchanged a glance, giving each other a confirmatory nod before turning back to the blonde. "…We need your help."

"With what?"

"With the show," Riven clarified.

"The show? Your show?" Bentley spluttered, eyes darting between the pair, looking for any evidence of jesting, yet finding nothing. "I don't understand," he slowly continued. "Why do you want my help? I've got no idea what I'm doing with all this theatre stuff. I'm out of my depth with Viv's show as it is. Plus, I already agreed to be in her's - I can't help out the competition."

"Why not? I am."

Bentley's ears pricked up as a new voice entered the conversation, and to his amazement, when he turned to follow it, he saw a grinning brunette emerging from the darkness on Carrie's right. 

"Mick?! You jumped ship?" Bentley asked, gawping at the grinning girl as though she'd just grown a second nose. "Does Viv know?"

"No, I didn't jump ship," Mick chuckled as she perched on the edge of the fold-out table. "I'm helping out with both."

"What? Why?"

"'Cause I wanted to," she snorted simply. "It's not like there's rules against it. This whole thing's just for fun anyway."

"Yeah, it's not actually a competition - we just both wanted to put on different shows," Riven added.

"Well could you let Viv know that? She's treating this like we're at war - we've all been sworn to secrecy," Bentley said, chuckling at his friend's competitive spirit.

"Oh we know, we already tried to get Mick to squeal but she wouldn't budge," Carrie said, sharing a knowingly playful glance with the brunette.

"And luckily, they had a cool job for me besides just being their spy," Mick cheekily added. "Or else all the effort it took to brainwash me would have been for nothing."

"Which is…?" Bentley tried.

"I'm building the stage," Mick revealed with a proud grin. 

Bentley's eyes went wide. "You guys need to build your own stage?"

Riven and Carrie shared another knowing smirk. "If we want the show to be as awesome as it deserves to be then yeah, it needs a custom stage," Riven confirmed.

"And since Butchy and Miles refused to even hear us out, Mickie stepped up to the plate to handle it all on her own," Carrie added, looping her arm through the brunette's with a fond grin. "And she's doing a way better job than either of those two bozos would have done anyway." 

"Well, I don't know about that…" Mick said with a roguish chuckle. "But I am doing a pretty damn good job."

"Does this mean you're helping with both shows too?" Bentley then asked, turning behind him to look for the friend who'd brought him here, who could do nothing but offer him a sheepish smile. 

"...Yeah," August slowly admitted, before adding a quieter: "You know I'm terrible at saying 'no' to things."

"So your solution is just doing twice the work?" Bentley asked incredulously, the information just serving more of a purpose to fuel his growing need to help August grow a backbone. 

"Well they're not big parts-" he tried to reason.

"You're actually in both of them?" Bentley demanded, his eyes practically popping out of his head when he saw the knee and elbow pads the boy was sporting. "But you don't know how to roller skate."

"They're teaching me," August chuckled, shooting Carrie and Riven a grateful smile. And when Bentley's disbelieving gaze found theirs, they just offered him smug grins and little waves, showing off their own elbow pads as they did so.

Bentley's shock jumped to a whole new level when he spotted Mick's elbow pads though. "You're in it too, Mickie?!"

"Well I didn't like how quickly Butchy dismissed them when they asked him to take part," Mick began, smirking at the very thought. "So I thought I'd teach him a lesson about not judging things at face level."

"Well, we should have known not to expect his neanderthal brain to be able to comprehend such complex concepts as 'having fun'," Carrie retorted with a cheeky dig Mick luckily started to laugh at.

"I've gotta admit, it did sound really corny at first. But once you get past the fact it's all about trains, the show is pretty fun," Mick confessed.

"Duh, of course it's fun, we're directing it," Carrie added, gesturing to the auburn-haired giant behind her, who just laughed in his approval. 

"The whole show's done on roller skates - I still don't understand how anyone could know that and not automatically think it's awesome," Riven said between his chuckles. 

But at that revelation, Bentley's eyes started to grow wide again. "Hold on, you're not expecting me to have a part in your show too, are you?" he asked, horrified at the very idea. "I barely have a handle on what I'm doing in Viv's already, and that's just one show. Plus, I can't even roller skate so-"

"No, we don't need you to be in it," Riven cut in with a chuckle before the blonde's anxious ramblings could make him run out of breath. 

"Unless you want to be in it, then we'd totally find you a part," Carrie tagged on with an encouraging grin. 

"And teach you how to skate," Riven added with a mischievous smirk. "If we can teach Mick, we can teach anyone."

And although Mick's playful whack of Riven's arm did help him relax a touch, Bentley's stance on their offer was still firm: "No thanks, I'm good." But his curiosity was still running rampant as the others giggled at his reaction. "Well if you don't need me to have a part in the show, then what did you need my help for?"

"We wanted to see if you'd be willing to help us with designing and making the costumes," Riven explained.

Bentley thought he had to have misheard him. "The costumes?"

"Yeah," Riven chuckled at the boy's expression. "What's that face for?"

"I don't know the first thing about making costumes - I've never worked with fabric in my life."

Riven and Carrie exchanged another glance. "That's kind of why we need your help," Carrie started.

But when Bentley just looked more confused than ever, Riven went on to explain. "None of the stuff in the playhouse storage bins will work because, well, they're just regular people clothes, so we need to design our own stuff. Juliet's already said she can help construct any actual clothing garments we need, but our main problem is how to actually use the outfits to make us look like trains."

Bentley's thoughts came to a screeching halt. "Wait…you guys are the trains?"

"Yeah."

"You're acting as trains? Singing trains?" They had to be pranking him, right?

"Uh, yeah," Carrie said, sharing another quick glance with Riven.

"What did you think the show was about?" he snorted.

"I don't know, I thought you were just like people working on a railroad or something," Bentley retorted with an incredulous splutter.

"Well we're not, we're the trains," Riven chuckled.

"Yeah, why else would we need to do the whole thing on wheels?" Mick added with a playful wiggle of her skate-clad foot. 

"So what? You want me to…make you look like trains?" Bentley warily asked. "Like with big chimneys coming out of your heads and stuff?"

Fondly rolling her eyes at Bentley's poor attempts at stifling his laughter, Carrie stepped in to try to explain the proposal a little more clearly. "No - we just need to capture the vibe of trains - you don't need to shove us all in cardboard box models. We can show you the costumes of the official productions so you can get an idea of the sort of things we're looking for, but we don't have a huge budget, so we're gonna have to get creative - hence why we came to you," she finished with a proud grin. 

"All we want you to do is draw up some concepts that make us look enough like a train to sell the illusion to the audience. And as long as they're moveable enough for us to skate in, and can be constructed from stuff we've got access to, the rest of the design can be totally down to you," Riven added.

"So basically you've got free reign to make us look as ridiculous as you want," Mick tacked on with a chuckle. 

"But try to be a little nice with it," August gently offered from behind, which just set Bentley off to laugh more.

He did have to admit that the offer sounded quite tempting. After all, he'd never worked on anything like costume designs before - and from the sounds of things, this concept would let him get pretty creative with it; these weren't just average costumes - in fact, they were probably more sculpture than costume anyway. But there was something still holding him back. "I don't know, guys. I don't know if I've got the brain space to work on two shows at once-"

"Oh please, Bentley - come on," Riven pleaded. "We'll look like complete morons out there if we don't have good costumes."

"We will," Mick earnestly confirmed. "Trust me, It's not pretty."

"Well if I'm on Vivien's side then don't I want you guys to look like complete morons?" he asked with a mischievous giggle.

"Maybe, but where's the fun in a landslide victory?" Riven countered with a smirk. 

"Come on, Benny, please," came Carrie's attempt at begging. "I'll sit with you and help you learn all your lines whilst you work on the costumes."

Bentley's ears pricked up. "...Really?"

"Mhm," she confirmed with a kind nod. "And I can give you all my tips for breaking down the script into easier parts to manage; I know they can seem really daunting when you try to go through them all at once."

Now that sounded like an offer he could get behind. He'd already been toying with the idea of asking Carrie for help with the seemingly impossible task of learning his lines, but had chickened out every time. There were just so many - it was like they all blurred into one every time he'd even open a page. And he hated the thought of letting Vivien down because he couldn't get his brain to work how he wanted it to, so if Carrie could actually help him get through a scene without having to look at his script the entire time… Maybe it'd be worth giving up a few pages of his sketchbook to designing train-transformer-wannabes.

But he couldn't let them think he was that easy of a target… "I don't know guys, it just doesn't feel right going behind Viv's back like this-"

"Oh come on, Benny, please," Carrie tried again, with a touch more dramatic desperation.

"I'll do your dish duty for the rest of summer," Riven attempted to bribe.

But that just spurred on Bentley's reluctance even more. After all, he was rather curious about what else he could squeeze out of the pair to help sweeten the deal. "...I'm listening."

"You can have the rest of my pudding cups with dinner each night?" Riven offered. "And you don't have to go behind Viv's back," he added. "Don't go and tell her outright, but if she asks you about it then you're totally free to tell her. And if she's not happy about it, you can back out any time you want."

"Well, okay, but I still don't know if I'll have the time to-"

"If you say 'yes' we'll get you that rare Spiderman comic you want," Riven threw out in a moment of sheer desperation.

Bentley's heart skipped a beat. Damn, they really did want his help.. "...Seriously?" he breathed, eyes widening at the very prospect.

"Sure, Carrie'll cover it - won't you, Carrie?" Riven confirmed with a smirk as he gave the blonde's shoulder a squeeze. 

Shooting him a sharp glance, she hissed a tight: "I will?"

"Of course you will," Riven verified, his mischievous smirk only broadening as Carrie's mildly murderous glare was replaced with Bentley's whole-hearted satisfaction.

"Alright, done. Pass me a pen and some paper," he said, sealing the deal with a barked laugh and a cheesy grin before either one of them could back down on their offers again. 

"Welcome aboard, Bentley," Riven replied, shooting him a victorious smile as he reached across the table and shook the boy's hand. 

But just as Riven and the others were starting to unload all their ideas for potential costume concepts onto Bentley, with what he found to be startling levels of enthusiasm, the room's main lights flickered to life, illuminating a seething head of green hair in the doorway. Before Bentley could question the girl's sudden appearance, or could let his eyes adjust to the drastic shift in brightness though, she called out to her band partner with thunderous urgency.

"Riv, you've got a hell of a lot of explaining to do; I just looked up this 'Belle' character you want me to play - care to tell me why she's described as 'ancient' and 'peeling'?" an outraged Jade demanded. "Or why you thought I'd be so perfect to play her?"

Rolling his eyes and just laughing off the girl's anger, Riven quickly tried to appease her with a teasing: "That's not the version of her we're using, dummy. And don't you dare try to tell me you're not perfect for her - you nap all the fucking time."

As Riven and Jade broke off into their own friendly spat, and Mick and Carrie started up their own conversation about what Mick had been practising last on her skates, Bentley found himself turning to August - this time taking his turn to wear the awkwardly sheepish smile. "Why do I get the feeling I've signed up for way more than I can handle?"

"Oh come on, don't worry, it'll be fun," August reassured before offering a joke to further set him at ease. "And hey, at least you're getting a backstage job and a comic book out of it - all I'm gonna get is on-stage embarrassment and massive quads."

The guffaws spilled from Bentley's lips before he could stop them - and after glancing around to watch Carrie clumsily catching Mick (who looked as if she'd just stepped on a banana peel in an old cartoon) before she could fall, and Riven playfully bickering with Jade in the doorway, he started to think that working with them on this project might not be so bad after all. Plus, a whole costume concept all to himself? He could definitely have some fun with that…

[panelshowsource]

If you had to pick a top three favorite episodes of any panel shows EVER, which would you choose? One of mine would have to be Terry Wogan guest hosting old NMTB, which I am dying to watch again in my lifetime. Your old-NMTB-posting reminded me just how amazing and formative those old episodes were for me. Anyway, it got me thinking… I would love to hear yours!

as long as i'm allowed to answer this totally subjectively...! because the objectively most iconic panel show episodes are probably quite different to the ones i gravitate to especially for rewatching — and especially in this difficult recent climate 🫥

this choice is almost bizarre knowing me, a huge huge huge sean lock fan, but this episode of cats does countdown — without sean! and not even golden era, probably, whatever that is in my mind — is so ridiculous and chaotic and stupid that i've watched it about 1000 times. there's something very specific about the dynamic between jimmy, jon, roisin, and joe without sean; those four have been in quite a few episodes without sean and they're like actual children without an adult in the room: jon is goofier and completely lets go of the game, jimmy throws even more to roisin (we do not talk enough about what a fucking kick jimmy gets out of her), roisin and joe's insane sibling dynamic becomes next level. anyways—this episode, which includes rly funny mascots, glory hole, the fucking hoop game and joe eating an onion and jon eating peppers???, THE UNICORN, its sheer childishness just cracks me up every time :') (if we're gonna mention the golden age, 2.02 is very iconic — from rhod killin it and always arguing with jimmy to claude to nick x susie hahaha but i have sooooo many catsdown episodes i love love love)

i really love the episode of 8 out of 10 cats following jimmy's tax scandal. it's not one of my favourite panel shows in general, but the circumstances of the news and the discussion epitomised what the show was meant to be: panel show meets reality tv meets a comedy central roast. watching that live, as the news was running it so heavily that even the prime minister mentioned it, as the press and twitter were reacting to it... wild times. it holds up incredibly well — it's hilarious watching them rip him to shreds, because he deserves every word and they're having a ball doing it to him, and i really appreciate jon grounding the conversation in just how tax avoidance hurts their country and some of its hardest workers — a really interesting, engaging mix of comedy and anger and wit and disappointment and political commentary that is not only funny but strikingly relevant no matter how much time passes. like so, so many people who were so, so disappointed in jimmy, this was the foundation of his carrying the responsibility, shame, reflection, and growth that people wanted to see — and that he truly needed to. since then he's talked a lot about not only righting the wrong (in paying back what he owed in avoidance) but just how the system is so broken — and taking the least complicated, most honest road forward since.

now i want to pick 1000 different things this is why i don't make lists or rank things!!!!! while my instinct is to pick a big fat quiz, i'm actually gonna go top-level nostalgia and say this episode of buzzcocks when stephen fry was a guest. what can i say — simon, stephen, it was two intellectual, mildly bitchy homosexuals on a stacked panel including josie long, dominic cooper, and yet another skinny white rock man for simon to pretend he's not trying to flirt with. stephen saying "there is a history, in pop music, of recto-veginal insertion" and denouncing god, like, in the first 5 minutes? stephen doing the intros round?? did i mention history boys-era dominic cooper??? such a throwback!!! (not to cheat but this ep with josh groban & martin freeman is my runner up)

i want to apologise to big fat quiz, taskmaster, wilty... THE WHOLE HISTORY OF PANEL SHOWS... I WISH I COULD CHOOSE YOU ALL

[ladycatofwinterfell]

I suppose it's once again time to put myself through writing my thoughts on the episode. So here is me doing that.

Thoughts on episode 7!

Pain and suffering. That's it. That's the post. Is what I would have said if I was able to shut up about anything ever. But unfortunately I’m not.

Well, first of all I would like to say that everyone in this episode should be given an Emmy. They were all so insanely good. Delainey, Jacob, Sam, Assad, Ben, Roxane, Eric. They all brought their absolute best and this episode would not have been this good without them. I’d like to Emmy nominate Sam Reid’s hair, as well. It’s basically its own character at this point.

And now when that had been put out there let's move on to the actual episode. I barely know where to begin and I already feel that this will be incomprehensible because dear lord in heaven jesus fucking christ am i feeling feelings.

The torture before the trial was so hard to watch. Throwing Claudia in the rat box she had been made to manage for them. Chekhov's gun, I suppose. I should have seen it coming.

Having the trial as a play and performing it on a stage in front of a live audience is fucking genius. It heightens the sheer horror of it so much, highlights how performance and ways of presenting something can lure the audience. Weren't we the ones sitting by that stage, watching them? Is that not what we've been doing all season? Have we been tricked by performances and angles and particular story telling? Brilliant, I love it.

They cut the ankle tendons. They made it impossible to run. They beat the fuck out of them beforehand. Each time they spoke they used their collective power to disrupt their minds and create a pressure so great Claudia got a nosebleed and blood vessels in Louis' left eye popped. They produced a nice little film and a nice little story full of racist caricatures and stereotypes so that Lestat could be victimised. Everyone knows what’s going to happen because everyone has read the script, they all have lines and cues but Louis, Claudia and Madeleine do not. They are not characters, they’re props. Fuck these vampires. I like that the show doesn't shy away from how ugly this is, they show us their bleeding ankles several times, make us be in the heads of Louis and Claudia as they experience the psychic assault from the coven, we are forced to watch as the audience verbally stones them. It tries to make us uncomfortable and it is really uncomfortable. This is, above all, an uncomfortable watch.

They are broken on stage. They are broken and Louis knows that he is coming. There is no escaping him. He will always come hunting them down. A presence, a familiar scent. Lestat de Lioncourt. He’s been looming in the background all season and now he’s back and in typical Lestat fashion he cannot enter a room quietly.

I know I wrote this in a post already but I enjoyed Lestat reading the homophobe to filth, I thought it was fun. I also thought it was very very telling for Lestat that he reacted that way only when it was an insult partly leveled at him and not solely at Louis and/or Claudia. He goes off script there, breaks character to take revenge. Always the petty slights with you, Uncle Les. Because he is a petty fucking bitch. Upon a rewatch I also noticed that the homophobe reacted similarly, although quietly, when Lestat was talking of Nicolas so that was a nice touch.

