#but i have about 6 empty scenes and 2 or 3 at half done.

[holdmymetaphor]

also, writing a long fic is hard.... its truly like running a marathon. im at a total of 70k out of a projected 100k and im like trying to juggle everything without it being like exposition city with no flavor....

[guitarstringed-scars]

on stage- s. hinata

act two, scene four: opening night and final bows

masterlist

the morning passes quickly. you spend it pacing back and forth in your apartment, changing your outfit 6 times, and freaking out. you’ve done this before, directed a play. this is what you want to do for the rest of your life, but it feels so nerve wracking every time. sure you told shoyo that you weren’t nervous, he doesn’t need to know anyway. it’ll only make him nervous, and he needs to give the performance of a lifetime tonight.

finally its 1:00, and you head out of the apartment. you want to get there early to make sure the house is all clean, and ready for however many people come tonight. the programs have been delivered and sit on the front desk of the theater building. you grab the box and start to unpack them. on the front cover, it reads ‘directed by y/n l/n’ and you can’t help but smile. directly under it there is ‘written by keiji akaashi’. you feel proud of your friends and all of the hard work they dedicate to this, just to help you out. kozume who spends late nights setting up lights. shimizu who learned how to work the sound for you. hitoka who adds on costumes for your plays on top of her mountain of items to make for her studies. you also feel grateful for koutaro who even though you’ll never let him in one of your productions, he continues to be your biggest cheerleader, and toru who always puts his heart into every performance.

you feel especially grateful for shoyo, who has quickly become a shining light in this production. even if you barely spoke for 3 weeks, the rest of the time he was the kindest, most enthusiastic, excited person on the cast. you are snapped out of your thoughts by hitoka and shimizu entering the building.

“happy opening night!” hitoka cheers, bounding over to you and tackling you in a hug. “we did it!”

“don’t jinx it! we haven’t even opened yet!” you say, quickly shutting her down.

“well everything you and me can do is done, it’s on everyone else now!” she continues celebrating.

shimizu laughs and leaves to set up for sound. kenma shows up soon after.

“you’ll be in the booth tonight, right?” he asks you.

“yup! i’ll probably show up a bit after show start.” you say. he nods and heads into the booth.

you and hitoka continue setting up the lobby for the next half hour as the cast starts shuffling in. you greet everyone, and hitoka heads down to the costume closet.

shoyo shows up at exactly 2. he rushes in, and half hazardly shoots you a distracted nod. just as soon as he’s there, he’s gone in the costume shop without a hello.

you spend the next 4 hours doing busy work, trying to distract yourself from the show, and rushing around when you bump into shoyo.

he’s in his costume, and looks absolutely perfect. only downside is he isn’t wearing his stage makeup.

“oh shoot, i completely forgot i said i’d do your makeup, come on shoyo!” you grab his hand and drag him to the dressing room. it’s emptied out by this point, just soft music playing off of a speaker in the corner. shoyo plops down in a chair as you grab some makeup. as you pat the foundation into his skin, he finally begins to speak.

“i’m nervous.” he says.

“i know. you’ve been quiet today.”

he laughs a bit as you brush his face with powder.

“i don’t want to mess this up.” he says.

“and like i keep saying, you wont.”

he goes quiet again, looking at his reflection from the corner of his eye.

“this makeup makes me look funny.” he says, giggling a bit.

“thats the point.” you say, focusing on darkening his eyebrows.

“really?” he asks.

“no, not really. it just is to make your expressions easier to read from the audience.”

“hm.” he mumbles as you pick up the lipstick. it’s about the same color as his lips now. as you open the cap, he speaks again. “can i kiss you before you put it on?” he asks. you look up from focusing on the lipstick. you giggle a bit before applying the lipstick on him. he frowns slightly.

as you finish up his makeup he stands up to leave. you turn his face before he can stand up, and give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“break a leg!” you shout, rushing out of the room. you don’t look back, but if you did, you would’ve seen a flustered shoyo standing in shock.

you rush to the lobby, greeting audience members as they enter. you cheerfully hand them programs up until 10 minutes until show time. you hand off your stack of programs to hitoka and rush back stage.

“PLACES” you shout, and then the rushing around intensifies as actors swarm backstage. you rush to the lighting booth, slumping down in the seat next to kenma.

“good job.” he whispers, patting your shoulder as he hands you a headset. you take a breath.

you completely black out during the show. the last two hours are a blank space in your mind. there are two things you know.

one, it was amazing

and

two, you need to get on stage and address the audience.

so number two is exactly what you do. being a director, you aren’t really used to being on stage. so when the hot lights hit your face, you feel the nerves kick in.

“hi, my name is y/n l/n and i directed this play. i wanted to thank you all for coming and supporting university theater, and i also want to recognize the hard work for our cast and crew, so please give them another round of applause!” the audience erupts into cheers. “i hope you find the time to come back tomorrow, or tell your friends and family to attend. thank you again!” you smile and quickly rush off the stage as the audience begins to file out. you quickly rush through the back doors where you are greeted by the cast. toru tackles you in a hug before running off to the lobby with the others. you look out for a head of red hair, but find nothing, so you head to the lobby as well.

as you make it to the lobby, you spot all of your friends. shimizu and kozume both look exausted, hitoka and koutaro are both excitedly chatting about the costumes, and toru looks especially proud of how opening night went. as you approach, you are swept into a suffocating hug from koutaro.

“great stuff y/n! i hope you let me in the next one!” he speaks, a little too loudly for the enclosed space.

“in your dreams bo.” you say, laughing into his shoulder. “if you two are tired, you should head home. i can clean up here tonight, since we’ve got to do it all again tomorrow.” you address shimizu and kozume. shimizu falls into your arms and hugs you.

“y/n, you are the best.” she says as the two of them head off. ”lets all go find shoyo!” toru says, leading the group to the large gathering of boys volleyball players. in the center is the man himself. he smiles and laughs with the others and you feel your heart pang. he notices you quickly, and tackles you in a hug.

“you were incredible.” you mumble into his chest. he says nothing, but you can feel his smile grow against your face.

“i brought these for you.” he says, pulling away from the hug. from his bag he pulls out a slightly smushed bouquet of your favorite flowers. “thats why i was so rushed getting here today, because i was afraid you’d catch on to the surprise.”

you just smile and hug him again.

“i don’t want this show to be over!” he complains.

“hey, we have another show tomorrow, and a date on sunday, you aren’t getting rid of me that easily.” you say.

and you feel perfectly comfortable.

a/n: IT'S OVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! there is a possibility of bonus stuff but i need a break from this! my first ever fic is done! this may be some of my worst writing ever, but that is okay because it's done, and i love it and i love shoyo. OKAY YAY BYE READ MY OTHER STUFF!

[a-mel0n]

This stupid "Your Name" Bucktommy AU won't leave my brain, and while I don't have enough faith in my writing skills to actually write the damn thing (and it would be my first fanfic... ever?? and that's a project that seems a bit too big for me lmao), I DID write down what I'm picturing some of the "rules" Buck and Tommy have for each other while in the other's body. Mostly just for fun. (Because Tommy would be switching in 2006, the iPhone does not exist yet, so all of his notes are written in an actual physical journal. All of Buck's notes would be on the Notes app of his phone)

TOMMY: 1) Evan, stop running into burning buildings when you don’t have to while in my body. If I wake up in a hospital bed for the fifth time this month, I might actually lose it.

its part of the job to save as many ppl as possible. also u don’t even feel the pain when i get injured in ur body.

You’re right, I don’t. Unfortunately, the pain from having a wooden beam fall on you doesn't just magically go away when we swap. Just... be more careful? Please?

fine. i’ll try and keep ur hospital visits to a minimum.

2) Can you stop flirting with people on calls? Or at the very least give them your number and not mine? In the last week alone my contact list has nearly doubled because you keep giving people my number. 

dude its not my fault you’re more popular while i’m you. just think of it as me being ur wingman! how u dont have a girlfriend is beyond me btw. hot chicks love firefighters and ur a good looking dude

Jesus Christ, Evan. For the last time, I’m single by choice.

3) Don’t shower while in my body

already dont

4) Don’t go to the bathroom while in my body 

done

5) In fact, unless you’re at work, don’t change any of my clothes while in my body. 

fair

6) Do you really need to spend so much of my paychecks on cooking supplies? I have enough pots and pans already. 

whats the point of a pantry if its half empty. be thankful ur getting actual food now via my leftovers instead of the utter tragedy that was the state of ur fridge when we first started swapping places.

7) Don’t make a scene while at work. 

your boss sucks ass and his stupid orders are going to get people killed. im not gonna listen to him if hes making bad calls while lives are on the line

Evan.

8) Don’t pick up the phone when my dad calls.

got it

BUCK: 1) quit going to eddie’s basketball pickup games. he keeps inviting me while i’m in my own body and its getting harder and harder to come up with excuses as to why i can’t go. it's kinda awkward.

I thought you’d be more grateful, Evan. You’re the coolest guy on the court when I’m you. 

2) are you making movie references when ur me? bc chim keeps asking when i got so “cultured” and the other day maddie asked when i watched the princess bride. 

You haven’t seen the Princess Bride? I’m leaving you a surprise for tomorrow. Check your couch when you wake up. 

did you spend my OWN money on a dvd??? i don’t even own a dvd player. i own every streaming service imaginable.

3) keep the finger guns to a minimum?? idk why you do them so much but both hen and chim have said smth abt it

4) if u get a call from someone called connor or kameron on my phone just let it go to voicemail its personal stuff and i'll deal with it

Evan, you could have told me you agreed to be a sperm donor yourself. Finding out because Connor and Kameron showed up at the fire house was more of a shock than finding out over these memos would have been. 

they did what?????

5) don’t talk to my parents

Done.

6) No rule about undressing? 

dude idc. i’m not gonna stop you from taking a piss in my body if u need to. as long as you like. don’t have sex with someone while you’re me? oh wait hang on i DO have a rule about undressing

7) DON’T HAVE ANY RANDOM HOOK UPS IN MY BODY. 

Wasn’t planning on it, but good to know. 

[the-obnoxious-sibling]

in which this story comes to an end. (fucking finally.)

part eight of the post-marineford portion of the near miss fics! (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7) if you have no idea what i’m talking about but would like to read a shanks/buggy story about kissing in disguise and then having to deal with the emotional fallout of doing that, click on this link, that’s the tag for the whole thing in chronological order. (plus a fair bit of complaining about writing, one inspirational improvised musical number, and a snippet of shanks pov) if you do know what i’m talking about: it’s done! it’s done!! i wish i could say i planned to end this on 3/8 but lmao, did not know the significance of the day until, like, this tuesday. but it’s done. i’m taking a break from the world of this story to work on some gift exchange fics, but i will be uploading the first few fics to ao3 soon, and should start posting the shanks POV post-marineford story in late april. if there are scenes you’d especially like his POV on, let me know! i’ll do my best to incorporate them.

Buggy spent a very cathartic half-hour shouting at a bunch of guys who ate up his words with a spoon.  Always eager to please, the men obediently found themselves disembarkation buddies, cleaned up the messes they’d made, and started gathering their things (mostly weapons they’d stolen off the guards at Impel Down).

It was nice to be respected, Buggy thought as he watched them scurry around the ship.  However misplaced the respect, it made people listen to him, something Buggy had wanted for as long as he could remember.  He’d never been able to get enough.  Probably never would, if the hunger that grew every time these men cheered his name was anything to go by.

He wandered up to the room he shared with Galdino—thankfully empty, he didn’t want to end up in another slap fight over details—and took care of his own possessions. (It wouldn’t do to have any excuses to delay or hang back when they got to the meeting point.) With the modified Marine jacket and hat back on, Buggy could fit everything else in a small satchel that he strapped around his waist, neatly hidden by a twist in a sash and the way the jacket fell.  He left the room… more or less the way it had been when he arrived—there was no way to hide that dent in the wall, and Galdino would have to be the one to deal with the smear of wax across half the bed—and exited the room for the last time, taking in the view of the deck below with a contented sigh.

The Red Force was a well-run ship—a compliment Buggy would never voice aloud, but in the privacy of his own mind he allowed himself to think it.  Even with hundreds of strangers aboard who couldn’t help but get in the way, she was clean, well-equipped, and sailing smoothly.  Buggy didn’t know if he’d be able to say the same in a few hours, when all these men would be trying to squeeze onto the somewhat smaller Big Top.  Buggy rubbed a hand across his mouth to hide his involuntary grimace at the thought.  Maybe the island they were meeting up on had some industry he could put them to work at?  A farm would be fantastic, if he could get paid for their labor and get the produce at a discount as well… 

Buggy looked over the deck in search of one of Shanks’ senior officers.  He didn’t know most of them by name, but those cloaks and capes they wore were distinctive enough that he thought he should be able to identify them on sight, and surely if the one he found didn’t know anything about the island, they could point him to someone who did.  The navigator?  Roux, who seemed to know a little about everything?  Beckman, whose job it was to know something about everything?

And, think of the devil, one of the doors to the interior of the ship opened to reveal Beckman, speaking with a few of those cloaked men.  They each went their own way, and Beckman crossed to the railing, taking up a pose not dissimilar from Buggy’s a few levels above him.  That was a first mate for you, always keeping an eye on things, one way or another.

Buggy sent his feet down the stairs and the rest of him took the shorter path, swooping down to Beckman’s side like a giant white bat.  To his credit, Beckman didn’t react to this unusual approach. Instead, calm as anything, he said, “Whatever you said to those men, it seems to be doing the trick.  Thanks.”

Buggy waved the praise off.  “If they’re so eager to be under my command, they’ve got to start learning to behave themselves sooner or later.  Might as well be now.”  Leaning an elbow against the railing, Buggy looked Beckman over.  He sure did seem a lot more relaxed now than he’d been outside Shanks’ rooms.  Relaxed enough to share intel?  “Tell me something.”

Beckman glanced sideways at Buggy.  “Hm?”

“What do you know about this island where we’re meeting up with my crew?  Is it populated?”

“Ah, I don’t think so, no,” Beckman said, tilting his head back, recalling the facts.  “Snake picked a jungle island that’s a bit out of the way of normal trade routes.  There’s some ruins, but no signs of recent habitation.”

Buggy tried not to visibly wilt.  “Ah.”

Beckman’s eyes lingered on Buggy.  “We didn’t want to risk a naval presence on the island getting word out to the rest of the Marines.”

“No, no, it makes sense.”  Buggy sighed, shoving a hand under his hat to scrub at his hair.  “Just trying to figure out how the hell I’m gonna feed all these guys in that case.”  No way had anyone thought to tell Alvida that Buggy was bringing new guys with him, let alone a lot of new guys.  She’d have gotten the ship supplied with their normal numbers in mind.

