#greener scenery

[poser-in-a-parkuhh]

You took it back

You ripped my heart out of my..

Then you put it back

I’m pulling my hair

I love you just a million times

I love you even though it isn’t fair

[farginen]

ishval.

[inkats]

something i love about the skytrain is the little map with the lights that go off after u pass that stop its really awesome u will know if u missed ur stop.

[electrosair]

Husband & dad headcanons dendro + pyro ver.

english isn’t my first language, sorry for mistakes

characters: al haitham + baizhu + kaveh + tighnari + diluc + thoma

tw: there's a headcanon in which the reader is pregnant, but the rest of it is completely neutral. you can skip that one if you want and imagine something else like adopting.

word count: 1.6k

Al haitham

how does he propose to you?

As much as he 'hates' Kaveh, he would ask him for help with this. And Kaveh being as original as he is would tell him to take you to all the important places you were together and then ask you in the highest area of Sumeru City. You can thank him.

where is the wedding taking place?

I have two options, the small island of Port Ormos or The Palace of Alcazaray. They are too beautiful locations not to use at a moment like this.

where are you going on your honeymoon?

My head tells me he's the kind of guy who wants to spend your entire honeymoon with you in restaurants and at the Liyue library. Take advantage of this and go right when the Lantern Rite Festival is taking place.

children before or after marriage?

Afterwards for sure. He would want to wait to have more time for you and his children, plus have a house just for you and not have to share one with Kaveh.

how many children does he want?

Maybe 2, but quite a few years apart I would venture to say. He would be busy enough to have multiple at the same time. "Let's get some rest for a while, those nine months and the ones we have left are already taken."

how is he during your pregnancy?

He definitely takes you to fancy restaurants and out for walks whenever he can, still being the cool guy and being able to show everyone how happy he is also with his favorite person and his future baby is a yes for him.

any memorable moment with his child?

Returning home after being outside and finding Al haitham with your child sitting on his lap and pointing out the words to him as he softly pronounces them for your baby to repeat after him.

Baizhu

how does he propose to you?

He would ask you to stay in the store during that day while he prepares everything to propose to you. A path with your favorite flowers when you leave the pharmacy and a smiling Baizhu waiting for you.

where is the wedding taking place?

On the outskirts of Qingce Village. I don't know your opinion about the scenery there, but it's beautiful, the area full of bamboo and the high mountain next to it. Any of the sites will do for him.

where are you going on your honeymoon?

Sumeru, I accept no other option. Maybe Spinedragon. But surely he would go to Sumeru with you to enjoy the new greener landscapes and he would learn a lot on the trip.

children before or after marriage?

He wouldn't care, if you have them before then it's fine with him, and if you'd rather wait until you're married Baizhu will be okay with that too.

how many children does he want?

Considering the relationship he has with Qiqi and how he cares for her, treating her like his own daughter, I feel the more the better. He is definitely good with children.

how is he during your pregnancy?

He knows exactly how to react to your every complaint, whether it's pain, emotional or a simple craving you have. He would do checkups on you and the baby from home. "Take a deep breath, I want to see if we can hear the baby's little heart now."

any memorable moment with his child?

He would make the child believe that he is drinking candy or some juice while giving him the medicine and maybe from time to time he would do it with you too. But just until the child would realize it and refuse to take it or tell you that it was medication.

Kaveh

how does he propose to you?

Kaveh would design a building for a 'client' but in reality it's just an excuse to take you there when it's already built and ask you in the most beautiful room, clear water fountains and plants around the vividly colored walls.

where is the wedding taking place?

In Sumeru City it is the first choice. After the wedding he would like to have a small celebration at Lambad's Tavern with his favorite people as a thank you for going to the ceremony and to spend more time with you in your wedding attire. To him you look gorgeous.

where are you going on your honeymoon?

Tell him a place, he will take you there. He will let you choose since he chose the wedding venue. He will be happy to see the different architecture and enjoy spoiling you during the whole trip.

children before or after marriage?

As much as he wants to have children with you, I think he also wants to spend as much time with you as possible, so he would prefer them later. "Can we wait a little longer? I still want us to remain each other's priority."

how many children does he want?

I can imagine him being a father of 2 babies. He would give them both all the love in the world, and they would probably end up spoiled because we already know Kaveh.

how is he during your pregnancy?

You would also be spoiled by him, buying you new clothes every time your belly grew. And of course giving you whatever treats you wanted.

any memorable moment with his child?

He would buy so many clothes when you didn't have the baby in your hands yet. You would end up with clothes that wouldn't even fit on the baby. Your children would be dressed in huge clothes because they saw them in the closet and liked them too much.

Tighnari

how does he propose to you?

I'm sure he'll take you on a walk through the rainforest, showing you plants and bird species you didn't know about and following a different route than the one you normally take so you'll be taken by surprise. I imagine a flower opening and the ring inside.

where is the wedding taking place?

At the Pardis Dhyai. Tighnari likes that place so much that I can't imagine you getting married anywhere else. He is always there when he is not at the villa and the greenhouse is beautiful.

where are you going on your honeymoon?

You may go to the desert for a few days, most likely to the oases to refresh yourselves. Then you would go to another destination, maybe he wants to go back to Mondstadt or take the opportunity of the opening of Inazuma's borders to visit it with you.

children before or after marriage?

My instinct tells me you would have them before. Maybe because I can't picture Tighnari getting married so early, you know how he is, challenging the academy and in the process also the rest of humanity.

how many children does he want?

Sorry about this but according to my google researches I'm forced to say 2 to 5. Army of mini foxes all over your house? Yes.

how is he during your pregnancy?

Home remedies with herbs that he knows will relieve any pain and colic. Mostly super protective of you when he knows that in addition to you he is taking care of your children at the same time. "Are you in pain? Come, let me massage you with this, I promise it will relieve it."

any memorable moment with his child?

He would show them every poisonous plant in the surroundings so they wouldn't go near any of them. I can also imagine him helping the older ones with the bow.

Diluc

how does he propose to you?

He will probably give you little hints for a month until finally proposing marriage, straight and blunt that time. There would be no middle ground, either he asks you after a romantic dinner or he asks you one quiet day when you go to see him at the tavern.

where is the wedding taking place?

At the Dawn Winery for sure. Have you seen how beautiful it is on the outside? I can just imagine a wedding arch between all the vineyards and a big walkway made of wooden planks so you don't stain your wedding clothes.

where are you going on your honeymoon?

Literally anywhere you want, he has enough money left over to even take you to each of the nations for a week and spend more than a month on this trip.

children before or after marriage?

Probably after the wedding, he would want to have everything secured before finally having children with you.

how many children does he want?

Between 1 and 2 the perfect amount for him, 1 better than 2 if you ask him. But if you want a lot I would say 3 is all he can give you (and bear).

how is he during your pregnancy?

He would always keep an eye on you just in case you do something he considers bad for you or the baby. Normally he would give you a lot of freedom but if he feels it like necessary he will entrust one of the maids to take care of you.

any memorable moment with his child?

The day he caught your 3-year-old child about to drink a bottle of wine he had reserved for you and him. You certainly never saw another bottle in some unlocked place again. "Dear, are you finished with that? I'm going to put it back in the cabinet."

Thoma

how does he propose to you?

He would ask Ayaka or Ayato for help, all super planned and probably on some important Inazuma holiday or on some important date in your relationship. At night and with a romantic atmosphere, he would get down on one knee 100%.

where is the wedding taking place?

Thoma is originally from mondstadt so I like to imagine that he would take you there for the ceremony and meet his family.

where are you going on your honeymoon?

Mondstadt, Mondstadt, Mondstadt. He would stay there with you and even introduce you to cousins he didn't even know he had. He would probably take you to see everything, Dragonspine included.

children before or after marriage?

I feel like he would prefer to have them after the wedding but really wouldn't mind if for whatever reason it ends up being before.

how many children does he want?

He would take your opinion very seriously, but have you seen him? I mean, at the very least he would want 3, maximum he doesn't have (my best friend told me that up to 30-).

how is he during your pregnancy?

If he normally does all the household chores, while you are pregnant with his children he won't let you touch even a simple mop. "You're already busy taking care of our baby 24 hours a day, leave the rest to me."

any memorable moment with his child?

The whole family got into the kitchen, your children wearing little chef's hats and aprons while Thoma gave them instructions on how to make 'the best surprise birthday cake for mommy/daddy/term you use'.

[midnight-pluto]

Hi!! Can I request headcanons about being best friends with Nico and Will (together), kinda having that “couple who adopts their bsf as their child” dynamic reader is a child of Demeter and if it’s no trouble can reader be female? GN will work if not.

