#thread 002

Continued after this thread. @izzyeffinhands

Stede Bonnet was the first to wake up.

He didn't know what time it was, he just knew it was the morning due to the bit of sunlight peeking in from behind the curtains. It could even be the afternoon for all he knew, but he figured if it was, someone would've come woken him up by now. It wasn't like Stede to sleep too late into the mornings. But he was thankful no one had come in yet because he wasn't ready to part ways with the gorgeous, and still naked, man laying beside him still sleeping.

He looked serene. The most he has ever seen Izzy Hands look. He looked how Stede felt. And the sunlight added a beautiful, warm glow that just made him look so... ethereal. If only he could somehow capture this moment... suddenly, he wishes now more than ever that he had Lucius' talent to sketch.

But instead he allows his mind to sketch this image, from the man's messy hair down to his abdomen, following the delicious trail of hair that disappears underneath the blanket that covers the rest of him. He can't stop admiring him, adoring him with his eyes and drinking in every inch of him that Stede can see. He's thankful to have woken up first, able to watch the man sleep so soundly and peacefully next to him.

Thankful that last night was not a dream. It was, without a doubt, the most perfect night of Stede Bonnet's life. And this, already, was the most perfect morning. Just because Izzy was here, because they were laying together with their legs tangled, their bodies touching, and the high from the night still very much present. He feels alive. Refreshed. Exhilarated. Heavenly. There's no bad thought, or feeling, to be found. He feels safer than he ever has before. He feels happier than he ever has before and it's because of the gorgeous man laying next to him. The man Stede is so deeply, achingly, and irrevocably in love with. The man he doesn't want to spend even a second away from and he dreads the moment where they have to leave this bed and part. Though, he hopes it won't be anytime soon. He's content in laying here with him for hours on end. Until night, once more, strikes and beyond.

Though, he knows that won't be possible. At some point they will have to join the crew on deck and Stede isn't exactly sure what will come of it. If Izzy will want their relationship public or if he'd want to keep it behind closed doors for the meantime, to just enjoy each other in peace because once the crew found out, there'd be no shutting them up about it. Though, he couldn't deny the giddy feeling within him at the thought of people knowing that they were... together. They'd be absolutory surprised, or so Stede thinks, and probably wonder how these two managed to not only fall in bed, but fall in love.

From their hostile first meeting to this...

The memory has Stede chuckling quietly to himself and even though he wouldn't mind enjoying Izzy in private for a while, the thought of getting to hold his hand in public, whether in front of people or simply in the comfort of their alone time, had his heart fluttering. Sharing kisses on deck as they steer the ship to their next destination, walking hand in hand down the halls below or through whatever port they dock at. Curling against Izzy's side while sat in one of the booths at Jackie's tavern, bathing together, falling asleep together just as they did last night.

Perhaps he was getting ahead of himself... but their declarations of love gave promise of a future together. Izzy stated he had no intentions of ever leaving and nor did Stede. Their words were serious - they were promises - and Stede had no doubts or regrets about any of his that he said to Izzy. And really, he couldn't wait to tell him again once he woke up.

But for now, he's content in just watching him sleep. After all, he did need the rest, but he also can't help but reach over and so softly brush some hair out of his face. His fingers then dancing down the side of his face, over his shoulder and to his chest where he begins to trace random patterns on his skin just... to touch him. To adore him.

she was feeling everything but calm. the sights around her were unfamiliar and while she was used to it as the grail often granted her the knowledge she required, she had no knowledge this time. No other servants (that she could sense), nor was her master anywhere to be found.

' this blows ass. '

Robin was maybe still a little drunk, but as the night wore on, and the Thunderblight Ganon took more of his concentration, he found the effects of the Blue Milk slowly wearing off.  With that, came his ability to think about things he said and did, and as he thought more about that, he grew increasingly more embarrassed.  He was happy Ryder was here with him, but more than that, he felt some shame in keeping him from their friends at the club, and what was possibly their only night out for weeks.  Another thought crossed his mind, and he cringed so hard he let Ganon shock Link to death for about the eighth time.  “Did I really say we could share Salem? God.” 

It’s been forty-seven hours since the Heteraidia festivities officially kicked off, ten days since preparations began to intrude on daily life for those residents, and nearly two months since he learned that Zeus would be inviting his brothers - and the entirety of their respective retinues - to Olympe for the occasion. All told, Icarus has been wound tight since early November and he’s exhausted, wants nothing more than to vanish into his quarters and not emerge until the citadel in the sky is calm and quiet once more. But rest and privacy are luxuries he is not permitted at the moment, so he’s settled for bowing out of a trip to Electra Hours in favor of the somewhat less crowded lounge at Symposia. At least here he’s less likely to be surprised by one of the (numerous) people he’s been carefully avoiding over the last few days.