Well, the new guys were a tough bunch, maybe they’d see hunting for their dinner as a fun challenge.  Assuming there was anything safe to hunt and eat on this island… Buggy dug his fingers into his scalp, biting back a frustrated groan.

Beckman laughed.  “Yeah, I don’t envy you that job. At least we were expecting to take on passengers.”  He whistled to get the attention of someone up in the crow’s nest and flashed a hand sign at them.  After a few exchanges, he stopped signing and rolled his eyes.  “Stubborn, overworking little—” He cut himself off and glanced at Buggy.  “Was that all you wanted from me?”  Buggy nodded.  “Then I’ll see you when Shanks finally gets up the nerve to talk to you… or when we land.  Whichever comes first.”  With that, he walked over to the mast, got the attention of a young man who’d been leaning against it, and grabbed onto a low-hanging rope.  The two of them pulled themselves up into the rigging—to harass whoever was up in the crow’s nest into taking a break, probably.

Buggy watched them climb for a minute, a frown crawling its way across his face.  When Shanks finally gets up the nerve to talk to you… so there was something Shanks was hiding that he didn’t think he should, huh?  Buggy had figured the feeling he was getting off Shanks was about one of those topics he’d had private conversations with Roger about way back when, not something that Shanks would consider any of Buggy’s business.  But apparently that wasn’t the case.

Buggy’s frown deepened.  He could come up with a list of topics Shanks wouldn’t want to broach but would still feel obligated to bring up, no problem.  But that list was short, and Buggy didn’t like the thought of discussing anything on it.

Unsettled, Buggy leaned back against the mast, arms crossed.

“Look out below!!!”

Buggy looked up and shrieked at the sight of a man falling head-first out of the crow’s nest.  He scattered—it wasn’t like his body would soften the blow enough that the guy would live—and then blinked, as a rope he hadn’t noticed went taut, and the falling slowed to a gentle, somehow mechanical motion.

“The hell is wrong with you?!” he demanded, floating up to be eye-level with the slowly descending man.  This was, if Buggy remembered correctly, Shanks’ sniper, Yasopp, of the infamous years-long tempting out to sea.  Someone with good aim, and a keen eye, but not particularly decisive—or, at least, he hadn’t been back then.  He was also apparently someone with a shitty sense of humor; he wasn’t answering Buggy’s question because he was too busy laughing and pointing at Buggy.

“Your face!  Oh, my stomach hurts,” he said, clutching at his waist.  “Oh man, that was almost worth getting kicked out of the nest.”  As they approached the ground, he shifted his weight so his feet would touch down first, and untangled himself from the rope with practiced ease.  “Phew.  Sorry, uh—Buggy, right?  Yeah, sorry about that.  The crew knows better than to stand so close to the mast when the watch changes, and I didn’t think to check before I jumped.”

“Jumping from the crow’s nest for fun.”  Buggy shook his head.  “And here I thought you people were almost respectable.”  Yasopp, the maniac, cackled.  Beckman, drifting down to the deck on his own rope mechanism, in a much more orderly fashion, chuckled a little.

“It’s possible we’ve been on… well, not our best behavior.  Let’s call it better behavior than usual, these last few days,” Beckman admitted.  “Except for Yasopp, who doesn’t know the meaning of the concept and so stays up in his nest.”

“You haven’t been on your best behavior, you’re as mean as ever,” Yasopp said, putting on an over-the-top pout.

Beckman rolled his eyes.  “Because I need to be, to get anything done around here,” he said.  “And you need a break.  Drink, talk to someone, tinker with one of your ridiculous trick bullets, I don’t care, just—let someone else keep an eye on things for a few hours, okay?”  He nudged Yasopp in the side with an elbow.  “Or are you gonna say you didn’t train your juniors well enough at their job?”

Yasopp crossed his arms, sulky.  “No,” he conceded.

“Good,” Beckman said.  Giving Buggy an apologetic grimace as he untied himself, he said, “I trust he’s apologized to you already?”  His tone suggested that if he hadn’t, Yasopp would soon regret it.

What a mother hen of a first mate, Buggy thought, fighting down a smile. “Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” he said, shrugging off the incident like it hadn’t carved a decade off his lifespan.  “I should’ve known you people had to be at least a little crazy, since you run around with Shanks.”

A small smile crossed Beckman’s face, and Yasopp muffled a snort of laughter in a fist.

Someone called out in a panicky tone for Beckman from a far corner of the ship, and the smile fell off his face.  “If you’ll excuse me?”  Not waiting for a reply from either of them, Beckman walked off.

“So mean,” Yasopp said, fondness creeping into his voice.

“That’s first mates for you,” Buggy said, unable to keep a similar fondness out of his own voice.  Shanks had done a good job finding this guy.  When you grew up with the gold standard first mate (or, heh, the Silvers standard?), it was hard to find someone who could measure up.  “Keeping things in order when your captain’s lost his head.”

Yasopp chuckled.  “Ah, the boss isn’t that bad off.”  When Buggy gave him a skeptical look, he smirked.  “Lost his heart, maybe, but he knows where his head’s at.”

“I—uh.”  Flustered, Buggy cleared his throat.  He’d really just gone and said it.  “You’re a lot less subtle than your crewmates.”

Yasopp shrugged.  “I leave subtlety to subtle men.  I’m not built for it; I’m built for getting to the heart of the matter, and doing it fast.”  He extended two fingers towards Buggy, lifted his thumb into the air, and twitched his hand like it was a gun recoiling.  “We both know where things stand.  What’s the use in dancing around it?”

“Sure,” Buggy muttered, his thoughts going back to what Beckman had said.  What was it Shanks both didn’t want to tell him and needed to tell him?  What was there left unsaid, besides the sort of thing Buggy had already decided didn’t need saying?  He crossed his arms.  Damn it, he’d been trying to avoid thinking about this shit!

“Hey,” Yasopp said, snapping his fingers to draw Buggy’s attention.  “You work with bombs, right?  You make them yourself?”

Welcoming the change in topic, Buggy scoffed.  “Of course,” he said, “only an idiot trusts the kind of weapons manufacturers who are willing to sell to pirates to make explosives that are good, reliable, and cheap, and I have better things to spend my money on.”  He narrowed his eyes at Yasopp.  “Why?”

“Because Beck just gave me permission to tinker with my trick bullets, and if you make your own explosives you might be able to figure out what I’m doing wrong with this one.”  Digging around in one of his oversized ammunition pouches, Yasopp presented Buggy with an unusually lightweight cartridge.  “Here, what do you think?”

Buggy cracked the cartridge open, curious.  Inside was a pool of silvery-black gunpowder and a thin-walled hollow bullet, which proved to have some other kind of powder inside.  Buggy pinched that powder between two fingers, rubbing them together to feel the grit and then sniffing at the residue left behind.  He stared at his fingers, baffled, and smelled them again.  “What is that, aluminum and an ammonium salt?”  Yasopp nodded.  “Are you trying to make a cartridge that explodes in the barrel?”

Yasopp sighed, running a hand through his locs.  “What I want is a smoke bomb I can fire out of a gun.  What I’m getting is… that, more or less.”

“Yeah, of course you are, a big velocity change ignites this stuff easily.  With a different catalyst, though, or maybe a better sealed chamber…” Buggy trailed off, considering the bullet.  A miniature smoke bomb, huh?  Something that could stand up to the initial shock of gunfire, and turns to noise and powder on impact… “Do you have a chem lab around here somewhere?”

Yasopp grinned.

The two of them didn’t emerge from Yasopp’s workroom until the bell rang out announcing last call for lunch.  Buggy wasn’t sure he’d ever get the metallic burnt smell out of these clothes, but he didn’t care; this had been fun, the kind of idle experimenting with explosives that he hadn’t had time to do in years.  Buggy hadn’t realized how much of a man’s free time it ate up, captaining even a smallish crew, until he’d gotten a fraction of that time back.

“Too bad we didn’t figure out a solution for your smoke bullet problem,” he said, dusting the last of the gunpowder off his shirt sleeves.

“Eh, I’ve been working on this on and off for months, it wasn’t gonna be an easy fix,” Yasopp said, shrugging his star-spangled cloak back on.  “But it got both of us out of our heads for a few hours, so I’d hardly call it a waste.”

Buggy blinked at him, frozen with one arm in his jacket.  “Both of us?”

“You were fretting, I don’t know what about.  Shanks, at a guess.  And I’m… not good at letting other people take on my responsibilities.”  Yasopp grimaced.  “Beck doesn’t always have to toss me out of the nest, but…”

Buggy frowned, sliding the jacket up his other arm.  “I wasn’t fretting.”

Yasopp gave him an unimpressed look.  “Sure.  And what kind of concealer do you use to hide the frown lines you must have, if you make that face every hour of the day?”  When Buggy scowled at him, Yasopp said, “I’m not a subtle man, remember?  If you want somebody to pretend to believe your lies, you’re looking at the wrong guy.”

Buggy sighed.  As Yasopp locked the workroom up behind them, he admitted, “It… was good to get out of my head for a while.”  Yasopp gave him a squeeze on the shoulder, and they left it at that.

Lunch was a bit less exciting than the past few days had led Buggy to expect: the fried rice with pickled cabbage and ham that had been served with Shanks’ breakfast was the main dish on offer, with other repurposed leftovers making up the rest of the meal.  When Roux wasn’t looking, Buggy gave him a curious look.  The rest of the crew had been on their best behavior, according to Beckman… so, had Lucky Roux been showing off?  If he had, it had worked on Buggy; he still wanted to poach Roux for his own crew, even if this less impressive offering was his usual fare.

Eating his bowl of rice with a couple promising-looking toppings—all well-spiced and delicious, of course—Buggy made his way out onto the main deck.  A few Red-Haired and Whitebeard Pirates glanced Buggy’s way, but most of them had gotten used to Buggy over the last few days and returned to their meals without paying him any mind.  He peered down at the lower deck, crowded with men in worn prison uniforms standing in surprisingly well-organized clusters of twos and fours, finishing their lunch.

“Afternoon, men!” he called.

“Captain Buggy!” they cheered.

“Let’s see,” Buggy said, and on a whim set aside his bowl to chop off his feet and swoop down, close enough to excite his men but just out of reach.  “Aren’t you arranged all nice and orderly?  It looks like you did as I asked.”

“Of course!”

“We’d do anything you asked, Captain Buggy!”

Buggy grinned.  Music to his ears.  “Then I suppose I should reward you, shouldn’t I?”  A few excited sounds rose from the crowd as Buggy returned to his spot on the deck above them.  “Hm… I’ve told you a few stories of the old days with Captain Roger, and a few more adventures of the great Captain Buggy’s crew.  But there’s someone I’ve yet to introduce you to, a captain who’s been allied with me and mine these last few months.”  Someone who might need some convincing to cooperate with the sudden appearance of all these guys… and who was more eager for praise than even Buggy.  “Let me tell you how the strong, beautiful Iron Mace Alvida saved my life.”

A hush fell over the crowd.

“Yes, I know what you’re thinking: the great Captain Buggy, in need of rescue?!”  The wide-eyed stares Buggy received confirmed this.  And by the look of it, some of the men were mentally tacking on the phrase by a woman? to that question, as he’d suspected they would.  Yeah, best to nip that potential problem in the bud.  “Well, I’d been through a terrible trial in the days leading up to our first meeting.  Separated from my crew, from my body, alone on a half-wrecked ship, starving, a vicious sea monster rising out of the waves before me, his many-toothed maw dripping with drool, eager to eat me—when suddenly!  A great iron mace came down on his skull!”  Buggy slammed his lunch bowl against the railing, the crash of metal on wood drawing the eye of every man below.

Buggy grinned.  If they hadn’t been hooked before, they sure were now.

He fudged some of the details, of course—no need to reveal exactly who had put him through that terrible trial, or how his crew had behaved in his absence.  But the broad strokes were true enough, and the changes he made were in support of his reason for telling the story: to convince these guys to respect Alvida, to flatter her as they did him, to make this joining of forces go as smoothly as possible.  Sure, it didn’t put Buggy in the best light, at least not at first, but he didn’t want Alvida taking a perceived slight out on a man who might be able to stand up to her mace.  If revealing one of his weaknesses was how he avoided that disaster, so be it.

He was just reaching the ‘rescuing his crew from cannibals’ climax of the story when a cry rang out from above: “Land ho!”

Finally.  The relief that rushed through Buggy nearly made him cry.  After all the many hells he’d been through since being arrested… things could finally start getting back to normal.

“We’ll continue this story after we disembark,” Buggy announced, to a few disappointed groans from his men.  “Find your buddy if you lost track of him during lunch!  Make sure you both have everything you’re taking with you!  Stay out of the way of the Red-Haired Pirates while they’re get us to shore, but be ready to leave the second we’re docked!”

“Aye, Captain!”

But of course, it wasn’t quite that simple.

Buggy found Galdino sitting in the empty mess with Lucky Roux, making polite conversation over a pot of tea.  Though, with these two, it might not actually be the conversation it seemed to be—something about the island Roux sourced his tea from?  Apparently it was a distinctive blend, and hard to acquire.

“Did you need something, Buggy?” Galdino asked, an undertone of irritation to his voice.  Because of course Buggy needed something, why else did he ever seek Galdino out?

Well, if Galdino didn’t want to be used, he shouldn’t have made himself so useful.

“The dock’s gone,” Buggy said.  “Either rotted through or swept away in a storm.”

Galdino glanced up at him, and set down his teacup.  “Well, at least it’ll be a challenge.  Lucky Roux, it’s been a pleasure.”

“It’s sure been something, having you people aboard,” Roux said with a wide smile.  “Hopefully not for the last time.”

Buggy snorted.  “In your captain’s dreams.”

Galdino muffled a laugh in his fist; Roux didn’t bother concealing his amusement.  Buggy realized how his words had come off, scowled, and stormed out of the mess with a mutter of, “Come on, Galdino.”

The two of them joined Beckman and the Red-Haired Pirates’ navigator at the bow of the ship, and considered the space where a dock clearly used to be.  A ship this big, an island with such a sharp drop from shore to sea?  They wouldn’t be able to land without a dock. 

“Can you do it?” Beckman asked.

“I’ll need to begin from the shore,” Galdino said, thoughtful.  “If it isn’t well anchored from the start it’ll drift away.”