SOLANGELO +1 — headcanons

you call it third wheeling, i call it quality time with the parents

CHAR: will solace, nico di angelo, grover, mentioned!percy jackson, mentioned!annabeth chase

PAIRING(S): solangelo + daughter of demeter!reader, mentioned!percabeth

A/N: this is gonna be a nightmare to tag lmao

when new campers meet Will for the first time, they’re almost always introduced to Nico next

what they don’t expect, is for you to pop out of nowhere introducing yourself as well

they jump slightly at your sudden appearance, and reciprocate your greeting with slight confusion in their voice but then Will gladly explains the situation

“This is Y/N, daughter of Demeter.”

“Yeah, and these are my dads.”

“Y/N that’s not—“

it would be so much funnier if you were taller than both of them

that sends some campers in a spiral, especially the younger ones

once the new camper is recovered they then automatically understand the true nature of y’all’s relationship

some are slightly confused on why you seem so glad with the arrangement you three have going but most support it and find it amusing

if the three of you are ever going anywhere you’re usually in the front as the actual couple trail behind you holding hands

all of the friendship accessories you three own are thanks to you!

you made matching bracelets, a custom bead to add to the camp necklace just for the three of you, and the cliché flower crowns your cabin is known for

the flower crown was made of an assortment of flowers — lilies, chrysanthemums, and sunflowers which all not coincidentally mean or have some correlation to friendship

you have most definitely been the first to witness Will playing a love song to Nico in private

not wanting to interrupt the moment you made all the plants in the area grow greener and have flowers sprout around them

it was a miracle on how both of them didn’t notice your antic sooner

as you were making the plants grow around them from the bush, Will had stopped strumming as Nico looked at him with one of his rare smiles when they both leaned into each other

but of course Nico just had to feel the suddenly grown flowers tickling at his ankles and immediately spotted you — watching you run away from your hiding spot

that situation is what led to you to believe was the reason you kept on being invited to their dates

were you complaining? no, of course not

you had the ability to snack on all their food after all and they have no one but themselves to blame

“Where did the cookies even go?”

“…whoops.”

as their honorary child you were not technically counted as a third-wheel

Will had jokingly dubbed it a ‘family bonding time’ whenever you joined in on his Nico’s time together — them not even doing anything special, but you still joined anyways — and the name stuck

in all honesty Will is happy with the arrangement you all have together

don’t get him wrong, he would enjoy the moments he and Nico have together all the same even if you weren’t there, but your presence and witty comments coming from nowhere make it all the more cherished

also, your ability to make scenes more romantic is very highly appreciated; making him choose more woody and grassy areas so it’s easier for you to romanticize them

Nico on the other hand would’ve enjoyed it more if he and Will were alone away from your eyes

but he supposed yours was different — making the moments they both have feel more domestic so he didn’t necessarily consider any of his or Will’s actions PDA when it was you

you never really paid attention anyways

the romanticized scenery caused by you made Nico scoff but he was grateful for the added atmosphere — which was quite a compliment since he normally disliked such clichés

Grover once tried to talk to you about it and relate to the feeling of being the third-wheel like he was with Percy and Annabeth

it didn’t lead to an outcome he expected

“And they’re like: ‘be safe. I love you,’ and then I’m just standing there wondering if they’ll ever tell me that because you know, life-or-death situation going on right? But they never do!”

“Damn bro, that sucks.“

“Does this not happen to you?”

“Nope. We yell at each other to be safe.”

A/N: school is absolute shit

[olivialau]

Shadow's Embrace Ch. 13

Sukuna x Reader

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fanfiction based on the universe of "Jujutsu Kaisen," created by Gege Akutami. The original manga, anime, and characters belong to their respective owners and creators.

Notes:

This story unfolds in the Jujutsu Kaisen world, set in a slightly altered universe where Sukuna inhabits his own vessel distinct from Itadori Yuji's body, making him a separate entity.

Summary:

Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, becomes fascinated with a female sorcerer rich in potential but lacking control. Initially seizing her for his destructive plans, Sukuna aims to bind her abilities through a contract. Yet, as he tries to dominate her, he finds himself intrigued by her strength and determination. Over time, his interest evolves from strategic advantage to a deeper, personal connection.

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CHAPTER 13 - Between Two Worlds

You stared out the car window on your way back to Jujutsu High, watching the scenery shift from dense forests and crumbling, abandoned buildings to lively suburban neighborhoods.

After being trapped in that gray, lifeless basement for so long, everything outside seemed incredibly vibrant. The trees looked greener, the sky bluer, and the rooftops a richer shade of brown. The world beyond the car window was a welcome contrast, easing the tight knot in your stomach.

Returning to Jujutsu High and the semblance of normalcy it represented gave you a slight feeling of control over your life again. It was a cruel irony, considering your life was less your own than ever due to the vow.

Soon, the familiar sights and sounds of Jujutsu High came into view as the car approached the school gates.

Back at the factory, Gojo had been left behind due to a lack of space in the car. With a sheepish grin, he had assured you he would see you at the school, confidently implying he would arrive before you did.

True to his word, he now stood at the gates, waving enthusiastically as the car rolled to a stop beside him. You couldn’t help but wonder how he managed to get here so quickly, but knowing Gojo, it wasn't surprising.

As you and the others exited the car, Kugisaki pulled out her phone to check the time. "It's 3 o'clock. Do we still have to join the second years for training?" she asked, her tone edged with reluctance.

Leaning casually against the car, Gojo shot her a mischievous look. "Well, since the mission wrapped up so quickly and the veil is gone, I don’t see why not. Just think of it as a chance to show off to the second years a little."

Kugisaki rolled her eyes. "Seriously?  I was hoping we'd get a break. My favorite shop closes at 6," she complained, clearly annoyed.

Gojo turned his attention to Megumi and Itadori, curious about their thoughts on the matter. "What about you two? Are you up for a little training with the second years?" he inquired in a challenging manner.

Gojo turned his attention to Megumi and Itadori, a playful challenge in his voice. "What about you two? Up for some training with the second years?"

Megumi, clearly dedicated to honing his skills, gave a slight nod. "It's fine," he said calmly. "Training is always beneficial."

Itadori, on the other hand, seemed to jump at the opportunity, a bright smile spreading across his face. "You bet, Gojo-sensei! I hope they're ready for us!" he replied.

Gojo's gaze then shifted to you, his tone softening slightly. "You don't have to join the training if you're tired from the whole ordeal," he offered.

But you were quick to oppose the idea of sitting out, driven by your own desire to grow stronger. Besides, Sukuna's orders were clear: you needed to get close to as many sorcerers as possible, that included the second years. So you insisted firmly, "No, I want to join the training,"

And you genuinely did want to train, but with your half-corrupted intentions in the back of your mind, it felt like a feigned eagerness, a mock passion veiled by hidden motives.

Gojo pondered your response for a moment, his lips moving silently as if debating with himself. He had more questions for you, questions that lingered in the back of his mind, but he pushed them aside for now. "Well, I'm not one to take away any opportunities from the youth," he finally declared, his voice firm with determination. "If you feel up to it, then by all means, join in."

After a brief respite, you all walked toward the training grounds. Itadori's concern for you was evident. He sidled up to you, his brows knit together with worry. "Are you sure you're going to be okay?" he asked. "Wouldn't it be better to rest a bit more?"

You appreciated his concern and offered him a polite smile. "Thank you, Itadori, but I'm okay," you reassured him, trying to sound as convincing as possible despite the lingering fatigue and mental strain from your recent captivity.

Kugisaki chimed in, her voice laced with a characteristic brash confidence as she slung her arm around your neck in a show of solidarity. "Women are strong, you know, not whiny like some men," she declared, giving you a playful squeeze.

Megumi's expression turned to a mock sulk, as he looked at Kugisaki. "Huh? What's that supposed to mean?"

The banter continued like that the rest of the way, light-hearted and easy, filling the air with laughter and playful jabs. And just for this moment you allowed yourself to bask in the illusion of peace.

When you finally arrived, the training grounds were already alive with the sounds of combat and the clashing of practice weapons.

Your eyes were immediately drawn to a young woman with a tall, athletic build, her golden eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses, and her dark hair tied in a ponytail. She wielded a practice stick with skill and grace, engaged in battle with another student.

The slim young man she was sparring with wore a peculiar uniform, its high collar with a zipper covering his mouth entirely.

As the girl noticed your arrival, her intense gaze locked with yours. She paused her practice, sizing you up with a sharp eye.

"So, you're the new girl, huh? The one that got snatched by Sukuna?" Her voice was blunt and firm, carrying a certain strength.

You gave a slight nod, confirming her observation "Well, I guess so," you said, as you were confronted with the notoriety that had come with your recent capitivity.

