#i'm allowed to clown on him he is my muse

[solisnocte]

edward supposedly being a fucking heartthrob while also fumbling every baddie in his sad, miserable life will never make sense to me. they'll never make me like u smeyer.

[vagabond-umlaut]

hey, where is the pomegranate tree?

unstoppable force, aka kore, aka gojo, meets immovable object, aka hades, aka you— nothing can ever go wrong from this collision, trust me— n-o-t-h-i-n-g.

▸ gojo satoru x fem!reader; hades and persephone retelling [with a twist ;))]; 1.2k wc; stubbornly persuasive gojo; the reader is js so tired and annoyed [and tired]; enemies to lovers vibes[??]; talks of marriage and children; gojo thinks you are a fool, he is the real clown here

▸ pls don't glare at me if there is more than one inaccuracy here, haha. anyways, the header is from pinterest, the divider is by @benkeibear and the characters used ain't mine. pls don't plagiarize, translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

▸ update: this fic is now part of a series!!! wreaths of asphodel 😊😊

"you shall spend the rest of your days in tears."

you're foolish; woefully so, gojo thinks, carefully observing you from his place on the chaise lounge, smiling while you continue seething, "and there will be no one who can save you. neither a hero nor a god. neither demeter nor zeus. no. one."

"but why do you think i will need saving, my rose?" the endearment rolls off his tongue like honey, the taste sweetening at the way your pretty lips dip into a deeper frown, "you're not a monster, are you?"

"no!" the defensive reply comes in less than a beat. though the words following it sound a tad less bold; it seems as if you're trying to make yourself believe and not scare him.

"i'm someone far fiercer— hades. the goddess of the dead. the queen of the underworld— and the cause for your misery should you choose to vex me any further."

"aw, no," gojo cries, decidedly making a show by slapping a hand over his eyes and faking a sniffle, "why must the only woman i want as my wife see me as an annoyance?"

then lets his hand drop down to the cushion, willing his eyes to well over with pitiful moisture. "as the god of life, i've only ever given and given– be it grains or fruits or vegetables or flowers– without asking anything in return— yet the first and only time i ask..."

he doesn't bother finishing his sentence, choosing to sob to add to the tragic atmosphere— though that doesn't mean he doesn't note the war of emotions on your face:

pity, confusion, anger, again confusion— you're so easy to read, to steer. very foolish, really.

"you'll not like living here," you eventually break the silence hanging within the room. your voice is much softer now; the god wonders if you sing. if you do, the muses will certainly be put to shame... "your days will be spent in utter boredom and gloom and tears–"

"– and no one can come to my aid then: yes, thank you," he interrupts you, more than a little tired, "you've driven the points too well into my head– so much so that i'm surprised there isn't a gaping hole in there, oozing blood and my brains. but why must you think i'll need rescue, huh??"

if a smidge of force escapes into his words, gojo decides not to pay it any mind— though only until he notices the small flinch you give– his insides twist and torment, quite inexplicably, thereafter.

"okay, look," he says, getting up from his slouch to move near you, but stops on catching the warning glint in your eyes.

"first of all, i'm not some damsel in distress being whisked away in a chariot here– i came here by own volition. and i'm offering my mind, body, heart, soul– the special package that i am, in fewer words– to you, by my own volition. why shall i want anyone to rescue me then?"

"besides," he proceeds to add, allowing an easy smirk to form on his face, "you're just the cute little goddess of the dead– not at all scary like your brother used to be; though i guess you try to imitate him in your glares, don't you? sukuna was quite notori—"

"don't you dare utter my brother's name, foul olympian," a quiet growl slashes gojo's comment, sending it plummetting to the ground— and making him understand why you, the inconspicuous, sheltered sister of the vicious former holder of the name 'hades', was given the crown, in the aftermath of your brother's banishment– instead of the several more well-known candidates...

"i apologise," gojo offers in the very next instant, making it as genuine as he can, "i never meant to upset or offend you. i'm sorry if i did."

you just stare at him for a beat, gojo watches, before your shoulders lift then fall in a sigh. the fire burning in your aura abates by a pinch.

sighing once more, you finally break your silence, "It's okay, and um– suppose i too should apologise. you might be an olympian but you're not as foul as them, no. please forgive me for calling you so."

"no problem, my rose," the god is quick to accept your words with a wave of his hand and a beam, further widening when he notices the sliver of smile on your countenance, "but does this mean i appeal to your tastes? i mean, you called me 'not as foul as them', didn't you?? did you just accept my hand in marriage, then???"

"no, i didn't..." your subtle smile disappears swifter than it appeared. a half of gojo's floral crown, quite inexplicably, wilts on the table before. he watches your eyes fall to it, then snap up to meet his.

"do you love me?"

not yet, but he thinks he can. you might be an idiot but you certainly aren't an unlovable idiot— and one voice in his mind murmurs, those precious, innocent looks of yours aren't even the main reasons why...

the god shoots back a languid smile. "if you want to see me in love with you, so be it."

"that's neither 'yes' nor 'no'," you point out, frowning, before vaulting your second query of the evening, "if we get married, do you want to have children?"

it won't be very unfavourable, if you both do... with the vivid colour of your eyes, or the adorable shape of your nose, or the radiance of your skin, or the— "if you want, i shall be happy to assist," he ekes out with a meaningful wink, albeit he doubts how much of it reaches you.

you're very foolish, after all... and no– it's not because of the awkward way he says it– no! not in the slightest! he wasn't fumbling at all!

you wrap the shawl tighter around your shoulders but don't move any further away, gojo notes. the same way he does the slight tint in your cheeks when you roll your eyes with a scoff.

"you're unbelievable, kore. truly, terribly unbelievable." you press the pads of your thumbs over your forehead before releasing it, gaze an unprecedented mark of sharp when it settles on his face.

"is there nothing you want from our union, eh? i refuse to believe you wish to marry me without any demands, as if on a mere whim– but if it is so, i ought to warn you, kore: my answer is and will always be one firm 'no'."

your words mustn't ignite this odd restlessness in him. they certainly mustn't— still, gojo finds his chest tight and the air heavy as he grins back and says, "i only want to be your husband, your majesty... but if that is too much for you right now–"

the stretch on his lips simmers down to something smaller. yet truer.

"i want you to call me by my name. my real name. can you do that, my rose?"

you don't say anything in response for a long while. so long, in fact, it makes the god wonder if you are ever going to reply to his request.

perhaps not, he thinks quite a bit down-spirited when you suddenly turn on your heel and with a swish of your long shawl, stride out the rooms– o-oh.

you stop just as abruptly at the threshold. a complicated grin shining on your face as you twist to look at him over your shoulder then say:

"good night, gojo satoru. pray the ghosts prowling these halls don't eat you up ere dawn."

you're gone not even few feet away from the door, before gojo falls face-first into the bed, the entire room suddenly erupting into thousands of roses in all colors ever seen. [lolol, he is such a loser for you! xD]

▸ masterlist

[archive-of-alexandria]

Grease Paint (Buggy x Reader)

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing on Tumblr in over 10 years, but I am so down bad for this man that I can't help myself. I'm working on drafting my Moulin Rouge! x Buggy long-form fic, and this was just something I scribbled out in the meantime. This is pure Buggy x Reader fluff, so I hope you enjoy!

***

For once in his life, the ever-flashy clown pirate has nothing funny to say.

Your thumb gently ran along Buggy’s cheek to correct your lines, and the genius jester felt the greasepaint being very obviously replaced by his own maddening blush. Your tongue pokes out in concentration, and he fights the urge to grab it between his fingers – haHA! Cat got your tongue! – and spoil the mood with a poorly concocted joke. 

Buggy blinks.

….Mood? Who said anything about a mood?

A blush begins to bloom under his collar. Buggy had, in fact, been planning a way to weasel his way into your heart for months - and it seems as if you'd fallen right into his brilliantly scripted scene....so how come he can't remember any of his lines?

You continue working, and Buggy’s usually frantic mind suddenly falls deafeningly silent. Instead, the captain seems to fall into a sort of trance – focusing the entirety of his attention on memorizing your face. He observes every freckle and crease, wishing to commit it to memory. This was the first time -the only time - he’d ever been this close to someone in this…domestic…way, holding his breath out of fear that the illusion of contented bliss would shatter. 

Buggy swallows.

He had planned for this, written out every charming and witty line he could think of.

Your eyes catch hold of his through the fan of your eyelashes. Now it was time for your ears to turn pink.

“You’re staring,” Your voice is barely above a whisper, and Buggy practically melts as your eyes soften, “Something on my face?” As if on cue, a strand of hair falls in front of your eyes.

God.

He clears his throat, a soft chuckle rippling off his lips, “Well, now there is,” he muses, “Talk about a paid actor.”

You reach to push the hair from your eyes at the same time as he does, fingers awkwardly colliding as soft chuckles and mumbled apologies spill from both of your lips. Still, your eyes hold one another. 

You give way to allow Buggy to proceed, whose deft fingers trace along your forehead and behind your ear. Buggy feels electricity shoot through his hands at the feeling of his touch against you, swallowing as he allows his knuckle to caress your cheek. When you seem to lean into his touch, however, he panics.

It would seem he failed to write that into the script.

Buggy barks out a laugh, gently nudging your face and making a pop! noise with his lips to try and swim back to shore before he’s too far gone. You grab hold of Buggy’s lipstick, the last bit of his flashy facepaint to be applied. 

"And, for the finishing touch," You hum, taking his chin in your hands as you lean forward with his lipstick in hand.

Buggy's heart hammers against his chest as he feels your breath against his lips, the blood rushing to his ears in the same fashion as one hanging from a highwire.

At this moment, he indeed feels as if he is on the trapeze - delicately balancing with the hopes of making it through without a fumble.

“Doh–!” A chuckle passes through your lips, closing your eyes tight at the sight of Buggy’s comically crimson mouth. In the months that you’ve been a part of Buggy’s crew, you've never seen his makeup so fresh…and the sight was actually rather startling. It was as if the captain was in bad 3D, sponsored by technicolor, painted in by the most potent Crayola markers known to man. Buggy’s whole face looks crimson, but perhaps it's just a reflection of the brutal lipstick…

Buggy’s lips, like two bright cherries, suddenly form a pout at the sound of your laughter. His heart sinks, mind immediately skipping to the worst possible conclusion: You agreed to do his makeup not because you might care for him, but rather this was your chance to humiliate him. Buggy could feel his heart clench in his chest, and his delicate balancing act was about to turn into a dive routine.