He also breaks character when it comes to Louis. He affirms his love for Louis and he admits to having done horrible things to him. He admits to having tried to break Louis because he couldn't own him. He admits to dropping him and not doing anything to catch him because he wanted to hurt him. And he regrets it, he feels guilty over it, he's pained by it. He doesn't apologise for it, emphasises that he doesn't deserve forgiveness for it, and that there is nothing worse than what he did. And this is Lestat. He's not the victim, like whoever orchestrating the whole thing (*cough* Armand *cough*) tries to make him out to be for the sake of the trial. No matter how absolutely deranged Louis got during their fight, no matter how much he fought back, it was not a situation of mutual abuse. Lestat was always the one in power. Though he's also not evil. He knows what he's done, he knows he was wrong to do it, and he knows he cannot make up for it. And this is not only a matter of in universe role reversal, this is also something the fandom it guilty of. I've seen so many posts about how Louis' story doesn't hold up at all and just wait until Lestat finally gets to tell his version, then we'll get the truth. And he tells his story and he admits to the abuse. The parts where he goes away from the script written for him are from what we know at the moment the closest we get to the real him. And the real him is sometimes just awful. But the real him is, as I said, also not evil. The real him loves very hard and is pained by his own failures. I've read almost 7 (insane. why do i do that) of the vampire chronicles books now and I'm very satisfied with this portrayal of Lestat, I think it's book accurate even as others seem to disagree. I’m also very much looking forward to what they will do with him if we get a season 3.

I like Lestat, I think it's a joy every time he's on screen and I was excited to have him back for this episode. He’s my favourite character in the books. That and I would strangle him if I ever got the chance. I contain multitudes.

Now, do I think Lestat was on that stage because he really wanted to be on that stage? No. I think he's on that stage because he was made to go on it. I think he's reciting his lines because he was persuaded into doing so. Maybe by... I don't know, Armand? Perhaps. Because let's be fucking real here, the by far oldest and most powerful vampire in that theatre was not held back by fear of the vampire Sam. They put him in the theatre equivalent of those little pens you put babies in and that stopped him? Oh no he was put in time out so he can’t do anything :( He made an entire restaurant stop and sent all members of the coven to sleep at once, he did not need all his power to make the audience say banishment instead of death for Louis. He could have prevented it. He could have saved Claudia. But why would he since he's the architect of her destruction? I'm willing to bet on that he wrote the play. And I'm willing to bet Lestat's not chilling out in a dungeon because he really wants to, it doesn't feel that much like him. And Armand in Dubai talking about Lestat taking familiar parts of Louis' life and twisting them to serve himself. SOUNDS LIKE SOMEONE ELSE I KNOW. He’s insane. Clinically insane. Balls to the walls batshit bonkers. And I love him and his kicked puppy eyes. He’s very very dear to me and I hope he never stops being insane. Just like with Lestat he’s not evil, he just needs Louis with him because he now doesn’t know how to go forward without Louis’ love and Claudia was threatening that. With all that said Lestat is absolutely not without blame for this situation. Not in the least. There are several people to blame for this and he’s one of them.

Speaking of Dubai. Lovely that Daniel is still at it. Love that. But also. Hallucination of Lestat in Dubai? Hallucination of Lestat never left? Hallucination of Lestat is something Louis can never be rid of as long as he's not actually in the presence of Lestat? Thanks. I'm going to kill myself. I know that I myself have taken Dubai as an absolute truth, that what happens there is something we know to be true while the rest can always be doubted. And now we can't be sure anymore and I'm once again taken by the genius of this show. Also taken by how Lestat and Louis really are soulmates in the worst possible way. They were made in hell for one another, their existences revolved around one another from the moment they met. Can they ever escape that? Probably not. Even as they're destroying themselves and everyone around them. They will always love each other even as they hate each other and they can't exist without the other. Which is cool. Fine, even. Doesn't at all make me want to drink poison. Loustat forever (threat).

Louis beginning to remember more and more that was unknown to him or had in some way been altered is very touching. He wants to tell the truth, he’s not actively trying to deceive anyone, but he doesn’t always know the truth himself. And sometimes he does downplay his own role in things more or less consciously because he can’t cope with his own actions but even then he returns to wanting the truth. These vampires are very human. The overall narrative is still not the entire truth but we’re moving towards it. Louis cannot be controlled forever, he cannot have his own life kept from him forever.

I’ve already touched a little on the fight, maybe I should also talk about the other revisited scene. How fucking insane was it to see Louis beg for Claudia, bargain for Claudia, promise to never leave Lestat if only he could have Claudia. Bartering with your presence, is that what makes you fascinating, Louis? Dragging her along the floor like a little child with its doll, it was somewhat creepy. Though just as with the fight it shows that sometimes Louis is absolutely deranged. Just as crazy as the rest of them. Love that for him. Too bad it goes out over Claudia. Him calling her their beautiful daughter as if she’s not a stranger and Lestat having to be like you don’t know this girl. Hate to give it to him, but Lestat was not wrong here. The way Claudia is so right when she says it was never about her. She’s a bandaid for a shitty marriage, she’s Louis’ chance at redemption, she’s Lestat’s mirror. And for a while they were actually happy and maybe that’s the tragedy. That it was doomed from the start, but it didn’t show immediately. That she was doomed from the start and she didn’t know it.

Claudia’s death was horrifying and I still haven’t recovered from it. I don’t know if I ever will. Singing to the audience the song they loved to hear her perform even as she hated it as they merely watch while she dies a horrible death. Looking at Lestat in her last moment. A scared child who is in extraordinary amounts of pain and knows she will die, looking to her father in a cry for help. Because even as she hates him he’s the one of those still on the stage that she most trusts. All through the episode she’s been defiant. Guess it was weird to start from her death and then move backwards, but it really stuck with me. She tries to talk back and they immediately punish her for it, she even gets up on her feet and shows her anger when Lestat speaks about what he did to Louis. And she points out the hypocrisy in that Lestat can cry and say he’s sorry but she and Louis are not allowed to do the same. They’re punished for Lestat’s murder even as he’s not dead. She also points out that it’s never been about her, that it’s just another round in the stormy romance of Louis and Lestat. Not even her creation was about her. They both loved her deeply, I’m very convinced of that, but she was always the third.

I had to save Claudia and Madeleine for last because despite tough competition they were the most hurtful part of this episode for me. Claudia lived so many years without ever being anyone's first. Louis says he put her first but did he really? Was he putting her first when he let Lestat back into the house in ep6? Was he putting her first when he refused to burn Lestat in ep7? Was he putting her first when she was created? No. But she found someone who didn't hesitate to put her first. She revealed her monstrous side to Madeleine, gave her her diaries to read so that she could understand the innermost parts of her. And Madeleine didn't shy away. Madeleine was convinced in her devotion to Claudia, even when it meant her own destruction. She was given the choice between life and Claudia and she chose Claudia. When death came for Claudia it was not Louis or Lestat or the coven that stood with her, it was Madeleine. Her one true ally. They barely got any time at all together but that was the happiest time of Claudia’s life. Anyway fuck all those vampires, I’m going to hunt them for sport. Louis, Lestat, Armand, Santiago, count your fucking days. But also Claudia could have lived a longer life if she had never been made a vampire. She wasn’t even 50 when she died, that’s well within a human life span. And she spent that life being 14, never past 14. Aging in spirit, but always treated as a little girl. She died early, too soon, despite being immortal. I’m glad we didn’t hear Claudia and Madeleine’s last words to each other, it doesn’t feel like we should know. That was for them, not meant to be shared.

As I’ve read iwtv I’m aware of the overall plot beats of the last episode and I can’t wait to see how the show executes them. What I’m most curious about is how the modern plot will be resolved for now. What will become of Louis, Armand and Daniel? Will we get Lestat in the modern timeline? Will things be completely resolved there or will we be teased with setups for another season? I’m pretty sure I will be considering wandering out into the wilderness and never return no matter what.

[fulltimemoaner]

If you're still accepting a prompt? Maybe a little drabble of Zhongli getting hurt after he protects Childe but since Zhongli is a prime adeptus, he heals quickly so he's not even fazed but Childe still panics and fusses over him, getting angry at Zhongli for taking the blow for him. Meanwhile, Zhongli is confused why Childe is so worried.

always accepting prompts anon!!

+++++

The arrow is still deeply seethed within his gut, sending electric jolts down his spine, his body doused in the residue of Childe’s Obliteration, hair dripping wet and body paralysed for those few seconds that it takes for his geo energy to blast the measly elemental power away, the warm power of his stone resonating deep within his chest. He takes a deep breath and drives the end of his polearm to the ground for support, his eyes searching for Childe’s form in the crowded battleground where they had been ambushed by a gang of treasure hoarders. His eyes are wide as saucers when he sees a man closing into the Snezhnayan from behind, and he almost acts on instinct, kicking the end of his spear hard enough to send it flying right into the mortal’s head, a deadly shot that sent the lifeless body tumbling a few feet away.

“Behind you!” Childe screams from across the field, and before he has any time to react, Zhongli feels a cold blade press against his throat.

“Fatui bastard!” The treasure hoarder screams, pulling the ex Archon flash against his chest. “Take another step and I’m cutting him open.”

Childe is approaching, slowly, warily, hydro blades clutched on both hands. “You don’t want to do that.” There is the telltale laugh, verging on the thin line between consciousness and insanity. “You can choose a dignified death.”

Zhongli regards him with a level nod, his amber eyes observing ten, maybe twenty, thieves closing in on Ajax from behind.

“Don’t you move an inch, Mr. Zhongli. I’ll take care of this.”

Zhongli watches him reaching out for his mask, and a part of him promptly refuses to let him go for that trick. With all caution thrown to the wind, he elbows the thief in the gut and feels him double over. The knife slides across his neck and makes a gush so deep he can feel the blood raining down his clothes, but it’s alright, it’s collateral damage. Chidle’s eyes darken and a tidal wave starts forming beneath him, emerging into the size of a colossal sea creature crafted out of the finest hydro powers. Zhongli runs towards him before the wave can crash against them, just in time to spread his arms out and form a protective shield around them.

When Ajax opens his eyes again, he is certain that the mortals have been crushed like insects underneath the tidal waves. There is a quiet serenity within Zhongli’s shield, knowing that outside the golden aura lay massacre. He lets his daggers evaporate and kneels down, next to the panting adeptus to inspect the damage done. “Take a deep breath,” his tone is low, serious, and Zhongli seems nonchalant, even as Childe tears the arrow out of his stomach. His chest is fluttering like a fish’ out of the water, and Ajax can imagine his lungs pooling with blood from his gushing neck. He presses a hurried hand against the ugly cut, gripping with an aim, his own heart overwhelmed with worry. “You’re in shreds.” The Fatui whispers, an edge of fury tinting his voice. “I told you to stay still.”

“I didn’t-“ Zhongli coughs violently, because, adeptus or not, his neck was still gaping open. “Want you to use that.”

Ajax bites his lips and tips his head forward, trying to suppress a violent reaction and a cry of frustration. “We need to find a doctor.”

Zhongli shakes his head, his lover’s hand already doing enough to constrict the flow of blood. Childe observes the pale skin on the ex archon’s face, the contrast it creates against the crimson lining of his lashes and the vibrant amber of his eyes. “You don’t know how long you can last without your Gnosis.”

“I will be alright.” Zhongli insists, not wishing to grace the Bubu pharmacy with his presence under any circumstances, not with the suspicious owner and the little creature that could probably sense the sheer adeptal energy vibrating off him. When he looks up, he sees Childe’s furrowed brows and twitching mouth, the fury evident in his barely restrained expression.

“Sometimes you should learn to listen.” Ajax glowers, gripping his lover’s neck tighter than he intended, the jerking motion enough to pull him forward and make him wince over the friction the wound in his throat received. “I’m worried,” The ginger gasps out, his chest throbbing with a confusing feeling. A mixture of care, unmeasured care, and the need to smother Zhongli in his weakened state. His brain hurts with the clashing emotions and there is nothing more he wants than to shut it up, more than he wishes to twist that beautiful neck and hear it snap underneath his fingertips. Childe feels the panic flare from within, not understanding the sudden urge to sincerely hurt his lover, so he chooses to blame it on the turmoil and the grip of the Abyss on his conscious.

“You know it takes more than that to kill me.” Zhongli whispers, feeling the murderous aura radiating off the ticking bomb that the Snezhnayan was at the best of times. “It’s already healing.”

“It’s not a matter of knowing.” Childe has to bite his inner cheek until it bleeds. “It’s a matter of chance.” He slowly withdraws his hand, watches the cut disappear quickly from the God’s skin. He throws his head back with a laugh, his eyes half lidded. “Morax’s spears rained down from the sky and built the earth.” His voice was laced with irony and malice. “Morax is sustaining wounds for a mortal lover.” Childe spits, his hand grabbing a fistful of dark locks to bring Zhongli’s stoic face close to his. “Only I am allowed to kill you, you understand that?”

Zhongli’s expression softens into a gentle smile in spite of the awkward angle his head is bent in. He thought that through the jumbled words and emotions that the human had just slurred out in his post slaughtering bliss, he managed to find some sort of meaning. “It’s only human to worry, Ajax.”’

Childe grits his teeth at the unfiltered grief in his gut. Feeling somewhat more level-headed, he pulls on a pained smile. “Stop reminding me of my mortality.” And finally, Zhongli chuckles, his eyes closing easily. Ajax grabs the chance to kiss him and apologise, his stained gloves caressing the already faded wound on his adeptus lover’s neck in gratitude.

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Learning to Swim

Request: (whenever you have time of course.) What about a post-war draco malfoy x reader where after astoria dies draco and scorpius are left alone for a couple years then he sees y/n a friend from Hogwarts and they fall in love again (you can decide how). this is my vision and I'm a sucker for post-war fics with draco. 🥺💕 - @obx-beach

A/N: I LOVED THIS REQUEST SO MUCH. Thank you so much for requesting it and for trusting me with your request! It got away from me but I really wanted to explore this idea in depth because for me, anyway, grief isn't something that disappears over time, but rather, becomes bearable. Please read the warnings before reading, I cover some heavy topics. As always, I hope you like it!

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Warnings: heavy talk of grief and loss, some swearing, mentions of food, alcohol consumption, mentions of ghosts, a very cheesy ending.

Word count: 11.9k

Draco so rarely finds peace nowadays; a consequence of a confidently walking toddler who’s penchant for curiosity has him grabbing at what he can – the paper, the rug, the dog’s tail.

Draco so rarely find peace nowadays, but once a week, on a Saturday, he drops Scorpius off at his parents. His mother and father doting over the blonde-haired boy who looks more like his mother everyday despite the argument from Narcissa – “He has your nose, Draco!”

On the days he drops his son off at the manor, he apparates to the familiar black gates. They squeak whenever he opens them and no matter how many times he visits, he never remembers to bring the oil he promises to fetch.

Now, he doesn’t look at the names as he makes his way towards the familiar row, hands in his pockets, shoes sinking in the wet grass.

Before, he’d drag his feet. Reading every name he could as he struggled to come to terms with his disbelief and grief.

The granite headstone sits prettily above its plot; the marker for Draco to slow his pace to an amble.

She had died a Malfoy but had been buried in the Greengrass plot.

Draco had known of Astoria Greengrass for years; had been schooled with her sister but had known the family personally for years due to similar social circles, and as a result, social functions. Draco spent ball after ball getting to know the younger Greengrass sister much to the chagrin of Pansy Parkinson who still held a candle for Draco since their fling ended in Fifth Year.

He worked up the nerve to ask Astoria to dinner after a particularly hellish function where his father had pushed him to dance with every available girl that looked his way. For the most part, Draco accepted – wanting to keep his father happy and his mother hopeful. But through every dance, through every twirl on the floor, his eyes would wander back to where Astoria sat very intently focused on the napkin design.

On his third circuit of the dancefloor, Draco broke away from his dance partner earning a glare for his disrespect. He apologised with a smile but turned to the brunette sitting alone; he held his hand to her, and she took it with the grace of a well-raised daughter.

They span around the dancefloor; circle after circle after circle. They laughed, and they smiled, and they settled into a happy silence. One Draco felt so comfortable in that by the time they had finished their second dance together, Draco was certain he wanted to marry her.

By the end of the night, Astoria knew she wanted to marry him.

They were married less than six months after that night.

Three months after they were married, Astoria announced her pregnancy. Rumours started; stating that was the real cause for their quick wedding. But their families knew different; their families spent the entirety of the pregnancy wrapped in a cocoon of worry.

Then blood curse on the Greengrass family meant that Astoria would die at a young age, and Draco had prepared himself for that. Though, in private, he researched what he could to see if he could break the blood curse. This meant, however, the pregnancy was watched closely by Narcissa, by Daphne, and by multiple Healers flooed in from St Mungos.

Nine months later, on an unusually warm day in January, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy was born. Immediately, Draco knew that though he had his hair, Scorpius had his mother’s eyes and mouth.

Three hours after the birth of her son; as she held him tightly in her arms, watching him with the love only a mother could know, Astoria Malfoy nee Greengrass took her last breath.

-----------

The months after her death, Draco barely coped. He woke up in the mornings solely for Scorpius and Scorpius alone. He devoted his time to his son, marking every milestone in his baby scrapbook which on occasion he would take to his wife’s grave and go through it with her. Scorpius never visited the grave; for starters, he was too young, Draco wouldn’t let his son go through that but his son knew that his mother was no longer with them.

But that didn’t stop Scorpius asking for his mother after a nightmare had pulled him from sleep.

Narcissa tried to help; tried everything she could to help with his grief – at one point even suggesting he go see a psychic, but the fear of transference was enough to put Draco off the idea.

He didn’t have the heart to tell his mother that he didn’t need a psychic to tell him Astoria had made it to the other side and that she had found peace.

She haunted him nearly every night.

Flashes of her white night gown in the corner of his eye; glimpses of her beautiful face in the mirror.

His heart would race, and his palms would sweat as the panic set in.

For a long while, he believed himself to be going insane. The sheer grief he felt at the loss of his wife driving him to madness as though he were Heathcliff suffering the loss of his Cathy.

------

Draco had memorised the inscription on her headstone after visiting for a month straight.

He had memorised the path to her grave by the end of the first week; the soil still needing to settle.