“That’s no problem.” Buggy chopped his feet off and leaned forward, letting Galdino sit cross-legged on his back.  He flew them to shore, where Galdino made some long wax spears that Buggy wedged into place.  When they were securely dug in, Galdino melted the tops of the spears and, starting from that spot, created more wax to mold into a floating dock.  Nothing that would be any good at anchoring a ship the size of the Red Force long-term, but they didn’t intend to be here any longer than necessary.  So long as it could hold firm while the men disembarked, that was all they needed.

While Galdino worked, Buggy hovered above the canopy, looking for any kind of promising location to settle his men.  He quickly spotted the ruins Beckman had mentioned—several of the old buildings were tall enough to be seen well above the treetops, the gray of the stone standing out against all the greenery of the jungle.  There was one with a large paved area around it, not far from the shore, which seemed promising.  Buggy took a moment to fix the spot in his memory, then went back to tell Galdino about it.

Galdino barely paid him any mind. He was focused on his work, and confident enough in it to stand on the dock as he was building it, a foot or two of wax all that separated him from the awful, helpless death that awaited any Devil Fruit user in the ocean.  It was bold of him; Buggy preferred a nice, reliable boat any day.

“Any messages to pass on to the men?” he asked, hovering at Galdino’s shoulder.

“They’ll need to be light on their feet, and should stick to the center of the dock,” Galdino said.  He was starting to sweat; extruding this much wax in one go must take a lot of effort.  “If their weight isn’t balanced right, one wrong move could capsize this whole thing.”

Buggy blanched.  Yeah, he could never.  “Noted,” he squeaked, and flew back to the Red Force to convey these instructions.

Despite Galdino’s warnings, the disembarkation went well.  Buggy watched with no small amount of pride as the buddy system worked beautifully, each pair of men walking down the gangplank, across the waxen dock, and onto the shore without any signs of a bottleneck developing.  Being listened to was nice—it was very nice—but being listened to, having your orders followed, and seeing them work exactly as you imagined, now that was heaven.  Buggy might not be the strongest pirate the world had ever seen, but damn it, he was good at this shit.

As the last dozen pairs prepared to leave the Red Force, Buggy felt a gentle weight press down on his foot.  He frowned, tried to remember where he’d left his feet, and only then noticed a presence on the main deck that made his hackles rise.

Shanks.

“Are you holding my feet hostage?”

“That depends,” Shanks said, giving Buggy an unreadable look.  “Are you leaving without saying goodbye?”

Oh, this guy.  On his own ship, surrounded on all sides by his most trusted officers, and still managing to look like some kind of miserable wet cat, terrified of being left alone.

“And how was I supposed to say goodbye to someone who’s been hiding from me?” Buggy asked, instead of the dozen meaner things he wanted to say.

Shanks glanced away, suddenly awkward, and Buggy took the opportunity to look him over.  The shower had done him good, gotten him clean of all that secondhand makeup—though it had not, Buggy noticed with a quiet little thrill, removed the bruises that had apparently been hiding underneath some of that makeup.  His hair looked nicer, almost healthy, even pinned back by the sunglasses Shanks had propped up high on his forehead.  “Are these the shame glasses I’ve heard so much about?”

Shanks’ hand rose to fiddle with the temple of the glasses.  “Ah, yeah.”

“I thought your crew was supposed to laugh at you while you were wearing them?”

“They’ve been laughing at me, all day,” Shanks said, tired.  “And they’ve been right to, given… everything.”

Well, that was ominous.

With a sigh, Shanks said, “There’s something I should have told you earlier, Buggy, but there never seemed to be a good time, and… I didn’t know how to say it.”  A sheepish smile pulling at the corner of his lip, he said, “I still don’t, to be honest,” and pulled the sunglasses down over his eyes.

It took Buggy a moment to put it together.  Shanks’ discomfort, the way the large mirrored lenses took up so much space on his face, the nervous twist of his lips… then Shanks ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead, and it clicked.  All the blood draining out of his face, Buggy caught Beckman’s eye; he nodded, ever so slightly.

(Fuck.)

Buggy got up in Shanks’ face, looking past his own wide-eyed reflection to confirm that spark of recognition.  Shanks leaned back, Buggy reconnected to his own feet, and at this angle… yeah, he knew that face.  He’d kissed it, once.

(Oh fuck, he’d pickpocketed that guy, too.)

Fighting down a hysterical burst of laughter, Buggy said, voice high-pitched from the strain, “Well, uh, thanks for the ride, Shanks!  I’d say I owe you one, but I’m pretty sure you still owe me another two or three dozen favors before we’re even.”  He backed up, hands brushing along the railing as he inched towards the stairs, and beyond them the gangplank, the dock, the island, freedom.

(Somewhere he could have a little breakdown about this revelation in private.)

“Buggy…” Shanks cautiously held out a hand.

Buggy pulled back out of reach.  “I’m not saying goodbye to you, Shanks!” he snapped.  Shanks faltered, his hurt visible even past those ridiculous sunglasses, and Buggy sighed.  Did he have to spell it out?  “Stupid.  I already told you.”

Confusion wasn’t a much better look on Shanks.  Well, either he’d figure out or he wouldn’t.

Buggy rolled his eyes, spun around, and ran off.  Over his shoulder, he promised, “Until next time, Red-Hair!”

[voided-selfships]

Favorite scene/storyline with your F/O in canon? Or in your personal canon with them? with Bojack

GRABS BOJACK. YES YOU ASKED ABOUT THE RIGHT GUY /SILLY going off of personal canon. And by personal I mean selfship. True Timeline let's fucking GO!

My favorite scene? Forgive me in this gets long imma be talking about a LOT of different shit because I cannot simply choose ONE

So I'm going by season. Heart emoji

Gods where to start, Our A-Story is a 'D' Story? /silly [we all know it would've been The Telescope but surprisingly Warren veto'd going on that trip. (Unsurprisingly, he missed Herb to death but was not ready to be in a room with both him and BoJack.) I digress.]

Anyway it's my favorite just because of the idea that Warren gets out of bed to see BoJack passed out on the couch before immediately seeing AND hearing news of the D from the Hollywoo(d) sign being stolen???

[That "What- what- what the fuck did you do?"

"What did I do? How do you know you didn't do it?"

"BoJack I was actually sober last night-"

"Sure, sure-"

"And you know I can barely carry half of my weight- how the hell did you do this??"

Anyway, the 90s Trio (BoJack, Mr. Peanutbutter, and Warren) scrambling to get rid of this fucking letter is- this is why it's my favorite. Like comedically??? Yes. Yes. Classic Season 1 Shenanigans.

Season 2? Brand New Couch or The Shot. Brand New Couch...Warren trying his best to be supportive of BoJack's uh....brand new attitude!! Even if its weird- not a bad weird! Just not something he's used to! He tries to be supportive for the entire time BoJack works on Secretariat. [Really I need to draw a comic for Brand New Couch because fuck it's so so good. They make me insane. Moving on.]

Season 3? Not even a Question. Episodes 9-12. I don't even wanna ELABORATE. [Warren trying to console BoJack after the conversation he has with Todd only to be kicked out. Getting the news about Sarah Lynn's death and wondering what he could've done differently. Wondering if he could've been there to prevent it. Knowing that to an extent it was BoJack's fault but not understanding the full story- in the end just wanting and needing to be there for him]

Season 4....The Old Sugarman Place. It's already my favorite episode but in Lore Context? Warren goes with BoJack to his family's lake house- which opens the flood gates to a lot more...person bonding. Which they really hadn't done before. Stories about BoJack's family that Warren only heard snippets of- now more in full, a deeper insight into his friend [crush?] They kiss this episode [and it's a lot more meaningful than any other time. They did it just to do it- not as a lead up to sex] Then of course this season has his mom moving in which was. So so so fun. [And Hollyhock! Warren had a feeling that wasn't his kid but didn't want to say anything. Otherwise enjoyed spending time around her- gave him that weird domestic feeling he oftentime tries to ignore when he's around BoJack for too long]

Season 5... they get together in season five. Free Churro has to be my favorite. If only because they don't go to the funeral together, so what ends up happening is Warren ends up in the right room and after a solid 15 minutes has to scour the entire place to look for BoJack. [He does miss a good chuck of his speech finds him halfway through just to listen instead of telling him it was the wrong place. And Beatrice's funeral was so so empty, no one was there aside from BoJack and him]

Season 6. What episode ISN'T my favorite lmao. I guess I can talk about whenever BoJack gets back- so The Face of Depression? I guess lore wise it's important. When BoJack gets back Warren is startled but not upset- goes with him [not by choice] on his trip around the country. It's mostly fine. They have a fight about...a lot of things later in the season [I wanna say...episodes 11 and 12.] Break off- not up! Just off. Don't hear from eachother again until Angela and The View From Halfway Down. Then don't see eachother again until Nice While It Lasted. [Which!!! All my favorite favorite episodes by the way! Fuck!! /pos]

I just realized I started talking about lore instead of my favorite scenes so whoops fjebdjdjd I'm just so passionate [insane and mentally unwell] about them

[leucisticpuffin]

People you'd like to know better!

Tagged by @grey-gazania :)

1. Three ships: I'm not really into shipping (romance holds very little interest for me) - afraid I can't give much of an answer to this one!

2. First ship: see above

3. Last song: "Silenced by the Night" - Keane

4. Last movie: If a film I only saw half of it because my parents had already started watching when I came downstairs counts, Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers. If not I think it was an old Poirot adaptation last Christmas.

5. Currently reading: The Children of Castle Rock by Natasha Farrant - a really fun adventure story with boarding school hijinks and a side of complex family relationships.

6. Currently watching: Something about rural delivery drivers? I don't know what it is, there was nothing else on. It's mostly dashcam footage of empty roads in Scotland. Quite calming actually.

7. Last thing I wrote: A scene for Chapter 53 of we will make this place our home, in which Elrond and Elros have a conversation about nightmares. I need to get back to that.

Tagging @camille-lachenille, @eleneressea ad @swanhild - sorry if you've done this already!

[midnightraine131]

Hi! For Aruani ask game :3

2, 5, 6, 11, 13, 14, 16

Thank you for the ask!!

Sorry for not getting this done sooner. My work schedule is really taking a toll on me but here it goes...

2. Share your favorite part of your first ever fic.

Whew! I just started writing fics again after 5 years, and Hiding in Plain Sight is my first ever Aruani fic. Such a shame for someone who has been shipping them since 2013.

With the house quiet once again, Annie dragged her feet around, turning off the lights in the living room and closing the windows in the kitchen. She remembered she had left her slippers in her bedroom that morning, so she took off her shoes. Her bare feet touched the cold tiled floor, while her heart carried a heavy load of guilt. It was a guilt that would haunt her until her last breath. If only she could escape from her past mistakes, she would have done so by now. How should she tell him? Would he avoid her? Would he curse at her? Would he leave her behind? As she ran these thoughts through her head, fear tightened its grip on her. She wasn't built for confession, and she wasn't strong enough to lose something she wasn't ready to lose. Or was "lose" even the right word? She didn't know. He wasn't even hers to begin with.

5. Write about Armin and Annie's first meeting! Could be in canon settings or other au.

I'm a sucker for AUs so I will give an Actor AU a shot.

Armin felt more and more anxious as he repeatedly went over the script. Today was the first day they would shoot the scene at Stohess district, and the director had told them on the first day that the confrontation was one of the most iconic scenes in the manga, so most Attack on Titan fans were looking forward to the episode. (Armin knew this because he had googled fan sites.) Although he had worked with almost half of the cast, he had never worked with Annie Leonhart. He had heard from his co-actor Eren that Annie was quite intimidating to work with. Fifteen minutes had passed after the call time, but Annie's team had not yet turned up on set. The production assistant asked the trio to return to their tents to retouch their makeup. Armin glanced at the empty chair beside him. He sighed and was about to go through his script one last time when Annie and her makeup artist tripped over something behind Armin's chair. Shocked, Armin hurriedly stood up to help them. As he bent down to hold Annie's arm to pull her up, Armin's mind failed to register what had just happened. He was sure it was adrenaline that was to blame. When he looked up, their noses were almost touching. He had never felt his face heat up so quickly. As soon as he was sure that she could stand up on her own, he let go of her arm. He could distinguish a tinge of pink on her cheek when she turned her back away from him. When the day was over and the crew started to wrap up, Annie purposefully walked past Armin's family van and handed him a bag of donuts and a large cup of boba tea. She muttered, "This is my apology for being late on set today." Armin thanked her and smiled. Annie fidgeted before she added, "Everyone got one, so don't think about it too much." She then dashed away from him. When he looked around, everyone had donuts, but not boba milk tea. She had given him an extra treat. Since then, he always approached her whenever they got to work together. He was glad that she had come back to set for season 4.

6. Tell us about your longest fic

Actually, I initially planned to do some practice writing because I felt like I was getting rusty after years of not writing anything at all. But for some reason, I fell in love with imagining Armin as a prosecutor, and so my practice writing has turned into a 9-chapter story that is still ongoing.

11. What annoys you the most about your own writing habits?

My mood honestly depends on the weather. Like, I can only write properly when it's raining or when I have to go to work very early in the morning. Another habit I want to get rid of is my drinking problem. If I don't drink, I can't come up with anything. I know it's bad for my health. I've been trying to keep my body healthy these past few weeks, and I'm hanging in there. I'm also having a hard time writing when I'm outside and all the ideas are pouring in on me.

13. Do you use symbolism when writing fics? Tell us about it.

I've been experimenting with my writing style lately. I just started to use symbolism in the title, and it's a bit of a giveaway. I'm not a deep person, but my characters are. LOL.

14. Tell us about a detail you wrote that nobody has commented on yet.

Now that I've gone through all the chapters again, I was quite surprised that nobody has commented on how bad my first chapter is. I was honestly considering rewriting or deleting the whole chapter.

16. Share a wip you're excited about.

This is a chapter from Hiding in Plain Sight that I wrote a month ago. It contains a glimpse of what they've become after four years, months after their relationship ended.

He held her hand, glancing at the diamond on her finger. "So you are engaged now." He examined every angle of the stone, gleaming rainbow lights reflecting in his eyes. "With Hoover?" "Armin." He swallowed, his voice breaking, "What does he have that I don't?" Annie noticed his eyes were dark and puffy from up close, as if the storm in his eyes had calmed down and left a wasteland. "Armin, you're too drunk." He gently placed her hand on his face as he closed his eyes. His hands, his face, he's as cold as if she had touched a glass frozen in winter. "I dreamed of you being beside me." "I was, Armin. We were happy. But you ended us." Annie felt warm liquid threatening to leak from the corners of her eyes. "Annie, it took me four damn years to make up my mind. It only took four damn minutes to shatter it all to pieces. And it only took you four damn months to wear someone's ring." This was the first time she had heard him curse, and it broke her. "Armin, please. I told you I wasn't ready when you..." Annie couldn't finish what she wanted to say as tears rolled down her face. "...when I was on my knees and asked you?" He continued, opening his eyes to see her face dampened with tears

[bobwess]

Are there any currently unpublished or unwritten parts of your fics/ideas for future fics that you are excited to share with people? Anything you hope to surprise us with?