Then the boy, turned his attention to you, his eyes meeting yours as he uttered a single word, "Sake."

You cocked your head in question, but Megumi was quick to provide an explanation, "Inumaki can only speak in rice ball ingredients," he said. "He's a cursed speech user."

The details of what that meant were beyond your full comprehension, but the gist of it was clear enough. So you politely introduced yourself.

First to the boy, then to the second-year girl, who met your greeting with a straightforward, "Maki."

Meanwhile Kugisaki glanced around the training grounds, her eyes searching for another figure before she voiced her curiosity. "Is Panda not here today?" she asked.

You raised an eyebrow at the mention of the name "Panda," What an odd name. However, not wanting to seem rude or ignorant, you kept your thoughts to yourself, deciding it was best not to ask and risk causing any offense.

Maki was swift to answer Kugisaki's question, "He was sent on a mission."

Apparently, it wasn't unusual for students of Jujutsu High to be dispatched on missions. This truly was unlike any other high school.

And as the training commenced, the reality of that statement hit home with every strike and parry. You were handed a wooden stick and paired off to spar with your peers, the air soon filled with the sounds of clashing wood and focused breathing.

It quickly became clear that you were among the least skilled in this group. Despite your determination, you took a fair number of hits, unable to evade or block in time. 

When the training session drew to a close, your body ached with the strain of the day's events. Completely spent, you retreated to the dorm, eager for the respite of a hot shower.

To your surprise, they had assigned you a different room, a considerate gesture to avoid dredging up any old wounds.

As you undressed to prepare for your shower, a piece of paper fluttered out of your shorts, catching your eye.

Ah, yes—Sukuna had given this to you. It seemed that every time you almost forgot about your precarious situation, something would come along to remind you of him.

Carefully, you unfolded the paper, revealing an address. Sukuna had instructed you to go to this location after your classes the following day, when you had questioned what for, he had bluntly stated, "It doesn't matter. You will do as I say."

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you put the paper aside and headed into the shower, the warm water cascading over your weary body. You were not at all prepared to face Sukuna again, the mere thought of his piercing gaze sending a shiver down your spine.

And yet, to your own surprise, your mind lingered on the memory of those crimson eyes, if only for a moment. But you quickly shook your head, as if to physically push away the image. What were you thinking?

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

The following day at Jujutsu High resembled more of a usual high-school day, though the curriculum was vastly different from the typical high school subjects.

Despite the engaging lessons on cursed objects and talismans, the weight of the address in your pocket grew heavier as the hours ticked by. It became increasingly difficult to focus, your thoughts constantly drawn to the looming encounter.

As the final class of the day drew to a close, you found yourself steeling your resolve, knowing the moment had arrived to face the daunting task ahead. Your feet felt heavy with lead as you made your way to the address Sukuna had provided.

The neighborhood was shabby, a far cry from the pristine grounds of Jujutsu High, and as you stood in front of a large door to a ground floor apartment you double-checked the paper in your hand, confirming the location.

Hesitantly, your fingers reached out to the doorbell, but before you could make contact, the door creaked open.

Sukuna's imposing figure filled the doorway, his towering body casting a long shadow that enveloped you completely. His energy as oppressing as ever, making the world seem to shrink away until there was nothing but you and the King of Curses.

"Finally," Sukuna's voice rumbled, his brow furrowing in displeasure as he wasted no time in reprimanding you. "You took your sweet time getting here," he growled.

"Do not test my patience again, brat" he finally warned, his voice sharp like the edge of a blade. He stepped aside, a motion that was less an invitation and more a command for you to enter.

And as you passed him, the door closed behind you with a definitive thud.

Your eyes roamed the apartment's interior, taking in its decoration, or rather, the lack thereof. The space was surprisingly large, but it felt cold, almost uninhabited.

You pondered whether Sukuna actually lived here, or if this was just another one of his many hideouts. The idea of him engaging in any sort of mundane daily routine seemed almost laughable—what need did a being like him have for domesticity?

"What are you staring at?" Sukuna's voice cut through your thoughts, and without waiting for an answer, he demanded that you follow him.

You trailed behind as he led you around a corner, were you were met with the sight of a steep staircase descending into darkness—a basement, yet again.

The corners of Sukuna's mouth curled into a smirk, the first hint of amusement you'd seen from him that day. His voice held a teasing edge as he spoke, "Don't worry, I'm not going to lock you up again—as long as you behave."

You knew that 'behave,' in Sukuna's terms, was a loaded concept. It meant following his orders without question. You wondered why he'd brought you here anyway. Was he going to force you to do something horrible? Testing your luck, you decided to ask him again, "Why am I here?"

Sukuna halted in front of the metal door, turning to face you with a look that made you feel utterly insignificant, as if you should have known better than to ask such a stupid question. Before he answered,

"Huh? For training, fool."

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Sorry that this update took a little longer.... busy week. Thanks for reading! I appreciate the support 🙏❤️

Taglist: @sukunasthightattoos , @tomiokasecretlover , @6demonize6me6 , @blindbabycadder , @domainofmarie , @marcoschuitmaker , @geniejunn

If you want to be added to the taglist, so you don't miss any updates, please let me know in the comments or with a private message. Thankyou!

[bokettochild]

Opera House AU Roles

Okay, so I keep getting asks about this AU, so here's the roles each of the chain/princesses would take in the opera house

Lullaby: Director and owner

She started the opera house and runs it like the leaky ship it is. They make good money and do good work, but every work is like a piece of embroidery; pretty from the front, but when you look at the back....

Time: Blocking Director

Lullaby runs most things, but Time is the person who runs everyone through choreography and plans how to enact things on the stage. He's Lullaby's partner, but that doesn't mean they agree on everything.

Malon: Voice Teacher

Time hired her when Twilight joined, because he really wanted to help this kid get back on his feet, but working in the house means you need to be able to sing, if only for back-vocals. She occasionally helps out backstage and will fill in roles if needed, but she's not officially part of the company. Yet. Lullaby is trying to recruit her, but Malon kinda loves working for the music school that hired her out.

Twilight: Actor and stagehand

His preferred work is backstage, helping move props and scenery quickly between scenes, and he's good at it. Sometimes though, they need someone to fill various roles and he gets slapped in there. Luckily, he can avoid most singing roles, and his main thing is action.

Sky: Actor

Sky is the best stuntman in the whole cast, but not as good an actor. He's good at both, but action is far better than line delivery. He's most often called on to play antagonistic roles as a result, since his skills in fight scenes actually leave the audience worried he will destroy their hero. Many people are surprised to find out he's such a great guy off stage.

Fi: Sky's fencing instructor

She neither works for the opera house, nor at it, if she can help it. She comes over from time to time to work with Sky though, and if he asks, she might help some of the others. Time is her former protege, but they have beef between them for some reason so he doesn't like having her around. She loves the kids though, in her own way, Legend and Wind specifically.

Warriors: The Diva

He picked up something of a following in high-school and college, and when he came to the opera house, needing work, he basically brought his fans with. His is the headline name they use to draw crowds in most times, so more often then not he's the male lead in most plays. Surprisingly though, he's pretty decent about it, and while Legend and Twilight may say otherwise, his ego is properly held in check. He's a great singer and performer, and second best to Sky in action related things.

Artemis: Diva No. 2

Warriors pulled a few strings to get his ex-girlfriend from college a role when Lullaby was short some actors. Her chemistry with Wars on stage has quickly made her a fan favorite, and her own performing sealed the deal. She and Wars have a good relationship for being ex-college-sweethearts. Both of them were already up and coming stars before coming to the opera house, and it's still a bit of a shock to folks that they haven't left for greener pastures, but they're attached dang it.

Dusk: Singer & Dive No. 3

While her acting skills are less varied than Warriors and Artemis, her voice is far superior to either, which more than compensates for her lack of versatility in roles. She's the last piece of the Diva Trio, and her most common roles are either villainesses, powerful women and mothers (ironically). She's not as close with the rest of the crew as they are with each other, but she's new yet, and has only been with the company for a year. Her bond with Wars and Arty is pretty strong though, because they won't let her sit alone, and have pushed down the walls a bit.

Sun: Starlet

Sun is one of the up and coming performers. She's not nearly as big a name as the Diva Trio, but she does pretty well and her voice is to die for. She and Sky both study under Fi, and so she's pretty good with stunts, although not as great as Sky (yet). She's also a decent hand at needlework, so she's something of an emergency seamstress when a seam is popped or some such.

Fable: Actress

Not as present in the team as she'd like, due to her somewhat overprotective guardians, Fable is a skilled actress who Artemis is convinced will one day follow in her footsteps to become a radiant star. The only thing stopping her from gaining a big name in the industry is the aforementioned guardians, who love her, but again, worry endlessly. She joined by the suggestion of her old classmate, Flora, and to this day remains the only person who can reliably tame their wild child.