“What?” He manages to quirk his lips into a strained smile, “You didn’t make me look like a clown, did ya-? Hrumph-!” His attempt at salvaging his pride is derailed by your thumbs pressing to his lips, your giggles giving way to a radiant smile. Little did he know that your fingers against his lips were just as much an attempt to quiet him as they were an excuse to touch Buggy.

“This color is so much more red than usual,” You say, your face growing warm, “What did I do wrong?” 

A blink. Moments pass as Buggy stares at you with saucer eyes before his hands fasten themselves to your wrists with a gentle tug. Had you realized that your fingers were still attached to his lips? 

“If you must know,” he gulped, “I have a top secret makeup technique.”

“Oh?” You feign surprise, leaning closer to your captain. A smirk twists into your lips. “Top secret, eh? Even from me?”

You bat your eyelashes, emboldened by your captain’s sheepish expression, and Buggy mutters a curse under his breath. 

Oh, fucking fucking fucker fuck.

Buggy’s voice lowers and his grip on your wrists tighten, the creak of the supple leather breaking the silence. “Especially from you.” A blink passes with the realization that Buggy wasn’t cracking a joke or being wise. He genuinely seemed…embarrassed. You’re not deterred yet, and instead, he finds you leaning in closer as your legs involuntarily squeeze together – Just imagine what those gloves would feel like in your –

You’re nearly nose to nose with the dread pirate as the air settles thick. For months you and Buggy have fallen into the old routine of cat and mouse, always teetering on the precipice of…something. The way Buggy allows his eyes to follow you during your routine without shame and latches on to your figure like a predator observing his prey is undeniable. He relishes in watching your body twist and writhe on the acrobat hoop, and you'll admit that all of your special tricks are, indeed, for him. You live for the moments he would stalk up behind you after a performance during the roaring applause when no one would be able to hear his voice - low and thick - praise you with lips ghosting your ear: “What a good girl you are, hm? Making your captain proud.” 

Your eyes fall to Buggy’s lips.

“Show me,” you swallow thickly, brushing your nose against his, “Show me your special technique.” 

Buggy’s eyes flicker elsewhere – anywhere – from your gaze before deciding upon your own lips. His grip falters, his body erupting into flame as his eyelids flutter. 

This was it: the climax of the show he has been planning and rewriting in his dreamworld for months. Buggy's flashy showmanship, however, deflates. Your hands are suddenly dropped from Buggy’s grip as he pulls back, redirecting his gaze to his now unoccupied hands. As he begins to peel off his gloves, the silence shifts into something unsettled. The fizzing tension between the two of you seems to thicken.

Meanwhile, Buggy is desperately trying to suppress an impending, raging hard-on. He already feels humiliated enough at the fact that you're laughing in his face, and now...

Cabaji had made fun of Buggy for weeks after discovering the wanted poster smeared in crimson red grease paint in Buggy’s quarters, your face barely visible beneath layers and layers of kiss marks. Buggy initially tried to cover it up, claiming it wasn’t intentional and he just needed something to “blot and perfect” his signature look with at call time. However, the sheer amount of kisses scattered across the page betrays him. There is no denying that Buggy was completely smitten with you. And here you are, practically begging him to kiss you. The set-up, the lead-in, the wind-up to the punchline…It is the perfect joke, all at his expense.

At least Cabaji hadn’t found the other copy of your wanted poster, crinkled and smeared thick with Buggy’s–

“Bugs?” Your hand on his thigh pulls the captain out of his thoughts, eyes darting up to meet yours with an unmistakable look of guilt as he tries to wipe away the memories of his moans and your wanted poster slick with his– “Are you okay?”

The clown clears his throat, finding the willpower to bring his fist before his face with a flourish as his humorless eyes settle on yours in an attempt to save face.

“For your viewing pleasure,” he forces a smile, “The technique!”

Without another word, Buggy begins to rub his lips back and forth vigorously against the top of his hand in order to remove the excess pigment. 

Fuckingfuckinghellthisissostupidthey’regoingtofuckinghatemewhatamIevendoing–

His brilliant demonstration is put on pause as you take hold of his wrist, his gaze snapping up to meet yours. A sheepish grin attempts to cross his lips, but it falters. His eyes fall to the floor.

He looks ashamed.

“For once,” Buggy’s voice is hoarse as he huffs out a laugh, “I don’t have anything funny to say.”

A beat. 

The intimacy of the moment is almost too much to bear, and your skin pricks with nerves.

“Buggy…” you breathe.

Your fingers find his face once again, tenderly wrapping around his chin. Buggy squeezes his eyes shut as you guide his face up to you. He refuses to see the expression in your eyes as you stomp on his glass heart. Suddenly you're cradling his head in both of your hands, “Buggy,” you mused, “I have a better technique to share with you.” 

Your noses bump against one another.

A choking noise passes through Buggy’s lips, and in a moment of sheer desperation for tenderness he whispers, “Please.” 

Your lips finally meet Buggy’s, and the awkward feeling of your body being too far away is overcorrected by the desperate captain. Buggy follows your lips with his body like a man possessed, knees knocking with yours as his arms swallow you whole. His hands find purchase wherever they can, trying to quickly grasp any and all of you as if you'd disappear. It's awkward, teeth knocking against teeth with the expertise of someone never before kissed, and you can't help the smile that comes to your lips.

You break away and Buggy’s breathing hitches, eyes still closed and hands gripping you so tightly you know you’ll have bruises.

You don’t mind, though. Quite the opposite. 

You can always cover them up with a little bit of grease paint.

[invisibleraven]

Would you let me take care of this for you?

Let's say Willie and whomever?

"Why did I volunteer for this again?" Alex asked as he fell back on the couch next to Willie.

"Because you love Reggie and want him to have an amazing birthday party?" Willie replied.

"Wish I didn't, then I could foist it off on Luke and Julie."

"I would only trust Julie with that task-Luke would only care about the music."

"Very true. It's just...a lot. Picking the venue and the food, and everything," Alex said. "I just...Reg never had a real birthday party before, not with his folks the way they were, and we were always too poor to do anything really fancy. I just want this to be perfect."

"You're a good friend," Willie stated. "I'm sure whatever you do, Reggie will love."

Alex nodded, but as he surveyed the mess of lists and papers on the coffee table, his eyes flooded with panic. This was too much, why did he take this on?

Willie could see the spiral from a mile off-he was used to it by now. So he picked up half of the piule, setting it to the side. Would you let me take care of this for you?"

"I can't ask you to..."

"Reg is my friend too. I don't mind helping," Willie assured him. "Plus I can see you are about ready to launch yourself up into manic pacing mode, and the downstairs neighbours hate us enough already."

"Yeah because you let the dishwasher flood through the ceiling."

"I think the shitty building code did that," Willie replied. "Now come on, let's divide and conquer this to have the best party ever."

"You think Caleb would let us have it at the club?"

"He might, but I think it would be better to have it in Ray's back yard," Willie replied. "Than we have room for the bouncy castle."

"We're getting a bouncy castle?"

"It's Reggie, of course we are."

"Are we getting puppies too?" Alex snarked.

"I mean he would love one for a present," Willie answered. "But I doubt his landlord would approve."

"Maybe we could get him a stuffed one, he'd like that," Alx reasoned. "Put a Star Wars bowtie on it."

"He'd love that," Willie giggled.

"I thought maybe we would go all fancy for this," Alex mused. "But that's not Reggie is it?"

"Absolutely not," Willie replied. "If you want to give him the birthday party to make up for all the ones he lacked as a kid, we should give him that. Bouncy castle, face painting-"

"No clowns, he hates clowns."

"You hate clowns."

"Everyone hates clowns!"

"Either way," Willie said. "We should do a full out grown up kid's birthday, he'll love it. And appreciate the effort you put into it."

"That we put into it you mean."

"We should definitely do pizza then. And root beer floats. And cupcakes."

"We should get Tia to do those, none of us should be trusted to bake," Alex stated.

"Fair enough," Willie giggled. "Now, we really gotta get planning. When is Reggie's birthday anyway?"

"Next week?"

"Alex! You are never allowed to plan a party ever again."

"Does that mean you don't want me to plan a party for you?"

"Only if I get a bouncy castle."

[shukakumoodboard]

HELLO 👋 I would like to know about (in any order that excites youuuuu)

Love (As Told Through the Medium of Last- Minute Grocery Lists)

Mercury Retrograde

AND/OR

Thread of deepest scarlet, heart of shining pearl

And TGOD obvi if you're not burnt out by that one lol no pressure for replying about them ALL but I'm here for the excited yapping. 👉😎👉

*waiting menacingly*

omg hello winkwonk

i can do these in order -- under the cut because i'm about to Talk For Tew Damn Long

mercury retrograde

ok mercury retrograde is a fic based on a really goofy premise called "what if i shit on all the canon pairings at once?" via the medium of gaalee fanfic. it's essentially a story told from all of the other konoha 12 POVs where everyone on earth is having relationship (or pining) problems except, apparently, gaara and lee, who (in the POV of non-overlapping people, so no one makes the connection) seem to have secret paramours that are perfect for them hooHA. some start pairs include sasusaku, naruhina, and inosai, and end pairs being sns, inosaku, kibahina, etc. shikatema and chokarui stick the landing but. i like them well enough xo

basically a fix it fic for all the endgame pairs As According To Gospel Me

behold! a snippetteptpetptp

Damn it, not only was her love life awful, but the weather was, too, and she didn’t have an umbrella! What was up with this week? Mercury must be in retrograde or something, she mused, slouching against the bark of the tree at the edge of training field one. She’d have to ask Tenten, she was an astrology nut, she’d know for certain. “Ino-san, what are you doing out here by yourself, it is raining!” Ino looked off to the side to find her unexpected hero of the hour, one Rock Lee, clutching a scroll to his chest with an umbrella in hand. “Suffering,” she said. “Oh dear. Is there any way I can help?” “Actually,” Ino said, eyeing the umbrella, “are you heading towards town? I didn’t know it was going to rain.” “I am!” Lee said, and held out the umbrella. Ino slid out from under the tree and joined him. They started walking, Lee asking polite questions about her day while Ino scrounged for a more interesting topic. Maybe she could use this moment to answer the questions Sakura had posed a few days ago? Her eyes settled on the scroll Lee held, his grip tighter on the still-rolled paper than Choji’s grip on his beloved chip bags. “What’cha got there?” Lee turned a brilliant pink and smiled hugely. “It is a letter from my precious one!” “Oh, who!?” Ino cried, hamming it up, just a little bit. She was curious. “That,” he said very seriously, “is a secret.”