His feet knew where the uneven ground would be, so it was all dodged expertly.

Draco has very little to say to Astoria when he kneels in front of her. He updates her on Scorpius; promises that he will bring him soon, but it was still too early for his son to see his mother.

In fact, most of his time at the grave is spent in silence. His knees soaking wet from the morning dew still covering the grass.

“Draco? Is that you?” A chiming voice asks as Draco’s head remains bent over his wife’s grave. He releases a sigh before looking up to see that it’s you – someone he hasn’t seen in years. The last he saw of you; you were stood defiantly facing the hordes of Death Eaters in courtyard at Hogwarts.

“(Y/N)?” He asks.

You frown, pointing towards the grave where his wife lies in perpetual sleep, “I heard, but I didn’t believe. I’m sorry for your loss, Draco.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, “Why are you here? If you don’t mind me asking.”

You hold the flowers in your hand up in response, “I lost my grandfather less than a year back. I visit every week.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. He was a great man.” Draco murmurs, shame washing over him from his curt tone.

“Thank you,” You murmur quietly, “It’s still hard.”

Draco wants to offer words of comfort; to tell you that pain eases over time, but he would be lying to your face. The pain doesn’t ease, and the grief doesn’t lessen, it simply moves to one side and becomes bearable until something reminds you of the one you’ve lost whether it be a sound or a smell and then the pain washes over you like a tidal wave and you start to wonder whether you’ll come up for air or simply drown.

Draco decides not to say anything; turning back to face the woman he had pledged his life too.

You walk away after a slow nod; you wouldn’t get anything more out of him now.

-----

They say that time heals, that grief lessens, but it doesn’t.

Draco loves his son; he adores his son, but he cannot help but see him as a reminder of what he lost on the day of his birth.

He had gained a son; an heir to carry on the Malfoy name but he had lost the love of his life.

Draco leaves the graveyard soon after his encounter with you; feeling surly with how he had spoken to you.

He searches you before he leaves, but he finds you knelt at the grave of your grandfather with your head bent as the silent sobs rack your body.

He leaves you to your privacy; understanding that right now, intrusion is the last thing needed.

------------

Draco sits in the living room of his marital home that night; a tumbler of whisky in his hand as he leans back in the chesterfield armchair gifted to him by his parents as part of their wedding present.

The wedding present being the house.

There are reminders of Astoria all over the house; from the pattern of the curtains to her photos lining the walls. She was everywhere. How was he was supposed to start living his life when his house remained a mausoleum?

He feels the hand on his shoulder; he doesn’t need to turn to see who it is.

“You need to stop doing this, Draco,” She murmurs.

He sighs through his nose, “I don’t see why.”

“You’re hurting everyone around you; you didn’t use to be like this.”

“It’s been a trying time, love.”

“I know it has. For both you and Scorpius, but it’s been three years, darling.”

The air in the room has become cold; too cold. To the point where his breath has started to fog; he takes a sip of the amber liquid to warm his body through.

“I can’t forget you, I won’t. He has no memories of you; he needs me to remember you.”

The voice behind him shakes, “My love, you’ll never forget me. I live on in him.”

Draco doesn’t say anything; the lump in his throat making it impossible for him to speak. The absolute yearning with him has him reaching up to take the hand settled on his shoulder.

The tears start to fall when his hand falls through the ghostly spectre.

-----

Morning comes and Draco wakes in the same chair he had fallen asleep in. He scratches at the stubble lining his face as he stretches his legs, bones popping as he stands to full height.

The clock on the mantle chimes seven times and Draco supposes he should start the day and collect his son from the Manor. He hadn’t been in any state last night to have him at home; it was better for Scorpius to stay with his grandparents.

The light to the bathroom flickers as Draco drags himself into the shower; the hot water and lavender shower gel doing a good job at leeching the tension that had become set into his shoulders.

He wipes the steam from the mirror before lathering his face with shaving cream and beginning the soothing action of shaving. Narcissa preferred him clean shaven anyway; believed that the stubble made him look like a vagrant.

A flash of white in the corner of his eye has Draco freezing with the razor halfway to his cheek.

His hand begins to shake, and he places the razor back in the sink as he braces himself on the counter. He counts to ten before he dares to look back up at himself in the mirror.

He was being haunted.

------

In the years after the Second Wizarding War, Narcissa had taken it upon herself to entirely renovate Malfoy Manor from the dark, dank place it was to make it more of a home for her family. A home in which Draco should have been raised in.

Narcissa greets him at the door with a kiss on the cheek and a concerned look that only a mother could pull off.

“Good Morning Mother, how are we today?”

“I’d be a lot better if you looked better. Did you get any sleep?”

Draco nods, thinking to the few hours in the armchair, “I got some.”

“Not enough by the looks of it, but at least you shaved. Have you eaten yet?”

He shakes his head, “I came straight here.”

“Luckily for you, Scorp is still eating.”

Draco hangs his coat on the grand railing by the door before following his mother through his childhood home.

His son beams at the sight of his father walking through the door, “Dad!” he yells, dropping his piece of fruit and jumping off his chair. He runs to Draco, wrapping his arms around his legs.

Draco chuckles, picking his son up, settling him on his waist, “Hey there squirt, did you have a nice night with granny and grandpa?”

Scorpius nods, still chewing his last piece of breakfast, “Yeah, me and granny baked, and she let me eat the mix!”

Narcissa lets out an overdramatic gasp, “That was our secret, Scorp!”

Scorpius laughs at his granny’s reaction, “I had to tell Dad!”

Draco tickles his son’s stomach; grinning at the laughter leaving his son’s mouth.

He had never known a world with his mother; and he never would, yet here he was as happy as any three year old could be.

“Are you joining us, Draco?” His father’s voice sounds; breaking Draco from his melancholy.

Draco clears his throat, letting Scorpius down so he can sit next to Narcissa at the table, “Yes, I think I will.”

Anything to not go back to the house so soon; anything to avoid seeing her in the corner of his eye or in the mirrors.

Narcissa nails him with a look she has made entirely her own after dealing with a supremacist order for over a decade.

Draco wavers under his mother’s stare; ready to drop the pretence and cry in her arms.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he grabs the bowl of strawberries and scoops a spoonful onto his plate before reaching for a waffle and grabbing his knife and fork.

“Lucius, darling, why don’t you show Scorpius your matchbox collection? I know he’d love them.”

“What are matched boxes?” Scorpius asks.

Narcissa laughs lightly at her grandson’s pronunciation, “Match boxes, sweetheart.”

Lucius stands from the table; knowing very well what the determined look in his wife’s eyes meant, “Come on, my boy. I’ll show you my collection; I want to see if you can count how many there are.”

Scorpius’ eyes light up at the chance to make his grandfather proud; he jumps down from the chair before reaching to grab Lucius’ hand. Together, they leave the dining room, Lucius prattling about the history of the match box and why they needed to be collected.

Narcissa waits until they’re out of earshot before turning on her son who on the outside, almost pulled off looking so put together. Inside, she knew, was a broken man desperate to find a way to lessen the pain.

“It’s been three years, darling.”

“I know,” Draco answers; resisting the urge to groan.

“How often are you visiting her?”

“Once a week now.”

There was a point in the first months after her death where Draco would visit the graveyard every day for hours. He didn’t even say anything; he just sat on the perfectly trimmed grass in front of her grave and sobbed for the life that had been lost and the future that had been robbed.

Narcissa nods, “That’s good, Draco.”

Draco nods; he had gotten better in the years since her passing but Narcissa would never understand what it feels like to lose a spouse a year into a marriage that should have lasted an eternity.

Narcissa sighs, “Do you think it’s time now?”

“Time for what?” He asks; voice hard.

“To think about finding somebody else? I’m not saying you need to do it right now, Draco, but it’s something to think about.”

Draco sees red, but he tries to keep a lid on his temper for the simple fact that it is his mother sitting in front of him, “I lost my wife, mother. She died giving birth to my son; your grandson. She died and now Scorpius doesn’t have a mother and I don’t have my wife standing beside me. I think I’ll take all the time I need to recover from this.”

Narcissa sighs, “Of course, Draco. You know I didn’t mean it as an insult.”

Draco rubs at his eyes; feeling wretched for the way he had spoken to his mother. She barely left his side after Astoria’s death; she had been the one to pull him away from her body.

“I’m sorry, mother. It was a tough night.”

“You’re having a lot of those, I’ve noticed.”

Draco’s lip begins to wobble, and he thanks Merlin that Scorpius is out of the room, so he didn’t have to watch his father fall to pieces.

Narcissa folds her son into her arms with the care only a mother could show. She strokes his hair as he sobs against her.

“I didn’t think it would be this hard,” Draco sobs.

“Neither did we, my love.”

-----

Draco feels better after talking to his mother. Lucius returned fairly quickly after Draco had dried his eyes; Scorpius following on his tail, chattering about what he planned to do when he returned home.

Draco opens his arms for his son who happily falls into them; preferring to be carried rather than walking unless he was running around the gardens or the park.

“Do you have everything you need?” Draco asks his son.

Scorpius nods as Lucius holds up the small overnight bag that holds his clothes, pyjamas and his priceless teddy, Wellesley. It was the first thing Astoria brought when she found out she was pregnant. Scorpius treasured it like nothing else.

Draco takes the bag from his father; well aware of the extra treats hidden there. Scorpius had Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy wrapped around his little finger.

After they apparate home, Lucius and Narcissa watch the spot in which their son and grandson disappeared. Hands clutching the other; both worried sick over their only son.

-----

He fills his week with his son; adventures, hide-and-seek, visits to the library. Draco makes sure Scorpius fills his day with activities designed to educate but to also have fun.

It’s also a way for Draco to keep his mind drifting to the one person who no matter how he often prays and wishes, will always remain absent.

The park is one of Scorpius’ favourite places to visit. He has a personal aim to swing as high as he can without giving his father a heart attack.

They spend their hours doing all sorts together, and every night before bed, Draco tucks Scorpius in tightly. Dropping a kiss to his son’s head and then his teddy’s head, Draco wishes Scorpius the sweetest of dreams.

On a night, Draco lets the memories of his short marriage consume him. He doesn’t wear his wedding ring on his finger anymore, but rather, attached to a chain he wears around his neck. He twists this chain for hours on a night thinking of the mother that Astoria never got the chance to be.

------

Draco’s visit to the graveyard is shorter this week on account of what happened last time. He knew what happened in the living room was down to the fact that he had spent too much time at her grave, lamenting how much he missed her.

It was expected that she would answer his calls.

So he resolves to make this visit shorter; long enough to clean the area and replace the flowers but short enough to not tempt fate and spectres.

Draco recounts to her tales of Scorpius’ week. Draco laughs and beams like a proud father when he tells the story of Scorpius adopting the family of Nifflers from their copse at the bottom of the garden. He had been so proud of himself; walking all the way back to the house with a four Nifflers in tow who had deemed Scorpius as one their own.

“You’d have thought he was a Scamander,” Draco laughs, patting the loose grass from his suit pants. “I think he could very well excel at Care of Magical Creatures but it’s too soon to tell, my dear.”

Eventually, Draco stands, wiping down his black suit trousers and whispering a goodbye.

Draco is a few steps away from the black, creaky gate when you bustle through; bouquet in hand, sad smile on your face.

You pause in the gateway when you see Draco standing before you.

“(Y/N),” Draco greets, “I was hoping to catch you. I wanted to apologise for how I spoke to you the last time I saw you.”

“Draco, there’s nothing to apologise for. You’re mourning your wife; the last thing you need is someone invading that space.”

“All the same, I’m sorry for how I spoke to you.”

“I accept your apology, Draco.”

“Would you like to join me for a coffee? It’s been years since I saw you last, and I think it would be nice to catch up.”

You glance between the flowers in your hand and Draco waiting patiently for an answer.

“It’s okay if you don’t. I understand if you want to be with your grandfather.”

You bite your lip, glancing back to the flowers, “Do you want to come with me? All I need to is say hello and change the flowers. You don’t have to, though.”

Draco shakes his head, “No, it’s okay. I’ve had my visit today, so I don’t mind waiting with you.”

You smile at him gratefully, “Thank you; he’s just this way.”

Draco follows you as you walk the well-trodden path to your grandfather’s grave. He doesn’t let himself think as he follows, and as a result, almost bumps into you when you stop in front of a grey granite headstone.

“Hi Grandad,” You greet, “I’ve brought someone with me today, I hope you don’t mind. I’m just changing your flowers though because then we’re going to get coffee.”

You turn your attention to Draco when you finish speaking, “It’s morbid I know but it helps me process. I know he isn’t hearing me, but I can vent here and somehow I always find a solution to my problem.”

Draco nods, “I do the same with Astoria. I tell her about Scorpius and her parents though I know they visit just as much.”

You smile at the blonde-haired man before discarding the dried out flowers to one side, replacing them with the fresher, brighter flowers.

Draco watches you through the process; not missing the way your eyes dart between the headstone and to something just past it.

For a brief moment, Draco wonders if you’re being haunted too.

-----

The coffee shop is warm compared to the brisk wind that howls outside. Draco’s body relaxes as he takes in the familiar scent of bitter coffee beans; it was a recent love of his, but now, he wouldn’t find himself going a day without a cup of the acrid liquid.

You unravel the scarf hanging around your neck before taking a seat at a corner table, “I didn’t think it would be this cold today. It makes me glad I overdressed,” you chuckle.

Draco laughs politely; his own coat now hanging on the back of his chair.

You smile, “Do you know what you want? I’ll go order.”

“Nonsense, I’ll order, I invited you here.”

“Well I won’t turn down free coffee, I’ll have a latte please.”

“I’ll be right back,” is all he says before leaving the table to order.

As the drinks are being made by the teenaged barista, Draco starts to second-guess his intentions for why he asked you for coffee in the first place. All week the conversation he had with his mother had been replaying in his mind, and then he runs into you as he’s leaving the graveyard. Before he knew it, the words were flying out of his mouth and he was unable to stop them.

He’s panicking, but he doesn’t find himself regretting asking you.

He’s only regretting his intentions as to why he asked you.

He’s been alone for three years. He has Scorpius, and his parents, but he doesn’t have anyone he can talk to on a night when the air is quiet, and the moon is high. He doesn’t have that one person that he can simply hold and know that everything will be okay.

Then and there, he lets himself admit it: he’s lonely.

Astoria had been everything for the eighteen months they had been together. He was utterly devoted to her; completely besotted by her. Draco knew that he had found the love of his life; he just didn’t expect her to be taken from him so soon.

But still he wonders.

He wonders if it’s time; he wonders whether Astoria watches him and urges him to find someone new.

To feel that rush of falling in love all over again.

The clinking of mugs rips Draco from his internal debating. He thanks the barista with a smile, picking up the tray of drinks and walking carefully back to where you wait for him.

You thank him as you pick up your latte, “You looked to be thinking pretty intensely over there.”

“You were watching me?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you say, “I got bored of the view of the café.”

Draco nods; sipping tentatively at his coffee, wincing before adding another sugar to taste.

“What were you thinking of? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t mind. I was thinking of Astoria,” he admits.

You simply nod your head; understanding completely that a widow would think of his loss.

“How are you coping with her loss? It’s been a few years now, hasn’t it?”

“I could ask you the same question about your grandfather,” Draco murmurs, “We’re coping okay. Scorpius is thriving; he’s such a smart three year old and I know I’m biased but he retains information like a sponge.”

You laugh, “I was going to ask you about your son, I’m glad to hear he’s happy.”

“He doesn’t have any memories of his mother, but he knows who she is. He has a framed picture of her in his room that he says goodnight to every night.”

“He sounds precious, Draco.”

Draco nods; thinking of his dear boy, “He is. And I know she’s proud of him, I just feel it in my bones.”

“I’ll bet my last sickle that she’s proud of you too.”

Draco blinks fast; ridding the sudden tears away. “Thank you,” he whispers, taking another drink of his coffee to distract from the sudden wave of emotion.

He clears his throat once the wave has passed, “I asked you here to catch up; not for me to ruin the mood with my grief. How have you been? I haven’t seen you since the war.”

“You can talk to me about this, Draco, I don’t mind,” You state before continuing, “I’ve been well – I travelled a lot after the war. The whole realisation of life is short really hit me, so I left the country for a bit; travelled through Europe before jumping ship to America.”

Draco’s eyes widen, “That’s incredible. Where was your favourite place to travel?”

You glare at him playfully, “That’s such a hard question!”

He laughs lightly, “Still – you have to answer.”

You tap your fingers against your thigh, thinking his question over. You had loved everywhere you visited; feeling extremely fortunate to have met such a range of magical communities as well as integrate yourself within muggle society for a time.

“I think it would have to be this tiny island in Greece; it is said that in ancient times, the locals believed it was the end of the world, and if you went any further, you would fall off. I stayed there the longest; around a month where I explored the island, ate their food, and drank with the locals. It was the best time of my life.”

Draco inhales sharply at your words; not realised that he’s instinctively leaned towards you through your speech. He leans back into his chair, running a hand through his hair, “It sounds wonderful,” he whispers.

You nod; eyes glazed somewhat as you think back to your time on that heavenly island, “It really was.”

You shake yourself from your reminiscing, “What about you then, Draco? I know about the wedding, and your son, but what did you do after the war?”

Draco waves his hand in a nonchalant fashion, “Nothing as wonderful as travelling the globe though I did go to France on my honeymoon. I trained as a Healer straight from Hogwarts; I’ve been at St. Mungo’s since Scorpius was born.”

“That’s great, Draco! I always knew you would make a great Healer ever since I saw you in Potions.”

Draco ducks his head, “Thank you, I enjoy the work. Are you working now?”

You nod your head, “I work for the Daily Prophet; writing real articles and not the trollop that Rita Skeeter used to waffle on about.”

Draco barks out a laugh, surprising himself at the volume of it, “I remember her coverage of the Triwizard Tournament! It was so awful.”

You beam; eyes bright with joy, “Weren’t they? I promise I’m a much better writer… not to sound big-headed.”