Legend: Jack-of-all-Trades

His official job is non-existant. He's been here since he was a literal infant (Twilight couldn't get a sitter) and it shows. He's picked up just about everything there is to know about the opera house, and never got formally hired (although he is paid). He's the go-to guy for just about anything and everything. He takes acting roles, particularly those more dance or trick related, as he's the only guy who actually knows genuine acrobatics and most forms of dance, and because he's young, he can take literally any role, even that of females. Most of the time though, he's backstage with a tool-belt of everything possible, fixing last minute costume, make-up, or set issues. He also tends to pick up strays.

Ravio: Prop Manager

Ravio's job is to construct and make sure props are where they should be at all times. He and Legend work hand in hand on most things, mostly because Legend originally was prop-manager (of sorts) before he got Ravio into the opera house. Ravio is one of "Legend's strays" as the boys ran into each other shortly after Leg came back from abroad, and the Lorulian was desperately searching for a room-mate. Legend helped him get a job better than where he was (pawn shop) and Ravio feels utterly indebted to him, and makes sure Leg knows it.

Styla: Costume manager

While Legend helps out in costume, it's actually Styla's domain. She's skillful in her work and quick to make unfortunate mistakes and pieces turn out surprisingly well. She's blessed with good speaking skills and copious charm, so she sometimes take on roles on stage, but she can't sing any more than Twilight can. She does not want lessons. Ravio and Legend are desperately trying to make her take them anyway; they work closely with her as a trio of their own, and much as they love her, she gives them headaches.

Hyrule: Assistant jack-of-all-trades

Another of Legend's strays, Hyrule, like so many others, is a fresh-out-of-foster street kid. He saved Legend's life by chance, and Leg determined to pay him back by getting him a job as a stage hand at the opera house, and a room in the living quarters there. Lullaby is used to the pinkette, so she didn't object, but everyone's glad Hyrule joined because he's absolutely amazing. What he lacks in natural talent, he makes up for in hard work and a quick mind. Warriors is certain Hyrule could make a killer performer, but with his lack of confidence it's slow going. The diva is utterly intent on taking Rule under his wing though and teaching him little by little. Ravio and Legend do not appreciate Wars stealing their assistant though.

Wind: Gofer

Wind is Warriors' kid cousin. Freshly in Hyrule from overseas, he's working at the opera house after school. He's pretty close with the other stage crew, and a huge reason Hyrule didn't get scared off in the first week. This kid is the most in touch with reality out of most of the crew, and acts as a buffer from their insanity to any newcomers. He tends to run and fetch for the most part, but at times has been known to also help craft the sets with Legend. They are artists and they do shit talk everyone while they do it.

Four: Special Effects

You know that one tech-nerd with too much coffee in their system, not enough sleep and perpetually frazzled hair? That's Four. Four handles lights, sound, special effects and all things mechanical. Everything's always on the fritz, so he is too. He does enjoy acting, but he gets anxiety about letting anyone else run his job, so he tends to avoid taking roles unless he's 110% sure Flora can handle without him.

Flora: Assistant Light Technition

Officially, she works lights, unofficially, she's Four's assistant. This girl was bred for the stage and avoids it like the plague. Her family is famous for acting but she's content to play lights and sounds crew with Four, and no one has seen her happier. She joined by her parents insistence, as an actress and learning under Wars and Arty, but one show gone wrong had her throwing herself in to help Four just in time and he's considered her irreplaceable since. She has no interest in going back on stage and no one makes her.

Groose: Tech Assistant

Working with the backstage crew, Grooise's official job title is technical assistance, but even he will joke that he's actually just a glorified ladder. He, like the others, acts on occasion, although his real passion lies in planning out the more difficult mechanics required to pull off certain effects and stunts. He essentially bridges the gap between the costume and props department and the special effects team.

Robbie and Purah: IT

This insane duo are known as "the basement dwellers" or "the witches" to most of the team. They're technically on payroll, but rarely seen. Purah is something like the last resort when Groose & Co. can't figure stuff out, and Robbie is her somewhat reluctant assistant. They emerge on occasion with all sorts of crazy ideas and items, and are some of Legend and Wild's favorite people in the crew because they never fail to provide the prop master and prop breaker with cool new toys.

Wild: Actor and Stuntman

Where Sky is their swordsman and Legend their acrobat, Wild is the guy who will pull all the stunts the others won't. He's still in uni at the moment, but his acting skills are to die for, as he can manage the stoic and dashing hero or the playful jester types with equal skill and believablity. He is, however, a risk to props and costumes in general, so he and and the prop/costume team don't always get along well and they're often dubious about letting him take key roles with key costumes/props as a result.

Linkle: Effects

Four and Flora officially work special effects, but occasionally call in Warriors' twin sister for some specialty stuff. No one knows what she does normally (except Warriors) and they're all a bit too scared to ask

Dawn: Secretary

Lullaby's a busy woman, so she hired Dawn to help her with some of the office work. Generally speaking, Dawn stays in the office and her only contact with the cast and crew is to handle complaints and any official work. She is, however, fantastically talented on the piano, something Lullaby and Time both encourage her to pursue. She plays the grande they have in house on her breaks, and occasionally in shows. She croaks like a frog when she sings though, end even Malon can't seem to help her with that.

Aurora: Front of House

Aurora works the ticket collections and generally minds front of house. Her warmth and eccentric attitude help add to the magic of the opera house and enchant the guests.

Dot: Think Tank

While a capable actress when called on, Dot's skill lies with the pen, and while the opera tends to preform classics as their main attractions, Dot does see that they have an abundance of new content for their smaller shows. She also acts as the outreach to the community to open the opera house to the public for use in community events. She and Dawn work pretty closely.

Dei: Trainer

Time's mentor after Fi, he's a bit of a hard ass and tends not to get involved in his protege's work. He is, however, currently training Warriors, so he is around from time to time to help the diva with his work. Time and he remain somewhat cordial, but there is some tension there, although not as bad as with Fi.

And while I know people are counting through and going "what about Tetra?", I am going to point out that Tetra wouldn't be caught dead working in the opera. She comes to support (and heckle) anything Wind is in, but generally stays out of the building otherwise, at least while the cast and crew are actually there.

And that covers it! At least for the time being.

If y'all have any further questions or thoughts, or character I may have missed, feel free to share them!

[haveyoulistenedtothisalbum-poll]

Tracklist:

Maybe Memories • The Taste Of Ink • Bulimic • Say Days Ago • Poetic Tragedy • Buried Myself Alive • A Box Full Of Sharp Objects • Blue And Yellow • Greener With The Scenery • Noise And Kisses • On My Own • Pieces Mended

Spotify ♪ Youtube

[ejzah]

A/N: It’s a bit late, but happy birthday to Kensi Marie Blye! Thanks to @mashmaiden for the fic scenario and general brainstorming.

***

The No Good, Very Bad Birthday

Deeks hefted a large cooler into the back of his truck, pushing it alongside two suitcases. There were also two camping chairs and hiking gear.

“Is that everything?” Kensi called from the ground. “If you let me take a look—”

“Oh Kensi, my love, did you really think I would fall for that? I’m not letting any details slip about this trip.” Deeks shifted to the side to block Kensi’s view as she tried see up into the truck. “So, it would be best if you just gave up trying.”

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”

She did step back so he could secure the top, and extended a hand to help him down. Together, they walked back into the house where Rosa and Roberta were entertaining the twins.

“Are you guys ready to go?” Rosa asked, passing Sophia to Kensi when she reached out. Deeks hauled Caleb up into his arms.

“Yeah. I’m going to miss you guys.”

“Adaba,” Sophia replied, patting Kensi’s cheek.

“All the numbers, doctors, and other important information are still in the binder on the counter,” Kensi said. Rosa nodded along, paying more attention than Roberta as Kensi and Deeks ran through the instructions.

While Deeks took Kensi on a surprise birthday trip, Rosa and Roberta had offered to take care of the twins. This wasn’t the first time Rosa had stayed with the twins overnight, but it would be the longest.

“I know you’ve got this handled, but don’t hesitate to call if anything happens or you need us to come back. Even if it’s just because you get sick of these two,” Deeks added. He tweaked Caleb’s cheek, hefting him higher on his hip.

“As if I could ever get tired of my beautiful brother and sister,” Rosa said. “We’ll be fine. Now please go have fun.”

“Of course they will.” Roberta rolled her eyes. “By the way, where’d you hide the key to the liquor cabinet?”

Deeks ignored her, turning back to Rosa.

He hugged her tightly and Kensi came on her other side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“Thank you.”