Love (As Told Through the Medium of Last- Minute Grocery Lists)

so this one is the fic i've started to create for my FTH 2024 bid winner @chinesefirethorn <3

it's a series of alternating POVs developing a gaalee relationship through unintentional dates which are actually just various gaalees having to run errands -> inspired, actually, by the fact my partner, the colloquially-christened-by-gaalee-discord mr. bread, tells me every time we have to do long distance that he misses going grocery shopping with me. which is like. how dare u make me feel romantic about feckin' woolies actually. no snippets for this one but here's the extant tag list:

clown-to-clown communication

Grocery Store (Romantic)

5+1 Things or similar

Food as a metaphor for love

Gardening also as a metaphor for love

Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and

scenes of domestic bliss

note: currently this one is on hold because reg has been offline for a while and i want to write this one for her when she's around again so it's tailored to her. reg come back i miss u

thread of deepest scarlet, heart of shining pearl

allow me to redirect you to this post where i unloaded about it

The Grapes of Debauchery

tgod my goode friend tgod, u are my brainchild and the bane of my existence rn. before i even begin to talk about tgod u must observe this hysterically funny advertisement post by @rkaln because i think about it every day

ok tgod. up next, thank thine lordt, is the long awaited sober winkwonk time chapter god Bless what has taken me so long it's the doctorate whyd i do that to myself we shall neber knwo

but i can tell you what i will deliver, and that is: Virgins Being Awkward In The Sack. none of this red face fanning self smut no this is pure cringefail shenanigans you're gonna get home grown baby not outsourced man directly from the kitchen table at my house you want it we got it guaranteed

gaara says "raw dog" out loud. the condoms are expired. lee nuts too early and panics about it. gaara's hungover. both of them WILL cry at some point. they've non-startered three times even im getting annoyed and im the author. just boink you clowns

here's a snippet from the next chapter, which is titled, to my absolute delight, Will You Two Please Just Drink Some F*cking Water:

Gaara stood and crowded into Lee’s space while he riffled through the drawer and yanked out a small, brightly coloured tube. “Lee, these are expired.” “Ex—huh?” Lee took the box and squinted at the date. Then he looked up, horrified. “I did not know they expired! I can um, go get—” “I don’t care,” Gaara said, taking the small bottle the lube Lee held from him. “I haven’t had sex with anyone, so unless you have some sort of genital illness—” “I do not!” Lee’s shout rattled the windows. Gaara winced.

truly i have achieved the pinnacle of yammertime, if ur still here holy sgat u are devoted and i lov u

[the-bar-sinister]

Crimson Sunset, Azure Dawn (19735 words) by VickytheSnake, thesavagesabretooth Chapters: 5/8

Summary: Mihawk would have been content to finally give Shanks the duel long owed him. Buggy swore he simply wanted to give him a piece of his mind. Crocodile just wanted the pair to have some measure of closure, difficult as it might be. No one expected the rising star of the scarlet emperor to crash so suddenly and violently to earth. No one expected to fish a lost and broken Shanks out of the wreckage of his ship.

But maybe it takes disaster for old flames to flicker back to life, and for Cross Guild to bring in its most surprising member.

catch up here

-

Mihawk and Crocodile sat in the captains' quarters at the table where the open transceiver was broadcasting. Crocodile was on his second cigar, and mid way through a glass of brandy, with his hooked arm solidly around Mihawk's shoulders. It had perhaps been the most awkward black transponder snail conversation he'd ever had the displeasure of listening in on. Buggy was close to tears the whole time, the argument cyclical and seemingly never ending…and now this.

It was…distressing. Distressing and difficult to listen to Shanks this way, so sure that he'd thrown his life away for good. Admitting that their breakup, a breakup the whole world had felt, had been some sort of final straw that broke the man.

The sound like a clown and a drunk being strangled came through the line as Mihawk's eyes delicately narrowed. "Oh dear." 

"He just started crying, didn't he," Crocodile huffed, puffing out a ring of smoke.

"Yes, I'm afraid they both have." Mihawk mused with a sigh. "poor men." 

"Fucking hell," Crocodile grumbled. He picked up his drink and swirled it in his glass. "This is painful to listen to. Buggy I expected, but this is Red Haired Shanks? What the fuck has he been doing this whole time?"

"Falling apart," Mihawk reached for another glass of wine. He needed it desperately. 

"Apparently!" Crocodile barked, knocking back his brandy. "Wish we had known fucking sooner. Who the hell could get close to him though? Thrice damned emperor with his mysterious bullshit and his anti-social fucking crew."

Mihawk poured himself another glass, filled to the brim. 

"It was one of the reasons we fell apart. Yes… the government drove a wedge from my end… but his insular crew and mysterious 'purpose' and that untouchable status…" He shook his head. "add that to the clear loss of real drive after he came back injured, I couldn't allow myself to try getting closer to a wall. But now…"

He gestured to the crying. "The wall's certainly crumbling." 

Crocodile grimaced at the transponder. "It sure fucking is. Should we bust in on 'em, or let this play out?"

"......do you think Buggy will throw a fit if we burst in? He may need the backup." 

"Hell if it were me I'd want backup," Crocodile growled. "Lover you haven't seen in years starts crying in your lap first conversation? If that had been me and you I would have been signalling for Daz so fucking fast, Hawk. Not that it could have been. But what do you do in that situation? We gotta at least get 'em out of the lounge."

Classic Crocodile. Mihawk tilted his head against him. What would he do in that situation indeed? If it had been Crocodile crying on him… or Shanks, if he'd gotten the plan to confront him first… he wasn't so sure.

Still, he had to answer. "Draw Yoru and challenge him to a duel." 

Crocodile glanced at the transponder again. Shanks and Buggy were still crying.

"Yeah I don't think that's gonna help in this case, Hawky."

-

As Crocodile marched with Mihawk through the ship's corridor a couple of doors down to the lounge where Buggy and Shanks were, he reflected on how fucking surreal this entire episode felt. Not only had Shanks— fucking Shanks!--- been brought low in combat (apparently twice in as many days, Crocodile still wasn't clear on that) but now he was a sobbing mess in Buggy's lap.

What a fucking day. He glanced at Mihawk, hoping that the man was holding it together as well as he seemed to be and worrying (justifiably, he felt) that it was probably not the case. Hopefully they could get all this shit sorted out and come out stronger for it.

"Ready?" he murmured to Mihawk, hand on the door.

Mihawk seemed as calm as ever… though there was that look in his eyes. The bubbling intensity that spoke to the inner turmoil he never really let out.

"I am ready, yes." 

Crocodile was going to have to have a talk with him about that, sometime. It couldn't be healthy, keeping bottled up all the time like that. What if he ended up like Shanks was now?

But now wasn't the time.

Now he pushed the door open and swaggered in, a bottle of wine dangling in his free hand.

"Pardon me, gentlemen."

Buggy was openly sobbing with his arms around Shanks' head, having drawn him into his chest as the two of them sprawled dangerously in their chairs.

Mihawk stared for a long moment before he whispered. "We should have brought something stronger than wine." 

Crocodile grimaced, and nodded subtly. 

"We'll fix that," he whispered back. This was a fucking mess. He cleared his throat. "Gentlemen?"

He heard Shanks choke back a sob into Buggy's chest and sit straight up, alert like a guard dog was alert, which made his bedraggled appearance all the sadder.

"Crocodile," Shanks greeted roughly, "... Mihawk."

Buggy's head snapped up, and out came a sharp yelp and a flail— he fell out of his chair "Crocodile? Hawk—EEEK!" "

Mihawk winced almost imperceptibly. "Hello, Shanks." 

"A little birdy told me you might be in need of another bottle," Crocodile said, trying not to grimace at the spectacle either. "And maybe a change of venue."

Shanks wiped his arm with his sleeve, and reached down to try to help Buggy up. "A little bird, huh? Sorry, I didn't turn out to be very hungry."

Buggy wiped his eyes with a sniff, grabbing his hand and standing with less difficulty than a normal man might due to his powers.

"You were listenin' in, weren't you?" 

Crocodile rolled his eyes. Of course Buggy had to ask him directly. "I wasn't going to leave you alone with an unstable ex who might try to kill you, Bug. But it seems pretty safe now, so. Change of venue."

He watched as Shanks grimaced, leaning on Buggy. But the lack of more dramatic reaction led Crocodile to believe he'd already assumed they were being listened in on, or just couldn't bring himself to care in that state.

Mihawk gave him a thin smile. "We're glad you're both safe…but we figured you could use something more to drink."

"Yeah uh, I wasn't able to reach the transponder snail. Shanks latched himself on me like a limpet." Buggy protested weakly. 

To his credit, Shanks did try to look at least a little more dignified, despite still being a sniffling mess. He pushed his hand through his hair, leaning on Buggy. "We've had a lot to catch up on, that's all."

"So it seems," Crocodile agreed. "Do you two want a private bedroom for a while, or do you want some company?"

Buggy had already introduced the situation to him, so there was no harm in asking directly instead of trying to suss out if the clown wanted backup by signals alone.

"Guhhhhhhhghh…." Buggy made a low, sick noise, before he held his hands up. "I— I don't mind company if Shanks don't…I mean, he's the one who's injured here."

Mihawk smirked slightly, before he nodded. "I understand if he doesn't wish to see me at the moment." 

Shanks looked between the lot of them, looking utterly exhausted and wrung out— maybe more so than when he'd been unconscious fresh out of the sea, if only because he could make an expression now.

"Might as well," he croaked out. "Otherwise it seems like I'm just gonna have to repeat myself three times. Unless you have the next room bugged, too."

This poor, sad bastard.

Crocodile heaved a long-suffering sigh. "C'mon. Let's get you to the quarters and get a little more booze in you."

Mihawk nodded with a subtle smile. "I think that'll help you feel a little more settled, Shanks. I imagine the doctor's been keeping you rather deprived." 

