trinityday here, wrapping up my week as guest host. For my last day, the theme is going to be by the numbersFirsts and lasts have their places, but second times, fifth times, three-hundred and twelfth times... they can be fun too. Second dates might not be as disastrous. The fourth time they have sex might be when it actually clicks. There's counting.
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He's been ten years dead. Ten years of seeing his flesh melt from his bones as the curtains rot or sway from the windows of his cabin. Watching the food fall from his his ribs like rain through rigging, tasting neither rum nor flesh nor sweet, fresh fruit.
He's been ten years dead, ten years searching, ten years screaming at a crew with no ears to hear with, only empty holes into emptier skulls. Ten years of staring at the glitter of gold and loving it, hating it, because it is all he has left and all he can have ( ... )
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Hers had been not to rein in "her man".
The fourth time they were thrown in a prison, his sentence was to be beaten with forty lashes and imprisoned underground for forty days. They stole everything of his, even his clothing.
They led her out to witness his punishment, for her own education. That was their grave error.
Guards were knocked unconscious. Guns were procured and threatened to be used. Demands for return of property were met under duress. The sonic screwdriver was used to release his bonds, and she grunted when his body fell limply into her arms, his bare back covered in reddish-brown from the four lashes she had not been able to prevent.
With the help of some friends she'd made, she got him back to the TARDIS where he slowly healed.
The fourth time they were thrown in a prison, she was his hero.
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When Harry and Lily had fallen asleep in front of the fire Sirius had gestured towards the kitchen and James had followed. Their arms had locked around each other. "Dumbledore said," James began heavily but he was silenced with an urgent kiss from his best friend.
"Not now, James," he urged, "Can't we just have fifteen minutes to ourselves where we don't have to think?"
James tired eyes lit up, "As you like Padfoot."
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