Also, any advice on dealing with the writing swings (like being really really productive for a week and then having your brain go "welp, that's all you're getting for the next 3 months") and such?

Currently unpublished: DO I EVER. Oh my god. So much.

I wrote a story of Dean wandering for decades in the empty slowly going mad (link), and I made it into chapter 1 of a 3 chapter story, and I'm chomping at the bit to post chapter 2.

And what I am excited most about is my Endverse fic, "Cryin' Won't Help You". I really really love what I've written so far, and I've written a fair bit, but I need to get Ricochet or Beyond Death done before I'm willing to open up another in-progress fic or it won't be fair to anyone. But I'm dying to post. My favorite scene so far is the discussion when they decide on Camp Chitaqua. And I also secretly posted a brief exerpt of this fic in my prompted story (link).

And then, Only Human, I have half of the next chapter (6) written, but then I have almost all of chapter 8 written. I also have a random scene from not next season, but the season after that, and I want to share it, and I am kinda pissed that it'll be like 40 chapters from now minimum.

-

Advice: DO I EVER WISH. Fuck if I know, I suffer from this SO BAD.

[maya-matlin]

Your metas are phenomenal! I realized while reading your take on Barchie that even though I'm with you on shipping Brucas and Bughead, Barchie is for me a worse ship than Leyton. Part of that is no doubt due to the fact that for all of OTH's problems, it's imo not nearly as awful as Riverdale quickly becomes after the first one or two seasons. It's mostly just that there's a lot more to leyton imo. Like you and I might not like them or buy that they have true love or even very good chemistry, but I can at least see why others view their story and see them as in love. But with Barchie it's like you didn't even sell me on them being genuinely close friends let alone in love. As you point out their entire relationship seems rooted in childhood memories, not in any sort of present day friendship and connection. And then they go from literally almost never even having conversations and both of them having years-long relationships with other people they love to being 'friends with benefits' and even then there's no real feeling or substance or connection or anything, you know? I'm not phrasing this well, but I just feel like Barchie is so hollow and empty. I may not personally like Leyton, but I can objectively acknowledge that at least there's something there---Barchie is just kind of total nothingness that the writers 75% into the series started pretending was meaningful. And again your metas are such a gift!

Thanks! I genuinely don't think they're anything special, but I like answering asks LOL

Yeah. My feelings about Leyton vs Barchie are complicated for that reason. The love story between Lucas and Peyton bothers me because in my opinion, there's plenty wrong with it from the beginning. It's based in something that feels very shallow with the narrative claiming there's this deep, intense connection rather than showing it to us. Then when Lucas and Peyton finally do decide to get together, it's behind Brooke's back. Their affair leaves Brooke with a lot of trust issues. And then, Peyton and Lucas have the audacity to stab her in the back a second time, after they've spent the past season and a half claiming they'll never hurt her again and that the circumstances are now different. That being said, the fact Lucas and Peyton's feelings are established as a mutual thing from the very beginning means that when late season 3 and season 4 heads back to LP, it's rooted in something believable. If nothing else, I can appreciate that One Tree Hill properly showed that just because your intentions are supposedly good and what you have is "true love always," that doesn't mean other people's feelings don't matter. A lot of time was devoted to Brooke eventually finding her own "true love" and working past the double betrayal of Lucas and Peyton.

In the case of Barchie, 100%. It really feels like in the beginning, the plan was to move away from the Betty/Archie/Veronica love triangle that had dominated the comics for decades and explore other things. Betty was allowed to want things other than Archie and to have a real, genuine relationship with Jughead where she was both happy and fulfilled without feeling as though she'd missed out on not winning the golden cock, so to speak. Betty and Veronica formed a strong friendship based on more than competing over the same guy. Even Archie seemed to have a strong preference for Veronica over Betty in spite of occasional moments like "a part of me always thought.." at the end of season 1. The writers set up their eventual relationship and cheating in an extremely poorly done way. They even used flashbacks during the big Origin of Love scene, but it only flashed back to the first two episodes of Riverdale and their season 2 kiss because that was the beginning and end of their BA build up. And absolutely! I didn't detect any true fondness or interest in the Betty/Archie relationship during seasons 5 and 6. It felt like they were checking off things on a list. Like, they have to live together, get engaged at some point, become official, say I love you, blah blah blah. It's like, they decided to fulfill every BA's dream and then literally blew up the universe. I honestly think the writers hated their jobs by the end and resented their fans for still caring about the characters and relationships established years before. Still, it's upsetting that Jughead and Veronica weren't allowed to voice the fact that they were hurt over Betty and Archie betraying them. Unlike on One Tree Hill, it was as though they walked on eggshells and went out of their way to ensure nothing was the slightest bit awkward for Betty and Archie (but mostly Archie because Betty at least emotionally suffered for years over what she'd done while Archie didn't seem to have the slightest bit of shame or guilt). As much as I hated seeing Brooke heartbroken and disliked the effect it had on her friendship with Peyton, that's more honest to me that both Veronica and Jughead never properly acknowledging that Archie and Betty had been in the wrong and needed to make amends.

[peachy-wolfhard]

He’s an asshole but he’s MY asshole (V)

A/N: ngl i cried writing the beginning of this, rewatching the season for this series has been rlly fun (except for the scene where Fei dies rip my queen), OH MY GOD DONT USE THE SCHEDULE THING BC THEN THE TAGS DONT WORK!!!

Taglist at the bottom, feel free to ask to be tagged in upcoming parts!

Warnings: ANGST, girlie u are going THROUGH it, Reggie’s a douche, more angst, y’all almost break up, reader is said to wear a dress but its only a passing comment, drinking, swearing, eating, five might be ooc bc i havent written for him in so long, smoking, sex implications

Word Count: 4.2k

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4 Part 6  Part 7

     Laying on the pool table yet again in the Hotel Obsidian after your brother and other sister died. Can't seem to fucking escape this place. It's like Hotel California. Great now I’m gonna have that song stuck in my head. Laying on your back, head against the lip of the pool table, you admire the necklace Fei had got you when you were a teenager. Yours had said ‘Best’ while theirs said ‘Friends’. Originally they were black with white lettering but due to time, they had faded to a bronze color with black lettering from the years of filling them in with sharpie. Tearing up you curl into a ball and start to sob. My fucking family is dead, my fucking best friend is dead. Now in the fetal position, you full-body sob, not caring if anyone sees. 

     Ignoring the ongoing argument in the other room, you go to the buffet trying to find something small to snack on, finding an apple. Using your knife you peel and slice the apple, cutting it into little cubes. The thought of cubes breaks you again, dropping your knife on the floor and dropping to your knees. I want my family back, I want my fucking family, I NEED them. I need Alphonso’s shitty jokes, I need Jayme’s daily existential dread talk, I need Chris’ happy disposition, I need Fei. Sobbing you slide down the wall silently munching on the apple cubes. After a cry sesh, your arms fall to your sides, brushing the matted-down carpet. Looking forward all emotions drained out of you, feeling empty. Deciding to see what the other idiots are up to you head back toward the balcony.

     Before walking into the room you hear Ben and Diego arguing. Leaning on the column you watch them argue, numb. “Hey, you guys done? The universe is disappearing outside. So you can keep rearranging the deck chairs of the Titanic if it makes you feel better. But the fact remains that we are too late,” Five says. “Come on, Five,” “It's over Luther, we failed.” “Come on. It cant be over over,” Viktor says. “Yeah, come on, Five. We gotta figure this out, man,” Diego insists. “Okay. How about we take a step back? Look at the big picture here. Most of us have spent the last 28 days trying to stop the world from ending. What exactly have we accomplished?” The room goes silent, the Umbrella’s reflecting on their past 28 days. 28 days ago I wasn't in this shithole and had all my siblings. Walking from your column you stand next to Ben, his arms wrapping instinctively around you. Normally, this would make you smile but not now, not after half of your family died. “Well, we made some friends along the way,” Luther says positively. “Incorrect! You know what we’ve done? Nothing. We made things worse every single time,” Five corrects Luther. Leaning closer to Ben your head leans against his bicep sighing. “Don't save the world.”

     “Well, on that…super happy note, we’ve um--oh, what the hell,” Luther says as both he and Sloane stand. “We’ve got a little announcement to make,” “We’re engaged!” they say in unison. “Kill me, Jesus,” Ben mutters making you smile for the first time. Taking the flask out of his hand you take a long drink before giving it back. “Now?” Allison asks. “Yeah. Look, we realize the timing is less than ideal. But, obviously, it's now or never. Am I right, Five?” “Don’t drag me into this, please,” Five says while looking away. “What…Whatever time we have left, we wanna spend it with all of you. So we’re super pumped if you would join us in the banquet hall at 6:00 p.m. for a celebration of our love, and the official union of what's left of our two great families,” Sloane explains. “Dress code is creative black tie.”

     Sloane goes around handing out their wedding invitations when Reggie and Klaus return after being gone for days. Klaus explains that they were tangled up in a father-son end-of-the-world road trip. Klaus’ long explanation ends with him saying that he’s now immortal. Huh, so that's what Diego was talking about. After accusing Klaus of getting into bath salts, Reginald asks why we’re playing with jars. “They’re invitations. Luther and I are getting married,” Sloane says to Reggie. “If he goes to their wedding I'm gonna be even more pissed off,” Ben whispers to you. Ah, your wedding was a magical time full of arguing and absent fathers. Sloane hands him an invitation before Luther tells him space is limited and taking it back. Ben picks your invitation up and looks at it, “Ours were better,” he jokes. “Well I mean it's not like they have marketable powers like us,” you continue joking. 

     “Dad, have you been taking your pills?” Sloane asks. “As a matter of fact, I haven't. And I can confirm that I’ve never felt better in my life. You thought you could dope me up and slow me down, take control of my affairs and squander my fortune,” Reginald says, looking directly at you. He’s always hated me, accusing me of only being with Ben to get a hold of his money, the feelings mutual. “Well, Klaus here was good enough to wean me off that wretched poison, and now that the fog is lifting I can see all your dastardly designs with a bracing clarity.” “You took him off his meds? What were you thinking?” Sloane asks upset. Reginald is then sent into another spiel about how he's the only one thinking and then calls him an impressive young man, causing Diego to laugh. “As for the rest of you, your training is to resume post-haste,” Thank fuck some normalcy in your last couple of days. Ben and you quickly tell him that you're ready. You can tell he’s been waiting for this, to go on a big grandiose mission since the last huge mission was years ago. 

     Five and Reginald start going back and forth; Five mentions that he talked to Pogo. God, I can't remember the last time I saw him let alone heard his name, I miss him. “Nobody wants you here, Dad,” Luther tells Reginald. “Hey, you don't speak for everyone, big guy,” Ben replies holding your entwined hands up. I don't even wanna be around him, he’s done nothing but make Ben and me feel like shit. I mean he didn't even come to our wedding when it was at his own house! “Feel free to join him.” Before Reggie can continue with another one of his long tirades, Klaus interrupts taking him to ‘have a cup of tea’ in his suite. Diego leaves as Lila quickly follows him; Sloane then leaves presumably to go see what’s up with Reggie, leaving you, Ben, and the Umbrella’s alone.

     Walking past Luther and Viktor, Ben holding your hand and pulling you along with him, he overhears Luther mentioning his bachelor party and how “not everyone is invited.” “What was that?” Ben stops making the three of you look at him. “Nothing man, nothing,” Luther shrugs off with a quiet chuckle and smile. Ben quickly continues with you in tow, walking even faster than before. Getting to what you have claimed as your room Ben flops on the bed and sighs deeply. Flopping down next to him you ask “Is everything alright? You’ve been pouting since we left.” Ignoring you and rolling on his side away from you, staring at the wall. “Well, when you want to tell me I’ll be open, not gonna force it out of you,” you say walking towards the door baiting him to say what’s wrong. “Okay fine you pried it out of me,” he says with his usual dramatic flair, rolling onto his back, and staring at the ceiling. “It’s just…why wasn't I invited to the bachelor party?” he asks, completely serious. “Babe, are you joking?” you ask smiling thinking it’s just another one of his pranks. “No, why would I be joking?” he says turning and looking at you now sitting on the bed. “Well I mean you’ve been an asshole to them the entire time they’ve been here,” you tell him. “Listen, I’m gonna find Sloane and see if she needs anything before we get ready.” 

    Walking to what you remember is Sloane and Luther’s room, you start reflecting on Ben’s actions. Being that you were the only person that truly got to see who Ben was or wanted to be. For everyone (and even sometimes you) he wears a mask of a confident, arrogant leader but in those times when his mask slips you can truly see him. An affection-starved man craving any and all affection and recognition he can get. A man that just wants to be loved and seen by his father. Someone who has played a character so long that he himself doesn't know who he is. Finally, you made it to their room, knocking to the tune of ‘Shave and a Haircut.’ You can hear Sloane yell to come in, walking in you see her sitting in a chair hemming a dress. “Need any help?” you offer secretly hoping that she would say no. “Um, not at the moment but thank you,” she smiles. “You know I can't even believe it,” she confesses. “What the wedding or the end of the world?�� “Oh shut up, you know what I meant. I just can’t believe I’m getting married,” she says smiling down at her dress. “I mean I always thought and dreamt of this day and now it’s finally here. Did you feel like this?” Sloane asks looking up at you like a little kid asking for their mom’s advice. “Well truth be told no, but that’s just because Ben and I aren't romantics, unlike you and Luther,” you say playfully rolling your eyes at the last part.