"Hasn't let me have a sip in two days," Shanks rasped. "Pretty sure he's trying to kill me."

Crocodile led the bunch out into the hall like a bunch of miserable baby ducks. At least it wasn't far to walk. And hey, at least it sounded like Shanks still had his terrible sense of humor.

Damn, that was probably why he liked the clown, wasn't it?

-

For all that Shanks had talked about 'having to repeat himself' there wasn't much conversation. They got straight to drinking, and it was one of the most miserable, awkward drinking parties Crocodile had ever had the misfortune of being party to.

Luckily, perhaps, for all of them, Shanks passed out on top of Buggy almost straight away. 

The poor, sad bastard, was all Crocodile could think.

"What the hell happened to him?" he growled after a tense few minutes of the three of them passing the bottle back and forth, wondering if their guest was going to wake up.

Buggy hissed low through his teeth "I mean, he's kinda been like this for years, Croc. Back at Roger's execution we had a big fight when he basically told me he was givin' up on everything we ever dreamed of together."

Mihawk glanced down at him, taking a long sip from the bottle with a huff. "Ssomething shook the worldview he'd stuck to since I lost my respect for him. Something big." 

"I can see that, for sure," Crocodile muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Well, looks like we're not going to find out until morning. But I'm gonna need one or both of you to stay with him tonight. If only to make sure he doesn't get up and fucking pitch himself over the rail."

He looked between Mihawk and Buggy. There was no way Crocodile was going to be able to sleep in his own bed tonight. He'd just lay awake thinking about the whole…. Mess.

Buggy grimaced, holding his hands up. "I dunno, what if he goes ballistic when he wakes up?"

"He won't, he's too beaten for that." Mihawk sounded certain, his piercing eyes on the sleeping man as he frowned a little deeper. 

"You want me to chain him up, Bug?" Crocodile drawled. He highly doubted Shanks was going to go ballistic, not after the way he'd been sobbing on Buggy when they came in. Unless he was completely insane, which Crocodile thought would be even more of a huge fucking nuisance than whatever the hell this was.

"No! I mean…" He looked down at Shanks with a sigh. "Man. Croccy…" he put his hand on the sleeping man's head. "I'll stay with him I guess. I'll try not to smother him, promise." 

Crocodile pinched the bridge of his nose again. Stupid fucking clown. Caring about him made Crocodile want to slam his head into a brick wall. "Fine, Buggy. We'll all stay, alright?"

Mihawk chuckled under his breath. "Infuriating, isn't he?"

"Hey!" Buggy huffed sharply. "...but thanks, Hawkie, Croccy. Not like any of us are gonna feel great sleeping tonight, right?" 

Crocodile shook his head. He stood, and wandered over to grab a cigar from the box on the table. "Sure fucking aren't. But thems the breaks, eh? Hey, congrats, jester, pretty sure this counts as bringing down a fellow emperor."

Buggy flushed under his makeup as he flashed a lopsided grin. "Well damn…yeah, the papers might pick up on that. He's gonna be pissed, I know it."

"Or start crying again," Mihawk murmured. "Or laughing. He's in a very strange place right now." 

"I'll fucking say," Crocodile grumbled as he lit a fresh cigar. "You two know him a lot better than me. Would you ever have expected this?"

Crocodile's head was swimming, even though he hadn't had that much to drink. He simply didn't know how the hell to handle this situation. Mihawk and Buggy may have known Shanks well, but he'd only ever known him as a rather dangerous and intriguing enemy. One who had risen, and risen, where Crocodile himself had fallen.

And here Shanks was, curled into a timid little ball sleeping the sleep of the unhappily drunk on his bed after apparently getting his shit wrecked by first Straw Hat and then by Teach.

Fucking Teach bringing down Shanks. Crocodile could never have guessed that would happen.

"Not really, no. Even when we fell apart, when he became half the man he used to be, he'd always seemed like he would stay steadfast on that mysterious goal of his."

Buggy sniffed. "I didn't think fucking Blackbeard woulda been the one to take him down. Straw Hat, I'd believe… Luffy's a monster if you ain't on his good side. And Shanks seems to have gotten on his bad side real fast. But Blackbeared…eughh." 

Straw Hat– Crocodile absolutely believed that he could take down Shanks. Crocodile was starting to believe Straw Hat could take down anybody.

"Guess Straw Hat softened him up," he said, setting his jaw. "So which one of you wants to try to pull his teeth to find out why this happened tomorrow? Maybe finally hear about this mystery goal of his?"

"He hasn't listened to me since I was a mini-Buggy," the clown grumbled under his breath, though Mihawk tilted his head towards him.

"You're still a force of personality, clown. Not only that, but your history with him could prove to be an asset." 

"So you don't wanna talk to him either, eh, Hawky?" Crocodile puffed on his cigar. Not that surprising, and he couldn't blame him. The way he understood it, Mihawk had been avoiding Shanks for years.

Crocodile had had a couple of trysts with Shanks, back in the day, back before he was cautious enough to avoid having sex with his enemies. But none of it had given him any more of an understanding of the man.

He was starting to wonder if anyone understood him. 

"I…do." Mihawk murmured. "I just have the concern that I won't break through his barriers." 

Crocodile sucked in a breath of smoke and held it in his mouth, letting the familiar sensation sooth him. He softly blew out the smoke.

"Talk to him anyway," Crocodile said. "If you can't get through, maybe you can soften him up. While you do I'll get Buggy some fresh air. Poor clown seems like he needs it, eh?"

He sneered over at Buggy. It was earnestly meant as much as it was a jab. Buggy looked almost as lost as Shanks, and Crocodile understood why. You build up a rivalry in your mind for 20 years and this is how it ends?

As confusing and sad as it was pathetic.

There had to be something going on. 

They'd get to the bottom of it.

Mihawk laughed sharply, one of his rare moments of audible amusement. "Fine. I'll talk to him. If it means you can wipe some of that pathetic expression off the clown's face, I'll do it."

The clown shrank under his sneer, frowning almost cartoonishly. "So what if I need a little air? Everyone needs air. You'd die without it, idiot." 

"Eventually," Crocodile purred, leaning over toward him, and putting on a wide smile. "Some day we'll see how long you can do without."

It wasn't a night for messing around, but he hoped the flirting at least would lift the clown's flagging spirits a little.

Buggy flushed deeply, and he jolted enough to jostle Shanks as he sputtered and looked off to the side.

Somehow–he looked more relaxed. "You're a real bastard, Croc." 

Crocodile kept an eye on Shanks, who murmured, but didn't wake. Once Croc saw he was settled, he smirked at Buggy. He was feeling more relaxed himself. "You know I am."

Yeah. It was going to be a bad night. But he'd lived through worse.

-

Buggy had had a bad night. Terrible night. The drinking party was a bust. He thought 'if anything is gonna get Shanks to cheer up, loosen up and stop miserably trying to pitch himself off a cliff it's booze', only for that to blow right up in his face.

All the way back in Loguetown he could tell Shanks had lost his drive, his ambition, but thought at least he'd picked something up to fill the hole. Now he didn't even have that, did he? That big , stupid mission of his, that 'purpose' that he never felt like sharing with Buggy…all up in smoke.

He'd wriggled himself out from under him, letting Mihawk take up Shanks pillow duties, as he and Crocodile headed up to the deck for a gasp of fresh sea air. Anything— anything to get out of the stifling stench of booze and regret. 

Crocodile slapped him roughly on the back with the back of his hook as they came up on deck. his other had was occupied with the thermos of coffee they'd hastily grabbed from the galley on their way up. Neither of them had slept more than a few minutes at a time. It was bad sleep even for men who were used to operating on an hour or two in a pinch.

Dawn was grey, and the deck was quiet aside from the moaning of the boards and the rush of the waves, and the call of early morning sea birds. Daz was busy up at the helm, the only one awake on deck aside from their lookout, and gave them a nod of acknowledgement before going back to his navigation.

Buggy watched the water churn and ripple for miles and miles all around them, his hand floating over a cup of coffee as he squinted into the early morning light.

He waved to Daz, letting himself stew in sleepy memories for a moment more.

Shanks. Fucking Red Haired Shanks. He remembered the boy on Roger's ship, full of hope and aspiration. He remembered the scowling young man in Loguetown, turning his back on their shared dream and offering him a place as one of his aimless lackeys on some 'oh so important mission' of his own. He remembered the mighty and deadly emperor who was said to be one of the fiercest forces in Paradise.

So who the hell was Shanks now? Which of those men, if any, was the man sleeping on Mihawk down in the crew's quarters?

Crocodile leaned against the mast, and held the thermos against his chest with his hook as he unscrewed it, taking a long drink of the warm, bitter liquid before he handed it to Buggy without a word. There were dark circles under his eyes, just over the long scar that crossed his face like a high water mark.

Buggy raised it to him with a weak smile before taking a long sip himself. Croc looked like a mess. He knew he looked worse, though. Dark circles, smudged and missing face paint… exhaustion and bloodshot eyes.

Like he'd seen a ghost and it'd cried on him for hours. 

Which admittedly, was basically what had happened.

"Tell me about you and Shanks," Crocodile said quietly. He ran his fingers through his limp, oily hair, shoulders sagging. "You've ranted about him plenty, but you never actually told me anything about how it was between you. Before it went bad."

"Before it went bad?" Buggy laughed tensely. "I was a fuckin' kid— but sure." 

He ran his hand through his long and teal hair, mirroring Croc's gesture anxiously. "He was my best friend. We were cabin boys together on Gol's ship." 

Crocodile smiled a sour little smile and grabbed the thermos back, taking another swig of coffee.

"The good old days," he huffed, with wry bitterness thick in his voice. Sometimes it was hard to remember, but Buggy was suddenly struck by the fact that Croc was only a couple of years older than him and Shanks.

"The good ol' days," Buggy leaned against him with a quiet grumble. The man was only a little older…a little. While he was a cabin boy, Crocodile was only a couple years older than him, trying to stand up to his old man.

Things weren't always good, but the days on Roger's ship at least had something special to them. Hope— excitement. He was always second best, but at least he was in the running. He was always sure Shanks would stick by his side no matter what.

"So once there was this island inhabited by a school of mermaids, right?" he began. 