“We love you, call if you need us,” he said, and snuck a glance at Roberta . “And keep an eye on your crazy grandma.” He whispered the last part as he and Kensi passed the twins back to Rosa and Roberta.

“I will, but nothing’s going to happen. Love you, guys. Have a fun birthday, Kensi!” Rosa called after them on their way through the door.

***

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Kensi asked, snuggling into Deeks as she rode in the passenger seat of the truck. They’d been driving for a couple hours now, and the scenery had become distinctly greener and less populated.

“I guess we’re close enough. We are going to spend the next four days at a cozy little cabin. It’s not Mammoth, but the views and trails are supposed to be amazing,” Deeks told her. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “And there’s a fireplace and hot tub outside.”

“Ooh, sounds romantic.” She nuzzled his cheek, letting her hand creep up his thigh. “Where did you hear about it?”

“Kat. She said she stayed in one of the cabins a few years ago and it was amazing.”

“Well, if Kat gave it her seal of approval, then it’s got to be good. That girl does not like to endure any hardships,” Kensi said, and Deeks chuckled in agreement.

“No, she does not. Show ponies and filet mignon.”

“I could have done without the ponies, but the food was phenomenal,” Kensi admitted. She hadn’t known quite what to expect of Deeks’ surprise; anything would have been great, but was a little relieved they weren’t headed for a four day survival hike. The past couple years, combined with motherhood had lowered her appreciation for those kinds of activities.

They drove through increasingly winding roads surrounded by forest until they reached a small guardhouse. Deeks showed the guard their pass, and he was provided a small map of the grounds, keys, a pass for the truck and waved through.

“This is gorgeous!” Kensi exclaimed as they drove by rows of luscious trees. Deeks followed the directions on the map, stopping beside a clearing with a wooden cabin.

“This is a little more overgrown than I expected,” Deeks commented as they passed a tree growing through the crack between two slats of wood on the porch.

Inside, was a short entryway that immediately opened into a den area decorated with wooden furniture. It was small, but cozy-looking, and contained a fireplace as promised.

“It’s cute,” Kensi decided.

“I was going for luxurious. As per Kat and the website’s reviews. This is more…forest ranger.”

“It’s rustic, which I happen to like.” Nudging his shoulder, Kensi stepped back outside. “C’mon, let’s unload the truck and then we can explore the rest of the place.”

“Ok. But if the jacuzzi doesn’t work, I’m writing a strongly worded Yelp review,” he said as he followed her out.

***

Further exploration revealed most of the rooms had some level of water damage or decrepit amenities. The bathroom also sported a large spider in one corner, which they decided to leave to its own devices—though Deeks reserved the right to squash it if it made any signs of movement. Luckily for the owners, the jacuzzi did in fact work, though it would need a thorough cleaning before it would be fit for use.

They saved the master bedroom for last. Fortunately, the bed seemed reasonably sturdy, and clean. Though the same couldn’t be said of the floor beneath it. It creaked with every step, and Kensi didn’t point out the dark stains underneath.

Even though it wasn’t what Deeks had anticipated, it seemed good enough to her. She didn’t think they’d make it out of the bedroom for much of the first couple days.

With that in mind, Kensi threw herself back on the bed, tugging an unsuspecting Deeks with her, one hand tangling in his hair while the other settled comfortable on his lower back. His hands automatically fell to her hips, his body reacting to Kensi’s against his.

“Don’t you want to check for bed bugs, first?” he asked, his tone only half-joking.

“Baby, we have a full four days to ourselves. As much as I love our children, I’m looking forward to the uninterrupted alone time with you. Are you really going to waste a moment of it worrying about whether or not the sheets are two thousand count thread?” she asked.

“I don’t think two thousand is a—”

Kensi cut him off with a kiss, her hand sliding up the back of his shirt. Ot successfully distracted him from any further objections and within moments she had both of them out of their shirts.

***

Deeks woke sometime later to sunlight streaming across his face and a naked Kensi tucked between his arms. Burrowing his nose in Kensi’s neck, he sighed contentedly.

“See, it’s not so bad after all,” Kensi mumbled sleepily.

“Yeah, but you were willing to have sex with me in the middle of the desert while we were on the run from the federales. Your standards aren’t that high,” he pointed out. Kensi made a half-hearted swat at his back, that ended more like a caress.

“I was trying to get you to wake up.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh my god!” Kensi groaned. Deeks hid his grin in her shoulder, his body shaking with laughter. “You’re terrible.” Despite her proclamation, nudged his chin so she could reach his mouth, her lips moving softly over his.

“We should eat something,” he said breathily as Kensi kissed her way down his neck and chest.

“I’m not that hungry.”

“It won’t do us any good if we pass out from exhaustion.” At this, Kensi lifted her head, rolling back onto one elbow.

“I hate it when you make sense,” she sighed. Planting a hand on his chest, she pushed up, hovering over him. “But when we get done, you’re mine.” She dipped her head to kiss him one more time, then used his chest to sit up.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Deeks said. Rolling out of bed, he grabbed his discarded shorts, tugged them on, and headed for the kitchen.

Kensi wandered into the kitchen in just his t-shirt about 10 minutes later, finding him in the middle of filling a large pot with water. She peered over his shoulder, examining the boxes and cans spread over the small counters.

“What gourmet meal are you making me?”

“Fettuccini in a rosé sauce. Hopefully. Apparently the state-of-the-art kitchen is a little worse for wear too. Kat and I are going to have a little talk when we get back,” he said grimly, frowning at the hand-written sign taped over the oven that read “Out of order”.

“It’ll be ok,” Kensi insisted. “We brought enough food that doesn’t need to be cooked or at least doesn’t require an oven.”

He took a deep breath, reminding himself that he wasn’t doing either of them any good by constantly whining. “Sorry, you’re right. I just want you to have a nice birthday weekend.”

“I already am.” Kensi took advantage of his current position to slip her hands in his back pockets and squeeze. “I’m going to go to the bathroom and when I get back I’ll chop vegetables or something.”

Deeks continued prepping, getting out a bag of green beans, a jar of tomato sauce, and cream cheese. He was just dumping the sauce into a smaller pan when he heard Kensi make a truly bloodcurdling scream.

He didn’t have a gun with him of course, but out of instinct, he grabbed a chef’s knife and ran for the bathroom.

“Kensi!” he shouted, kicking the door open. He expected to find blood, an armed intruder, possibly a bomb. He did not anticipate Kensi to be standing over the sink, shaking out her hair. “Kens,” he repeated, slowly lowering the knife. “Everything ok?”

She turned around, eyes blazing. “No! I was washing my hands and a toad fell out of the ceiling and on my head.”

“A toad?”

“Yes. It was huge. It landed somewhere over there.” Pointing towards the other side of the room, she crossed her arms as Deeks poked around. He found said toad cowering—as much as a toad could cower—at one end of the tub.

“Oh, it’s just a toad, Kensalina,” Deeks said, cupping his hands and lowering them inside the tub. The toad obligingly hopped into them.

“I don’t care, they’re slimy and gross and I don’t want them in my hair.”

Deeks tried to keep his amusement at his tough-as-nails, could make a raft out of twigs Kensi freaking out over a two-inch amphibian.

“Do not laugh,” she ordered with a fierce expression.

“I would never,” he promised, making a hasty exit before broke that promise. “I’ll just take this little guy outside.”

Fortunately, the rest of the evening passed without anymore excitement. Dinner turned out pretty good, and they tumbled into bed, making plans to explore one of the trails the next day. Assuming they made it out of bed in time.

***

“We should have brought a machete,” Deeks said, settling his hands on his hips as he considered the fallen tree blocking their path. “Or maybe an electric saw.”

At the start of the leisure trail, everything had been fine. As they got deeper into the woods though, it became clear that no one had been back here in a long time. The path was overgrown with brush and trees had fallen in multiple places. Clearly, things had changed significantly since Kat stayed since Kensi could never imagine her stepping foot on this trail.

It wouldn’t have been that bad if Kensi had actually dressed for a wilderness hike. Instead, she’d foolishly worn shorts and a t-shirt, and she was now splattered with mud and scratched up. Deeks hadn’t faired much better.

“We should just go back.”

“No, we made it this far,” Kensi objected. She didn’t really know why. She was hot and itchy, and wanted nothing more than to go back to the cabin and shower. Somehow it felt like she’d be giving up if they didn’t finish this stupid trail. “There was a sign for a fire pit about half a mile back, let’s try and find that.”

“Are you sure? Cause I have no problem going back and spending the rest of today in the jacuzzi. Sans Frankie,” Deeks told her, and she rolled her eyes.