     “So it’s official. My ears are broken and the idiot with knives really can’t sing,” Ben says barging in on you and Sloane’s alone time, the first part making Sloane jump at his sudden appearance. “Diego. You know his name is Diego.” Caught in the middle yet again. “Maybe you should try and be nice to him and the others,” Sloane says running out of patience for Ben. “And why would I do that?” “As much as I’d love to work through your anger issues right now, I have to get back to this. The wedding is in an hour,” she exasperatedly said, patience wearing thinner by the moment. “Fei is dead,” Ben says, reminding you about half of your family being dead and you soon too. “Yeah. I know. And so are the others.” “Oh, so that's it? You’re just gonna turn your back on the Sparrow Academy? I mean you heard Dad. we have training to do. Something big is about to go down.” “Ben, shut up,” you jump in, defending Sloane. “I wish you were talking about my wedding,” Sloane says sadly. “Okay, Sloane listen to me--” “No. You listen to me. I’m sorry they didn't invite you to the bachelor party,” Sloane says ever the nicest person in the room. “I don't…I don't care about that.” “yes, you do,” you and Sloane say in sync. “You care more about being invited to the bachelor party than Fei or the others or even saving the world.” “That's--that's... That's crazy,” Ben says chuckling awkwardly and looking at the ceiling before putting the mask back on and going back to his serious leader act. 

     “Is it? The three of us have never been alone. It's always been the eight of us. Now it’s just you,” Sloane says, Ben scoffing at her. “So congratulations, Ben. you're finally number one of one.” Ben looks at you incredulously, “So you’re not a Sparrow anymore?” “Why would I wanna be one?” you say about to cry for the millionth time today. Ben’s face drops for a second, looking you directly in the eyes, sadness written all over his face. “You don't mean that,” he says quiet enough that Sloane can’t hear. “Maybe I do,” looking at him tears in your eyes. “What’s so damn special about them anyway?” Ben resumes the conversation with Sloane. “They’re a real family. They don't exist to sell action figures and tote bags.” “We were more than that,” Ben tries to defend. “Were we?” No, we weren't. We were only a thing to deter crime (which didnt work) and sell merch. Hell, my own wedding had merch. “Why is it so important to you to be a Sparrow?” that's what pushes Ben to leave, quickly he walks out the door just before trying to grab your hand and pull you along unsuccessfully.

     Time for a wedding! Dressed all fancy in a black gown that you found in one of the abandoned hotel rooms. You haven't spoken to Ben in an hour and a half, only seeing him here for the first time in that hour and a half. “What’s the deal with them?” Klaus leans to Five and asks. “I have no idea, could be because we’re all gonna die,” Five says matter of factly. Standing next to Allison, Ben walks toward you, “You look…so fucking good,” Ben says hoping to make amends. “Thank you. You look good too,” you say smiling while taking a drink of your champagne easing yourself into your night of hard-drinking. Standing next to you Ben grabs your hand and starts playing with your fingers smiling. “Hey. I love you,” he whispers, leaning into your neck causing you to smirk. “Love you too,” you say now giving him a sip of your drink. After that Luther and Viktor arrive, “I don't know. Normally, my tush looks good,” Luther says walking out of the elevator with Viktor. As soon as they walk out Allison and Viktor are already quralling. Luther whispers something to the both of them before raising his voice, saying “Bah, bah, bah! My day! Two hours. Do you think you can manage that?” Viktor replies with a ‘fine.’ 

     The elevator bell rings and everyone faces toward to elevator. The seconds that it takes for the doors to open are painstakingly long, making you anxious and excited to see your sister. This was the day she would meticulously plan out when you two were in your teens, documenting everything she wanted in a large binder down to the lighting, and now it's finally here; albeit at the end of the world and planned over a night and a few hours. Looking at her you smile, “Let’s get this over with before I die of cringe,” Ben interrupts the beautiful scene of Luther seeing Sloane in her dress and the sweet moment the two of you were sharing.

      The marriage was ordained by Klaus who gave a very eventful but meaningful officiant speech. Sitting on the left side next to Ben, you interact whenever Klaus says something that warrants it, such as him yelling “Can I get an amen?” to which everyone except Ben makes noise. Glancing towards him he's pouting again. I’m not his fucking mom, I’m not gonna babysit him the entire night. I actually want to have a good last day. “I pronounce you married as shit! Viva la apocalypse!” Klaus yells as Sloane and Luther kiss, making the tiny crowd cheer. After watching Sloane and Luther have their first dance, you start looking at the food spread; the cookies and brownies catch your eye more than the other foods. After putting the food on your plate (and grabbing a bottle of vodka) you turn around to look where to sit. You could sit with Ben and Allison and have the joy sucked out of you or Diego and Lila and have to deal with their mushy love talk or you could sit with Five, someone who you haven't gotten to know yet. 

     Sitting down across from Five he looks up from his food and nods to acknowledge you. Looking back toward Allison and Ben; the latter staring at you. “So I take it things aren't going so good with Ben and you,” Five comments chowing down on a pastry on the table and taking a looong drink. “Rather not talk about that, right now I just wanna get as fucked up as possible,” you say smirking while sitting the bottle down on the table. “Okay, I have some questions,” you say watching as Five pours himself another drink. “Are you actually like a kid or is it some time-travel fuckery?” you ask the burning question that’s been on your mind since you saw him and Ben fighting. Five goes on to explain the first apocalypse and him being stuck there for 40 years and how he’s actually a 53-year-old man. “Huh. so you’re a little old man,” you say as Viktor sits down next to you.

     Getting up from your seat after talking with your new in-laws, bottle in hand you walk toward Ben’s table and flop down in the seat next to him, setting the bottle between you two. The elevator bell chimes making everyone look over and see Reginald walking in, making the room so silent, even the music. Reginald walks over and gets himself a plate and starts looking for a seat. “What is he doing here?” Ben asks rhetorically.  “But who invited him?” “just sit and suffer with me,” Allison says making you giggle. “I can’t even get invited to a bachelor party and he’s invited to this?” “Wow. you really can't relax,” Allison comments making you giggle again. “Y/n, are you okay?” she asks, making a confused face at you now laying your head on the table. “Oh my god, how are you already drunk?” Ben asks in disbelief. “Well you see, in my grief, I perhaps stumbled upon the open bar and perhaps may have started the celebrating earlier than the rest. I mean come on, we’re on the edge of oblivion and you people expect me not to day drink,” you say smirking “And! I’m not drunk yet.” Leaning on Ben’s shoulder, you watch how awkward the wedding has become, no one making eye contact with Reggie. The awkwardness is semi-broken by Lila and Diego, Lila wanting Diego to introduce them. Watching them was nice, Lila and Reginald actually had things in common and got to talking, impressing Diego.

     After the nice moment between Lila and Reginald, Allison had gotten up leaving you and a now pouting Ben alone. Ben and you had managed to drink almost half the bottle in addition to the numerous glasses of champagne. Now you both were laying your head on the table staring at each other, Ben laying on his plate of shrimp. Klaus soon made his rounds to your table; he had been doing this all night walking from table to table and person to person trying to convince them Reggie is good now. Guess it’s our turn. “Hey, Ben-ihana and lovely little eight,” Klaus starts. “Don't hit me!” he jokes sitting down at your table. “I know we all ain’t been best buds in this timeline or whatever, but man, do I have a mission for you--” Ben interrupts him by belching verrry loudly in his face making you giggle, still laying on the table. “Eleven people,” Ben says ominously making Klaus question. “There are only eleven people left,” “Ten and a half, I’m not all here at the moment,” you say making Klaus chuckle. “Okay. Drunk Ben clearly likes numbers and… shrimp,” Klaus says still trying to recover from Ben’s shrimp burp. 

     “And you couldn't even invite me to your stupid bachelor party.” “Oh. Have we finally flicked off bad Benny’s hard candy shell?” Klaus says rubbing his arm. “Why don't you like me? Or us?” Ben asks making you move next to his shoulder, cheek touching his jacket looking at Klaus. “Because you’re huge puckering assholes.” “Okay, but you like the other Ben and y/n,” Ben says annoyed and clearly sad. “Yeah, we love the other yous,” Klaus says with a hint of sadness. “Why? What’s so special about them?” “Because he was a know-it-all. He was a scold. He was a tiny dark cloud on a perfect sunny day,” Klaus laughs after that. “What about me? What was so special about the other me?” you ask now becoming increasingly curious and intrigued. “Oh my god, they were a pain. An emo with a preference for sulking and being pretentious in a corner. Know-it-all just like Benny,” Klaus explains about you, well the other you. “Those.. those are all bad things about us,” Ben says after looking down at his shrimp. “Yeah, and they looked great on you two.” “Okay, you know what? We are so much better than that other Ben and y/n. I was number one--” “Twice,” you interject. “And-and they ripped people’s throats out.” “Oh yeah, did that all the time in my timeline. Does Dad give a shit?” Klaus says before asking Ben. “No. he was busy hanging out with you” Ben whispers poking Klaus. “Oh, man, methinks you might be trying a little too hard. Look around. Nobody’s polishing their boots or pressing their tights. We’re a complete and total shit show. Ya get it? And our Ben and y/n, my Ben and y/n, were just that kind of disaster and it made them ridiculously easy to love,” Klaus says, sighing at the thought of his deceased siblings, before getting up to leave you two alone. 

     The speeches started after Klaus left and went back to Lila and Diego’s table. Reginald was first, talking about Sloane when she was little, calling Luther adequate, and talking about how he wishes that his shortcomings will be seen only as a rough patch. “I’m proud to call you my children, even those I raised in a revenant version of myself,” Reginald continues, glancing around the room before stopping on you, making you look toward Ben in disbelief. Holy shit, the man that wouldn't even acknowledge that Ben and I are married called me his child! Reggie’s speech continues and finally ends with a poem, Allison leaves making everyone look toward the walking woman. “Makes, no sense,” Ben says still eating his many shrimp as everyone starts applauding at Reginald’s newfound kindness. “All right! All right! Time to turn those frowns upside down. This one is for all my party people in the place,” the concierge turned now wedding D.J says, as everyone gets up and starts dancing on the dancefloor. 

     Dancing around with your new family and husband felt nice, it felt like it was just a normal wedding on a normal day. After all of the fast and upbeat songs played then started the slow songs. Arms wrapped around Ben’s neck while his arms around your waist the both of you sway drunkenly together. Looking up at him, you plant a small kiss on the end of his scar making him smile, and put his face into your neck and start kissing it. “Noooo, stop,” you say smiling and pushing him away jokingly. “No, come back here,” he says pulling you back before snuggling his face back into your neck. Leaving the dancefloor you and Ben go back to your seat. While sitting and drunkenly talking Klaus shows up and the three of you start walking around the hotel property.

     Towards the end of the night Klaus, you, and Ben arrive back at the wedding noticeably more drunk than before. “Oh no no no no no!” someone shouts. “Klaus, why are you bringing Ben here?” Five asks. “Hear me out before--” “Hear him out,” you and Ben shout in sync as you take your shared cigarette away from Ben. “The brother that you all knew as Ben is gone. And not-- I don’t mean our Ben, the nice Ben. I mean this Ben, he’s gone now. The asshole, he’s gone now,” Klaus exclaims. “But that's what I liked about you, my asshole,” you say sadly looking at Ben. “Klaus, what are you talking about?” Luther asks. Klaus ignoring his question continues, “And the man that stands in front of you is new new Ben, and he’s one of us, and he’s a member of the team. And he’s part of the family!” Ben and Klaus shout the last statement in unison. “And as a welcome gift, I suggest we throw him off the roof,” Five says making you laugh. “Ha! They like me more!” you gloat at Ben. “Yeah, I’ll help,” Diego agrees with Five. “You know what. You know what. He can stay. He can stay,” Luther says. “And baby eight?” Klaus says holding your shoulders and giving puppy eyes. “They’ve been welcome to stay,” Diego says making you smile as you walk over with Klaus and Ben.

    Almost as soon as you sit down everyone starts heading to bed. Standing up you pull Ben along with you, “I’m ‘sleepy’ if you get my meaning,” you say to Ben too loudly. Taking a moment to understand what you meant, Ben then realizes it, “huh? Sleepy? But-- Oh!” he says before speed walking with you toward to elevator.

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[icarusignite]

An Eye for an Eye (part 5)

parts: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 /  6 / 7 /  Future parts: MASTERLIST

A/N: I’m running out of hot Aemond gifs to attach to these parts lol.

Warning for blood and gore. Mentions of eye loss.

Word Count: 1746

Aemond had dozed off sometime after midnight, Daenys still clutched securely in his arms. When he awoke, he felt oddly refreshed. This was his first peaceful slumber since Storm's End. As he took in his bearings, he noticed that Daenys wasn't in the room anymore. Something felt horribly wrong but he couldn't quite place his finger on it. Surely she was just out to get a breath of fresh air, or perhaps a late-night snack. He glanced outside the window and it was still a few hours till dawn. He couldn't imagine where she could have gone at this time. He stuck his head outside the room, hoping he would see her pacing in the hallway as she sometimes did when she couldn't sleep. She was always a restless sleeper and these days it had become worse. His mind started to reel with all the possibilities. Had she finally left him? As he frantically looked around the room for anything that she might have taken with her, signifying her permanent departure, his eyes landed on a folded piece of paper on the bedside table. He had first mistaken it for Rhaenyra's letter but it contained Daenys's unmistakable script.

Meet me on the west wing balcony.

Aemond was confused. Why would she be all the way there? Nonetheless, he clutched the paper in his hands and raced his way to her. His mind played out the worse possible scenarios. Was she still sick in the head from her fever? Had she thrown herself off the balcony while waiting for him? Aemond could not stop the onslaught of thoughts as he broke into a run. When he finally climbed up the stairs leading to the wide balcony, the scene that greeted him horrified him. Daenys stood near the edge, a dagger clutched tightly in her hand.

A shout of surprise ripped from Aemond's throat and she finally turned towards him.

"Daenys what are you doing here? It's late and you shouldn't be out of bed when you're ill!"

Daenys smiled in return, but her eyes remained empty. Her fever-glazed eyes from earlier seemed to have cleared but her skin still had that unnatural flush to it.

"Daenys..put the knife down," Aemond approached his wife slowly, his hands in the air placatingly.

"Do not worry my lord husband. It is not for you."

Aemond's heart raced. Did she mean to kill herself up here then? Did she intend to hurt him by making him watch? Panic clawed up his throat. He could not watch herself do this. Whether she meant to turn it on him or use it on herself, he did not know, but he sure knew which one he preferred.

"Who is it for then?"

Daenys cocked her head as if in deep thought.

"What would you do if I said it was for me?" she whispered.

"What? Why would you..." Aemond hesitated before taking a step closer, trying to reach her before she did anything rash.

"You know I thought about it. I thought about ending myself right here in front of you. Letting you watch as I bled to death here on this pristine marble. I wondered if that would hurt you half as much as you have hurt me. But then I realized that it would not make any difference. You would not care whether I lived or died, just as long as your family had the throne. You couldn't possibly care for me as much as I thought you did. Or you wouldn't have done what you did."

"That's not true. You know that that's not true. You are the one person I care about most," he pleaded. "I did not mean to hurt you. I would never intentionally hurt you."