-

Mihawk watched as Shanks drank down water like a fish desperate to breathe, washing down the tablets of pain medication kept on hand for this very purpose. Dehydration led to a hangover, a hangover Shanks was now suffering from.

He imagined it wasn't an unfamiliar sensation, the way he'd seen him drink the last handful of years.

He didn't say a word, simply staring him down with his intense glare.

Shanks took a few desperate breaths and then downed more water before putting the empty pitcher aside. He leaned back on the headboard, and glanced up at Mihawk from under his lank red bangs. His own stare had lost most of its intensity, filled instead with doubt and haunted by something Mihawk didn't understand. 

Mihawk studied it for a long moment. There was once a fire he respected in Red Haired Shanks' stare. He was an expert swordsman, with or without his good arm. He was ambitious and vicious as they came.

But he was half the man he used to be, and he didn't just mean the missing arm. He'd lost something that day in his shrouded mystery of a past and it wasn't just flesh and bone.

"Still thirsty, are you?" 

Shanks shrugged. "I can't drink enough wine to fix my head, and I can't drink enough water to fix the wine. You know how it is."

He closed his eyes and there was something like a smile on his face, but it was hollow, and joyless.

"I suppose I'm familiar with the conundrum, yes." Mihawk's eyes traced his lips. The miserable smile of the walking damned. "...such a smile doesn't suit you, you know." 

"No? Guess there's not a smile left that does suit me, Hawk-eyes." He heaved a sigh and his expression melted into more obvious melancholy.

"There was one, once." Mihawk shifted in his chair to tent his fingers and watch him more intensely. "And yet it's been wiped away— and I think perhaps it may have been a long while ago." 

"Yeah? You've known me a long time. How long ago do you think it was?"

Mihawk laughed sharply. "It's been a while, Red Hair. Since we were young man clashing on the open sea. Once, I thought you made a motivating rival." 

"That was more than ten years ago now, huh? Feels like yesterday." Shanks opened his eyes, only to stare up at the ceiling instead of meeting Mhawk's gaze again. "Mostly because of how much of a blur everything afterward feels like."

A blur. For Mihawk none of his own time was a blur. It was a slow march. A crawl from Marine Hunter, to Crocodile's First Mate, to Warlord of the Sea, to freedom from that self made prison and a return to form in Cross Guild.

For Mihawk it was a drawn out dirge punctuated with wine and blood.

Somehow, though. Somehow it didn't surprise him that Shanks was so lost in the fog of drink and duty that the days flew by.

"More than ten years. Yes." 

Shanks knocked the back of his head against the headboard and winced. "What a fucking waste of a dozen years, huh? Or is that just me?"

A dozen years ago everything had already fallen apart for Mihawk. Ten years ago already he'd been a government dog— a warlord— separated from his captain by a gulf greater than mere distance. His rivalry with Shanks had been a bright spot in that time– until ten years ago when that too had dissolved somehow. When Shanks had lost his arm.

When he'd lost his arm, something else was missing. There was that hollowness in his smile after that, and the start of yet another gulf between that one bright spot and himself. Another gulf to separate Mihawk from the few things that brought him any measure of joy.

Shanks was no longer a rival, nor was he a worthy opponent. Not with whatever plagued him since then.

"It has had its bright spots," Mihawk admitted. "I met a promising young man, and an amusing young woman. They gave me some measure of interest. And now here we stand, reformed into something like our old selves with Cross Guild. But otherwise, it has been a bit of a waste, yes." 

Shanks laughed hollowly, more like an empty breath of air. "Glad your last couple of years were better than mine."

"Makes a man wonder just what made it so miserable, Shanks," Mihawk said slowly as he leaned forward with his fingers clutched together. "You've changed a lot. And have changed ever since that day, too." 

"Sorry I'm not at my best for our little reunion," Shanks huffed. "I know you were looking forward to finally skewering me down the middle. I made it no fun though, huh? A man's not exactly at his best when he finds out everything he's been doing with his life was for nothing."

"You did make it dreadfully unfun, yes. I'm displeased with that," MIhawk said dryly. "...the thing is I don't understand exactly what you've been doing for 'nothing', aside from making a nuisance of yourself in the New World." 

"Making a nuisance of myself." He chuckled and there was almost some good humor in it. "Believe me, that was the only fun part. What have I been doing? That's what I've been asking myself. I can tell you what I thought I was doing."

Mihawk tilted his head, birdlike and curious. He was curious, after all. What was so important that Shanks would sever every tie he'd made save for his own crew?

"I'm listening."

He hung his head and his red hair covered up most of his face. "I thought I was helping save the fucking world."

What a thing to say.

Mihawk snorted softly. "You. A pirate emperor. Saving the world? Laughable." 

"Isn't it? Figured it was the best position for the job. Whole reason that I clawed my way up. Well, that and to make myself a nuisance." 

"Best position for the job of…saving the world," Mihawk said slowly.

Making himself a nuisance he understood. Shanks was always— impish, was perhaps the right word. But 'saving the world' as one of the world's strongest pirates was an absolutely mad thing to say.

Even pirates who claimed to help others, who owned territory, were still pirates. The Sun Pirates saved the enslaved, but they still pillaged and raided like the rest. Whitebeard was a fool. Big Mom's nation of equality was a nation of utter control.

The World Government was worse, by and large. Hypocritical sycophants to the Celestial Dragons, one and all.

But still.

"I know what you're thinking," Shanks said, pointing a finger at him. "You're thinking how's a pirate supposed to save the world, right? But that's the thing. I thought all I had to do was line up one right shot. The rest was screwing around. Killing time. And I had something like 20 years to kill."

His brow furrowed slightly as his eyes bored into Shanks.

One shot to save the world…one shot that being an emperor afforded him, and he was killing time. 

"After all that, I missed the shot, too." He closed his eyes again. "Thought I could fix it, but now I find out, either I completely fucked the one chance anybody had to save the world— or it was all pointless to start with and nothing I did ever had any meaning."

"And just how were you supposed to save the world, Shanks? Killing the Four Elders? Or was this something more…" Irritating, perhaps. …"obscure?" 

"Obscure," he snorted. "I'll say. How was I supposed to save the world? There was this devil fruit. And I was going to give it to the right person. That's how I was going to save the world."

Shanks' voice was rough with regret and shot through with a wry, self-reproachful humor. Like he was telling a joke and it was on himself.

"You are kidding me." MIhawk said with distaste on his tongue. He respected devil fruit users. They were an interesting method of combat, another skill to be honed like a blade. Crocodile and even Buggy and all the others he'd met. They were all skilled fighters.

But a devil fruit couldn't save the world from anything. Not any more than a keen blade could, or a silver tongue. It was a tool like any other. The nuanced and many problems of their great blue seas couldn't be solved by a devil fruit in any one man's hands. 

"It sounds like a joke, doesn't it? It's the sort of thing to make you laugh, isn't it?" That got a laugh out of Shanks, too, dry and hollow and panicked. "But no, I'm not kidding. See some of these devil fruits, they're mythical. The power inside them isn't just any power, it's the power of a spirit. The power of a god. And there's one that the World Government's afraid of."

"The world government is afraid of a fruit," Mihawk murmured dubiously. 

"Yep." Shanks suddenly sat up and crawled his way from the headboard down to the bottom of the bed, much closer to Mihawk. He sat up, bare feet on the floor, and leaned toward him. "So afraid they changed the name of the fruit in all the books just to hide it. To make sure anyone who had it wouldn't know what they had."

Mihawk looked him in the eyes. "And what 'god' lived in this fruit? What god do they fear more than the powerful men who are marshaling to squeeze the life out of their aged throats?" 

"Nika. The sun god. Joyboy." Now Shanks met his eyes, seeming to search them for recognition, or reaction.

Mihawk slowly blinked. He recognized the name, dimly. Jinbei may have mentioned it once at a Warlord meeting, he'd heard it here and there on his time prowling the seas for someone to either kill, or kill him. Whispered like some great secret.

"Joyboy. Yes, I've heard the name." 

Shanks held his hands up as if in defeat. "Well. That's the god. That's the fruit. The mythical zoan fruit, model Nika. Only like I said. They renamed it to hide it."

"...because they fear this Nika, due to its power." Mihawk reached out and patted his shoulder. "...I'm not a man who adheres to faiths, Shanks. I believe in the power of men, but you do have my ear." 

Ironic, perhaps. He wore the iconography of a long forgotten faith of his home island. But it stood as a reminder of death as opposed to any god. 

"I know you've never been a man to believe in that kind of thing," Shanks said. Mihawk felt him flinch slightly under his touch, but after that, he leaned toward him. "Right now, I envy you for that. Do you want to know, Mihawk? What the government renamed the fruit?"

"I'm going to take a shot in the dark and say the gum-gum fruit, given you had a bit of a tiff with Luffy and his crew." he mused, voice deadpan and tired. 

Shanks raised his hands, and let them fall to his knees. "What can I say, Mihawk? Maybe you should have been the world's greatest detective instead of the world's greatest swordsman."

"If I'm ever defeated and my vanquisher fails to kill me, I suppose I'll retire from the position and take up investigation." Mihawk said dryly. "So that's it, hm? Luffy is the 'god fruit wielder' who the Celestial Dragons fear." 

"That's right," Shanks nodded. "And I just got done telling him about it."

Mihawk smiled thinly. "and he took it about as well as I might have if you told me my accomplishments were due to the grace of god, hmm?" 

"No, Mihawk, I think you would have been a better sport about it."

Mihawk rubbed his chin with a sly edge to his smile. "A frightening prospect indeed, Shanks."

[quartarcade]

Crazy shit my friends have said but as inbox starters part 2

Part one. you are allowed to adjust these in whatever deems appropriate to your muse!

"I'm psychically passing on my brain hemorrhage onto you."

"You're at a ten I need you to being it down to a three."

"You deserve everything I send to you."

"You will die in six seconds, and I forgot how to count."

"God gave him his last breath and right now he's holding it."

"Burn in the bowels of hell like the shit you couldn't take on this day."

"Start chucking buckets, buddy."

"I'm playing 3d chess while you're out here playing baby checkers, stop eating the pieces, dumbass!"

"I hope you're in a gaming mood because you're about to speedrun the rest of your fucking life."

"Change the card color one more time and I'm changing your birth certificates date to never."

"May your fate not be the same as Icarus, you waxed-winged bitch."

"Why are there potatoes on the floor?"