“I completely believe you; I’ll have to start keeping an eye out for your articles. I haven’t read the paper in so long. I haven’t had the time if I’m honest – I get my news from my mother.”

“How are your parents? I heard about them after the war.”

“Mother coped so well. She made it her mission to entirely renovate the house, and with it, the Malfoy reputation. She donates to charities now; her focus is children orphaned during the war. Father struggled, but he’s found his purpose for life again in Scorpius. Last time I was there, he showed him his collection of matchboxes.”

You laugh lightly, “That’s brilliant. I’m glad to hear that they’re doing well.”

“How is your family? I remember your mother from Kings Cross, always running to meet you off the train.”

“She’s doing okay,” You sigh, “She struggled after my grandfather but she’s working her way back to herself.”

Draco nods in understanding; he felt nothing but pride and a sting of jealously for your mothers process with her grief. Here he was, three years later, and still reaching out to the other side of bed only to grasp at empty, cold sheets.

However, as all things must, your time together comes to an end. The coffees are drank; coats are pulled back on and goodbyes are said on the pavement.

Draco walks away from you; apparating back to his home feeling lighter than he has in years.

------

Draco takes Scorpius to Diagon Alley on a Wednesday morning.

His son had been particularly restless the night before; a nightmare waking him. Draco does what he can to chase the monsters away before scooping up his only son and carrying him to the master bedroom. Scorpius sleeps soundly after that, but Draco remains awake – mind plaguing him with memories of Astoria but also of the coffee he shared with you.

It’s noon when Scorpius begins to pester his father for lunch. In his own words; he’s starving, and he hasn’t eaten in hours.

Draco laughs at his son. Three years old, but utterly dramatic. He kneels down so he’s eye-level, “How about we have ice cream for lunch?”

Scorpius’ face lights up and he begins to jump in his spot, “Can we go now? Please?”

Draco nods, holding out his hand for Scorpius take so he doesn’t get lost in the short distance to Florean Fortescue’s. He had lost him once; and whilst it was only two minutes before he found him, it was two minutes, he never wants to relive.

Draco lifts Scorpius so he can see the rows of flavours behind the glass. Scorpius’ eyes are wide as he checks the colour of every flavour. He even goes so far to press his face to the glass, fogging it up. Draco chuckles at his son’s antics; knowing full well he’ll pick the same flavour he’s gotten on every visit.

“Have you decided?”

Scorpius nods, “Chocolate please.”

Draco places Scorpius on the ground, “One chocolate tub, and one caramel fudge swirl tub please.”

Florean nods at the young Malfoy family with a large smile; watching them sit down at a window table before bringing their ice creams to them.

Scorpius attacks his chocolate tub with ferocity. Draco touches his son’s hand, “Slow down, squirt. You’ll get stomach ache.”

Scorpius looks as if he doesn’t believe his father’s word but not wanting to risk the chance of a stomach ache, he slows his pace. Carefully scooping the frozen treat before eating. His legs swing as he watches the scores of witches and wizards passing; they all look to be hurrying somewhere yet Scorpius doesn’t know where, but seeing all the different people, keeps his attention squarely on the window.

Draco works his way through his ice cream faster than his son; his weakness being the caramel fudge swirl that Florean makes fresh every day. He settles for drifting once his tub is empty and Scorpius is happily distracted by whatever he’s watching out of the window.

Draco begins to wonder about his son’s future – something he’s done a thousand times since his birth. He wonders about what Hogwarts house would best fit his sons personality; though he knew that the Sorting Hat would be the final word on that. But Draco can’t help but ponder over what attributes his son will demonstrate – will he ambitious enough for Slytherin? Courageous enough for Gryffindor? Loyal enough for Hufflepuff? Creative enough for Ravenclaw?

He had eight more years to ponder over it, but it’s still a question he’d like answered. However, Draco would still adore his son no matter his house.

“Draco?” Your voice sounds, breaking him out of his deliberating.

“(Y/N),” He greets.

Scorpius turns from people-watching, taking in the visitor standing at their table.

“And you must be Scorpius, it’s very nice to meet you. I’m (Y/N).”

Scorpius shies away slightly from the new person, inching back a bit in his chair.

“It’s okay, Scorpius,” Draco reassures, “I went to school with (Y/N).”

You nod, “I did! I was in Slytherin with him, and he was so smart! He still is; he’s a Healer isn’t he? Isn’t that so cool?”

Draco blushes at your compliments but it brings Scorpius out of his shell.

“My dad is the coolest! He fixes people when they are very sick.”

You nod seriously, “Yes, he does. It was very nice to meet you, Scorpius but I have to get back to work with my ice cream.”

Scorpius smiles, his teeth on show, “Goodbye!”

“It was nice to see you, Draco,” You say, smiling at the blonde-haired man.

“It was nice to see you too, even if it was so brief.”

You laugh, “Work calls I’m afraid, but I always have an ice cream, so I wasn’t going to let work stop me,” You wander back to the counter where Florean waits with your cone, “I’ll also cover Draco’s bill too, Florean.”

“You don’t have to,” Draco begins to protest.

You hold your hand up, smiling gently, “You treated me to coffee. I’ll treat you to your ice cream.”

Draco nods, wordlessly. Scorpius watches him with his eyebrows furrowed.

You take a lick of your cone, “I’ll see you soon, Draco. Have a nice day, Scorpius!”

And like that, you leave the ice cream parlour, heading back to the office where a pile of work awaits.

Draco leans back in his chair, disbelief clear on his face.

“What’s wrong, dad?”

Draco shakes his head, “Nothing, squirt.”

Scorpius shrugs, determining it adult stuff. “I like the lady who spoke to us.”

“(Y/N)?”

Scorpius nods, “She was really nice.”

“She is. She was nice when we were at school together.”

“She’s a good friend.”

“She is,” Draco murmurs once again, mind in another place entirely.

Scorpius lets his father have his moment; turning back to the window, wondering if he might get to see the nice lady named (Y/N) again.

------

Two months pass, and January’s winter gives way to March’s spring.

The gardens at his home and at the Manor have started to bloom beautifully meaning that Draco is constantly surrounded by floral aromas that make his head spin and Scorpius sneeze.

Draco starts to see more and more of you at the graveyard. After each visit, you seem to wait for the other – always asking whether the other would like to go for a coffee; very rarely refusing the offer.

He enjoyed the time he spent with you; Draco felt like he got to make up for the lost time he was an arsehole at Hogwarts.

The more time he spent with you; the more he started to feel the urge to begin his life again. But the hauntings continue; he continues to see his wife in the mirror; hearing her voice on a night whispering to him that it’s okay to move on. But hearing those words from the mouth of the woman he promised an eternity with racks his entire body with guilt.

But it’s gotten to the point where he doesn’t want to stay away from you.

The more time you spend with Draco Malfoy; the more you can feel yourself fall for him – his smile, his eyes, his mind. You just hoped that the landing wasn’t going to be too rough.

------

Draco drops Scorpius off at the Manor before heading to the graveyard for his usual Saturday visit. He blindly hopes to see you again after running into you at the ice cream parlour and seldom seeing you after but refuses to let himself dwell too long on the hope.

He was visiting his dead wife, after all.

He still grieves for her; still reaches for her in the middle of the night, but there are times through the day where he doesn’t feel so weighed down by grief – where he feels as if he can begin functioning fully once again.

But then that brings the guilt.

And that leads to the sightings.

And then that leads to the visits.

It’s a vicious cycle, and he’s desperate to break it.

He knows logically that Astoria would always be a part of him; he sees her every time he lays eyes on Scorpius but the small voice in the back of his head tells him often that he isn’t ready to let go yet.

And all Draco is desperate to know is: when?

-----

You find him knelt before her grave. He’s silent; simply staring at her headstone, reading the words that are already seared into his mind: Beloved Daughter, Wife, and Mother.

You place your hand on his shoulder and he jumps at the sudden contact. He relaxes once he sees it’s you, “(Y/N),” he breathes out, “I thought you were someone else.”

“I can tell,” you murmur, “Are you okay?”

He nods silently; gazing at the headstone once again, “I will be.”

“I can stay with you, if you need me.”

He shakes his head, “Go. Go see your grandfather; tell him hi from me.”

You want to laugh but nothing comes out. Draco looks at you; his blue eyes bright, “I’ll be okay,” he says gently.

The softness of his voice has you stepping away, “You know where I’ll be if you need me.”

Draco nods, hearing you walk away from him.

He’s a man made entirely of conflictions. He watches you from the corner of his eye and wonders whether he is finally ready to start his life again after Astoria; ready press play once more and see what happens but the sheer fear that runs through him, paralyses him.

He doesn’t know what to think; he doesn’t know what to do.

All he knows is that in the handful of times he has seen you, you make him want to live again.

----

Your time with your grandfather comes to an end, and you stand from where you had knelt, murmuring a goodbye.

You can’t miss the way Draco remains in front of his wife’s grave. Standing just after you; stretching out the tight muscles in his back that had stiffened the longer he had sat there.

You sigh at the sight; mindlessly wondering if you would ever find a love that would impact you this much.

It was unintentional; it hadn’t meant to happen but the feelings you once harboured for the Slytherin Prince were returning in full force the more you saw of him.

But now, there was so much more to consider.

At Hogwarts, it was social groups that kept you from ever revealing your crush – that, and Pansy Parkinson. Now, though, Draco was a widower still very much in love with his dead wife, and he had a son that came first.

You know you need to tread carefully, but there was something addicting about the man’s presence. His way with words; his hand gestures; how he’d slip off into his own mind – it all had you caught; you were hook, line, and sinker.

You make your way back to the blonde-haired man, “What do you say to another coffee? I wish I could have stayed longer the last time I saw you, but work, you know?”

Draco nods; looking very much as if he wants to accept – the words being on the very tip of his tongue, but he sighs heavily, “I can’t today, I need to grab my son from my parents.”

“Oh,” You shake your head – of course, “Another time then! I’d like to see you again soon.”

You make to walk away but a hand reaches out and grabs your wrist, “Would you like to come with me? I need to grab Scorpius but we’re making dinner tonight and you’re welcome to join.”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“You won’t be. Scorpius has been asking about you.”

That makes your decision for you, “Alright, I’ll join you for dinner.”

Draco smiles; letting go of his hold on your wrist, “I usually apparate to the manor, do you mind?”

You shake your head, placing a gentle hand on his outstretched arm.

Within a second, you’ve landed at the seat of Malfoy power for the last century. Draco was right you realise; Narcissa had lightened the manor up. Flowers border the main path; stemming from Hyacinths to white Lilies, to Irises. Colour lives up the home immediately, and the warm light coming from the masses of windows only makes the place more welcoming.

“I remember visiting here when I was a youngster,” You start, “I remember it being cold and uninviting… no offence, but now it feels so warm and happy.”

“That’s my mother’s influence,” Draco states; smiling wryly at the sight of all the flowers, knowing too well of the masses of Roses behind the manor.

Draco sounds the knocker three times before Narcissa pulls open the door with the smile reserved only for her son. She blinks twice before registering your presence; then she needs to do a double take.

“Afternoon, Mother,” Draco greets; leaning in to kiss her cheek which Narcissa returns distractedly – her eyes still on you.

“Draco, dear,” She greets, “And who have you brought with you?”

“Straight to the crux, aren’t we?” Draco laughs, “This is (Y/N). Surely you remember her?”

“Not Anthony’s granddaughter?”

You nod your head; ignoring the spear of grief flung through you at the sound of your grandfather’s name, “The very same,” you greet, “It’s lovely to be here. I was just mentioning to Draco how gorgeous your flowers are.”

Narcissa beams; her flowers are her pride and joy other than the son who had battled so much and came out the other side only stronger. “Thank you, my dear. Lucius and I were so saddened to hear of Anthony’s passing – tell me, how is your mother doing?”

“Better, thank you. She took his death as a blow – well, we all did but she took it the hardest being the only daughter and losing my grandmother so young.”

Narcissa nods; ushering you into the foyer of the grand manor, “We sent flowers, but we’re sorry we couldn’t make it to the service.”

A lumps forms in your throat at the mention of the service. It had been a beautiful and respectful service, but your memories of it were tied with the heart-clenching sobs of your mother as he cried about how she missed her father. It was a hard day and night for all; very few had dry eyes.

Draco notices your hesitancy at replying to his mother; notices the glazed look in your eye. He wraps his arm around Narcissa’s shoulder, distracting her from asking you any more questions, “How was Scorpius today?”

“Like always, an angel,” Narcissa coos, “Lucius has started to teach him French.”

“French? So early?” Draco asks; keeping a wary eye on you.

“Nonsense, my love. You were three when we started to teach you the basics.”

“You speak French?” You ask; mind now focused back onto the conversation. You shoot a grateful look to draco; he replies with a soft, kind smile.

Narcissa nods, “Most of our family does. Draco has spoken French fluently since he was nine years old.”

“Oui, maman,” Draco responds cheekily.

Narcissa playfully hit her son’s shoulder, “Hush you. Scorpius is with your father in the Library – shall we go grab him?”

Draco nods; desperate to see his son after hours apart, “Are you okay to follow?” he asks, throwing a glance to where you remain rooted.

You shake yourself free; banishing all thoughts of Draco and his speaking of one of the most romantic languages on the planet from your head.

You follow with a sheepish smile, “Definitely. Even I’ve heard tales of Lucius’ library.”

Narcissa chuckles, “He spends more time in there; researching and reading anything.”

“What does he research?” You ask; curiosity piqued.

“Anything – the pagan tribes of the celts at the moment. He’s focused on the history of Wiltshire at the moment; I’ve had stop him twice this week from apparating to Stonehenge and scaring the tourists.”

Draco pauses; falling into step with you as Narcissa opens the library doors, “My father needed something to do after the war; historical research turned out to be his niche.”

“It sounds like he’s having one hell of a time,” You comment; not kissing the grin that stretches across Draco’s face.

“Scorp, darling, your father is here!” Narcissa calls out after not having found her grandson where she had left him with his grandfather.

It’s hard to miss the footfalls of the toddler as he runs through the shelve stacks, crowing, “Dad! You’re back!”

Draco catches Scorpius in his arms, “Hey there, squirt. How was your day?”

“Fun. Grandpa taught me about the selts.”

“Celts, my boy,” Lucius says, appearing from behind one of the many shelves, “A hard C. Celts.”

Scorpius’ eyebrows furrows as he repeats the word again, “Celts.”

Lucius claps, “Excellent! We’ll make a historian of you yet.”

Scorpius beams at the pride rolling off Lucius in waves; he almost doesn’t notice you standing next to Draco.

“(Y/N)!”

“Hi Scorpius,” You greet.

“Why are you here?” He asks.

You laugh at his curiosity, “Your father invited me for tea, is that okay?”

The young boy nods, “We’re having pasta.”

You smile, “I like pasta.”

Scorpius nods again, and just like that, it’s settled.

Draco hitches Scorpius higher onto his hip, “He wasn’t much trouble?”

His question breaks his parents from staring at the exchange between you and Scorpius. Lucius smiles at Draco, “Scorpius is never any trouble.”

“Thank you for looking after him again.”

“It’s no bother to us. We love the boy,” Narcissa comments; blinking away what look to be like tears.

“We’ll see you soon, no doubt,” Draco says, “Say bye to granny and grandpa, squirt.”

Scorpius yells his goodbye with a large smile.

Draco holds his free arm out to you, and the three of you apparate to his home in the next village over.

Draco’s house is nowhere near the size of Malfoy Manor, but it is still large in comparison to the two bedroomed flat you rented in Diagon Alley.

It’s perfectly symmetrical you realise as Draco opens the garden gate. Two windows on either side of the pale green front door. Always a Slytherin, you think as you follow Draco up the main path. He readjusts Scorpius as he reaches for his key; putting Scorpius down as he opens the door.

Scorpius reaches for your hand, “I’ll show you the kitchen,” he states, leading you through the large foyer to a room just to the right.

The kitchen is the biggest one you’ve been in. The island being home to a breakfast bar where Scorpius tries to climb up to before you cave and place him on one of the stools.

Draco follows closely behind; opening the fridge to grab the ingredients for dinner.

You hop off a stool, “What can I do to help?”

Draco pauses, “You need to sit down, I said I was cooking.”

You roll your eyes, “I want to help, so what can I do?”

“Add the pasta to the pot when the water starts to boil. I’ve already salted the water.”

You nod, rolling the sleeves up on your blouse. Draco doesn’t miss the small tattoo on your left forearm, “When did you get that?” he asks as he starts to crush and chop some garlic.

You look down to the now familiar swirling patterns below the crook of your elbow, laughing, “I got it after our Eighth Year. I snuck out to a muggle artist and got it done; mum hit the roof.”

Draco laughs, moving on to slicing the tomatoes in two. You look down at the pot of water, happy to see it boiling. You add the pasta to the pot, stirring twice before stepping away from the pan.

You sit back down at the breakfast bar; ruffling Scorpius’ hair as you do so. The blonde-haired boy giggles, “Can I see your arm?”

You glance at Draco to check that he’s okay with Scorpius seeing your tattoo. Draco nods and you hold out your arm for Scorpius to gaze at your tattoo.

He reaches out a small finger, running it over the ink gently, “Did it hurt?”

You shake your head, “Not a bit.”

“Dad has a tattoo.”

You stiffen at his words; so does Draco.

The Dark Mark that mars Draco’s arm wasn’t spoken about when it was placed on his forearm, and it wasn’t spoken about now. It has been years since the Dark Lord was vanquished by Harry Potter yet his mark upon the house of Malfoy had definitely been left.

“It’s pale but I’ve seen it.”

Draco clears his throat, saying somewhat brokenly, “Dinner is almost ready. Go clean up, squirt.”

You help Scorpius down from the stool; grinning as he rushes away to the downstairs bathroom to wash his hands before dinner.

As soon as he’s left, you turn your attention back to Draco who’s stirring the pan of pasta quietly, “I’m sorry, Draco.”