“I cannot believe you named the toad,” she groaned. Together, they turned around, retracing their steps.

“Well, pets have to have a name.”

“Oh, we are not keeping that thing. He can have the bathtub back when we leave.”

“You mean he’s not growing on you?” Deeks teased.

“No. The dog would probably end up eating him at some point anyway,” Kensi pointed out, and Deeks grimaced, following her as she took the slight right that the signpost indicated.

After a small incline, they found a small raised wood platform with two benches and chairs surrounding a brick fire pit.

“Huh, they actually told the truth this time,” Deeks commented. “I was expecting like a pit of snakes or something.

“Or quicksand,” Kensi added with a wry grin. She plopped down on the closest bench, feeling a soreness in her thighs from the unexpected trek.

“This is kind of nice,” Deeks admitted, taking the other side of the bench. He put his head back, letting out a relieved sigh.

A second later thunderous crack rolled through the air and without warning a sheet of rain poured down from the sky, instantly penetrating the foliage above.

Kensi stared in shock, completely still for a few seconds, then she started laughing.

“Happy birthday! I’ve officially gifted you the worst vacation ever!” Deeks shouted over the rain drops. “I’m sorry!”

“Deeks, come here.” Beckoning him closer, she grabbed the front of his now soaked shirt and kissed him firmly. She pulled back, her lips smacking against his. “I don’t care what we do or where we do it. If it’s eating sushi at the most extravagant hotel in the world or chasing toads out of a barely functioning bathtubs, I want to do it with you.”

“I wanted this to be special though.”

“It is. In its own way,” Kensi said. “The fact that you planned all of this, even if it didn’t turn out the way we expected, is special. And I love you for it.”

“I love you too,” Deeks murmured, leaning in for another kiss. They made out for a couple minutes as the rain soaked through their hair and clothes. Deeks pulled back, water dripping off of his nose.

“Do you want to see if we can get the deposit back, find a Super 8, and maybe get some ice cream?”

“Yes,” Kensi said immediately. “As quickly as possible.”

He laughed, mouth settling into a fond smile.

“Happy birthday, Kensi. Let’s never do this again.”

***

A/N: Thanks for reading this silly story!

Side note, up til I was around six, we had two pet toads. One was named Frankie.

[dapperpea]

#FFxivWrite2024 / Day 13 / Butte

Weird West AU

Archon watched the land speed by outside the train windows as he made his way from Tulliyollal to Stonewood. Being from Ul’dah, he was used to empty land, how the desert stretched to the horizon with rolling sand hills and scuttling creatures. The scenery outside was familiar, if a bit greener than he was used to. Scrubby trees dotted the landscape as it shot by. Craggy boulders broke up the flat, sloping land, and in the distance, a squat mountain with its top cut off broke the horizon line. Yes, he thought he would do fine in Stonewood.

[altraviolet]

quick comparison: mountain scenery descriptions

I recently DNF'd "Gothikana," and I just finished "Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries." I enjoyed the latter very, very much, and highly recommend it. The former, extremely not so much.

Here is a long post where I detailed why I think Gothikana is poorly written.

In the above post, I have an example of the main character looking out at mountains. They're not described well. Fortuitously, EWEoF also has a scene where the main character looks at mountains. Let's compare the approaches!

Gothikana: (point of view character is Corvina)

Corvina rolled her window down slightly, looking out at the natural, incredible beauty of the mountain. The sight was unlike anything she had ever seen before. Where she came from, the woods had been more yellow and the air more humid.

Emily Wilde: (point of view character is Emily)

The loveliness of the view outside stopped me in my tracks. The mountain fell away before me, a carpet of green made greener by the luminous dawn staining the clouds with pinks and golds. The mountains themselves were lightly ensnowed, though there was no threat of a sequel in that cerulean canopy. Within the hinterlands of the prospect heaved the great beast of the sea with its patchy pelt of ice floes.

In my long post linked above about Gothikana, I gave the advice to never state something is beautiful: always show how it is beautiful. Technically, here, Emily is stating the scenery is lovely. But she then goes on to explain how it is lovely. Emily's statement is delivered with a very strong stopped me in my tracks, which matches her very strong personality. Corvina's dull looking out at likewise matches her characterization.

Let's compare the words used to describe the beautiful and lovely mountains.

Corvina: natural, incredible beauty, unlike anything she had ever seen before

Emily: carpet of green made greener by the luminous dawn staining the clouds with pinks and golds, ensnowed (Emily goes on to describe the sky and sea beyond, but we will concentrate here on the mountains)

I think it's pretty easy to see the contrast here. Corvina's description tells you the mountains are beautiful. Emily's description includes words describing color, how the rising dawn affects the surrounding area, and the snow. Emily's description helps the reader to see what she sees: it invites the reader to be part of the story. Corvina's does not.

Let's compare the verbs.

Corvina: rolled down, looking out, was, had seen, came from, had been

Emily: stopped, fell away, made, staining, ensnowed, was, heaved

Emily's verbs are more varied and interesting. They give a more active feel to both the description and her, as a character, taking in the scenery. How does "looking out" feel different from "fell away"? "Came from" vs "staining"?

I've recently read some posts saying that when one criticizes a story, the criticism should be in the spirit of the making the story the best story it can be, not the story the critic wants it to be. I don't think it's out of turn to state that Gothikana's description is poor. Yes, it's not what I would want it to be. But it's also far from the best story it could be. I hope that's apparent in these posts of mine.

Anyway, when you're constructing your descriptions, they can serve more than one purpose. They describe, yes, but they also tell you something about the character whose eyes the reader is looking through. Again, compare stopped me in my tracks and looked out at. Compare the language usage. Engage as many senses as possible. Use unique/interesting/strong verbs. I didn't talk about "the great beast of the sea with its patchy pelt of ice floes" line but isn't it fantastic? Emily's description is packed with details and imagery. Corvina's is literally not.

[shapeshiftersvt]

Chaymp.

Listen. Vermont is small. The mountains are stubby, the people are sparsely settled, the state itself can be crossed in an afternoon. Our field of view is short; there's always a mountain or six lifting up out of the horizon to block the way, and though they won't have the height of the Rockies they sure will keep you from seeing the next twenty miles.

Travel and the scenery will change every thirty minutes, a new mountain ridge visible over the next, and the next, and the next. The landscape comes in layers, each a little grey-greener and foggier than the one before. When the clouds gather at the base of the mountains, the dark ridges that emerge look like dragons floating through the mist.

I've lived on flat land. I've lived by the seashore. I've gone out my front door and seen the earth or the ocean stretch forth, seen the sky come down to meet it at an impossibly far-distant line. It's awful. Sorry. I know there's poetry about that, I know it inspires probably more people than it puts off. But I'm cozy up here, with my little gently-rolled Appalachians hemming me in on all sides.

And Lake Champlain is big! It's got that oceanic quality, where you can't always see the other side of it and there are deep currents running beneath. Of course there's a sea serpent in that lake, a monster, a swimming dragon as thick as a barrel and as long as a city bus. Plenty of folks have seen it. It hit me when I got there: we need to see it. We need that dragon's back layer, that extra ridge, that mystery for more mysteries to hide behind. You get used to the mountains up here, the way they halt the eye even when they're shrouded in mist. It feels bad to be able to see all the way clear to New York.

That's not to say Champ isn't actually there. It's just to say that Vermonters as a people are probably predisposed to look for it.

[adore-laur]

BULLSEYE: PART TWO

— last part unfortunately due to lack of inspiration (ends on a cliffhanger btw)

| The Girl | 

Port ships stationed on choppy waters blare their horns outside Shyla's apartment window. The pane is coated with dispersed rain droplets from the thunderstorm that just faded. 

In the foyer, cardboard boxes stuffed to the brim collect dust as remaining possessions slowly trickle out of their previous positions and into them. The cupboard above the kitchen sink is now empty of hand-painted mugs and colorful bendy straws. Secondhand art pieces have been taken down from the plastered walls of her bedroom. Flowers once quenched in vases are now wilted and ready to be thrown away, the dying petals symbolizing the approaching absence of their caretaker. 

There's nothing else to be said or done. The moving truck will arrive tomorrow, and Shyla will finally detach herself from her poisonous living situation. No more nights being woken up by someone drunkenly stumbling through the front door. No more petty arguments over whose turn it is to wash the dishes, resulting in her doing the chore anyway. No more staring at the ceiling while her friends engage in plans she wasn't invited to. 

It's a fresh start. Onwards to greener grass. 

Perched on the windowsill, Shyla overlooks the gloomy scenery of her hometown. Dull roads, dull buildings, and even duller personalities; it's all so uninspiring to her. The city may look like a seaside harbor of dreams to tourists, but she has lived in the façade her whole life. She knows everyone will eventually become sick of the monotony. 