"I've had just about enough of your crusty ass in my realm!"

"THAT WAS SO CHEAP IT AINT EVEN ON THE DISCOUNT RACKET. THEY'RE GIVIN IT OUT FOR FREE."

"I'm proud of my feet, they brought me to a lot of places."

"Sorry, the demons came out."

"Those nuggies are mine and that clown's a wash."

"It's not gay, it's tactical bro."

"You've stolen from my people! You've poisoned my crops!"

"I wouldn't be in your shoes, we wear different pairs of shoes."

"Your ass would have been grass and they would have mowed it."

"I'm gonna get so close to his face he's gonna see the whites of my eyes before he sees the whites of the pearly gates."

"Rome wasn't built in a day, but this ass-beating will!"

“My knees! God broke them to nerf me!”

"These arrows can tell me where to go, but only god can tell me how close hell is!"

"I took a ton of Demerol and I thought I became religious."

"She's/He's/They're dying and my lean is mixed. Let's get to work."

"I don't care what you look like so long as you look like you've met god."

"I've inserted a cow with sunglasses and now time is unstable!"

"You can't prove I lost if I'm dead."

"Instead of frozen, its colden. It was really hard breaking it together."

" I hate to tell you this, [name], but Papa John is real and He Can Hurt You."

"Everyone knows the C in Chess stands for Cuck."

"You don't know what that pufferfish did."

"I like my men lean and mean.. and preferably a machine."

"I GOTTA SHOOT BACK TO CHRISTMAS."

"If they are the 1% they're gonna get 100% of these hands."

"Waste my time once more, Petty Man."

"FUCK YOU YOU WANNA TEST GOD? I WANNA TEST CHILLI'S!"

"Everybody knows that the perfect gamer cup is a red solo cup that has a bite taken out of it."

"I did kill myself once and won."

"Someone's fucking corpse just flung into me and reversed the polarity, the alignment, and the religious affiliation of my knees."

"I gotta go mow my drive thru."

"Does his mom love him? I sure hope so."

"Who knows? The power of fish is endless."

"I'm gonna dox you so I can beat your ass publicly".

"Because I saw the future, and you're not in it."

"Want me to cancel your heartbeat? There you go!"

"We got no time to fuck around, only to find out."

"What's stupid is thinking you need permission to ask questions."

[twig-tea]

Be My Favorite Ep 10 Musings

I can't stop thinking about the parallel of the three conversations with parents that happen in this episode:

Kawi and his father, in which his father asks Kawi to promise not to stagnate if he dies [and the fact that they left this conversation to this episode rather than the last one feels intentional]

Pear and her father, in which her father underscores for her that a "perfect life" life is not a stagnate goal, it's going to keep moving and be complicated and the things you might think you want now might change later, and as you keep living it your circumstances will change, so aiming to be resilient and open to change is a better goal

Pisaeng and his mother, in which his mom tries to discourage Pisaeng and Kawi's relationship because she wants to protect Pisaeng from harm, and Pisaeng (beautifully delivered by Gawin) begs to be allowed to be happy, which is not the same thing as safe at all

Because as we saw from Kawi's initial future, staying still is not happiness. And as we saw from his third future, getting your "perfect life" is not necessarily happiness either; and neither is keeping your heart safe by not going for your goals (see: Gawin in that third future). And as Max told us before, happiness is worth staying and fighting for.

And we saw Kawi put that into effect right away when he called Pisaeng's mom at the first hint of trouble, even though it turned out he didn't need to, he still got rewarded with her blessing.

But one step forward is not a full behavioural change, and he's still hesitating to have this important conversation about sex with Pisaeng. So I'm hopeful that that conversation will happen [has happened? 🤡]

The link is to @dribs-and-drabbles' poll about this potential clown theory in which Pisaeng time travelled in ep10 when we saw him turn the music globe thing that I also thought maybe had happened and am invested in having maybe happened, though as I keep saying, this show keeps surprising me and coming up with ways things happen that are even better than I thought, so I'm not holding on too tight.

Because all of these threads are coming together so beautifully!

Also btw: all three conversations had the parent expressing regret or a belief that they'd made mistakes to their child. Kawi's dad wished for a do-over, Pear's dad talked about the harm he caused by holding on to his anger for Pear's mother, and Pisaeng's mother admitted she may have made a wrong judgement. There's something beautiful about these parents being able to admit to their children that they aren't perfect and have made mistakes in the episode when their kids start to get their feet under themselves. Everyone in this show is allowed to be so human.

[For that reason I'm not going to pass judgment on what happened at the end of the episode yet because if this show is predictable about one thing, it's that it will show us more of the picture later, and that additional info often changes the meaning of what we saw.]

[aibhilin-atibeka]

Past/Current/Next WIP Game

I got tagged! Thank you for the tag, @blind-the-winds!!!

Rules: past is a WIP you stopped working on/finished; current is a WIP you're currently working on; next is a WIP you want to write

Past: Uhm. Well. There's this list of completed works I've got? Doesn't count though, if a single one is needed... hmmm. Alright then, the latest is this one here: He'd seen lions less brave. Literally, the title was the hardest in that one, regardless of my muse not cooperating in the first place. I loved finishing it, in any case! The plot goes:

Shanks drags Buggy into the woods to drink in peace. Buggy allows it. He comes to regret that decision.

Current: I'm most active in the Batman or Batman/Danny Phantom crossover fandoms rn (reading, mostly), so my interests lie elsewhere than One Piece atm. Still, there's this that I keep most often working on at this point: Clowns be Clowning. Another gift fic of mine; it's been fighting me in places, but most of it is done by now. Only the last two (?) chapters to be doing and the editing's not entirely been through yet. Other than that, I'm quite satisfied with it, though. It's spent a year (or two) in stasis in one of my fic folders on the computer, so I'm happy to have it out now. The plot goes thusly:

Buggy and his crew arrive on an island in East Blue that they haven't visited in a while. They meet a young boy that's in all sorts of trouble, it seems like. They meet a butler. Shenanigans ensue. Aka Kevin Alone At Home but with One Piece characters. Kuro, watch out.

Future: There's always my longest fanfic to date cluttering up my thoughts these days: Through Troubled Waters. Most likely than not, I'll be writing another chapter for that one sometime soon. Its plot? I'm glad you asked:

Older!Buggy with tons of (mental) baggage travels back in time and meets both his younger!self and Shanks. Naturally, the two follow him like little ducklings. Shenanigans ensue. A bit angstier than the summary lets on, but with hope lining the horizon.

Tagging, no pressure: @stereden, @airuna, @mydetheturk and anyone else interested!

[elizabethrobertajones]

Really here for Miss Bounding Frog, but I wanted to thank you for becoming a Wyll BG3 appreciation blog. Because while I've no interest in playing the game myself, he's just so charming and lovely and always a joy to have on my dash

You: is today the day I blacklist the bg3 tag? Wyll: *smiles with his whole heart out of a gifset* You: .... naaah he can stay, he seems polite.

You made me realise he and Frog are fairly alike in that I try to go for girlprince in her glams a lot of the time and he's just pure disney prince (but a devil).

(spoilers for BG3 musing on their similarities)

Also I guess their personalities are pretty similar in that they remain genuinely well-meaning heroes after going through it all. Like, the vacation before Dawntrail has been fun but Frog would still absolutely throw herself back into the fire when the self-sacrificing bullshit returns. She slept Endwalker off in a week and then was confused about why the scions were treating her with kid gloves. "Look, I'm upright again! What next??" "Have you tried this adventure called 'retiring to the beach'?"

I know a looot of people have rightfully tired or grumpy WoLs who are completely done with being asked to do things and people Assuming you will be the hero, or being in the crosshairs of the universe, but I did want to write a WoL who was genuinely hype to be here and would take it on the chin with old school heroic stoicism. However gutting everything is she's like, well, we hear-feel-think this trauma and on the other side we understand and respect what it did to us and move on stronger. And then forgive everyone who caused it. (she's very annoying)

Mr Of Frontiers over there had his tragic backstory at 17, a year younger than when Frog started adventuring (intentionally with no tragic backstory, I wanted her to be in it for love of the game) and I'm hypocritically declaring she was more than old enough because I say so and Wyll was a KID just a LITTLE GUY... but also Alphinaud doesn't exist in BG3 thankfully so there's no need to debate when kids should be allowed to be in charge of armies - although I think Alphinaud and Wyll should have a catch up and maybe learn some things about how they were doomed by the narrative together...

Anyway Wyll's various endings aside from the one where you set him up to be a Duke in the city (which I did on my Astarion play since Astarion is marrying him, craves creature comforts, and was presented with not even a persuasion check to decide Wyll's entire future, which is shockingly cruel of the game) he will just go back to adventuring and saving people. Like, a guy who can legitimately retire off the back of everything that just happened and return forgiven or at least as a hero if you did get his dad murdered to not be around to forgive him, and he's like... Actually, the People Need Me, I'm going to go write the next chapter of my life as an itinerant hero killing monsters and swashbuckling all day.

Also, aside from him definitely having whatever's wrong in his brain that Frog has (and Meteor Finalfantasy who is ready to Dawntrail also and is swashbuckling), he does also have the WoLbrain when it comes to Just Saying Messed Up Things. He's so funny and sarcastic and would absolutely fit in with WoLs who pick all the weird dialogue options. WoL can make moogle noises at Thancred? Well, Wyll over here will meow at you.

He also genuinely thinks clowns are funny, and every year the WoL earnestly goes along with a demon clown halloween event so there's that.

[lunarreverb]

Anyone who follows my BG3 musings probably knows I'm not a fan of the Ascended Astarion ending. (We're not arguing about A!Astarion vs Spawnstarion right now). Although I find most things about the A!Astarion ending unpleasant, I was just thinking about one facet of it that I actually find weirdly funny-

It's believable that our companions in the game find our Tavs/Durges attractive and react to them as being beautiful by default. It's pretty hard to go too wacky in the character creator, after all, and most of our Tavs and Durges ARE somewhere between pretty and objectively sexy as hell. And, some of them happen to be both beautiful and spooky, real hot goth babes, or else are very imposing. But, I was actually gobsmacked when there were no automatic cosmetic differences after A!Astarion turns a romanced Tav/Durge into a spawn? This is a game that does not hesitate to confer new textures and eye colors on you as consequences for other choices. Color me surprised that spawn-hood for Tav/Durge does not at LEAST turn whatever natural eyeballs you have left, red.