“For what?” He asks incredulously.

“For showing him my tattoo. I didn’t think he would bring up yours.”

Draco shrugs, “It’s okay. I’ve learned to live with it, and like squirt said, it’s pretty faded now.”

You nod, “I’m glad. Where do you keep your plates? I’ll grab them for you.”

“Second cupboard on from the fridge. There’s a small plastic one for Scorpius there too.”

You grab the three plates, wandering back to where Draco is adding the pasta to the sauce simmering away in the pan. Scorpius rushes back into the kitchen, taking a seat at the table by the window.

“Show us your hands, squirt. Are they clean?”

Scorpius holds his hands up, waving them at his father. Draco squints, pretending to look over his son’s hands with extra care, “Very good. Are you ready to eat?”

“Yes!” Scorpius shouts, legs kicking under the table.

Draco laughs, “Well it’s a good thing it’s ready then!”

Draco takes over yours and Scorpius’ plates first before grabbing his and the cutlery. He cuts up Scorpius’ pasta before settling in his own seat and starting to eat.

“This is so tasty,” You compliment, “One of the best meals I’ve had.”

Scorpius nods rapidly, working through his own mouthful before saying, “Dad is the best cook! You should try his pancakes!”

“Thanks, squirt,” Draco replies, smiling at him.

“I’ll have to try those pancakes one day,” You murmur, casting a side glance at the blonde-haired man sat to your left.

“I think you will,” He replies, effectively knocking the breath out of you.

Of course, you would rekindle feelings for your teenage crush when he’s now a widow and a father. You wanted to roll your eyes, but instead, you focus your gaze back to your meal.

The dinner is soon over, and the plates are cleared away to the sink where they’ll be washed after dessert.

Dessert is a slice of chocolate cake and ice cream; a treat from Narcissa. Scorpius makes as much conversation as he can; telling his father and you about the day he had at his grandparents where he learnt about the mystical celts and Stonehenge. Soon, though, his eyes start to droop and his final spoonful of cake clatters to the plate.

Draco scoops up his son; cradling in his arms as he once did those years ago. Draco murmurs an apology to you as he carries his son from the kitchen to his room,  but you wave him away.

To help, you collect the plates and start running the hot water, adding dish soap as you go. You’re almost finished with the final plate when Draco returns from putting Scorpius to bed.

“You didn’t need to do that.”

You shrug, “I don’t mind – it makes me feel useful.”

“Alright. You washed, I’ll dry,” Draco bargains; grabbing the tea towel from the counter and picking up the first plate.

“Did he fall asleep okay?” You question.

Draco nods, “Out like a light, I had put his pyjamas on for him.”

You chuckle, “Bless him.”

“He really likes you,” Draco comments.

“Well, what’s not to like?” You quip, grinning, “I really like him too. He’s a credit to you, Draco.”

Draco finishes drying the final plate; putting them back in their assigned cupboard.

“Thank you. Would you like a drink, or do you need to be at work early?”

“I do, but I’d like that drink.”

Draco pulls two glasses from the display before reaching for a bottle of red wine. You already knew that you would wake up tomorrow with a headache, but it was worth it to spend more time with him.

Draco pours two glasses before handing one to you. He grabs the bottle and his glass, leading you to the living room across the foyer.

You take a seat on the maroon couch, taking a drink of wine before placing the glass on a coaster.

“Thank you for the meal. It was delicious. Where did you learn to cook like that?”

“That is all part of Narcissa Malfoy’s rearing of a good husband. She started teaching me to cook before I left for Hogwarts and would give me lessons every school holiday.”

“Well, you’re very good. I’ll be thinking of that pasta for days.”

Draco smiles at you from over the rim of his wine glass and your stomach flips.

“Why did you tell your mother that it was just dinner?” You question, referring to the incident earlier at Malfoy Manor. You take another sip of wine, watching Draco the whole time.

“Mother has it in her mind that it’s time for me to find someone new. She worries that I’ve been alone too long,” Draco drawls wryly.

“What do you think?”

Draco swishes the remaining wine in his glass; reaching for the bottle to refill.

“I don’t know,” is his answer as he tops off your glass too.

“Are you lonely?”

“You really are a journalist, aren’t you?” He teases.

You roll your eyes, smiling, “Are you though? Lonely?”

Draco locks eyes with you; the answer is on the tip of his tongue, ready to make its entrance but he’s interrupted by the cry of his son.

Wine glasses are placed hurriedly as you both rush to the young boy’s room; his cries getting louder.

The both of you fall into the room in a hurry; desperate to help Scorpius. Draco shakes his shoulders, bringing him back to reality.

“Scorpius, Scorpius – it’s okay, open your eyes.”

“Dad?” Scorpius asks; his voice a sob.

“It’s me, squirt. I’m here.”

Scorpius opens his arms for his father. Draco picks him up with no hesitation; cuddling his son to his side – drying his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.

“It sounded like a bad one,” Draco comments.

Scorpius nods, “I don’t want to go back to sleep, I’m scared.”

Draco looks torn in two. On the one hand, Scorpius needs to sleep otherwise he’ll be as cranky as a Hungarian Horntail tomorrow. However, on the other hand, Draco won’t force Scorpius back into another nightmare by insisting he sleep.”

You step forward, perching on the end of Scorpius’ bed, “I have an idea, but you need to be all comfortable and cosy, okay?”

Scorpius nods timidly; rearranging himself against Draco’s side, cuddling his beloved teddy tighter.

“Are you cosy?”

He nods once more.

“Okay, I’ll begin: Once upon a time in a far off land there lived a king who was very lonely. He had tried for years and years to meet the love of his life, but he felt defeated for he hadn’t found the one…”

It takes over an hour – three stories and two muggle songs before Scorpius is soundly sleeping once again.

Draco shifts him with the expertise of a parent before leaving his bedroom with you in tow.

He goes to close the door, but you place a hand on his wrist, stopping him. “Leave it open two,” you start, “the light from the landing will comfort him a little if he has another nightmare.”

Draco leaves the door open a crack. Turning to you, he says, “I don’t know why I never thought of that.”

You shrug, “It’s something my mum used to do for me.”

“You were incredible in there by the way,” Draco compliments as you descend the stairs together.

“Thank you,” You murmur shyly.

“Where did you learn those stories and songs?” He asks, “I feel like I should take notes for next time,” he chuckles half-heartedly.

You laugh too, “The stories I made up years ago and the songs are muggle ones I heard on my travels. I used to babysit my younger cousins for extra pocket money – I got to be creative very quickly.”

“Well it paid off,” Draco comments, eyes flickering to the stairs.

“It certainly did,” You murmur; eyes following Draco’s.

It’s silent for a few moments; the both of you thinking of the other without the other knowing. You, terrified to tell him for the fear of rejection. Him, terrified about letting down his dead wife.

You both go to speak at the same time and promptly burst into quiet laughter.

Through the span of the conversation, you’ve gravitated towards Draco – bodies angled towards each other, hands close to touching, heads close together.

If you leaned forward an inch, your mouth would be on his.

The alcohol coursing through your veins makes the connection for you as in the next second, you’ve leant forward and attached your lips to Draco’s.

He doesn’t respond at first; too in shock by your boldness but when you’re about to pull away, he wraps a hand in your hair, keeping your mouth pressed to his. Lips glide together seamlessly. He bites down on your lower lip, making you gasp. He deepens the kiss then; shifting on the couch to press you further into it.

Your hand make their way into his hair, and Draco groans against your mouth at the feel.

But it’s all too much and you need to pull away.

Chest heaving, you drag your mouth away from Draco’s. He nuzzles his nose into your cheek, pressing little kisses across your jawline to your ear before sitting back up.

“I didn’t expect that,” You gasp.

“Neither did I, but I’m not mad about it.”

“You aren’t? I did just jump you.”

Draco laughs, “It would have happened sooner or later.”

“Really?” You ask; a note of happiness unmistakable in your voice.

Draco nods, running his thumb across your lips, relishing in the fact that they’re swollen because of him.

The wine has gone to your head, and you feel your eyes begin to droop before the first yawn hits. You sigh, pulling away from Draco’s distracting touch, “I think I better head off.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to leave.”

“Why, do you want me to stay, Draco?” You tease.

He nods, “I can’t offer much, but this couch is really comfy.”

“And where will you be sleeping?” You ask; the wine making you more brash.

Draco blushes. You take back your words, “I’m sorry, Draco. Red wine goes straight to my head.”

“Don’t be, it’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t. I just propositioned you and all we’ve done is kiss,” You groan, dropping your head into your hands.

Draco pulls your hands away from your face, “(Y/N), it’s fine, really. The blanket on the back of the couch is really warm; grab it will you?”

You feel your face heat as you reach for the large grey blanket draped over the back of the couch. Draco stands momentarily to toe off his shoes before settling back down on the couch. You slip off your own shoes before clambering onto the couch next to him.

This was all so intimate.

Draco throws the large blanket over you both. Once suitably covered, his arm slips around your waist and your hand rests on his chest.

Neither of you say anything. No words need to be spoken now; everything expressed through actions alone.

With a kiss to the top of your head, Draco falls asleep unafraid of what he’ll meet in the morning.

--------

It’s the sunlight that wakes you. Bright light warming your face; you flutter your eyes open to find you face to face with Draco’s chest. Neither of you had moved in night; if anything, becoming closer together. At some point, his legs had tangled with yours and your hand had gripped his shirt so tight, it came away wrinkled when you loosened your grip.

You sigh happily; then you glance at the clock on the mantle piece where the hands make it abundantly clear that you were going to be late for work.

Extracting yourself carefully from Draco’s hold, you pick up your shoes from the floor. You search quickly for a spare piece of paper and a pen; scrawling a note for Draco to read when he wakes.

With one last look at the man you had fallen for in such a short amount of time, you apparated away.

-----

Draco wakes not long after you leave; feeling oddly light without the weight of your body pressed up against him. He frowns when he realises that you’ve left without a goodbye but with a glance at the clock, he doesn’t have much time to worry about it.

Scorpius would be awake any minute and demanding breakfast.

Draco sits up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. It had been so long since he had slept with someone by his side; wrapped around him the way you were, and he was happy to admit, he had missed the feeling of another human pressed so tightly against him, he could feel every contour in their body.

He almost falls off the couch when he notices your note lying on the table. He grabs it with shaking hands:

“Had to go to work – meet me for lunch if you can? Thank you for last night. You still owe me pancakes – (Y/N).”

He feels like a teenager again experiencing the rush of his first crush. He runs a hand across his face; standing up to get a start on breakfast. He folds your note in two before sliding it into his wallet for safekeeping.

It’s then that Draco realises he has two things he needs to do.

-----

Draco drops Scorpius off at Astoria’s parents for the morning. Apologising to his son for bailing on their plans of the park and the library; Scorpius simply pats his father’s face in goodbye before running to his grandma and grandad Greengrass.

Draco waves at his in-laws before apparating to see their daughter.

-----

The graveyard looks entirely different, but Draco knows nothing has changed. What has changed is him, and he need to tell Astoria.

Kneeling in his usual place in front of her grave, Draco releases a shaky breath.

“Hi darling, I know I’m early for our visit, but I have something important to discuss with you,” He looks down at his hands before continuing, “I think I’ve met someone, and I really want to pursue it. I want to see where it goes.

“You have to understand, darling, I never thought I would love again after you. I really didn’t and for three years, I’ve been an island with just enough room for Scorpius. I didn’t expect it, but it happened, and I like the way (Y/N) makes me feel. I feel excited again; my hands are shaking from the very thought.

“Scorpius likes her by the way, and she likes him, but they both know they won’t ever fill the role that you were supposed to. And I think they’re both happy with that knowledge.

“I’m not asking for your permission, but I am asking for your forgiveness. For not loving you harder; for not taking more time to be with you; for not apologising immediately after every argument. But I’m ready to start living again and I’ve found someone that makes me want to live again; that incites that spark of life within me, and I desperately want to see where it goes.  

“I haven’t seen you in a while; around the house. I think you realised what was happening before I did and finally made your peace with it. I can’t ever forget you and our time. I see whenever I look at our little boy, but I’m ready to begin again, and so I shall.”

Draco stands from the grave feeling as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He had to speak to Astoria before he could speak to you; he had tell her his choice but to reassure that he would always love her, but his heart was ready to make room for another person.

And that person was you.

With one last glance at the marble headstone, Draco apparates to Diagon Alley.

----------

The offices to the Daily Prophet newspaper lie in a side street just off the high street. He signs in at reception but asks the receptionist not to alert you of his presence. The receptionist flushes when she realises that she’s now part of a romantic plot. Draco smiles at her gratefully as he makes his way to the main lift, asking for your floor.

He taps his foot the entire ride up to your floor, annoying every single person in the lift with him. But he can’t help it; he’s both excited and nervous.

In a few moments, he’s changing the direction of his life forever, and he couldn’t feel more ready to start.

The door opens on your floor and Draco rushes out, followed by the happy sighs of those journeying to higher floors. He wants to laugh at their reactions, but the butterflies rioting in his stomach make him feel as if he could vomit right on the muddy brown carpet.

It’s not hard to find which desk is yours by the amount of trinkets on there. Files are precariously high in one section, and then the rest of the desk bar the cream typewriter is covered by snow globes and tiny figurines of landmarks from your travels. From this first look at your desk, Draco already has a sense of what your flat will look like.

You gasp when you see Draco standing in the door to your office, “Draco, you’re early for lunch.”

Draco walks up to your desk; his hands shaking through it all, “Let me make you pancakes.”

“What?” You ask, breathless.

“Let me make you pancakes,” He repeats, “I want to make you pancakes in the morning.”

“Really?” You sniffle; tears collecting.

Draco nods, “I’m still grieving, but I always will be. However, that doesn’t mean my life needs to come to an end and I realised that I want it to continue with you by my side so… let me make you pancakes every morning.”

Tears have started to fall down your face and you sniffle before speaking, “Okay. You can make me pancakes.”

Draco beams; eyes crinkling. He leans in close to you, whispering, “Do you think you can get off early?”

You grab your bag before he finishes his sentence, “Let’s get out of here.”

Draco holds his hand out for you to take. At the feel of your skin against his, a jolt of electricity runs between you. It takes everything in him not to drag you into a kiss in the foyer of the building.

He waits until he’s in the street.

Like a gentleman.

He waits until the coast is somewhat clear before pulling you into his side and drawing your mouth to his like you did last night. Your arms wrap around his neck, bringing him closer to you.

It’s not your first kiss, and it won’t be your last, but this one kiss means the world to the both of you.

Through it all, you’ve learnt to swim.

-------

A year later:

Scorpius is almost five years old when he visits his mother’s grave for the first time in his life. He had been less than three weeks old when she was buried in the Greengrass plot

Scorpius watches as his father kneels before her first; apologising for his absence and asking for her forgiveness.

But then he looks to Scorpius; where he stands with his hand holding onto yours tightly.

Draco beckons to Scorpius with an open hand. Scorpius staggers to his father’s side immediately.

“Hi Mum,” he whispers.

Draco’s hand is firm on his son’s shoulders; a comforting presence.

“I miss you,” he starts, “I know I never got to know you, but I miss you. I have your picture in my room, so I know what you look like, and Wellesley. I’m starting school soon; a small magic school with kids like me and I’m really excited. Dad’s doing well. He was sad for a while but he’s happier now and he talks about you more with (Y/N) who I like too. I want to come back, and I think Dad will let me, so I’ll see you soon, Mum.”

And with that, Scorpius walks away, happy to have finally met the mother had wanted to meet for so long.

Draco watches his son potter back to the still creaky gate in awe. You join his side; fingers tangling in his. “How are you feeling?” You ask, watching Draco’s face.

“Happy and in love,” is Draco’s reply.

*****

Muggle songs:

Johnny Ace - Pledging My Love

Paul Anka - Put Your Head On My Shoulder

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrypotter289 @dreamer821 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @the-hufflefluffwriter @figlia--della--luna @bforbroadway @idont-knowrn @summer-writes @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife​ @levylovegood​ @mytreec​ @haphazardhufflepuff​ @teheharrypotter​ @chaoticgirl04​

Draco Malfoy taglist @the--queen-of-hell @obxmxybxnk @obx-beach @sycathorn-slush @dracomalfoyswifey

[daisylincs]

Today is, officially, the last day of 2020 - so it's literally just in time that I'm getting to @aosrecweek's amazing challenge. But that does go to show the nature of this crazy year a little bit, right? Time has just been INSANE, and I honestly cannot believe it's so close to over.

That said, I want to put it out there that everyone - absolutely everyone - who created something in this mad year, is a SUPERHERO. Like. We could have hidden away in dark corners, curled into little balls, and lost touch with our creativity entirely - but instead, we made some of the most fantastic content I have ever seen. And, excuse the language, but that is fucking amazing, of each and every single one of us. We're bloody INCREDIBLE, you guys. We really are.

Now, the rules of this challenge dictate that I've got to start with some of my own things, then repeat with the same number of creations by other people. So I'm going to do that, and I apologise for the sheer length (and self-plug-iness) of what is about to follow - but, bloody incredible, remember? I really mean that. 💜💜💜

My Own:

you could call me babe for the weekend - 19k of Spideychelle being oblivious, mutually pining IDIOTS while being snowed in. And, you know, fake dating. (This thing was SO MUCH FUN to write and though, yeah, it got completely out of control, as evidenced by the 19k, I still really love it.)