"Liar!"

"Daenys, please. Give me the knife. You still have a fever, we should go back inside."

Don't come near me. Don't you dare come near me or I swear I'll slit my throat and paint you red!" she all but screamed at him.

Aemond pulled back, stung. He did not know how to get through to her, not when she had that manic glint in her eyes.

"An eye for an eye was it? Well then, did you get the eye you so desired? Did you pluck out my dead brother's eye? Did that bring you peace husband?"

Aemond was taken aback. Is that what she thought of him then? Someone who would desecrate a corpse like that. Someone that heartless and cruel. But he supposed he had given her all the reasons to believe him so.

"No! Of course not. Why would I...you have to know it was an accident. I would never..."

"Ah so your debt has not been paid then," she interrupted with a sigh. "Very well, if it is an eye you want, it's an eye you shall get."

Daenys's grin had an unhinged quality and for the first time in his life, Aemond found himself afraid of his wife. Perhaps equal parts afraid of her and afraid for her.

"I don't want anything. I don't want anyone's eyes. Daenys please you're scaring me."

"Ah, that's a shame. The debt must be paid after all. Unpaid debts lead to deadly grudges, as you probably already know."

To Aemond's great horror, she lifted the dagger to her own left eye. She didn't make a single sound as pressed its tip above her eyebrow, dug in deep, and sliced straight across, giving herself a scar that mirrored his own. Blood poured down her face in a neverending river and she didn't even let out a single pained gasp. Dropping the bloody knife, she pried apart the skin, pulled out her eyeball, and tossed it at Aemond where it landed by his feet with a sickening squelch.

"Here's your debt repaid in full Aemond. An eye for an eye. Now you have mine. I wish I had given it to you all those years ago. Perhaps then my brother would still be here. I do suppose you might have resented me as well for the loss of your eye. If only I had been able to stop my brothers. I hope you're satisfied now."

"Daenys no. I never resented you. And I never meant to kill him, I promise," Aemond begged, his single eye clouding with tears.

"What did I say about your pathetic excuses hmm?" Daenys gestured towards the bloody mess by his feet. "Go ahead, now you can make a gift of it to your mother. Isn't that what you wanted?"

Aemond was aghast, "How did you...?"

"You told me yourself, don't you remember silly?  I asked you what you said to my brother and you told me about all your vile words. Those were some of the last words my brother heard!"

"I'm sorry, gods I'm so sorry."

"Oh, Aemond. My Aemond."

Aemond's heart clenched at the sound of the words that spilled from her lips. A remnant of another time when they were full of love, but there was no affection in her eyes now. Only hatred and fury that seemed neverending.

"I have paid the debt my brother owed you. But rest assured, the blood of Lucerys will be repaid tenfold. A debt your entire family will pay. A brother for a brother if you will," she smirked.

"What are you insinuating?" Aemond asked carefully.

"Oh, I don't have to insinuate anything. I will kill your drunken usurper king. A brother for a brother, a fair trade don't you think, especially now that you have my eye."

"I did not ask for your eye!" he raised his voice in frustration.

"And I did not ask for you to kill my brother, yet here we are. You have started a war my prince and when we next meet, you will not find me to be a forgiving opponent," she said, with an air of finality that made Aemond's blood run cold.

"You're leaving?"

Daenys scoffed, "You expect me to stay in this prison then? Play house with the man who murdered my brother, pay my respects to his rapist brother and conniving mother? The family who stole my mother's birthright?"

"You cannot leave. I am your lord husband. If I demanded it, you would have to stay," Aemond exclaimed, beginning to panic. She could not leave him, she would not. Not her. Not the only thing in the world that he had for himself, the only good thing that had ever happened to him. The only thing his brother hadn't spoiled for him, although he supposed he had ruined it all by himself without any help.

"You really think you can make me stay? Abide by your pathetic rules that bind wives to their husbands, slave to their every whim. I did not make vows of obedience to you my prince. I do not have to listen to a word you say."

"No, please. Don't go. Don't leave me here," Aemond inched forward faster now. Beseeching her to let him hold her. To let him keep her. He reached out to snag her forearm and then immediately let go. Her skin was burning, she was still feverish.

"Would you come then? If I asked you to abandon your family and support my mother's true claim, would you come with me," she mocked him, but something in her eyes implored him.

Aemond stayed silent, his jaw clenched.

"It's funny really. The only reason I even stayed as long as I did was because I thought I could convince you to join my mother's cause. I thought I could make you come to Dragonstone with me. But it was delusional of me really. I do not hold a candle to the flame you harbour for your family. Who was I to think that you would choose me."

Daenys chuckled self-depreciatingly and stepped closer to the ledge. She raised her hand in farewell, and for a moment Aemond could see the grief and wistfulness in her eyes before she sealed it away and replaced it with empty indifference once more.

"Goodbye, my love, the next time we see each other, I will make sure you hurt as much as I do," and with that, she stepped off the ledge.

Aemond screamed her name before he saw a massive dragon rise from below and soar away, carrying Daenys away to Dragonstone he presumed. With her gone, Aemond finally allowed himself to sink to his knees and let his tears flow. His palm landed on the remnants of her eye and he retched out the contents of his stomach on that snowy white marble balcony as his chest heaved with broken sobs.

Oh gods, what had he done.

_________________

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[simpingcowboy]

Ranking Pedro Boys as to whether or not I could beat them in a fight

0, they pose no threat - 10, I live in fear of this man

for all intents and purposes we're just gonna pose these all as bar type fights in manual combat

Maxwell Lord, 0

Absolutely. Easy win. Too easy to be honest. Did you see his little fight scene in the movie? Babyboy does not know how to fight. One good hit and he's OUT! I'm taking the gold on this one.

Javi Gutierrez, 1

Baby boy is going down. I think a half hearted chase and maybe a slap is all I'd get out of him. Our fight would involve a lot of him begging/bribing me to stop. I would not stop until he admits defeat which would probably be about...2 minutes in. It'd be short-lived, and Javi would walk away with at least a couple scraps.

Dieter Bravo, 2

I would win the fight. But Dieter isn't going down easy. This man is a feral drugged up raccoon and depending on the type of drug he's doing, chasing him down would be a hell of a task. Once you catch him he won't actually fight back, he just kinda takes it (it's a little pathetic). You just gotta catch him first! Considering he usually wears crocs not in sports mode? Who knows how long it would be before he inevitably falls flat on his face.

Marcus Pike, 3

Could he overpower me? Hmm maybe. Would he try? No, I don't think so. Marcus's method of fending me off would be to try to talk me down or just evade all my hits. There would not be so much of a "fight" so to say. The fight would likely end in Marcus either leaving of his own volition or just proclaiming that I won. It'd be excruciatingly boring. Coward.

Frankie Morales, 4

I think if I tried to fight him it would start with him laughing. It wouldn't be until I actually landed a punch on him that he would take it seriously. Now I think he could destroy me if he wanted to but, I think the most he would do is pin me down until I caved. He's a lover, not a fighter. Frankie would not entertain my shenanigans. He'd shut me down so fast.

Ezra, 5

Let me explain...I am aware of Ezra's proclivities to murder and violence. But in hand to hand combat? I think we'd be pretty level, especially given the loss of one arm. The problem here for me is this man just has such a will to survive. The only viable outcomes in his mind are 1. Death 2. Truce 3. Victory. Since I will not be murdering him and I'm not totally sure he could murder me, I think we'd have to call it a truce. We'd share a nice drink about it after though.

Javier Peña, 6

I feel very similar to Peña as I do about Frankie. Javier would simply refuse to fight me, but he's taking me down much more aggressively. Pinning me to the hard concrete and cussing me out in Spanish until I yield. Which is probably best for me since Javier certainly could beat me up if he wanted to. Thankfully he's too old and too bothered with Narcs to entertain fighting someone off the street.

Jack Daniels, 7

Because I am very fem presenting, Jack would not be too eager to take out that toxic masculinity on me. Man would just lasso me out a window and be done with it. He'd make it short and sweet. It'd hurt going through the window, but I'd walk away alright. Now if I came back for seconds? I'm a goner. Jack would make it fun though in a I'm gonna kill you but at least I'm being sweet and flirty about it kinda way.

Dave York, 8

The only reason Dave is not a 12 is because for appearance sake, it would not be a good look for him to murder me in cold blood. He would definitely beat my ass. This is a man that doesn't tolerate disrespect. That cold empty gaze would be the last thing I saw before he gave me two black eyes. Being a government agent, it would cause problems for him to be seen beating up a civilian. So all things considered, I think I'd actually be getting it pretty easy.

Pero Tovar, 9

I'm taking the L here. I truly would not stand a chance against Pero. I mean this man fights for a living. While I don't think he'd be thrilled about fighting in his free time, his logic is the sooner I'm dealt with the sooner he can return to his dealings. He'd make quick work of me, which ends in him tossing me out (literally) of whatever establishment our fight took place in.

Joel Miller, 10

This man is taking me out and not for a romantic lit dinner either. Once he gets his hands on me I'm done for. Joel wouldn't even care why I'm fighting him. All he knows is he's gonna make me regret it. He wouldn't stop til I could hardly move. And even then a bystander may have to pull him off me. Generally, Joel's got very little restraints about this type of thing.

[themagnusbane]

Gap The Series Episode 02 Thoughts

1. Everyone calls her Mon. But you can call her future wife. Love of my life. Walking goddess. Baby girl. The choices are endless Sam!!

2. Hfffgghhfhh. Or babe. Babe is a good pick too 😂😂.

3. Aaaaaand we have our first eye-fucking of the episode!!! This show’s like we know lesbians. Half of their foreplay is eye-fucking, and we aim to be as accurate as possible. To which I say, thank you for the blessing and consideration 🙌🏾🙌🏾

4. Oh Sam dearest. She’s not saying you’re old. She’s calling you Mommy!! 😏

5. Hear that “Your Line in my phone. Now” voice??? And you wonder why she calls you Mommy 😂😂

6. I feel you Sam! If my crush gave me their jacket, I’m never washing it, or taking it off!!!

7. Thanks for clearing his dumbass Mon. He really has no claim to jealousy. Also, dumbass legit thinks it’s straight behaviour to be obsessed with a woman and plan your life around her for over a decade 🤣🤣🤣🤣

8. Mon you silly child. Send the message!!!

9. Find you friends who call you stupid as a sign of affection 😂😂

10. I swear if this show doesn’t end with Sam’s grandmother living alone in that big empty house, finally coming to the realization that her entire family hates her, and she’s the only one to blame, and the sisters reunited and celebrating over having broken away from the chains of her control… I will be so pissed!

11. You go Song!! Tell her!!!!! I’m guessing this is probably going to play into a lot of the hurdles that Sammon will face cuz something tells me Sam will have Song in mind every time she’s with Mon 😭

12. Kade is the only one in this friend group with sense. Thank you Kade!!! 🙏🏿🙏🏿

13. I too communicate with stickers. And I too overanalyze the messages I send to my crush. I feel so seen 🥹

14. Mon is fighting to hear that “good girl” from Mommy Sam, and honestly… valid. Very valid

15. It took you 8 missed calls? EIGHT???? Boy you’re lucky. If I was Sam, you’re done.

16. Yo! Sam really is in high demand. Mon, you have some stiff competition

17. And now there’s the head on her thighs, soft lights and smiles, with soft music and soft hair stroking this scene is so soft. My heart!!!!!! Kiss you two! Kisssssssssssssssssss!!!!

18. Urgh! Kirk you pussy blocker! We were about to get a kiss!!!

19. Same Sam! I’m as pissed as you that she picked up Kirk’s call!

20. “I want to be useful”. Gahhhhhhhhhhh! Words I don’t know her. I am grinning, swooning puddle!!!

21. She’s dealing with a migraine but still wants Mon to let her know when she gets home so she knows she’s safe. Oh Sam. How do you expect her not to love you??? 😭😭

22. Also bitch! What do you mean by she should stop being formal with you? You were the one who told her not to call you Sam remember????

23. Lol! Not the “no text. Call me instead.” And the I want to hear your voice subtext.

24. Sam. Sweetheart. We know you like her. But she can’t read your mind. This yo-yoing of her emotions is going to come back and bite you in the ass!!

25. Sam I see you!! Sneaking in some snack delivery to your crush cuz you just can’t apologize for making her cry the previous night. Smh!

26. Mon is like nah. Lady is another word for bitch. And I’m not getting bribed into not feeling like shit cuz of some confectioner. If you want to apologize. APOLOGIZE. Girl!! I marvel at your audacity and I’m in awe of your spine! Go Mon! 💪🏾💪🏾

27. If not that Sam’s grandmother is attempting to force him on Sam as a husband, I might have actually liked Kirk. He understands her, and gets her and can read her. Now if only he could stay in friends territory, instead of the drama we are heading into, I would have absolutely adored him. Urgh!!

28. Sam. Full sentences my love. Not everybody speaks Sam. 😂🤣🤣🤣

29. I swear. Sam and Kirk’s friendship is the only good thing about this attempted forced marriage

30. Kirk you deserve the world. Just not with my girl Sam. But I shall spend this entire show praying that you find your own love. You are too good an egg to be unhappy 💚

31. She’s trying to scare you Sam 😂😂😂

32. Urgh!! What is with this assumption that the man waiting for her (even though she never asked him to) is her boyfriend?? Nop doesn’t stand a chance in hell. Everyone else seems to know but his dumbass. You cannot puppy your way into her pants. It’s not going to work!

33. Sam. Sam. Sam. Your jealousy is showing sweetheart 😂😂

34. Sam is so proud of her ghost tactics. Girl, Mon is better at this game than you 🤣🤣

35. Becky’s little tongue poking at the side of her mouth thing just made me moan. Make of that what you will.

36. Yup. The eyeglasses being pulled down thing is hot as fuck.

37. That next episode preview?? *quietly* what the fuck?!

[dracosathenaeum]

The Game | D.M.

Summary: You and Draco are friends with benefits but a game of spin the bottle causes you both to rethink your situation

Pairings: Draco Malfoy x reader, slight Fred Weasley x reader (hot make out scene 👀)

Warnings: Smut, angst, daddy kink, baths, alcohol

Word Count: 3,651

A/N: You’ve just lost the game, you’re welcome xx I also wasn't going to post this tonight but @fuckingdraco and @dracoswift hyped me up, ily <3

MASTERLIST

FOR THE NON-BRITS: touchwood = knock on wood

You weren’t anything special. No golden girl like Granger, not a descendant from anyone of significance, no. You were just you. And perhaps that was why he was so surprised when his heart started tugging at his chest every time you left his arms.