(I guess the premise is that his super-vampireness allowed A!Astarion to keep Tav/Durge cosmetically intact? He does mention something-or-rather about not improving on them, but I dunno if having no cosmetic or mechanical changes for a turned player was an intentional story choice as much as it was Larian not wanting to actually get into all the tedious details of Tav/Durge being undead now for like, a handful of hours of end-game gameplay.)

(Aside from the running animation, I know about the running animation)

Anyway, while I can suspend disbelief that everyone in Faerûn thinks that my Tav is pretty, I just cannot suspend my disbelief when A!Astarion declares that this

crayon box buffet of a person,

squishy animal with bright colors signaling that she is poisonous to mid-tier predators, don't eat her,

clown-colored unclown,

smurf with eyeliner and horns,

somehow, as-is, fits the bill of being anyone's ~Dark Consort~

From his dark tower or whatever, he will rain fear and terror on our enemies, while Tav, his ~Dark Consort~ stands beside him, a menacing bowl of Froot Loops in a gothic castle

wheeze

And I mean yes! Obviously! She would have had to have made some fucked up decisions to even be in that situation, so her soul would be tainted, and obviously a Tav is a very powerful level 12 whatever by the end of the game, so most anybody who knows her by reputation would be right to be at least a little impressed. But? First impressions? MY Tav is still a goddamn rainbow sprinkle disaster gremlin. A prismatic glitter tiefling. Astarion. Do you see her? Did her bright, unnatural colors and fashion sense burn out your retinas? Looking at my Tav and trying to picture her seriously existing near the head of his self-serious spooky terror army of bats and ghouls, just. Cracks me up

[clown-demon]

Ti's plotting sheet thingy

Want new-and-exciting plots for your character? Long to reach out to more of your followers, but don’t know where to start? Fear not! Fill out this form and give your RP partners both present and future all the of juicy jumping off points they need to help you get your characters acquainted.Be sure to tag the players whose characters YOU want more cues to interact with, and repost, don’t reblog! Feel free to add or remove sections as you see fit. Template here.

Mun name: Ti

OOC Contact: Discord pls.

Who the heck is my muse anyway:

I have too many on this blog to go through them all.. I'd suggest just reading my MUSE abouts.. some of them are a WIP. I work more details into them as I RP them. But thing to note-- All my muses reside in the BSD universe. While they can go to others from Nikolai's ability to allow cross overs and no limits. For sanity sake, I will be using Nikolai, Fyodor, and Dazai as the main three to answer these questions.

Points of interest:

Nikolai: Likes fellow clowns and silly fun people. If you're not a fun person then he'll turn you into something fun. Whether it be annoying the other person or splattering their guts and gore on the wall.

Fyodor: Likes peace and quiet. Also enjoys those who are intelligent and speaking to others in general. He's a bit of a people person, he enjoys and values humanity.

Dazai: Usually likes to do anything to get out of work. Will find something as an excuse to get out of it. Usually out getting crab or going out for a drink. Likes to read books and listen to music and relax.

What they’ve been up to recently:

Nikolai: Currently trying to cope with Fyodor's 'death.' He's still in mourning, but whenever he comes to face with another person, he will automatically put on his happy mask and act as if nothing is wrong. He will act as his good old self, even though it is a mask and he's hiding his true emotions.

Fyodor: Currently in Bram's body, facing off to rid of the world of the Agency and Port Mafia. Behind the scenes, gathering more rats and aiming to take out Dazai firstly. Also has Nikolai on his mind to rid of.

Dazai: Currently trying to rid the world of Fyodor. Trying to figure out how to do that, if he should take a chance and see if he is the only one to be able to kill him. Trying to keep everyone safe. For once in his life, he is taking work seriously.

Where to find them:

Nikolai: Parties, parks, really any public place. He performs magic tricks for his job now that he no longer is part of the DoA. But you can also find him in cafes and amusement parks. Anywhere that is considered 'fun.'

Fyodor: Cafes, libraries, museums, old historical places that are open to the public. You can also often find him on trains and buses, since that is the main way of his transport.

Dazai: Coffee shops, any place that has food, the Agency. On crime scenes. Anywhere really. And anywhere that one can easily commit suicide-- so down a river... a forest, etc.

Current plans:

I don't have any current plans really. I kinda now base my blog with what is happening canon in the manga.

Desired interactions:

Nikolai: Finding new friends and people who understand him. People who will tolerate him and have fun with him. Someone to help cheer him up and get over Fyodor's death. Someone to accept who he is.

Fyodor: New rats. : )

Dazai: Someone to show him a reason to live.. Actually show him value in his life. Treat him seriously and not treat his suicide antics as a joke or nuisance.

Offered interactions:

Just come at me whenever.. asks are always open, starter calls, memes if I ever post any.

Current open post/s:

Anything that isn't a thread with another person is free game.

Anything else?:

I'm right now trying to get caught up with my drafts. I've been MIA due to life placing a bomb on my lap and I'm trying to get my life back on track. So it might take me a VERY long time to get back to you. Patience is key when interacting with me.

[ducknotinarow]

"Stumble" ( Blair for Blitz uwu )

| Send "Stumble" for your severely injured muse to fall into my muse's arms. send "Catch" for the reverse

Blitz didn't want it to seem like Blair had to be home by certain times or anything. Not more so since his run in with their sister Barbie went just so fucking well. Blitz didn't really have many people in his life let allow family that he could afford to lose. Blair was pretty much the last of his family he really had, after the whole accident at the circus. Not to mention trying to learn and figure out Loona's boundaries her self.

But Blair was his sister! Okay so was Barbie but Blair was his BABY sister! He needed to look out for her and take care of her even! Sure she was grown had her own job to and life. But ever since he eyed out that hickey on her neck? Okay he handled it poorly safe to say. But could he be blamed! Some fuck head was slobbering all over his baby sister like she was some cheap whore!

Part of him felt he should know not to follow her. But Nah he didn't care about it being 'an invasion of her privacy' or some other bullshit like that. Anyone who was going around laying on the moves to his sister like that couldn't be good news. Why he trailed after her. Calming he was going to some new dive bar with the rest of I.M.P. Figuring she would be more likely to make plans herself. He would have took his van but that thing was easy to notice. So hoofing it and such was the best he could do. Till he lost sight of her!

Grumbling under his breath as he hoped she least still be in the general area. He didn't know his way around, never been there himself to even take guesses on where she might even gone to here! When he swears it's her voice that calls out to him. "Blaire?!" He hears her again he sure as he runs over and rounds the corner in time to catch her in his arms.

"Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!" Was all he seemed able to utter as he let his eyes dart around the sight of her. She look worse then him and the others did when coming back from a hit gone wrong. Blitz tried his best to help shift her weight more his way so he could help her to stand. Least try to she seemed in no state to move on her own. Gritting his teeth and letting grind on top of each other.

"What the hell happened?!" He snapped, not meant to be at her more the sight. Blitz head snapped left and right as he tried to see anything to tell him who did this. Racking his mind around who he knew Blair hung around. It couldn't be Fizz right? Was it the fucking greedy prick of Clown Mammon? Tugging her closer trying to gather her in his arms so he could carry his poor sister.

"I want names and answers now Blair, I'll get ya cleaned up and then? Oh then I'm showing how good I've gotten with a gun. No fucker is getting away with doing this to you of all demons."

[heclingmuzik]

[ push ] + [ makeup ]! (he is absolutely not helping)

The ultimate affectionate gestures compilation

[ push ] - to push the loose strand of your muse’s hair behind your muse’s ear + [ makeup ] - to help your muse put on their makeup (BREAK making her look like a...)

"Don't make me look weird, Break. I'll kick your shin." It's the only warning he'll get. She trust him even if there are...Well, WELL, she'll trust him.

"REMEMBER, I'm going to see Sal." She coughs. She's glad Break can't see the little roses coloring her cheeks, but....but he can probably hear it in her voice. Crap.

"Anyway, yeah!"

He tells her to sit still and she complies. She's as STILL as can be. Eyes closes when told, head tilts upward when asked to look up. "Hey, did you get like these nervous jitters when you were going on your first date with Zhilan?"

she hums and says, "This isn't my first date with Sal, but it's my first time doing all this, you know what I mean?" Break, don't laugh. She's SO shy!

"I'll bite your hand, Break."

When the makeup is all done, Break moves to her hair. It's gotten a tad longer, still relatively short, but he works with what he can. She still can't believe she's not even allowed to look into the mirror while he's been working on her face and hair! "Are we done?" She asks when she feels the strand of hair tucked behind her ear. She turns to look at Break with a big smile, "Hehehe! TIME for the big reveal, right?" God, what if he made her look like clown?

@schleckermaul

[newtonsheffield]

In honor of the new viscountess looking like a dream, can we get a show universe snippet please? I’m thinking Anthony wouldn’t let go of Kate’s belly long enough for her to get ready and they’re running late for court

Hmmmm just a little.

Let's clown and pretend there's gonna be a baby.

"Perhaps, Viscountess, I might be able to persuade you to stay abed a little longer."

Anthony's voice was still a little breathless in her ear, his arms wrapped around her waist from behind, nuzzling softly at her neck as the sweat cooled on their bodies, and still her heart beat in her chest just for him. Even a year after they met.

"You've occupied quite enough of my time already today." Kate sighed as dismissively as she could, ignoring her husband's groan of indignation as she sat up. "It's rather a big day today."

She heard Anthony sigh as she stood from the bed, snatching up her robe from the chair before she settled at the dressing table Anthony had had dragged in to the viscount's rooms rather than have her retire to her own chambers to dress as many men would have. Though she supposed of course, many men would have relegated her to her own chambers long before now.

"Rather a lot of fuss. I shall be glad of a short reprieve after this year, before Hyacinth debuts."

Kate let out a small chuckle as she caught sight of Anthony in the mirror, standing from the bed, unashamed of his nudity. "I had thought, Darling, that you had a reputation of being rather fond of parties."

Anthony grimaced as he made his way around to stand behind her, his muscles flexing and stretching in the sunshine peeking through the window as he rested his chin on the top of her head, his hand settling on the swell of her stomach that had just begun to appear. "Ah but that was before I was an old married man. I've no need to partake any longer."