'tis the damn season - my first attempt at writing a multi-chap, and, yeah, it only has one chapter as of now, but I really love said chapter. Basically, it's Daisy and Mackelena being friends, and honestly just the BEST friends - I adore the style I managed to achieve in this thing. Plus, the Skimmons I have planned up next is going to be da bomb.

the closest thing - Philindaisy plus fake family. Also; amusement parks. And for a fangirl like me - well, it was pretty much a dream come true to write!

oh valley of plenty - in this fic, I basically told myself, so AoS won't give us Huntingbird in the finale? Fine. I'll just do it myself then - in the fluffiest way possible. And that's exactly what I did - making them, and their kids, be best friends in Perthshire.

maybe life should be about more - a very angsty Skimmons and Daisy-centric AU, focusing on the internalised homophobia Daisy has experienced through her life, and shaking it off (and eventually, y'know, getting together with Jemma.)

and it's dark in a cold december (but i've got you to keep me warm) - Fitzsimmons just make such a supreme pairing for hurt/comfort, what with how insanely well they understand each other and care about each other, so I'm really glad for the Fitzsimmons Secret Santa giving me the chance to write this! Basically, this follows our science duo through a stressful mission on Christmas Eve (so yes, it's a mission fic!!) and realising that the two of them can do anything together.

july second - ahhh, one of my personal favourites to write! Daisy birthday surprise fluff will always be top-notch for me, especially for all the team-as-family fluff you can add in, especially especially that this is set in Staticquake times! Also, it's from Hunter's point of view, which will forever be the most insanely fun thing to write, I do think.

i just wanna be with you - man, I'm such a big royal fan, so getting the chance to write a modern royalty AU for my OTP was nothing short of amazing!! This is Princess Daisy and her fiancée Lincoln Campbell at their official engagement interview

see the line where the skye meets the sea - shameless season 1 bby Bus Kids fluff, featuring movie nights, singalongs and... so much fluff your teeth will rot. Also I'm really freaking proud of the pun in the title okay

'cause all that you are is all that i'll ever need - Huntingbird waking up together fluff (because, fight me, Huntingbird in their sweet moments is one of the sweetest things you will ever get to read or write.) This is also my, fluffy, take on the origin of the Franny's Saloon keychain.

we love you, we love you (and we hope you love we too) - aha, my first polyship fic! Also my first try at some actually fancy HTML formatting (forever thanks to Kat for explaining.) Both of these things combined to form a fic that even I think is ridiculously fluffy and funny, and kinda amazing, at that.

and man I don't know where the time goes (but it sure goes fast like that) - Another Bus Kids movie night fic, but this one set post-season 7, and reflecting on how far they've come. A little bit more hurt/comfort-y than it's pure fluff prequel, but still super fluffy and soft. And, of course, with a happy ending.

she shares my dreams, i hope that someday, i'll share her home - snowy Fitzsimmons fluff, complete with them falling in love at the Winter Olympics, as you do.

then you walked in and my heart went boom - 16k of Dekesy for the wife, and remarkable for that, because literally a month ago from this, I hated Dekesy with my entire soul. Then I started reading Kat's fics, and, well, fell in love with them... so much so that I wrote sixteen thousand words of enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, bed sharing holiday fluff for them.

a love like that - a Fitzsimmons Cinderella AU, featuring my two favourite science babies, in true science bby style, falling in love over science and how stupid the whole courting thing is. Also, Daisy makes a brief appearance, and she's the freaking best.

ever after - ah, probably the one single fic I'm proudest of. A post-season 7 Daisy character study focusing on her emotional rollercoaster re: losing her family/things never being the same again, which just achieves... an emotional level that I have never managed to replicate again. I was full-on sobbing while writing it, and, guys, it also part-holds the Closest To Making Kat Cry prize.

blue - Daisy character study spanning snapshots of seven seasons, and before - but tied together by something blue in every moment. Researching for this, and finding all the blue moments, was very interesting, and immensely satisfying, especially since all the moments where a little bit of blue was present actually combine to chronicle Daisy's journey on the show remarkably well.

who is that girl I see - the one time I decided to write straight angst, and straight angst with no happy ending. Melinda May post-Bahrain, folks.

take my hand, take my whole life too - aww, the first thing I wrote that I really and truly loved. A Staticquake and Fitzsimmons Actors AU, featuring a proposal on set and INCREDIBLE amounts of fluff and softness.

hold out your hand, 'cause friends will be friends - the wife's favourite, and, as second fics go, pretty damn good, if I do say so myself. It's a Soulmates AU for Staticquake and Mackelena, with the focus being on DaisyMack friendship, and lots of denial, angst, and guilt about finding their soulmates. (They figure it out eventually, don't worry - it's me, of course I made them happy.)

Fitzsimmons + Fake Dating moodboard - Fake dating will always be FAB, and picturing it out in a moodboard - especially for my clueless bby best friends in love - was the best, and super satisfying.

Staticquake + Orange moodboard - One of the cooler ideas I had for Trick or Treat (which I still have not finished, heaven help me) was to make a series of moodboards for my OTP plus different colours. This orange one is just so light, and cheerful, and happy, and honestly I kinda adore it.

This Philindaisy + Family Moodboard - making moodboards can be insanely frustrating when you just can't find the photo that fits exactly right. With this one, however, I found all the pics I needed pretty insanely fast, and, better, the whole thing just worked, and really nicely so, too.

This Bus Kids + Baking Cookies moodboard - there's absolutely NO faults to be found with tiny, adorable Skye, Fitz and Jemma concocting choc chip cookies - but I'm actually doing a tiny cheat here, because, cute as my moodboard here is, the accompanying fic by my love @eowima is the SWEETEST and best thing you could ever wish for!!!

This Daisy Johnson Appreciation Week Photoset - Day 3 of Daisy Johnson Appreciation Week focused on an emotion, and I picked confidence and power, because honestly, it's nothing short of amazing how confident and powerful our gorgeous girl has become.

This Daisy Johnson Appreciation Week Photoset - One of the times I wish I could gif, because this quote about struggling though never giving up just suits Daisy perfectly. The photos I found are cool, though, and I mean, it's Daisy, so that's already absolutely fabulous.

Other People's:

I managed to find twenty-six of my own things that I liked enough to put up there (because, yes, I'm that big a dork, 26 things for me being 26 is the way to go :D) Anyway, now that gives me the amazing chance to spotlight twenty-six of my favourite creations by my FANTASTIC mutuals! 😍

To start, my wife - Kat said I couldn't put everything she's ever written on here, so, ugh, I guess I'll just do my top five then. *grumbling* Everything by Kat is on here in spirit, though!!

Chasing Cars (even after the story ends) by @aleksandrachaev - the epic Dekesy roadtrip AU and incredible Daisy character study itself, which, I do believe, finishes today!! Words aren't enough to describe how freaking AMAZING this thing is, or how spectacularly well characterised. Just: if you haven't read this yet, you are missing out. You will laugh, you will groan, you will want to wrap Daisy in a very tight hug, and you will probably cry, too. This fic just has it all, really!

there goes the maddest man this town has ever seen by @aleksandrachaev - the post-season 7 Deke-crashes-the-Framework-Zoom-call fic I didn't know I needed (but spent the next two weeks rereading every single night.) It is absolutely INCREDIBLE, with all the Deke & Team feels we missed in the final outro scene, and honestly just the most fantastic writing. I cannot recommend it enough!

To Box It Up And Start Again (everything must go) by @aleksandrachaev - bloody hell, this BROKE me. Deke never really got to say goodbye in canon, but Kat gave him the chance to do it here. And, my freaking GOODNESS, she made it so incredibly bittersweet and heart-shattering. 10/10

i am a leaf on the wind by @aleksandrachaev - a little bit of a stretched-out, reflective moment in the season 7 finale. As Daisy lingers on the edge of death, she reflects on all the lives she could have had - and, man, what a study in bittersweetness!! This entire fic is utterly incredible, and something I think all Daisy fans should read.

Falling Into Place by @aleksandrachaev - here's a tiny cheat from me (sorry, babes, lmao) because technically this isn't one fic, but a series of three. Way too amazing to miss out on, though!! Set mid-season 7, this has the Chronicoms go after a young Mary Sue Poots to kill Quake before she can become a problem for them. They stop the Chronicoms, yes, but not without a TREMENDOUS dose of feels and hurt/comfort. There's also a wonderful little dose of Dekesy friendship, and then an adult adoption (!!) that honestly made my entire day to read. Actually, that's true for the entire series - I really canNOT yell about it enough!!

destroyer of worlds by @bobbimorseisbisexual - a study in incredible parallels between Jiaying's daughters. Utterly breathtakingly done, this will give you ALL the feels for this small and complex Inhuman family.

Muscle Memory by @robotgort and @bobbimorseisbisexual - a Huntingbird!! Bones!! AU!! And also a collaboration between two of the most fabulous Huntingbird authors in the fandom - honestly, what more can you ask for?! This will make you laugh, and gasp, and wince, and keep you guessing at each new plot twist (and also screaming at your screen for Hunter and Bobbi to get their acts together and TALK ABOUT IT.) In short: it's completely and utterly amazing, and I cannot, cannot recommend it enough!!

You Belong Among the Wildflowers by @libbyweasley - a freaking incredible Scis & Spies Regency AU! I only just started reading, but I was hooked all the way through, especially on the way Libby writes all four characters' complex relationships (and their attraction, and their history!) Everything about it is just completely stunning, and I for one cannot WAIT for these beautiful idiots to figure out they all belong together.

Family Snapshot by @tomatobookworm - if it's family fluff you're after, especially Staticquake family fluff, look no further! This tremendously soft and utterly amazing fic follows a day in the lives of a pregnant Daisy and her husband Lincoln, and their not-so-little family of Inhumans, both adopted and biological. There's also shopping with Grandma May, lots of feels, lots of shippiness, and just AMAZINGNESS all the way through!!

Best Day Ever by @loved-the-stars-too-fondly - Jemma and Daisy want to adopt a pet, and make a very special trip to Wisconsin to do it. Also, whether he knows who he is or not, Jemma has an important question to ask Cal - and just, AHHHH, everything about this is utterly stunning! For starters, Aubrey's writing is FANTASTIC, and the scene she sets is absolutely beautiful, and so very bittersweet. I was actually misting up a little with happy tears towards the end of this - really, I cannot recommend this enough, to any Skimmons fan.

so why don't we go somewhere only we know by @loved-the-stars-too-fondly - more Skimmons (platonic this time, though), more hurt/comfort, and, yes, again, more absolutely INCREDIBLE writing. This one is canon compliant, following a shaken Jemma struggling to sleep after Maveth, and how Daisy finds a way to help her out. Incredibly sweet, tender and BEAUTIFULLY written, this one was an instant favourite the moment I read it!

Unspoken by @anxiouslynumbme - a birthday fic for yours truly, and, honestly, one of the most STUNNING Staticquake introspectives I've read. It follows Daisy and Lincoln in a beautifully tender missing moment in season 3, with them both realising their feelings, and just... AHHHHHHHH, everything about it is utterly incredible!! I cannot, cannot recommend this gem of a fic enough

the thing about water droplets and ruffled hair by @que-mint-tea - here's another fic that proves, once and for all, how good Kat's Dekesy is, because it managed to convert T to write some Dekesy smut. And, oh my GOSH, what Dekesy smut - so goshdarn angsty, but so FANTASTICALLY characterised and written that it leaves you more than a little breathless, and gaping at your screen. The first chapter initially left us on the most HORRIFIC cliffhanger, but then T fixed it, and it's just... this thing is really a whole new level of emotional writing, raw and gripping and intensely perfect for both of these characters. My haw still drops whenever I think of this thing, and how utterly AMAZING it was, so yeah. Fic rec!!!

beautiful stranger, there you are by @justanalto - I do believe I still owe Serena a long and very gushy comment on this thing, because, MAN, does it ever deserve that!! Pipsy and fake dating, with the most HILARIOUSLY incredible writing, plot and characterisation, and honestly just a giddy "askhdfkhsfh" whenever I think back to how much I enjoyed it. Yup, it was that good.

Jumping to conclusions by @eowima - a very special one, because it marks my love Océane's first venture into writing AoS fic! It's an AU of 1x06 (the Fitzsimmons episode of s1) where Fitz does actually jump out of the plane to save Jemma. Realisations of feelings, and some of the most genuinely FANTASTIC Fitz characterisation I've read in a while, follow - and, yup, I was shouting at my screen for them just to get together already. Amazing stuff, really!!

Look into your eyes and the sky's the limit by @eowima - okay, this. This. Another gift for me, and one that I will probably treasure forEVER, because it is just?? so?? utterly?? perfect?? Just for starters, the title is a Hamilton reference - and then the theme of Hamilton references continues into the fic itself, I'm delighted to say. There's also the most BEAUTIFUL, playful Skimmons friendship, and teasing, and then of course the bet about who can make out with their crush first... Staticquake & Fitzsimmons perfection. And all rendered in Océane's delightful, best-thing-ever-to-read writing!! I'm going into a giddy keyboard smash just THINKING about this, so yeah, cannot recommend it enough.

lullabies and clear blue skies by @springmagpies and @bobbimorseisbisexual - okay, I never thought I'd catch myself shipping FitzBobbi, let alone shipping it this hard, but... wow. Maggie and Al teamed up to completely blow me away, and MELT MY WHOLE ENTIRE HEART with the sheer cuteness of this!! It features Fitz, Bobbi and adopting two daughters, and it's just the most tender, beautiful development through that little family - I love it so, so much.

We made all the wrong choices by @browneyedgenius - the winner of the AoS Angst War 2020, how could I not include this one? It is such a well-deserved win, though, whoa - I was sobbing, full-on sobbing, at least twice while reading. It follows the season 5 team through the events of the time-loop, after they failed to save the world - and, oh my gosh, it ripped my heart right out of my chest, but beautifully so. Everything about this fic just hits so hard, and it's written so well - yeah, really a most AMAZINGLY deserved win, for an utterly SHATTERINGLY incredible fic.

I threw stones at the stars (but the whole sky fell) by @nazezdha321 - this is Z showing us all how to write a backstory for a minor character, and write it so well that everyone's hearts break all over again when she dies. This one is about Victoria Hand, and it builds a stirring and profound childhood for her, also making her rise through the ranks of SHIELD and just her entire character mean so much more. Really, fic-wise, this is goals, and I take my hat off to you, Z, 1000%, for writing it.

in which the universe is put together by @besidemethewholedamntime - Rebecca's emotional writing, particularly Fitzsimmons' emotions, is incomparable, and she proves it all over again in this fic. If follows Fitz and Jemma before, after and during the bloodwork, and I just... wow, honestly. The emotion!! And the characterisation!! Absolutely stunning, and honestly all I could wish for in a we-had-time fic.

Agents of SHIELD Season 8 by @egumal - THIS. This, this, this, oh my gosh - as fix-it fics go, this has to be the most spectacular one I have ever read. What it does is find a way - a potentially canon compliant way, too - to bring back Lincoln Campbell, and reunite Staticquake. Basically: just about as season 7 finishes, the Astro Ambassadors get an unexpected visitor from another timeline, who asks them to come help out against Hive. Case in point, Daisy meets her lost love again (... but he has no idea who she is) and also has to relive the Fallen Agent drama. It all gets even more complicated when Kora restores Lincoln's memories, and Daisy meets the full team Deke has assembled around him in the 33 years (for him) that they've been apart... in short, this is one of the most thorough, well-written and downright SHOCKING plot-twist-wise fics that you will ever read, and honestly, saying "I can't recommend it enough" is an understatement. This thing is thd BEST, plain and simple!

Black Roses aren't real (but you and I are) by @ohwriteiforgot - ahhhh, a fic that will always have an incredibly special place in my heart, because it introduced me to one of my best fandom friends. The main focus is on Clintasha, it's true, but it's also a crossover with AoS in the sense that Clint was adopted by Coulson and May. Also, Daisy is his little sister, and their bond is gold. Also - there's Staticquake!! And flower shops!! And rivals to friends to lovers!! All I'm going to say is, what more can you ask for?!

A book to shield my story by @maybebrilliant - Staticquake High School AU, ahhhhhhhh!! There are only two chapters out so far, but the way this is shaping up is making my DAY - with Daisy as the new girl who meets Lincoln and his group of friends, and, though her foster parents are absolutely shit, starts to find actual happiness in a school for the first time in her life. Also - THE REFERENCES. Guys. I'm crazy for those, and in this book, so are my favourite dorks, Daisy and Lincoln - and let me tell you, it's nothing short of the best thing ever.

This AoS Finale Gif Edit by @heysteverogers - AoS really has been the most INCREDIBLE journey through the years, but what's really made it special is the company - and that's summed up perfectly in this gorgeous gifset. Also, the graphics on this are just, ahhhh, stunning - I'm in awe, and I've spent very long periods of time just looking at this thing in a state of heart-eyes.

This AoS Finale Gif Edit by @jemannesimms - combining Auld Lang Syne and the final scenes of my favourite show was a raw emotional - but utterly brilliant experience - for me. It's just so absolutely beautiful, and perfectly suited to the team, and their goodbyes!! Breathtaking editing work here, too.

This Daisy as Peter Parker and May as Tony Stark moodboard by @agentsofcomedyandchaos - ahhhh, a crossover of two of my favourite fandoms!! And what a lovely one, too - the colour scheme, quotes, and just the whole FEEL of this is absolutely genius, and I am guilty of being inspired by way too many fic ideas by it. Stunning stuff!!

And... whoa, that was long, but I really do feel that we deserve a bit of a proper pat on the back after creating such magical content in such a messed up year. So that's the note I'm going to leave you with for 2020, my friends: hell-year or no, look at the absolute beauty we were still able to create!! We really are freaking amazing, guys.

[can-youmoveyourseatup]

Luck

A/N: aye! this is my very first imagine posted on tumblr and tbh I'm very!! excited!! (my friend came up with this idea and I though it was pretty cute so idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ) (also, the ‘technicalities’ with the fracture I found on google, so I apologise if its not very accurate!!)