It seems like everyone has gotten sick of her. People are dwindling out of her life, and while most of the reasonings feel like her fault, she's still finding herself so lonely that she thinks she should've just kept her friends around to keep a tiny piece of her social life intact. Alas, she chose to distance herself from the only friends she had left. She doesn't feel too regretful since they never gave her the time of day. They probably aren't too affected by what happened. 

Shyla was habituated to being walked over like a doormat and thrown around like a rag doll. Emotional bruises from the mental abuse tainted her soul, and it led her to believe that she was completely blindsided by their spiteful ways of showing what she thought was friendship. Now, moving forward, she knows better than to ignore the warning signs. It's as if a switch flipped the night she called them after they left her stranded in an unfamiliar place. 

The flip switched because of Harry. When he told her to screw her friends when she wanted to say goodbye to them at the pub. When he told her he could clearly see how terribly they treated her. How unsettled he was when they left without her. How he tried to convince her to stay with him. It's worth wondering if things would be different if she hadn't said no. 

It doesn't help that Shyla has been failing miserably at not thinking about him. His dimpled smile. His gentle hands. His leather jacket she took off just so she could feel his warm skin as they danced to Dolly. She was convinced she'd forget about him as soon as she woke up in her bed, but he was the first thought clouding her mind before her eyes fluttered open. 

It's been over a week since she left Lurgashall. Her ex-friends are returning to Portsmouth tomorrow, and she'll only have to suffer one night with the girl she lives with before she officially moves out. Her belongings will be moved into a hotel room until she can find an affordable apartment. She would have stayed with her aunt, but she thinks she'd go insane being stuck in a house with a blood relative. It feels backwards to think that way, but her aunt isn't necessarily the most easygoing person. 

Lost in her thoughts, Shyla waits for the hours to pass by. The grey Monday skies make time move slower than usual. She can't think of anything else to do since most of everything is already packed, the hotel reservation is booked, and her body is ready to get the hell out of the apartment. 

A rhythmic knock on the front door halts her brooding. With a heavy sigh, she stands and walks over to the door, putting on a fake smile for the unexpected visitor. Briefly looking through the peephole, she's surprised to see the postman, Edgar, with a satchel full of mail slung over his shoulder. She unlocks the chain and cracks open the door, her mind scrambling at what could possibly be here for her, considering she already got her weekly mail from the lobby. 

"Delivery from... Lurgashall, West Sussex," Edgar says slowly, reading from the envelope. "Not sure where that is. There's no name, and I was told it's fragile, so I didn't want to just drop it in your parcel locker." 

Shyla feels her heart drop to her stomach. It can't be. But who else would write to her from a place she spent no more than a day in? Well, the three stooges are still there, but she knows for a fact that they would never go out of their way and send her something, especially a handwritten letter. 

Her mouth opens and closes as she attempts to speak through her jumbled thoughts about what it could be. "I—um, thanks. Thank you. I think I know who it's from. Have a nice day, Edgar." 

He waves goodbye and strolls down the hallway as Shyla closes the door and puts her back against it. The thick envelope feels like a metaphorical anchor in her hand, pulling her down until she slides to the floor. 

What she's holding has been touched by Harry. He pushed the lead onto the paper, sealed it, and sent it to her address. He thought of her. Shyla releases a breath she didn't realize she was holding and bravely glances down. She assumes he got her address when she wrote her information on the waiver the day she went horseback riding. The front of the envelope is blank except for the return address with no name and a horseshoe stamp in the top right corner. 

When she flips it over, she gasps and holds it against her chest as if she's in a period drama and just got a letter from her lover off at war. However, she feels her reaction is appropriate because a sketch is on the envelope's seal. It's a minimalistic style that resembles Harry's tattoo sketches of hands reaching out to touch one another. She doesn't know what it insinuates, but the mere fact that he had drawn it makes her shake with anticipation. 

Shyla inhales deeply before carefully ripping the seal open. She immediately sees something wrapped in bubble wrap, the cause of such a chunky envelope; it must be why Edgar said it was fragile. She takes it out and begins unwrapping it.

What lies in her palm is a pink dart. 

Shyla squeezes her eyes shut and leans her head against the door, the cold surface juxtaposing the blazing object between her fingers. Why must he pull her back in so easily with a simple gesture? How does he know how to make her feel things she hasn't even discovered yet? 

She opens her eyes and takes out the neatly folded paper inside the envelope. Skimming over the words, she notices Harry's handwriting is messy but eligible nonetheless. 

Shyla, 

I haven't heard from you since you left, and I can't help but feel that I'm the reason why. I hope you're doing well. Did you make it back to Portsmouth safely? Have you found another place to stay yet? 

Do you think of me like I've been thinking of you? 

Your name plays like a record in my head, falling from my lips with constant yearning. Your touch is engraved on my skin, leaving a burning, physical ache. I want to swim in the melted honey of your eyes. I long for one more taste of your lips. I need to hear the softness in which you speak your persuasive words. 

Please talk to me. Or if you never want to hear from me again, just tell me. Let me down gently, and I will try to move on. If not, you know where to find me. I will wait for you. 

Also, I believe we have a game of darts to finish. 

Yours regardless, 

Harry 

Shyla reads the words repeatedly until she can't make them out anymore due to tears blurring her vision. Why hasn't she called him? How could she think she could forget about a man with such a kind soul? She can't leave him hanging. He doesn't deserve that. 

She runs her fingers over the graphite like she did in his cabin with his sketches. He's the only one who has scratched deeper than the surface of who she is. He's the only one who has cared enough about how people treat her. He's the only one to have spoken up about it and convinced her to break away from that toxic part of her life she's been holding on to for far too long. 

She needs to see him again. 

After folding the letter, she rushes to grab her car keys and wallet. A trip to the post office will surely pass the time and help ease the ache clawing at her heart. 

—— 

| The Boy | 

Another shift at the ranch moves by like molasses since no reservations are booked for the day. Warbler birds chirp incessantly under the afternoon sun as the dusty roads absorb the heat. The room is stale, with dust particles floating around in the natural light. The wood floors creak with any sudden movement, and the papers tacked onto the wall flutter when the wind picks up, the front door propped open like always. 

Harry's father is in the outlying pasture next to the ranch, giving a customer an equestrian lesson. Harry was left to run the front desk by himself in case anyone comes by, but he doubts that will happen. It's Wednesday; he's sure everyone would rather be inside enjoying air conditioning on such a humid day. 

Sitting behind the counter, he twirls a pen between his fingers and wishes time would pass faster. It's muggy out, causing his forehead to sweat as he looks out the window for any sign of life to bring him a distraction. He'll usually bring his sketchbook, but on days with his father around, he wants to avoid him walking in on him drawing tattoo ideas. He can't imagine how he'd react. 

Harry is hungover. It's no surprise, though; he's been at the pub every night for the past week, always staying within the bar area in case the phone rings. He hasn't been playing darts, the memory of brown skin and soft whispers invading his mind to the point where even if he did play, he would be too distracted to do any good. A local always ends up having to drive him home. He then wakes up with a pounding headache and internally debates about not going to work so he doesn't snap at someone, especially his father. 

The cycle slowly demolishes any relish for life he has left in him. He can't sleep. When he manages to get a couple of hours, his dreams aren't pleasant anymore. Some nights, he doesn't even dream at all.         

When he's not at the pub or the ranch, he's in his cabin all alone. But he doesn't find solace in that loneliness anymore. Now, he just walks around aimlessly, trying to find something to numb his thoughts — drinking, sketching, reading. He'll read a sappy romance novel to try and feel anything, but the lovesick words on the pages only make him crave what he experienced with Shyla. 

After another uneventful hour of twiddling his thumbs and ignoring the magnitude of his unhappiness, Harry hears the postal truck stop at the mailbox by the front porch. He sputters his lips and walks out the door. It's probably bills or business forms his father takes care of. 

He opens the wooden flap and sees only one letter today. A small white envelope with pretty cursive written on the front stands out against the dark interior of the mailbox. He gently takes it out and brings it closer to his face. It has his name in the middle, and there's a sticker in the corner with an address from Portsmouth. Can it be…?

Harry has to kneel so he doesn't pass out from shock. She got his letter. She wrote back. 

He glances over his shoulder to ensure his father isn't lurking around before he tears the seal open. He removes and unfolds the creased paper inside, his eyes immediately taking in her delicate and slanted handwriting. It makes sense for it to look like that. 

The ink is bold against the white paper. Harry looks up at the sky and swallows harshly before reading the words that could either break his heart or make him the happiest man in Lurgashall. 

Harry, 

I got your letter and the dart. Stealing business property, are we? 