He had been with countless the girls.

He had touched you the same as he had touched Pansy. 

He had kissed you the same way he had kissed Daphne.

He had held you the same way he had held Millicent.

He had fucked you the same way he had fucked half the girls in the year.

Yet you still managed to be different.

You had started out as just another pass time, but you had lasted longer than any of his other flings, and beating Pansy was a trial in itself. She had stuck to him like glue in between other flings. He didn’t hate her company; he just knew he your company hadn’t become annoying to him yet, and that was all he needed. Maybe that’s why you had lasted so long, as soon as he realised girls started falling for him, he would pull away and break things off. But it had been almost half a year of your mutual agreement and you showed no signs of infatuation, no pesky feelings that would get in the way of good sex and he liked that.

He hadn’t grown tired of you. Hadn’t begun to find your voice annoying or your kisses dull. He still loved the way you felt in his arms, loved waking up to you curled into his side and most of all, being inside of you.

He wasn’t in love, feelings may be there, but not love. Not that he was willing to jeopardise his consistent shag of course, finding another girl to take over would be easy, finding one who wouldn’t catch feelings would be the hard part. Besides, he was used to you, if you wanted to break off the arrangement, he wouldn’t stop you but he sure as hell wouldn’t be the one to do it. He would simply wait it out, wait for you to fall for him like all the others before you had. Except this time he would give you a chance, test out your compatibility perhaps, though clearly you were both very compatible in bed.

You had both set some rules early on.

1.           There would be no labels attached to whatever relationship you two had

2.           If either of you wish to pursue a romantic relationship with someone else, you must break off this agreement first

3.           Could use the other to keep unwanted advances off

That last one was more for him than it had been for you, not many people had noticed you before you started sleeping with Draco, but none had attempted to even flirt with you since the two of you became public. Everyone knew of course, that you weren’t together together, just fuck buddies as it were, that was all of Draco’s relationships after all. But that didn’t mean anyone dared try to interfere.

//

Astoria Greengrass. The younger sister of Daphne Greengrass, someone Draco still considered a friend despite their history and her feelings. Astoria however was not someone anyone expected to try and cosy up to Draco, especially considering how Draco’s arm was still wrapped firmly around your waist as she threw on a flirty smile. Astoria was innocent, she was young, and her sister had surely warned her away from him judging by the look of hurt flashing across the elder sister’s face. Yet here she was.

A 7th year party was the last place you expected Draco to be stolen from your side, but you let him go, you don’t really have a say after all, rather, he’s the one that lets go of you.

You knew the game well, you had watched the girls before you fail at the final hurdle but you were determined. You had first noticed him properly in 3rd year, started developing feelings in 5th before finally getting your chance in 7th. You had managed to catch his eye; you had learnt the failures of the previous girls and you used it to your advantage.

You finally had the chance to be something more, to pretend he loved you when he held you, when he fucked you, when he moaned praises in your ear. You wouldn’t ruin your chances. Not yet. Not when you had spent the past 6 months hiding your emotions, willing your face to give off no sign of jealousy. There was only one emotion you found hard to find, hurt. But that usually came after he was gone, when he wouldn’t stay some nights and instead left you the second he was done with you. Those were the nights that you realised just what kind of game you were playing, that in the end, you would be the one to lose everything.

You try not to look, you really do. But it’s an itching behind your eyes, fingers fiddling with the cup you’re drinking out of and it’s the anger in Daphne’s eyes as she watches their exchange that makes you finally turn and look. He’s leant against the wall with Astoria stood infront of him, fingers innocently strung together as she stared at him from under her perfectly curled eyelashes. A whisp of her perfectly curled hair falls infront of her face, you watch as her mouth forms an innocent ‘o’ before trying to blow it away only for it to fall back. Her giggle makes you want to hex her. Draco tucking the strand of hair behind her ear makes you want to shave her head. The flush that comes across her face at Draco’s actions and his hand that lingers in her hair a second too long has you joining in on the spin the bottle game you had previously sat out of.

Downing the contents of the glass in your hand, you wince at the burn before sitting at the empty spot between a Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.

You look up to see yourself directly across from Cormac McLaggen which has you cursing under your breath and sending a silent plea to every god and deity there is to save you from that. Anyone but him.

You cheer when the circle cheers, watch as horny teenagers practically swallow each other’s tongues. Cormac gives you a greasy smile that has you wanting to get up, but it’s better than watching Draco and Astoria flirt their perfectly compatible arses off.

“Anyone but that bastard McLaggen.” You whisper it just before you spin, hoping that it works in your favour rather than jinxes it, tapping the table leg behind you with a quick “Touchwood” just to cover all grounds.

You’ve fucked it.

It spins, but the universe is mocking you. It slows down, likely to land on fucking McLaggen. He could be a fucking prince for all you cared but there was no way you’d let that slimy shit kiss you.

You cross your fingers, willing for it to pass him. And for a while it looks like you’re screwed, but just as you’re about to feign alcohol poisoning it passes him, by barely an inch, but all the same it passes him. You watch with wide eyes as it lands on Fred Weasley by that one inch and you let out the breath you hadn’t known you held. The worried expression on your face quickly became one of relief, a look of relief could’ve been mistaken for happiness, and for a certain blonde, it had.

Fred raises an eyebrow at you, clearly not expecting that reaction from you, before offering you a toothy grin that you return before crawling to where he sat, settling your arms around his neck as his guided your face to his.

You couldn’t stop the moan that sounded at the first touch of his lips against yours. They didn’t know your lips as Draco’s did but that didn’t stop him from being a damn good kisser, knowing exactly where to put his hands and when to use his tongue. Fred Weasley was good. You briefly wonder if the alcohol was why you couldn’t pull away but that didn’t matter when he took your lower lip between his teeth and bit hard.

Forgetting yourself and where you were, you didn’t object when he grasped your thighs in his hands, pulling you to straddle his lap. You don’t hear the cheers erupt around you; you don’t hear Astoria shout after Draco as he leaves her mid conversation, and you don’t notice he’s gone until Fred pulls back to catch his breath.

You catch Pansy’s gaze from over Fred’s shoulder and that’s when you realise something was wrong.

She was smirking at you.

She only ever did that when things had gone her way, which, when concerned Draco, was never a good sign.

You were in half a mind to just turn your head slightly and kiss the man you were sat on senseless again, especially with the way his fingers gripped your thighs under your skirt. But you also knew they were trying to keep you from running as soon as you could, as if knowing you would inevitably follow the Slytherin out but wanted you to stay anyways.

Your head drops to Fred’s shoulder, breathing in a scent you could only describe as homey and warm, the opposite to Draco’s crisp, sharp aftershave, a scent you loved and could almost describe as home.

All these years and not even a magical first kiss with someone (though you were very drunk) could waver your love for him.

“Draco is one lucky bastard.”

“I’m sorry, Fred.”

“It’s okay, it’s just a game after all.” You grimaced at his tone but dug yourself deeper into the hole.

“If it’s any consolation you are a damn good kisser.” Complement a man then leave him high and dry for another, great job y/n. You were doing great.

“The second he fucks up you know where to find me though yeah?”

You couldn’t stop the giggle that left you lips, in a life where you weren’t already enamoured with Draco, perhaps this could’ve been the start of something.

“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.”

His fingers slip from your thighs, offering you a hand to steady yourself before you take off, the bottle continuing to cause messy drama as you watch Harry’s spin land on Theo. Damn Draco and his fucking temper tantrums for causing you to miss that moment.

The walk back to Draco’s room sobered you up, head clearing and realising what him leaving meant. Was he mad that you had kissed another person or was he… jealous?

You had never let yourself hope before, but then again, you had never found a reason to.  

He’s waiting for you, pacing around the room with his brows furrowed in a way that reminded you of a child throwing a tantrum. The thought of it making you laugh, giving away your presence in the room.

“Draco, I-“

He pushes you against his door, hands trapping you against the hard wood of the door behind you as his mouth swallowed your words. His hands worked quickly to strip you of your clothes as you tried to reciprocate his actions as best as you could, mind whirling as this was not where you had expected this to go.

Fred’s kisses had been new, they’d been exciting and addicting. But Draco’s? Even whilst he was pissed and rough, they were home. Lips you were used to, lips that could mould to yours perfectly instantly, lips that knew exactly how you liked to be kissed.

He pulled away to bring his mouth to the column of your neck, giving you a harsh suck where he knew would have your knees buckle, using the movement to sweep you off the floor and onto his bed.

Draco works fast when he’s angry, nothing in his mind but fucking his anger out of his system. He’s out of the remains of his clothes before you even have a chance to catch your breath. He stares at you with an unreadable expression so you match his, your features showing indifference rather than the usual lust you would allow yourself.

His narrows his eyes at you one last time before he brings his body between your spread legs, his warm mouth making contact with your cunt, tongue swirling around your clit. Your hips raise of the bed, wrists pulling at the charm that held them in place over your head as the rest of your body tries to get as close to the source of pleasure as possible.

A whine leaves you as his mouth stops its ministrations, one of his hands pushing your writhing hips back onto the bed as his darkened eyes find yours once more.

“Good girls behave, y/n.” You can’t stop the moan that falls from your lips when eases a finger into you, eyes never leaving yours.

A second finger joins the first, curling at a certain angle that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, a heavy weight starting to form in the pit of your stomach.

“Only good girls get to cum y/n, you haven’t been very good tonight, have you?” The tightness in your stomach ready to uncoil when his lips met your clit again, giving a harsh suck before pulling away from you completely. Without his hands holding you down your hips rise up, following his fingers as they pull out and away from you, his cold gaze telling you everything you needed to know.

“I’m sorry Draco, please. Please. I was so close; I swear I’ll be good from now on. I promise. Draco please.”

“I don’t think you have.”

He’s standing again, hands on his hips, tongue running across his lips, the lips that had just almost pushed you over the edge. You didn’t have time to be frustrated over the near orgasm, besides, Draco had a thing for orgasm denial, you were all too used the edging.

“Unbind my arms.” He raises an eyebrow at your attempt to shift in power, but does as you ask all the same.

Your hands reach for his heavy cock, mouth giving a tentative suck at the swollen head, tasting the salty precum on your tongue. Your hands give him a few hard strokes before you take him back into your mouth, eyes watering as you struggle to fit even a third of him in your mouth.

“As much as I love to see you choke on my cock, I don’t think you deserve it today.”

You stare up at him through your eyelashes, the twitching of him in your mouth was all the confirmation you needed to know he was very much enjoying the view of you struggling to accommodate the size of him. 6 months of practise but you still couldn’t manage to take him in all the way.

His hands cup your face as he pulls you off his cock, replacing it with 3 of his fingers instead. His fingers press down on your tongue, forcing your head back, the rest of your body following as he lowers himself over you, his free hand already lining himself up with your entrance.

“Beg for it.”

All it would take would be one small shift of your hips and he would slip inside of you but the last time you had tried that he had bent you over his knee and slapped your cheeks until they were burning. You knew when to test him, and right now was not the time.

“Please fuck me Draco, I’m yours-” You’re not done practically purring your words when he thrusts so that his hips are flush with yours, giving you no time to adjust before he starts pounding into you with deep satisfying thrusts that have you drooling on his fingers.

His hands hold yours above your head, his mouth hot against your ear as he grunts and reminds you of who you ‘belong’ to.

“That Weasley could never fuck you like I can. This cunt is mine; it’s made for my cock and my cock only, do you understand?”

You whimper as your only response as his hips switch from their long deep thrusts to sharp snaps of his hips against yours, his mouth still reminding you who you belonged to.

“This cunt is mine; do you understand?”

You don’t know if you had responded with a “yes” or if it had simply merged with a moan to become incomprehensible.

“Yes what?” His hips continued their thrusts all the while, never losing their rhythm as your body arched into him and squirmed trying to get closer.

“Yes, daddy.”

You don’t call him that a lot, only when you’re truly in need of a trap card and apparently you were as it fell naturally.

His eyes snap up to meet yours, his grey eyes turning even stormier than before as he claims your mouth in a bruising kiss, forcing his tongue into your mouth and fingers finding your swollen clit again.

“Be a good girl for daddy and cum.”

You don’t have to be told twice and finally let go of the heaviness in the pit of your stomach, your walls clenching around his as your body clings onto him, mouth unable to keep up with his kisses. The sight of you lost in pleasure, body writhing under his own, the fact that he had been the one to bring you this much pleasure was all he needed to paint your walls white. You hadn’t even noticed his stuttering hips, hadn’t noticed him still before pulling out. You were still in a daze, collecting your breathing as you came down from a high you had never experienced before.

“Are you okay?” You blinked away the blurriness in your vision to see Draco’s worried eyes scanning your face, hands keeping your gaze on him. “Was I too rough love?”

You know you must look horrendous right now, sweat coating your skin, a dazed expression on your face but you still give the biggest smile your tired muscles could.

“I’m perfect.”

“Want me to carry you to the bathroom?”

“Please.”

You’re in that space between reality and dreams when he picks you up, an arm hooked under your back and knees. He places you on the toilet first, you made the mistake of forgetting once and you made him promise to never forget again.

You watch as he moved around the bathroom, eyes appreciative of the view. Watching his back muscles become taunt as he stretched was something you could never get tired of. The red markings down his back from a couple nights ago were still prominent, you had offered to heal them, but he insisted on wearing them like ‘battle scars’ to show off in the quidditch changing rooms, you had rolled your eyes when he gave you that reason.

He had charmed the bathtub to fit the both of you, sliding in first before helping you step in. You rest against his chest, humming appreciatively as he runs his hands across your skin, focusing on the way they felt rather than the ache between your legs and on your wrists.

“I mean what I said.”

“hmm?” you had almost fallen asleep, his voice pulling you out from your haze.

“You’re mine. All of you. If you’ll have me.” You’re fully awake now, body tensed up as you realise exactly what he meant. You turned your body to face his, ignoring the water splashing over the sides of the tub as you settle between his legs again, facing him, “You want me? What happened to wanting no strings attached?”

You knew the game he played well, you wouldn’t fall at the final hurdle, if that was even what this is.

“I want you y/n. I’m not going to spout some bullshit love confession like some first year drugged on Amortentia, but I can’t share anymore.” Draco Malfoy was bad at communication but good lord this was a new low even for him. You were half inclined to continue feigning indifference to protect what you had, but the other half was greedy. Draco was offering you more, how could you not take this opportunity. You had beaten the game, you had gotten Draco to want more with you, well at least you were 70% sure.