(also this is a repost bc I'm an idiot and didn't post it to my primary gah)

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

warnings: breaking your leg accidentally? two implied swear words? mainly just a whole lotta fluff!1!!

word count: 4.7k (go big or go home)

masterlist

The crease between your eyebrows grew as your scowl deepened. You glowered intensely at the cast that entrapped your leg, confining you to the bed unable to move  without a sharp pain creeping up your body. A pathetic whine fell from your lips as you shifted slightly, helplessly attempting to find a somewhat comfortable position given your impending circumstances. Huffing, you threw your head backwards onto the pillow, glaring at the ceiling and the fluorescent lights that were beginning to contribute to a painful headache mumbling incoherencies under your breath. However, despite your current predicament you couldn’t help but let a small smile adorn your lips as you thought back to the morning’s events involving a certain brooding soft super-soldier.

It had started last night when you arrived home from a mission with Steve and Nat. Whilst it had only lasted three days, it had taken a lot out of you, you felt drained and your body was all but dead weight; exhaustion was a mere understatement. Walking groggily into the lounge, you mumbled a small greeting to the rest of the team. Your tired state prevented you from noticing the once giddy grin fall from Bucky’s face as you unintentionally ignored his eager greeting as he stumbled on his feet from his position on the couch, ready to wrap his arms around you.

He felt his smile drop as he watched your retreating figure, looking helplessly in your direction seemingly lost. He felt a pang in his chest from the blatant rejection, casting his gaze upon Steve and Natasha as they stumbled in the room not long after you had left.

“Hey pal,” Steve mumbled, patting Bucky’s shoulder and smiling tiredly in his direction. His feet came to an abrupt halt after noting the crestfallen look on his face, disappointment evidently radiating off him in waves. “What’s wrong, Buck?” Steve asked anxiously, nudging him gently in hope of breaking him from his distressed trance.

“Have I done something wrong?” The sheer panic that laced Bucky’s voice was enough for Steve to drop everything and attempt to aid his best friend. “Did Y/N say she was upset with me?”

“What? No! Why on earth would you think that?” Steve shook his head repeatedly, in a feeble attempt to reassure Bucky. He watched as Bucky, glanced quickly between the hallway leading away from the lounge and Steve, unable to contain his blatant anxiety.

“I-I don’t know . . . but Stev-!”

“Bucky, she hasn’t said a thing, I promise. She’s probably got other things on her mind. That was one long mission I’ll tell ya. Stop stressing.” With that Steve gave Bucky one last smile, a pat on the back and a fleeting glance before following Y/N’s actions down the hallway, off to get some well-deserved rest.

But Bucky couldn’t help but stress. Stress was his middle name when it came to you. He couldn’t help that his day was instantly better upon hearing your laughter and that stupid giggle that drove him insane. He couldn’t help it that his hands got clammy and his heart beat that bit faster when you walked into the room and greeted him with a smile. He couldn’t help it that he found himself smiling stupidly when you hugged him close or chose to sit next to him on movie nights.

He couldn’t help it that he was undeniably smitten for you.

From her position by the kitchen counter, Nat raised an eyebrow watching silently as Bucky ran a hand through his hair, avoiding the knowing gazes that the others were shooting him from the lounge. Sam grinned comically in Bucky’s direction and Wanda placed a hand over her mouth to stop the laughter from escaping her lips. Anyone could tell that Bucky had fallen deeply for you and to your fellow teammates, Bucky’s obvious distraught made them smile. She allowed a smirk to grace her lips as she laughed quietly.

Natasha had noticed weeks ago that Bucky had a thing for you. At first, she thought it was just nerves assuming that he hadn’t adjusted to your overly sarcastic yet charismatic personality. But his awkward behaviour around you continued as the two of you grew more comfortable around each other and you were completely oblivious to the longing looks he repeatedly cast in your direction.

At the noise, Bucky’s head snapped in her direction, a blush dusting his cheeks as looked at Natasha. Despite his obvious glare, she continued to laugh evidently finding his obliviousness amusing. Whilst Bucky may have been unaware of it, Natasha definitely noticed the way in which you were reciprocating his sneaky glances and the matching blush that adorned both your cheeks when you were caught. In fact, it seemed as though everyone in the compound, with the exception of the pair of you, noticed the way you were smitten for each other. She found it undeniably adorable.

“What?” Bucky mumbled, the blush growing as he averted his gaze to floor. “I know you want to say something, so what is it?”

Natasha merely laughed freely, her teasing smile making its way back onto her face as she stared at Bucky, amused by his behaviour. She pushed herself up from the bench, before stopping before Bucky to pat chest mockingly.

“Go do us all a favour and talk to her.” With that, she all but pranced out of the lounge room, leaving a confused and distraught Bucky in her wake.

Groaning loudly, you hadn’t event shed off your uniform before collapsing on the bed, humming in satisfaction when you nuzzled your head into your pillow. Whilst your uniform may not be the most comfortable thing you own, you were perfectly content to fall asleep as you were, still covered in grim and sweat from the mission. You felt yourself begin to drift off to sleep, your eyes unbelievably heavy as they remained sealed shut. A gentle knock on your door jolted you awake, your eyes shooting open, however, your body refused to move as you practically resembling dead weight strewn across your bed. A groan escaped your lips once again, as you tiredly called out to the person behind your door to come in.

You felt your lips quirk upwards as you watched Bucky enter hesitantly, you heart fumbling the tiniest bit as you felt your insides turn to mush. “Buck,” you mumbled, smiling a little wider when he grinned as you patted the space next to where you laid on your side.

“Hey, doll.” As much as you liked to convince yourself that the little nickname didn’t have an impact, you couldn’t deny it. The nickname left you feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush all over again, butterflies erupting in your tummy as he approached you. You felt yourself heat up as Bucky sat upright next to you on the edge of the bed, his hand coming down to brush the hair off your forehead, smiling softly down at you. You felt your eyes slipping shut again as he stroked your hair, feeling completely content.

“‘m sorry I didn’t come to your room. . . ‘m so tired.” Bucky shook his head dismissively, visibly relaxing after finally realising that you were not mad with him in any way, shape or form. “I missed you,” you mumbled tiredly after a moment of silence, your cheeks growing hot as you felt his gaze on your face. He laughed softly, gripping the hand that was resting on the bed beside you in his left, the cool of the metal against your skin making you feel at home instantly. The familiarity of the panes of metal against your palm as he caressed it with his thumb, encouraged a sigh of content to slip past your lips.

“I missed you, too. So much.” Bucky mumbled, feeling his heat beat faster as the small smile that rested on your lips grew ever so slightly.

“You’re gonna hate me now doll, but we have to get you out that uniform.” At his words, you couldn’t help but whine childishly, refusing to move from your current position muttering a small ‘no’ under your breath.

Bucky smiled at you again, as he softly called out your name. “Y/N, c’mon you’ll thank me later.” You knew he was right as much as you didn’t want to admit it; you felt sticky and gross right now but given your predicament, sleeping in your dirty uniform sounded much more appealing than moving.

“Bucky no.” You deadpanned, refusing to move in the slightest and open your eyes.

“Bucky yes.” You couldn’t help but snort at his comment, peeling open an eyelid to find him staring down at you, smirking teasingly at you.

“I hate that you’re right, but I don’t wanna move.” At that he laughed again, tugging on your arm slightly, coaxing you into moving from the position you were in, curled into a ball.

“The quicker you get up, the quicker you get to go to bed.”

“Will you still be here when I come back?” You cast your gaze downwards again, refusing to look him in the eye and allow him to see the true extent to which you had missed him, because despite how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise, you had really missed him.

“Where else would I go? Can’t really cuddle myself, can I?” You blushed yet again, cursing your erratic heartbeat, before begrudgingly getting off the bed and walking to the bathroom.

You tried to shower as quickly as possible, which proved difficult given your very sore joints and you were sure that your legs were more than likely going to give way any second, eager to jump into your pyjamas. Pushing the curtain aside, you felt your heart swell as you noticed a towel and your favourite fluffy pyjama pants and your favourite sweater you stole frequently from Bucky, neatly folded beside the basin. In your haste and delirious state, you had forgotten to grab a change of clothes yourself. You grinned widely again as you reached for the sweater, quickly pulling it over your head as Bucky’s signature scent engulfed you. After hurriedly brushing your teeth, you exited the bathroom smiling sheepishly at Bucky and thanking him quietly. Sluggishly, you threw your uniform in the hamper next to the bathroom door before approaching Bucky. You smiled again when you noticed that Bucky had changed into his own pyjamas: clad in a pair of sweatpants and a black t-shirt, attempting to quickly prepare the bed for you.

“What did I do to deserve you?” You asked rhetorically as you slipped into the covers, Bucky close behind you shifting slightly to get comfortable.

“Don’t get all cheesy on me now Y/N.” Bucky joked, knowing that when you were tired your affectionate side revealed itself. You scoffed, kicking him in the leg and loving the sound of the laugh that you received in return. He smiled at you, eyeing the loose fabric that rested on your shoulders and the way it all but engulfed you.

“C’mere doll, you need to sleep. We can talk tomorrow morning.” Bucky whispered, noticing the yawn that escaped you and the way you tried to suppress it, wanting to talk to him for that little bit longer. But you couldn’t refuse when he wrapped his arm around your waist, reigning you in to rest your head against his chest, wrapping your arms around him in return.

Bucky rested his chin against your head, loving the way you pressed yourself further into his embrace. "Goodnight darlin’," he mumbled into the silence, pressing his lips lightly against your forehead and hugging you the slightest bit tighter. "I love you," he added moments later, closing his eyes suddenly as though the darkness that engulfed the two of you became too overbearing. But you didn't hear it, soft snores escaping you, sound asleep in Bucky's arms, the steady beat of his heart lulling you into a peaceful and dreamless sleep.

It wasn't until F.R.I.D.A.Y announced that the two of you were required in the conference room that you woke up. Whilst it may have not been the most desirable waking, you were more than happy with your current predicament. During the night, it had seemed the two of you had shifted even closer. You were all but laying on top of Bucky, your legs slotted between his with your foot resting on his calve as they tangled together. Your head rested on his right shoulder, as you hugged his waist, his left hand entwined with one of your own. His right hand had slipped beneath his hoodie you were wearing, mindlessly caressing the skin on your lower back during his slumber, bringing you even closer together and you were definitely not complaining.

“Good morning,” your lips curled into a grin when Bucky began to shift beneath you, his arms tightening around your figure when he noticed you were still pressed up against him. Lifting your head, you placed your chin on his chest to peer up at him, not missing the way he smiled broadly when he looked at you wrapped up in his arms clad in his hoodie, loving the familiar crinkle of the corner of his eyes.

“Good morning, darlin’” his voice was still laced with sleep, his blue eyes peering tiredly at you before he pressed his lips to your forehead. Your heart pounded in your chest, as his grip on your hand subconsciously grew tighter when you tucked your head under his chin. “We have to get up, don't we?” Bucky asked quietly, silently praying that the others forgot about the pair of you, leaving you to stay in bed for the remainder of the day. Bucky felt completely content. No nightmares haunted his dreams that night; your presence calming him to a state of complete tranquillity, as he was finally able to get a good night’s sleep since your departure. Whenever you left he couldn't help but worry about you. Whilst he knew that you were more than capable of defending yourself, having been on the receiving end of your right-hand swing more than once during training sessions, Bucky couldn’t bear the thought of you injuring yourself on a mission. He didn't even what to contemplate what it would be like to lose you. You were his anchor and without you he knew he wouldn't be able to remain stable.

You sighed in response to his question, mumbling a small ‘unfortunately’ under your breath, neither of you possessing any desire to move from your current position.

“No. I refuse.” Bucky stubbornly muttered, brining your body even closer so he could bury his nose in the crook of your shoulder. His actions and stubborn behaviour elicited a giggle out of you, your hand mindlessly outlining the scar on his chest where metal met flesh. You felt him flinch ever so slightly, knowing exactly what was going on in his head, but relaxed almost instantaneously when you quickly pressed your lips against his arm. Your heart clenched in your chest as you thought about the inevitable pain Bucky experienced, the endless nightmares that invaded his thoughts when he was caught off guard. You felt an overwhelming desire to pull him flush against your body, in an attempt to shield him away for the bad that existed in the world. You wanted nothing more than to protect him from the harm HYDRA had caused, protect him from those who couldn't see past the metal arm and what it insinuated. You were still unable to comprehend how the world was unable to see what you saw: a broken man tainted by his past who wanted nothing more than acceptance.  

“Hey,” you were brought out of your trance by Bucky, squeezing you hand lightly. “you okay there?” He watched you, his eyebrows pulled together noticing the sombre look that adorned your features. You shook your head resting your chin again on his chest to gain a better view of the blue eyes you had come to adore.

“I’m fine Buck, I just-” you cut yourself off with a sigh evidently frustrated, casting your gaze anywhere to avoid the look he was giving you.

“Y/N, look at me.”  When you refused to pick up your head, he curled a finger under your chin, his calloused hand caressing your soft skin in the sweetest of ways. “What’s troubling you? You know you can tell me anything. I’ll always listen, you know that.”

You smiled gratefully, at a loss for words as he manoeuvred his right hand to cup your cheek, his thumb running across your jawline. You felt your stomach do a flip and your eyelids slowly seal shut at the feeling. “Mhmm . . .” You couldn't even respond to his question too caught up on the way Bucky was invading all your senses, his gentle touch that felt all too natural driving you to the brink of insanity.

“Doll,” Bucky mumbled, a clear shift in the atmosphere causing you to open your eyes, peering up at him from beneath your eyelashes. Your breath hitched in your throat as you caught sight of his expression: nothing but pure adoration lingering in his eyes. You weren’t completely sure who moved first, but you could feel your palms sweating as he Bucky laid his forehead against yours, his breathe fanning your upper lip ever so teasingly. Your felt your breathing quicken as Bucky mumbled your name again, his eyes slipping closed as his hand moved to the nape of your neck. His hand tangling in your hair and bringing your head closer to him. You followed him, your eyes shutting on their own accord, your toes curling in anticipation of what was about to happen as your noses brushed.

“Did you misplace your alarm clock or are you just so incapable-” Your bedroom door flung open without warning causing your eyes to snap open, catching Bucky’s stunned expression which you were almost positive matched your own.

“What the fu-” Sam abruptly shouted, just as shocked as the two of your breaking you both our of your frozen state. Bucky, very obviously off guard completely, unintentionally shoved you off him as he sat up, resulting in you letting out an indignant squawk as you felt yourself fall. In a feeble attempt to prevent the inevitable, you grabbed onto Bucky, causing him to fall off the bed, with him landing awkwardly onto of you. All was silent for a second, as your mind tried to catch up with what just happened. You cast you gaze between Bucky, Sam and a confused Steve behind him opening and closing your mouth pathetically, as your heart pounded in your chest unable to suppress your disappointment over Sam’s entrance, stopping what had almost occurred. As Bucky began to shift slightly to free you from beneath him, a sharp pain began to crawl up your leg causing you to let out a cry of pain, your hands automatically going to grip your leg. And alas, here you were; confined to possibly the most uncomfortable bed in the building, glaring viciously at the cast that was meant to serve to protect your fractured leg.  

You turned your head to the door as it opened, revealing Bruce an almost teasing smile on his face. You narrowed your eyes in his direction, not missing the way Sam had all but ran down the hallways telling everyone what he had walked in and you were positive that Bruce had surely gotten that earful.

“So, you've fractured your Tibia but luckily, it’s a stable fracture so if all goes well it should heal just fine. But with that said, it will take up to four months possible six.” You didn't even try to suppress your groan as you rubbed your hands down your face.

Bruce shot you a sympathetic smile as you begrudgingly thanked him. He nodded before dismissing himself turning to exit the room. You watched as he left, a pout permanently set on your lips as you frowned at the cast yet again. Four months you would have to deal with this stupid cast. Four whole months!  At minimum! You didn't know how the hell you were going to deal with this. You had the literal worst luck in the world.

The door opened once more, creeping slowly as a sheepish Bucky entered the room. His eyes widened slightly as he caught sight of the cast on your leg. He felt guilty, so incredibly guilty. His mind was racing with numerous ways he thought he could at least try to make it up to you. You watched him walk towards your bed, crossing your arms over your chest. You definitely were not mad with him - he couldn't have controlled what just happened. No, you were more evidently infuriated with the fact that you were so so close to finally capturing his lips in a kiss but the opportunity was ripped away from you leaving you temporarily restricted to this hospital bed.

“I am so so-” you threw your hand up, your mouth twisting into a grimace. Bucky cast a pitying look in your direction, his words halting at your movements as he caught his lower lip between his teeth. As much as you were frustrated, you couldn't help but let your eyes wander staring intently at his lips wondering for what seemed like the millionth time, what it would be like for them to be pressed up against your skin. Your thoughts inevitably prompted a growing blush to crawl up your cheeks and neck, as you stubbornly turned your head in the opposite direction, too exasperated to deal with anything.

“Darlin’-” he stopped again, as he paused momentarily before the bed. Instinctively, he would normally sit by your hips when you were laying down, but given your current ‘predicament’ he didn't know what to do with himself.

“Please look at me, Y/N, you have no idea how guilty I feel right now. Please, its eating me alive. I’m so sorry doll.” At the desperation that was evident in his voice, you looked at him again, eyeing his crestfallen face and the way he was wringing his hands.

Sighing softly and offering him a smile you pulled him closer by his hand. “I’m sorry Bucky, I'm overacting slightly. Just I feel like the BFG with this thing on my foot right now.” You patted the spot next to, shuffling over to the best of your ability to make space for him beside you. Slowly, he sat down peering at your leg once again evidently confused.

“Don’t laugh at me, but . . . what’s a BFG?” You couldn't suppress the giggle that surpassed your lips even if you tried, not missing the way Bucky pouted.

“Hey,” he whined but didn't reject you when you rested yourself against his chest, entwining your fingers like they were this morning. “But no, I'm really sorry doll, I just freaked out and it was Sam- of all people it had to be Sam. That moron just knows how to get under my skin and you wouldn't believe what he’s telling everyone! I mean-” You smiled at his rambling, looking up at him as he glared at the wall.