Kate scoffed, though her fingers slid to his, intertwining "If Lady Whistledown is to be believed many old married men still partake."

"Men who did not have the fortitude to choose as wife as singularly excellent as I did." Anthony mused, letting his lips brush her cheek roughly. "Men such as myself who already find themself night after night with the love of the most beautiful woman alive need not pretend they would rather be anywhere but with her."

His words softened in her chest, quelling a little of the anxiety that had been steadily building since they'd begun preparations to remove from Aubrey Hall for the season, knowing hundreds of eyes would be fixed on her. On the Viscount's surprising wife.

"That was a very good try but I'm not returning to your bed, Anthony."

"It was worth a try." Anthony mumbled, pouting a little adorably as she rung for her maid.

"I shall need you to at least pretend to be enjoying yourself today, darling, people will be...watching Francesca's debut with interest and-"

"Is that what's bothering you?"

Of course Anthony knew. Of course he could sense it, two people who seemed almost too attuned to one another's feelings now that they'd let themselves acknowledge what lay between them. Kindred spirits. So of course he knew.

"I suppose I would... like it the ton thought I had made you a good wife." It sounded so stupid said allowed, so childish whispered in the space between them, Anthony's thumb smoothing over her cheekbone. "I was... an unconventional choice in their eyes and your mother is so respected I only want people to know I can do the same."

Anthony's eyes softened, moving to embrace her properly, his voice gentle in his ear. "The ton will realise in due course, my lady that it was rather lucky that you saw fit to take pity on me and make me your husband. My sisters are lucky to have your guidance, my mother and I spoke of it just last night and our daughter, will be lucky to have you as her mother."

Kate choked back the tears stinging at her eyes with a shaky sigh. "Are not all lords supposed to wish for a son?"

Anthony scoffed. "We've plenty of time for that. What I'd quite like is a tiny Kate to stamp her foot and bend me to her will."

"I've never stamped my foot."

"No? Well you should try it my love, I assure you it would work."

Anthony's lips brushed hers softly before he stood slipping into his own robe, "Now, if I'm to be the perfect husband today, I suppose I shall have to appear properly dressed."

Kate hummed gently, running her fingers through his hair. "Yes, Darling, But if you dress quickly I'll allow you back in to sit with me while I finish getting ready."

She could hardly keep back a laugh as Anthony strode towards the door, flinging it open, startling her maid, Clara who scurried past him before he roared out:

"Milton! Quickly man! If you've got me dressed in the next three minutes there'll be a pound in your wages!"

[izzy-b-hands]

Pirate Party Part One

My first thought for this was I bet Ed as a kid like. Was probably way too adultified as a kid and helped look after younger kids back home. Which isn't great but now he's also great with kids! Or that's the positive he takes from it at least to distract from how frustrating that is as a kid to go through.

Then I thought what if he met Stede's kids!

Them I remembered how I never got my pirate ship birthday party that I wanted as a kid.

And then we have this: a combo of all the above.

TW: birth and descriptions of. We go into a flashback re: the birth of one of Stede's kids and it gets Real.

Also I'm sorry I don't have a title yet. I'll get there eventually when I get this posted to my ao3 as well.

---

"Okay, so as far as the other parents know, all the kids are still at mine, and I have a plan if anyone comes to check," Mary said swiftly. "And the kids have all been told, what kids, say it for me!"

The crowd of approximately 15 children, all crammed onto the main deck alongside his bemused crew, spoke in one high-pitched roar: "We say we stayed at the house!"

"Which is a lie, and normally we don't lie!" Mary continued. "But this time it's okay, because:"

The kids picked up again: "Today we're pirates, and pirates are allowed to lie!"

They dissembled into a bunch of growling and shouts of 'arr!' as Mary handed over the last child to Stede.

"This is a baby," he said of the maybe eight month old baby girl he now held.

"Some of the mums asked if brothers and sisters could come, but luckily only Suzy still has a baby, so at least it's only one," Mary offered, placing a bag of supplies into Ed's hands as he walked up. "Stede, Ed, tell everyone thank you. This is making the kids' day, more than you realize."

"I can tell," Ed noted as a small boy ran by with a knife, a laughing Frenchie running after him. "Kid's birthday party on a pirate ship is pretty fucking cool. No one else in town is gonna beat that. What can they even try? Oh, we brought a pony in, ooh look at this terrifying clown man, fuck that!"

"Right?" Mary beamed. "I owe it to you all of course, but I have to admit I'm feeling a bit prideful now about it. Stede, I think we won the whole parenting thing with this!"

"I don't think you can win that," Stede laughed awkwardly as the baby leaned over him to reach for Ed's hair. "Oh no sweetheart, that'll hurt Mr. Teach!"

"Mr. Teach?" Ed snorted. He gently took the baby from Stede, and held her up so she could attempt to meet his eyes. "Nah, I'm Ed. What do we call you?"

The baby babbled something incomprehensible, and Ed grinned. "No shit! Got a cousin with that name."

He wandered off pointing out parts of the ship to the baby, excitedly explaining rigging and the most boring parts of sailing as if he was telling a riveting tale.

"You know," Mary said. "If you two ever. Want one, of your own. I mean, I know it won't be exactly but-"

Stede cocked his head as she stammered. "Are you blushing?"

She was as she turned and hugged him. "I'm just happy for you. And I want you to have all the happiness you've given me since we broke up. And I don't know what's possible at sea or if you two would even want that, but...if you do. I mean, you remember my pregnancies. Easy and calm and fast labors."

"We never did get that stain out of that carpet from Alma," Stede mused. "Did you ever tell her it was from, well, her?"

"Save that for her teen years," Mary joked. "Not yet, but she'll ask eventually I'm sure. She already knows Dad was the one to catch her."

The memory hit Stede full in the face. Four in the morning, unable to get anyone else to help try and get the doctor, and poor Mary screaming she wasn't going to make it to the doctor's anyway.

It had seemed, or rather he had hoped she was wrong. After all, her waters hadn't broken even yet, and the doctor had said that was sign of being closer to it.

Which was a jinx he put upon himself, as they got as far as the antique rug in the hall before Mary made him stop and help her to the floor.

The rest of it was an odd mix of feelings. He'd felt the fear most strongly, as he'd helped her pull away her underthings and lift up her nightclothes. That was the most instruction she could manage before she hit what he later found out was essentially the last and most intense stage of labor. Head tossed back, but only moaning and groaning, no screaming (which he actually had hoped someone might hear and charge in earlier, but no such luck.)

Then the blur of breaking waters, and Stede begging her why on earth she hadn't said something earlier about this, hadn't she been in pain?

As it turned out she had, but the doctor later found her pain tolerance slightly terrifying when she rated active labor an 8 or a 9, but nowhere near what a 10 would be, and 9 was probably being dramatic, as she'd explained to them.

"I kept expecting it to feel worse than this!" She'd wailed back at him.

"This seems pretty bad though!" He recalled responding, and immediately regretting it but understanding Mary's reaction of kicking him square in the face.

She mumbled an apology, and then suddenly, like that...there. The very top of a head and Mary with her eyes shut, breathing hard, every muscle strained. It was terrifying and impressive and beautiful in a gory way.

But he could only focus on that for a moment, more important was remembering how the doctor had explained it might be best to push, when he'd give Mary instructions, and then horrifyingly he'd have to play that role himself.

"Forgive me if I make this awkward," Stede had told her, earning a withering look from Mary. "I'm. I want to help. I can help with...this, or if you'd like, I'll run for the doctor."

He was hoping and fully expected her to choose the latter option, but she didn't.

"Please stay," she whimpered. "I know we need the doctor and we can get him after. Please don't leave me alone now."

Looking back, he could now see it as one of the times where they did love each other. Not romantically as their parents had hoped, but the love of people who had become friends, who knew each other well now and found comfort in that.

"I'm not going anywhere," Stede had reassured her, though he felt he might vomit from fear. "You're going to be fine, and so is the baby, and then I'll get the doctor after I tuck you up in bed."

"We've already ruined this rug, let's just bring blankets and pillows out here," Mary groaned. "Not ruin the bed too. Fuck me, can I push?"

He looked down and he knew what he'd been told to look for if god forbid this situation happened, but it took a moment to orient himself nonetheless. "I think so. Yes, okay."

He hadn't known until Mary's pregnancy that that was even a part of it, that the pushing could take so much time. The pain Mary seemed to be in was heartbreaking though, and he wanted it over for her sake.

He let her rest a leg on one of his shoulders, and tried to think of what the doctor would do next as he watched more of the head emerge.

"Oh, hang on," he cautioned her, letting her leg drop to reach a hand to the baby's head, but she clearly wasn't at a point where she could stop. The baby's head slipped out and he felt woozy, but moved his fingers to help cradle and guide the baby.

There was no more talking; it just happened from that point on. He could tell people how he heard Mary breathing as hard as ever, groaning with each push, how he heard himself making frightened embarrassing little noises, the feel of his baby's head in his hands, the wetness of that poor carpet beneath them. But he had never managed to put into words all he felt as he watched the shoulders pop free, and then the rest of his daughter's body damn near slid past his hands as he caught her.

And then there was a moment to wipe away her little face, and she wailed. They wailed right with her, out of happiness. It was one of the best sounds he'd ever heard.

Stede was jolted back to reality by an elbow from Mary.

"Did you tell Ed that yet?" She asked. "Bet he'd get a kick finding out that you did spend at least one night covered in blood prior to being a pirate."

Stede smiled. "He would. I haven't yet but..."

He watched Ed, now surrounded by a small gaggle of the younger kids, all doing some dance he'd made up for them that actually seemed to be a way to keep the baby from crying with constant bouncing.

"Rein in the baby fever," Mary giggled. "Make sure he wants that too first."

Stede blushed. "Of course, sorry."

"Don't be sorry; it's adorable," Mary said. "You and him with the kids over there too."

"He is really adorable with them," Stede sighed.

"Oh you've got it bad," Mary said. "Alright, well I'll be back before the evening, like we agreed. Have a good time, and please mind how much sugar they have! Even pirates don't want cavities."

Stede nodded and helped her back to shore, and pondered if any of the crew had seen a dentist in a timely fashion for awhile. Perhaps crew dental appointments were in order, at a proper barber shop in a port!

He let the planning of that consume his mind as he walked back to the shrieking-filled ship.