“Is this some roundabout way of you asking me to be your girlfriend?” His upper lip twitched as you said the word girlfriend, the action making your own eyes drop to the space between you. Wet fingers cup you face, bringing your face back to his as he captures your lips in a slow, deep kiss. You had had lazy kisses together before, during lazy morning sex. But this, this was slow and meaningful and full of emotion. He might never be good with words, but this, this would be enough.

You pull away from him by a hair’s breadth, lips only millimetres apart. “Okay.” Each syllable you said caused your lips to touch again, neither of you moving just yet. He lets out a shuddering breath that he must’ve been holding in, a grin covering his face in a way you hadn’t seen before.

“You’re lucky you asked now, I was hoping to visit Fred soon.”

The ache between your legs only became worse as he kept you awake for the rest of the night, edging you and taunting you for hours to prove you belonged to him and that a Weasley wouldn’t even begin to compare (too bad you never got the chance to).

Waking up with sore limbs and a satisfying ache all over your body was worth every second it had taken to get here. To win Draco Malfoy.

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[variousqueerthings]

I got so caught up in finishing the show that I put a hold on talking about my rewatch, and tbh my mind is still going brrrrrr and not feeling very up to words, but wanna power through on writing something: so here is season 2

here was season 1

I actually am already just finished with season 4 and so it’s half a second since I watched these episodes, but I believe overall the tone is pretty consistent with season 1, while opening up some of the places, people, and things that will remain/continue on their trajectory throughout the story

this season has some of my overall favourite episodes (and even more so once those episodes act in tandem with later storylines) and also had the first episode that I remembered really not liking on my first watch (Operation Noselift) as well as a couple that I on this second watch feel touched on some things that were done better in later episodes (like The Chosen People)

it opened up the Officer’s Mess Tent and gave us Sid! (and for the Karate Kid fans, our good friend Pat Morita). Colonel Flagg was there, twice! (although I believe in his first episode he’s not known as Flagg and he was mildly less unhinged)

“radar’s report,” for the first more complicated Trapper episode imo, which then leads to Tapper in kim and in for want of a boot and mail call, in which I sit and go... hmmmmmm I wish to peek inside your brain, you large man

also “radar’s report” is interesting for all those aromantic-Hawkeye fans, I’m really hoping I can stay consistent in documenting some of those moments as the show goes on, and hopefully save them somewhere I can find them again! 

and of course, if bananas crackers and nuts + sometimes you hear the bullet weren’t enough to give you a hint of Hawkeye’s issues as they continue throughout the show, we have the incredible dr pierce and mr hyde to warn us that this doesn’t have a happy end, because it’s about war!

and for Margaret, “hot lips and empty arms” and “carry on hawkeye” give us the first real tastes of what respect and friendship will look like as the show goes on (and now I’m thinking of how she and Hawkeye say goodbye in the finale and I have strong emotions about the finale again wooo)

the portrayal of the army continued to be as expected, with “for the good of the outfit,” and “the incubator” showing how things were getting done despite of, and not because of and that the army in fact was the cause of a great deal of the violence in the first place 

last (but not least, although contentwise, not a lot) appreciated a bit of Ginger getting to do things, I believe the last time before she slowly fades to the background and then disappears entirely after s3

Shower scenes: 5 (up from 3 in s1) (divided we stand (although fully clothed), five o’clock charlie, deal me out, operation noselift, george) -- notable for a shower-scene in which Trapper heads into the shower and casually talks to a nurse for a quick second, versus the jokes that age less well of “spying on nurses showering” or finding a reason for them to run out in tiny towels

Most shocking thing that never comes up again: I feel like if I thought about it, I could come up with something better, but trapper really was going to adopt a kid there for a second, his wife agreed and everything! and then when radar was like “actually there are orphans you could adopt,” he’s like “nah” and it fades to black... I know it’s also because trapper doesn’t get to revisit fucked up shit 6 seasons on, but I’m like... does he ever think about where kim is now?

Favourite 3 episodes: why do I do this? I’m not going to do it, I’m just going to say “for the good of the outfit,” “dr pierce and mr hyde,” “carry on hawkeye,” “hot lips and empty arms,” and “george”

Singing: I cannot confirm that I remembered to document them all, but I have listed “I’ve got you under my skin” (george), “making whoopee” (dear dad... three), “I’ll be home for christmas” (dr pierce and mr hyde), “wenn das führer says we ist the master race” (dir pierce and mr hyde)

Kind of insane about this: this is the season that includes george and I did a whole own series of posts about that -- it’s also the season of “are you one?” “yes are you?” and “your knees are driving me wild” and “that’s a very interesting joke, sam,” and the whole of for want of a boot and both of carry on hawkeye and hot lips and empty arms giving me the early days margaret content I craved and also:

[sylverstorms]

Cassandra x Maiden ----Anonymity Ch. 8

Ch.1      Ch.2      Ch.3      Ch.4      Ch.5      Ch.6      Ch.7

It has come to a point where you can’t even pretend to yourself that you don’t care for her.

All the time you spend with Cassandra every evening has made certain feelings impossible to deny, though you are too scared to name them all.

You don’t name the smile you can’t contain when she excitedly pulls you to the armory to show you her collection of blades –and explains, in a very animated fashion, about the optimal use for each one. You don’t want to know what the stutter in your heartbeat means, every time she genuinely laughs, pale neck thrown back, nose slightly scrunched and all. 

And it’s not just Cassandra you grow a tad closer to.  

Bela comes to you whenever the two of them have argued and goes ‘Tell my sister’ this or that. Daniela is apparently not allowed within a twenty meter radius of you, but she approaches to poke and prod at you whenever she wants to annoy Cassandra. She never manages to do either, because the middle sister always swoops in, fuming, dragging her away by the hood of her robes like a kitten.

Lady Dimitrescu is the only one as distant as the day you first saw her –and it’s probably for the better. You don’t see her much, anyway, not with how Cassandra takes you to empty castle wings to have you all to herself.

Tonight is different.

After dinner, Bela leaves with her mother and you go to help the other maids present clean the table. But your lover steps in the way and grabs your elbow, instead, hurriedly pulling you along.

“Do not tell me you’re seriously thinking to make me wait longer.” she says.

Of course, you promised to watch a movie you found on your phone with her and she’s been buzzing with impatience since.

That is, until a certain redhead blocks your way. 

“Daniela, move.” Cassandra huffs. 

“What are you doing? Take me with you.” the younger sister replies, brimming with childlike curiosity. 

“No. Go bother Bela.” A shooing motion is made. 

“Bela’s no fun. I wanna come with you and Alexia.” she drops your name so casually it’s startling.

“Wait give me a moment to think about it –moment over. No.” Cassandra states, fast.

But Daniela shoots forward and grabs your arm like a koala. Your eyes go wide at the same time as Cassandra’s, for different reasons.

The brunette immediately grips her sister’s robes, none-too-gently. “Don’t touch her, she’s mine!”

“If you don’t take me along I’m telling mother where you found that music player and phone!” Daniela answers, her hold enough to cut off your blood flow.

You send Cassandra a pleading look before they break your arms with how they’re tugging at you.

“On one condition.” the elder sister holds a finger up to her sibling’s face. “You sit next to me and you don’t move around.”

“…she’s warm, though.” Daniela says, all but pouting. “Mother says sharing is caring~”

“Find your own human.” Cassandra growls out as the three of you make your way to the main hall and the couch adjacent to the fireplace there.

“You and Bela have gotten the prettier ones!”

“You snooze, you lose.”

Cassandra quite literally pins you to the arm of the couch with her body, to keep Daniela as far away from you as possible. Even as the movie starts, you can feel her sulking by your neck for not being able to touch you the way she wants.

You are not as focused on the movie as you are cute way she plays with your hand throughout its duration.

-

-

It’s getting harder and harder to remind yourself of what they are.

Especially when, ten minutes after the credits have rolled, Daniela is still crying over the death of the protagonist. Even Bela comes to the hall and asks Cassandra what she did to her.

By the time she’s done dealing with her sisters, your lover comes to you sporting a headache.

“We’re leaving this wing right now.” Cassandra says and that is about all the warning you get.

The next second you feel a rush of air and your stomach leaping to where your heart is supposed to be; Your eyes only make out a blur and an augur of black flies.

When she comes to a halt you crash into Cassandra’s side with a gasp. Your arm aches from the pull. The world spins for ten solid seconds.

She laughs by your ear. Low and satisfied as it is at your disorientation –it reminds you of drinking wine by a fire in the heart of winter— you can’t help but bask in the timbre of her voice so close.

“Ugh, why is it so cold in here?” she complains in that same quiet tone you love.

It is very cold compared to the more lived in parts of the castle, but your body is warm enough from your sustained proximity and the rush of adrenaline she always causes in you.

“Oh, well, I can bear it for a little while if it means we won’t be interrupted.” Cassandra trails off and lifts your chin with a chilled finger.

Your lips meet and slide together in a practiced tango. Her manicured nails run over your throat and shoulders, making you shiver for reasons that have nothing to do with the temperature.

Both of you are starting to get really into it when Cassandra walks you back into the nearest wall. It happens to be a window, covered by a flimsy curtain. You have half a mind to realize it’s probably been forgotten slightly ajar, judging from the frost that graces your shoulder, but you have more important matters to focus on, like the brush of her tongue over your bottom lip.

Until Cassandra braces her bare hand over the unseen opening, to box you in like she usually does.

And-

She shrieks.

She jerks away so powerfully her back crash-lands into the painting on the far wall, knocking it down with its frame broken. You’re left there still and mute, watching in frozen horror as her face distorts into pure, raw anguish.

“Shut it!” Cassandra screams at you. “Shut it now, now!”

Your nerves suddenly kick into overdrive and you pull the window closed like your life depends on it.

What just… happened...?

In slow, cautious steps, you approach her. She’s clutching her hand like a wounded animal, baring its teeth to hide its vulnerability. It is the first time you see her like this. Void of control, bent over in hurt. Gasping.

Something in your chest breaks.

You look at her hand, to find her pale skin nearly crystallized, grey and breaking apart —like cheap china, like weak porcelain— into flies that drop to the floor, faintly twitching.

You thought… you thought they could just control the insects. That dissipating into swarms was just a trick allowed by their mutation. But now you realize, the flies are her body.

All this time trapped under the looming terror of the daughters… and escape was as easy as opening a window on them.

“Cassandra…?” you ask in a wavering voice when the initial burst of rage leaves her form.

She looks up at you, torn, when you hear the heavy sound of heels rapidly approaching.

“Cassandra?!” a different voice calls, this time, deep and authoritative. When Lady Dimitrescu rounds the corner in her immense height, your instincts scream to run.

But one look at Cassandra makes you stay.

Alcina halts for a moment to take in the scene. Then her lips curl downwards and bladed claws extend from her gloves, easily half your body in length. 

Oh my… God…

“What did you do to my daughter?!” she demands and advances on you, but Cassandra gets in front of you before she can truly threaten your life.

“I brought her here, mother. It’s my fault.” she hurries to explain.

Alcina stares at you like she wants to crush you underfoot… but then softens, somewhat, at the look her daughter is giving her.

“Come with me. Now.” She says in a stern motherly tone that leaves no room for objections.

You clutch Cassandra’s uninjured hand, silently asking if she’ll be alright. She turns, looks at you for a moment, then nudges your head with hers.

“...I’ll see you later, Alexia.”

But, as it turns out... “later” is subjective.

 -

-

 In Alcina’s Private Chambers…

It is not often that Cassandra is reprimanded by herself. 

She has never before been the only one at fault. She’s used to having her sisters beside her while Alcina scolds the three of them… except this time they’re outside the closed door and she is there to face their mother’s ire alone.

She can’t stay still under that yellowish-grey, narrowed gaze. Her fingers fidget with the edge of her robes’ sleeve to keep occupied, while Alcina takes that deep, calming breath she knows heralds no good things. Ever.

“Cassandra. Do you understand the severity of the situation?”

“Yes, mother.” She keeps her gaze downcast.

“Even if the maid didn’t harm you on purpose, she now knows your weakness. Yours and your sisters’. You were careless to allow this.” Cassandra feels anxiety rise up from the pit of her stomach and threaten to swallow her whole at that tone.

“I know, mother. Forgive me.” she replies quietly.

She wants to say that Alexia won’t use this knowledge against any of them, but she cannot bring herself to lie to Alcina. Because the truth is, Cassandra doesn’t know for a fact that she will not.

Why was that window open? Why?!

“You didn’t let me fix your mistake. I assume that means you will do it yourself?” her mother asks and Cassandra’s gaze snaps up.

What…?

At first, the temptation to chain Alexia up and watch as her blood drained from her lithe body had been sweet and strong. But now, at the thought of killing her –losing her— in whichever way, Cassandra is sick to her stomach. It is strange, because she feels like she is hyperventilating when she isn’t breathing at all and the world has tilted and—

Please don’t.

“Since when did you ever hesitate to kill, Cassandra?”

“…If.. that is what you ask of me…” she replies but she doesn’t sound like herself at all, not even to her own ears.

“How can I ask that of you and break your heart?” Alcina throws her arms up in exasperation. “I should have stopped this months ago but I thought it a fleeting fancy. I never imagined you would end up so attached.”

“I’m- I’m not-” she tries to protest, but her mother is having none of it.

“You’re not? You’re with her every day and she barely sports scratches anymore. Your eyes follow her everywhere when she’s in the same room. You instinctively lean closer whenever she comes over to refill your wine. Do you think I do not notice?” Of course. Of course she noticed.

Cassandra swallows, silent.

The memory of laying, too weak to move a single finger, on her deathbed along with Bela and Daniela pierces through Cassandra’s brain like a bullet. Her hand gives a violent spasm and flies break off to buzz frantically around her as she drops her forehead into her palm.

She’s on the verge of a nervous breakdown and it’s just so difficult without her sisters there. They’ve always been together, since the very beginning.

They were born together, learned to control their powers together, they died together-

Alcina is on one knee in front of her the next millisecond, stroking her hair and gathering her into her arms.

“Shh, calm down, my love.” she coos. “I’m sorry to be so harsh on you. I only want the best for you three.”

Cassandra doesn’t talk because she can’t, because she cannot wrap her head around what that flash inside her brain was.

“Oh, my Cassandra. I will not harm the maid if it will harm you, too.”

She waits for the eventual ‘but’.

“But I cannot let this dalliance continue any longer.”

It’s probably for the best. Her mother knows best. It is true, after all, that she has not been acting like herself, lately. So, yes, this decision is for her own good.

But.

Cassandra’s heart has the same reaction upon hearing it as being exposed to sub-zero winter air.