Of course as soon as he steps up to the bar for something to take the edge off, the sound of a door opening behind him says that was a poor assumption. Icarus keeps his eyes on the bartender while he knocks back a shot of ambrosia, then tells her to pour a few more and turns to the person who’s just slid into the place beside him with a smile that he hopes is less tense than it feels.

Draco Malfoy,

          I don't know whether you remember me, but I am Justin Finch-Fletchley. Though we attended school together we were in very different social circles, and did not interact at all that I can truly remember. Likely by design on both of our parts. Either way I hope life has been treating you well, and you are not finding the upcoming holiday season all too stressful.

Anyway, as I'm certain you can guess I did not simply write you to say hello or make small talk so I will get to business. I have entangled myself in running an upcoming Charity Gala for the Ministry and am in search of people who may be so gracious as to make charitable donations that will be put towards many quality of life improvements for those that work in the Ministry. Particularly those with long unforgiving hours who need those improvements, and the extra money they could put towards having a lovely Christmas with their families. After asking around some people suggested that you might in fact be sitting on quite a family fortune that you are not currently doing anything with.

I am not one to judge, trust me, I understand. However, should you be interested in putting that money towards a good cause please do not be afraid to drop me a line! This is just one in a long line of Charities that I am working on, and if it doesn't interest you I'm sure we can find something that will.

I hope this letter has found you well, and thank you very much for your time!

Sincerely, Justin Finch-Fletchley

The rain is quiet, barely a whisper against the top of Nana’s helmet as she walks beyond the gates. A quick scan and there are familiar faces, gazes downcast. She feels something stir in the pit of her stomach. Leon comes to mind for a brief moment, but she’s pushing it away before she can make out the lines in his face-- worn from years of wear. She has a job to do, and any focus lost would be possible blood spilt.

Nana takes off her helmet and tucks it beneath her arm. She surveys a group of civilians who have their hands full of pigeon feed. Gaze sweeping the perimeter, she notices Rafael at the start of the trail, three of her best with their backs facing him from a few feet away.

Her gaze slips quietly over him, assessing for any injuries. She notes the puckering of his knuckles, though absent of blood.

“Unbelievable,” Nana chastises the men in close proximity. Their shoulders don’t tense, nor do they show any confirmation that she’s in their company. “You’re not hurt?” This shouldn’t have happened. She knows it, Rafael knows it. There never should have been an instance in which Fletcher Gray got close enough for Raf to smell his cheap cologne. “May I see your hand?”

such beautiful scenery, churches were often the settings for such majesty. his mind cast of course to moscow for a moment, that erected monument which stood in the red square. how far away it all seemed, and yet he felt no pang of homesickness. such was the life of living so detached, a wandering god. he might have basked in that sweet solitude forever, clutching at the echos of hymns as he walked in the serenity of the church, but footsteps filled the silence he had left behind, footsteps he had somewhat been expecting. 

fyodor need not turn upon his heel, thus he remained with those deep plum eyes gazing heavensward; lips parted in mid-thought before that visitor stopped some distance behind him. for a moment the world was still. silent again. but in that silence, thoughts raced with a deafening speed. was there much that needed to be said? much that required a voice? but talking with dazai was fun after all. perhaps the closest he ever came to something truly complicated, something with depth. “ to meet again so soon. hah, this world is intriguing. “

only then did he turn, slowly moving so that he and dazai stood facing one another. the slight breeze from the open door saw his cloak billow slightly, the tips of his dark hair lift and fall. fyodor smiled. there was no need to feign his interest in anything, no need to mask much when this one might have already assumed as much. 

Alright, maybe a little, but no one will notice a chocolate bar or two missing, right? Of course! And that’s why he’s here in this store, lingering around the aisle with snacks and sweets, sticking out like a sore thumb with how he’s dressed. 

Minding his own business, he looks around, humming as he slips a chocolate bar into his cloak, with intention of transporting it outside the store. This is, however, the exact moment his eyes lock with someone passing by.

Of course this has to happen when he needed eyes on him the least.

“Oh me, oh my! Sir, you’ve seen nothing, right? Well, nothing except these amazing discounts, I’d hope! Look at all this chocolate on sale due to Valentine’s coming up! My, what a time to be alive!” And so his theatrics begin, the chocolate swiftly thrown into his cloak’s pocket dimension for the time being.