You laughed again cutting him off, bringing his hand closer to you. “S’alright Buck. I’ll live. I've definitely been through worse.” Your laughter was cut short when Buck turned to look down at you, not realising just how close the two of you were. His gaze repeatedly shifting between your eyes and your lips, inching closer to you.

You heart seemed to beat more widely than it did this morning as he placed his forehead once again on yours. He was so close. You could see just how bright his eyes were, noting the flecks of dark blue that were present in his irises. You placed your hand on his chest, noting the steady increase of Bucky’s heartbeat as he inched closer.

And as if life wanted to mess with you that little bit more, the door to your room flung open once more. “Y/N! Sorry ‘bout your leg an all but really Frosty? Seriously? Never woul- Barnes! Are you fu-” You didn't even glance up at Sam, as he abruptly entered. Bucky turned again, frustration evident in his expression as he glared at Sam, opening his mouth prepared to snap at him.

“Nope, not again.” you muttered, placing your hand on Bucky’s cheek and turning his face towards you, before bringing your lips together. You couldn't help the smile that fought its way onto your lips as Bucky reciprocated your affection. Ignoring Sam’s outbursts and protestant yelling, you sighed contently as Bucky pulled you closer, his hand returning to its original position as he weaved his fingers through your hair. His lips caressed your own in a way that left you dizzy and ecstatic, euphoria seeping through your body as you finally got to kiss man that you had fallen smitten for.

You felt your stomach knot as his hadn't trailed down to your hip, caressing the skin on your back beneath his hoodie that you were still wearing, a shiver creeping down your back. He smiled in response in utter bliss, unable to grasp the fact that you were there pressed agains his body, your arms wound around his neck. Eventually you pulled away, but not completely, your breaths mingling together, smiling giddily at one another.

“See! I told you! Look at them! Pay up Rogers.” You didn't even notice Sam had left but now the room was filled with the team, knowing smiles cast in your direction as they took in your position.

You turned confusedly to watch Steve dig through his pocket before slapping a few bills in Sam’s awaiting palm.”

“What the hell?” Bucky voiced your thoughts, as he two watched the interaction equally perplexed. “You were betting on us?”

“No,” Sam began, grinning at Bucky as he scowled “We were betting on how long it would take you to grow a pair and become a man.”

You couldn't help but giggle at the way his frown deepened, burying your face in Bucky’s shoulder. But at your actions, the scowl was replaced with a wide smile, feeling nothing pure ecstasy as he finally had you, the girl of his dreams, in his arms. You felt your cheeks heat up as Bucky stared down at you, blushing furiously when he pressed his lips again against yours, laughing lightly as the others let out a groan. You smiled profusely when Bucky sighed, resting his chin on top of your head, watching as Natasha urged everyone to leave the two of you alone not missing the wink she sent in your direction.

“I hope you know,” Bucky began moments later after many more chaste kisses, as the two of you indulged in each other’s company “that firstly, you're kinda stuck with me for a while now.”

“That’s perfectly fine by me.” Your grinned again, kissing him again. He smiled in return, moving his lips against your slowly as though he was savouring the moment. “And secondly?” You asked, bringing your hand up to move the strands of hair that escaped his bun and fell on his forehead.

“Oh! Secondly,” Bucky began with a sly grin on his face. “I hope you also know, that I am undeniably and completely in love with you doll.”

You giggled like a love-struck teenage girl, resting your hand on his cheek, admiring the twinkle that lit up his eyes. “I love you too,” you confessed, pecking his lips once more, “even though you kinda broke me.” You teasingly said, nudging your head in the direction where your leg laid limply.

Bucky groaned, but knew you were only teasing. “Would a Disney marathon make up for it? With chocolate? And pizza?” Bucky smiled hopefully, his grin growing when you nodded and buried yourself in his chest once again.

“It’s a start.” You joked, closing your eyes and beaming to yourself.

Bucky sighed softly, resting his cheek against the top of your head. “I love you darlin’” he mumbled.

“I love you too.”

Maybe your luck wasn’t so bad after all.

[winterromanov]

the edge of nightmares / twissy fic

She dreams so loud it’s like he’s trapped in her head with her. It’s nothing complete, concrete; flickers of faces and smoke and blood, dripping through her fingers and onto polished stone. He recognises the burning orange sky of Gallifrey before the war and the sheer, black emptiness of it all in the years afterwards, the chasm that has sat between their hearts ever since. The electric rush of Dalek weaponry and the overwhelming desire to end everything because it all just hurts—

She shudders awake suddenly, blue eyes blinking back at him through the dark. Her hand clasps over her right heart, fingers flexing over the silk of her nightshirt. “What…”

“You were dreaming,” he says plainly, “Or having a nightmare. Not that we get a lot of choice in the matter.”

She snorts, pulling the duvet back and dropping her legs out the bed. “Aren’t you a smart one.”

“You asked.”

Missy leans over, her hair forming a thick, dark drape that hangs over her face, hiding it from his view. The Time War made it impossible for anyone who witnessed it to have good dreams. The concept is so dated it’s become abstract; he can’t remember the last time he closed his eyes and couldn’t hear screaming. He’s never watched someone else suffer through it, this post-traumatic stress, until now. He’s never had someone to hold his hand through it who actually understands. Rose tried, back in the early days, but her face was so young and her memories so new, the only blood on her hands from playground wounds.

Clara might have done too. He’s pretty sure she would have tried. Not that he remembers. He wishes he could remember, sometimes, when the loneliness hits and the stars glitter aimlessly outside his office window.

Missy combs her hair out her eyes and glances over at him, bemused smile on her face. “Are you watching me sleep?”

He’s about to bark no, absolutely not, but—it’s exactly what he’s doing, more out of obligation than choice. He’s heaved his favourite armchair across the Vault floor and positioned it opposite the foot of her bed, a book of Milton’s sonnets hanging limply on the right arm and a cup of tepid tea at his feet. “I was going to read, but you’re constantly screaming inside your head. Made it difficult to get round the rhyme scheme.”

“So you thought you’d watch me writhe around in bed instead,” Missy hums, “Actually, yeah—I could see why you could get off on that.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. There’s no point in arguing. She’s always this crude, but perhaps being crude is her coping mechanism for everything. It’s easier to make jokes than actually reveal any emotional instability. “You should rest more.”

“I don’t want to rest more,” she says, lip drooping, like a petulant child on the verge of a temper tantrum. “Let’s play a game. Let’s play chess. I might even let you win, this time.”

“Missy, it’s three in the morning.”

He realises the stupidity of the statement in the look Missy gives him the moment the words fall out of his mouth, her eyes narrowed and forehead creased. He raises a hand, apologising. He’s not in the mood for an argument. He knows from experience that arguments with his oldest friend last centuries.

“Yes, I know, but—this is the first time you’ve actually slept in days. I just think it would be better for you—“

Missy laughs bitterly, and it echoes round the room, cutting through him. “And you’d know what was best for me, would you?”

He clasps his fingers in his lap. The book of sonnets falls to the floor with a clatter. “I think I do, yeah.”

For a second, Missy looks like she might bite his head off, her eyes icing over and her fists clenching. But she breathes out slowly and the moment slips away, gradually, calming, the storm passing. She’s got better at that. Especially in the first few days, she’d lunge at him like a wild animal, teeth biting and fingernails scratching. She’s better at not letting her fury consume her.

“I don’t want to sleep more,” she says. Her fingers press at her temples, tracing tiny circles. “It—I never used to do that, before. I only used to dream about the good days of the war. You know. Standing in the ruins of Arcadia and laughing, because after everything I was… But there wasn’t, was there? Any good days in the war.”

He looks over at her. She’s stood at the foot of the bed, barefoot, hair messy and never-ending. She looks smaller than she ever has, more fragile. Her bones are made of glass. “No, there wasn’t.”

Silence reigns. He thinks there’s the outline of a tear rushing down her cheek, but it might just be a trick of the limited light. He stands, takes two strides, until he’s stood just a foot apart from her—her hands find his first and he brings it to her face, touches where the dampness should be and yes, yes, it’s a tear, the first not shed out of rage since the beginning. Missy’s eyes flicker shut, relaxing into the warmth of his skin.

“This is good,” he reassures her quietly, “It may not feel like it, but this is good.”

She whimpers and it’s a noise he’s never heard from her, lost and afraid and aching. She’s always been this hurricane of insanity to him; sometimes he’d wondered if there was even a heart under all those layers of chaos, the way she could murder so easily and walk away giggling. Perhaps the guilt and the pain was what was hidden under the chaos, not the heart, after all. He pulls her into him, let’s her burrow her face in his chest, feels the way she clings to his bones like the world is ending.

(It is ending for her, over and over and over again, thousands of years after it actually happened and it’s still ending, brutal and unforgiving.)

“I’ll run you a bath,” he murmurs softly into her neck, “I’ll run you a bath and I’ll wash your hair, and then we can go to bed together. Yeah?”

She leans back to face him, still gripping onto his forearms for support. It takes a few moments for her to nod, but it’s there, it’s definite. He half-smiles. It’s slow and it’s hard, but it’s working.

[hornkerling]

April 6, 2017. 20:44PM Melbourne. 05:44AM Chicago.

Me: I don't know if by some terrible miracle you're awake, but if you are, please let me know?

In the sort of serious pain that isn't quite bad enough to call an ambulance but is still scary and I'd love to hear your voice, though I'm reluctant to wake you up without you seeing these because involuntary pain noises are not my finest and would probably be alarming

This is the sort of cramping where I feel a bit like I'm giving birth out through my spine and my kidneys by turns and I wish I knew what triggered it so I could stop doing whatever the fuck that is

@lemonsharks: I am awake ❤

@lemonsharks stayed awake and on the line with me while I screamed. For over an hour. I sobbed and threw up and turned into a creature made of hurt and noise.

I did not go to hospital, because the last time I’d done that, for pain only slightly worse, I was sent home with a pat on the head and indigestion tablets.

“Has anything happened to you recently?” the ER doctor asked, looking exhausted.

“Well, the ambos think this might be gall pain, and I’ve lost 30 kilos in 12 weeks—“

“—­Good! Keep doing that. “

“Doesn’t weight loss affect your gall bladder? This was pretty quick…”

“Obesity causes more problems,” he said. “And you’re not out of the woods yet. Still. Well done.”

I’m usually good at pain, for a given value of unsurprised and able to talk myself through it. I’ve had my feet rebuilt three times. I’ve broken ribs eight times. I have the sort of endometriosis that used to make me bleed four weeks out of five while I curled around myself and ended up with chronic kidney infections. Sometimes my hands lock in the cold. I’ve had needles shoved directly into my eyeball. I know different textures and weights of pain. I knew the sort I can walk through, the sort where my body is actively trying to tell me something, and the times when too many signals have gone off all at once and I’m left with an aching, all-body hangover.

This pain? It made me babble. It stretched hours into minutes and then minutes into hours, gave me chills, made me throw up and whimper and ask the world to please, please stop hurting me. It was breathtaking. Humiliating. And it happened on and off over a year, ever since I went on a medically supervised fasting diet at the combined request of my GP, my eye surgeon (I was due for a transplant in the middle of 2016) and my mother.

I am, like a lot of sedentary ex-nightshift workers who take very important large amounts of progesterone to keep that endometriosis I mentioned from clawing me up from the inside, a fat woman. I’m mostly okay with this, because if I’m going to pick between ‘debilitating pain and anxiety’ and ‘bouts of self-loathing when I try to buy jeans’, I’m going to pick option 2 every fucking time. But that eye surgeon, with his continued muttering about how the fact that I didn’t have diabetes was a bloody miracle, really pissed me off. Fine, I thought. I will lose some weight and you will shut up and do your job and yeah, maybe it is time to untangle all that stress eating because no, I don’t enjoy it, and…ugh…just stop yelling at me.

So I asked my GP what I could try. I didn’t think just going to the gym would cut it in the early, inertia-prone stages and I didn’t want to deal with the additional self-loathing of having ‘failed’ if I ended up piking. She agreed, and suggested Optifast, a fairly vile but well established meal replacement plan, plus gym. I reflected briefly that it was good I was working two jobs, because this was going to be fucking pricey.

I did it. I spent twelve weeks subsisting on chocolate or coffee flavoured vitamin sludge with instances of steamed broccoli or bok choi as blessed relief. I took swimming lessons to relearn how to breathe while moving. That bit was actually lovely. I started to enjoy lifting almost-heavy objects, mostly because my scarred-up body and CP limp alarmed the local gym bros. Plus, it was a distraction when I had moments fantasizing about tearing off my own arm and eating it, mostly for a change in texture. It didn’t actually feel that bad. The first three days were horrible, for the second week I mostly felt vaguely high, and the for the rest of it I was just bored. The exercise, as discussed, began to feel unnervingly empowering.

The way other people responded to the weight loss, though? That was a complete mind fuck.

“You look so healthy!”

“Congratulations!”

“I bet you feel so good!”

“You look less disabled now! I bet your pain has gone down…” (yes. Really.)

Get published? Eh. That’s the sort of thing Kit does. Nothing special. Lose a socially acceptable amount of weight? Oh my god world peace is just around the corner, you have done this brave and exceptional thing.

At the end of the twelve weeks, otherwise known as ‘the intensive phase’, you reintroduce carbohydrates back into your life. Slowly. That was when the first instance of horrible, stabling, babbling gut pain happened. I assumed that I’d not quite been slow enough with my reintroduction, and so took the ERs non-diagnosis as fact, because it did seem reasonable. Kind of.

I had the surgery, which meant that I gained a lot of the weight back because of the sheer amount steroids they put you on to stop your body from freaking out about having, in the words of Donna Noble, a dead person’s face on your face. I also wasn’t allowed to: swim (I’m still not, because of the stitches, and it’s been almost a year); do cardio; lift even mildly heavy objects or do anything apart from breathe and eat and wince as people gave me tragic looks for several months.

(Stabbing gut instances during this time: 4)

Then I started exercising again and the damn cornea realised it was dead and decided to reject. More steroids! Every hour. Through the night! For an unspecified period of time! My body stored fat like it was the end times, because wouldn’t you?

(staving gut instances: 6 – including the time when @lemonsharks had to deal with her weeping girlfriend at five in the morning)

Why am I talking about this?

Because feeling like you have a large metal spike stuck from your breast bone right out the middle of your back at random but narrowing intervals is fucking alarming, but the only thing my family and GP took note of was my weight. Is it going down? Fantastic! Is it going back up again? Well, to quote the GP who nodded sadly when I told her about the surgeon’s gym ban: “you’ll just have to go back on the Optifast as soon as possible. The stabbing pain? Probably not gall problems! You’re far too young for that.” (Though I was, she’d also pointed out to me, thirty, and so my chances of dying miserable and fat did grow every minute.)

The feeling of having fight or flight response slowly dripping into my bloodstream for months of nightmares and general exhaustion? “Oh, that’ll go away once you lose that weight again.”

I’ve just been off work for two weeks. It was unplanned. I have no leave balance (yaaaay, transplant!)

Tuesday, May 16, 2017 12:32 AM

Me: So...we know what the random gut pain was now, probably. Pancrea-fucking-titis

That stupid opifast diet has a lot to answer for

Me: 4:30am and and finally out of ed/into a damn bed

Still in hospital, if I vanish for a bit

@lemonsharks: D:

 On the one hand... Yay knowing what it is BIT ALSO NOT YAY on the hell diet and irritated pancreas

 Me: And possibly removed gallbladder, hence the hospital overnight madness

@lemonsharks: Wait wait did you just have emergency surgery to remove your gallbladder or is that upcoming?

 It was upcoming, because they had to wait for my pancreas to stop trying to eat itself in protest of my gallbladder deciding that it had one job: to make as many stones as my body could hold. And then some.

The feeling of having fight or flight response slowly dripping into my bloodstream? That was bile. I came home from work, the pain happened, and this time it didn’t go away after an hour of screaming. I cracked and called the ambulance, shaking and dripping sweat, throwing up when I wasn’t sobbing, two hours into it.

“Looks like gall pain,” said the ambos, as I apologised for wasting their time and they stared at me like I was insane and checked some regs to see if they could give me more morphine. “I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”

(Ambulance Victoria is filled with good people and they deserve all the pay rises in the world.)

I don’t remember much of the next few hours. Just that I told them not to take me to the hospital where I’d been sent home with indigestion, and that I’d messaged @lemonsharks and desperately tried to be okay.

That bit where I vanish in the message thread? I was in the ICU.

Why am telling you this?

Because I’m fine. The pancreatitis went away and I feel 700 times less miserable (the first photo in this post terrifies me. It was the day before all this happened. I thought I looked normal. I look fucking wrecked. Sad and exhausted. Contrast with the second, where my skin is dodgy as fuck but I look like a tolerably cute and lively human being. That was taken last week, my first day out of the house after I got home from hospital a few days before.)  They took out my gallbladder and I now have a load of new puncture wounds and I need a lot of naps/feel a bit like the world is grey half the time because that’s how I respond to most general anaesthetics. That shall pass. I’m alive. I have amazing friends who’ve visited and given me soup and the best girlfriend in the world and I live in a place that isn’t going to punch me for going to hospital. Yay, socialised healthcare. Things could be a lot worse.

But also, I nearly fucking died. Because of that heady combination of: pressure toward weight loss, culture that reinforces particular types of suffering for the sake of ‘health’, and the tendency to minimise female pain as normal, as expected.

My GP, rueful on the phone as I tried to explain that I was being told I had to have surgery and that I was unprepared and terrified, said: “I’m sorry I didn’t think to take your bloods earlier. It is a shame you can’t do the Optifast route again now, though.”

And that is why I’m posting this. That, along with the small, regretful part of me that agreed with her, because fuck that. Fuck that industry, and the pressure that makes life and safety less valuable than the size you are. 

I can’t do much about some of the mess in my own head, but I can post this and say: you do you. Be safe. You’re loved. And if you do go down the meal replacement path, because as much as I want to burn it to the ground I know that there is no single response to anything, get regular blood tests. 

(mostly though. fuck that. and thank you, @lemonsharks)