That's not the point. The point is that I want to see you again. I'm an idiot to think I could just ignore you. I'm sorry if it came across that I never wanted to speak to you again. I've been stressed and busy. 

To answer your question, I'm staying at a hotel until I find somewhere to live. As for your other question, I've also been thinking about you. I miss your hands. I miss how easy it is to talk to you. I miss dancing together. 

I'm in the middle of moving right now, but I should be situated by next week. If you'll have me, I'd love to come back to Lurgashall and meet somewhere. Does next Monday work for you? 

If so, get ready for me to kick your ass in darts. 

Love, 

Shyla 

Harry grips the letter like it's his life source, reading the words I want to see you again over and over until his eyes hurt from the closeness in which he's viewing the paper. He slams the mailbox shut and strides back into the ranch, stumbling behind the counter to take out several cardboard boxes kept under it. The junk gets tossed onto the floor and makes a clatter. He finally finds the box that stores envelopes, and he's never moved faster to grab one.

Shyla, 

Monday is perfect. Guess what? Karaoke night at the pub is on that day. It must be your psychology degree coming in handy. Wait... is that what psychology is? I left school at an early age, so go easy on me. Anyway, I'll wait for you at the pub at 9 PM. 

I'm glad you're moving to a new place. It'll be good for you. I can't wait to see you again.

Don't forget to bring your lucky pink dart. Otherwise, I'm not sure there will be any ass-kicking involved on your end. Please drive safely. 

Take care, 

Harry 

He sets the pen down and rests his forehead on the counter, breathing a disbelieving laugh. He shakes his head before standing straight and tucking the letter in the envelope. As he walks out the back door to the stables, he licks the seal and keeps his footsteps quiet. His father can't see him from where he is far out in the pasture, so Harry sneakily mounts his horse and rides to the village's post office to send the letter as soon as possible. No way is he waiting for the mail to come tomorrow. 

As he passes the pond and the willow tree's drooping branches, his heart feels like it's been healed by her simple words on a crinkly piece of paper. 

—— 

| The Girl | 

It's the following Monday, and Shyla is five minutes away from Lurgashall. She drives through the night to get to the pub. She had written back and said she'd meet him at his suggested time. 

Her suitcase and duffel bag are in the trunk, clunking against the interior as she drives on a bumpy stretch of road. The highways drastically transformed into vacant backroads surrounded by expansive fields. She doesn't know how long she'll be staying, so she packed a bunch of clothes and other essential items she might need. The boxes at her old apartment had been moved into a new complex in Portsmouth. She wasn't looking for anything fancy, just a simple one-bedroom place she could eventually make into her own.

Shyla turns down the volume of a Fleetwood Mac song playing through the car's speakers as she enters the pub's gravel parking lot. She gets hit with déjà vu when she remembers how excited she was to come last time, only to have the night end horribly. This time around, she's walking in by herself and will be around someone who listens and cares. 

Tonight, it'll just be her and Harry. 

He mentioned karaoke night in his letter, so she assumes it will be lively inside. Before opening the car door, she checks herself in the rear-view mirror to ensure she looks presentable. She's makeup-less just in case it's humid in the small room. She wears high-waisted jeans with a few rips and a grey crop top. 

Shyla takes a deep breath and mentally prepares herself to see him again. It's been about two weeks, and she wonders if things will be awkward between them. It's easy to write letters and prepare what you want to say beforehand, but when it's face-to-face, there's a hypercritical pressure to say the right thing.

After fixing her hair, she finally gains the courage to leave her car. She locks it and begins walking to the wooden door as her shoes crunch the gravel beneath them, and it's what she focuses on instead of the nervousness twisting her stomach into knots. She can hear muffled chatter and music that only gets louder when she finally opens the final barrier between her and Harry. 

Once she passes the threshold, she's instantly consumed with the same feeling she had the last time; overwhelmed but comfortably so. She has missed the ambiance of the pub even though she's only been to it once before. Everyone is too preoccupied with themselves to see her arrive, and she's thankful for the lack of perception the people here partake in. Her eyes dance around the room, searching for Harry, first looking at the dartboard in the corner to see if he's already playing a game. He's not there, so she looks behind the bar to see if he might be serving drinks tonight. 

As she scans the preoccupied stools for his curly head of hair, it doesn't even register in her mind that the music playing is coming from the karaoke stage set up in the back. She eventually homes in on a beautiful voice singing along to an instrumental.

Shyla stands on her tiptoes to look over the crowd of people in front of her. That voice is calling to her. She politely excuses herself several times while navigating through the bodies until she's at the front. Her breath catches in her throat when she finally has a clear view of the makeshift stage. 

Harry.

Her jaw drops in shock as she watches him. He sits on a stool, his legs spread casually, and holds a wired microphone in his hand while he sings along to the instrumental of "Ain't No Sunshine" by Bill Withers. He wears see-through yellow sunglasses, a yellow graphic tee, and velvet brown pants. His face is screwed up as he vocalizes on top of the violins and smooth beat of the song, his voice the perfect mixture of raspy yet smooth. The way the notes and vibratos flow from his throat seems effortless. 

Shyla is awestruck. She can't stop looking at him. It's like they're the only two people in the room as everything else becomes static noise. A few pub patrons admire Harry along with her, while the rest discourse and drink elsewhere. She thinks she could listen to his voice for the rest of her life. She thinks Dolly Parton's voice is like honey, but Harry's is like a silky stream of liquid gold that melts and aligns in the crevices of her soul just right. 

Shyla's hand raises to her chest, feeling her heart pound strongly. Harry's voice fades as the song ends, and claps and whistles are thrown his way. She joins in, still not able to process what she just witnessed. Harry's hands come together in a silent gesture of gratitude before he bows his head shyly. His eyes rove the room until they land on hers. His body is frozen in the motion of getting off the stool, but then he blinks once and smiles wider than Shyla has ever seen. He offers a small wave before handing the microphone to the person next in line. He jerks his head toward the back door, and Shyla snaps out of her reverie, beginning to follow him out while wiping her sweaty palms against her jeans. 

Once outside, they stand facing each other under the red glow of the exit sign. No one is around except crickets chirping in the tall weeds growing around the pub. It's a little chilly, and Shyla shivers as she rubs her hands up and down her arms to create circulation. Harry holds up one finger as a signal to wait before returning inside. 

Shyla slaps her face several times while she waits, trying to remain calm. She can't believe it's happening. She looks at the streetlamps that illuminate the fields behind the pub and hopes everything goes well tonight. 

Moments later, Harry comes out holding his brown leather jacket. He hands it to her.

"Thank you. I didn't realize it would be this cold," Shyla says quietly as she engulfs her body in the garment. It smells like the cologne he wore when they played darts. 

"Yeah, it gets nippy here at night." He sets his sunglasses on the top of his head and sighs happily. "Hi. You're really here." 

Shyla giggles and admires his now clearly visible eyes. "I'm here. It's nice to see you again, Harry. You look really good." 

"You're absolutely beautiful," he says, gazing across her face and body. "I didn't know if you'd actually come back." 

"I know. I'm so sorry I didn't call or write—" 

"Shy," he interrupts softly. "I understand, okay? I didn't know you were busy with moving, so I just stupidly assumed you were done with me. You were going through shit and needed some time for yourself. Don't worry about it." 

"Well, I'm glad you wrote to me. Otherwise, I would've thought you were done with me too." 

"Why would you think that?" He steps closer and cradles Shyla's cheeks, tilting her head up. "You haven't left my mind. I've been feeling miserable about how we left things." 

"Same here," she says. "Can we… maybe go to your cabin to talk more? Only if it's okay with you. It's just that it's cold, and someone could see us and—" 

Harry's mouth is on hers instantly, stopping her nervous rambling. Shyla melts into him just as he pulls back too quickly for her liking, her bottom lip snapping back in place. Her gaze darts between his eyes as he rubs his thumb along her cheek. 

"Sorry. I should've asked—" 

Shyla cuts him off, this time with her lips against his. Harry hums lowly as his brows furrow, tilting her head more for better access. He kisses her deeply, and Shyla's hands crawl under his shirt to feel his warm, soft skin under her fingertips. They graze the trail of coarse hair under his belly button, causing his stomach to twitch and then relax. She switches to kissing his top lip and notices that there's not as much hair above it since the last time she saw him. 

They finally run out of breath and part. Shyla removes her greedy hand from under his shirt, and Harry removes his hands from her cheeks. 

"Let's go to my place," he whispers, his mouth glistening. 

"Yes," she replies pleadingly. "I can drive us. I have my luggage in my car, and we can listen to music on the way. There's actually a song I wanted to introduce you to." 

Harry smiles. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's hope you're better at steering a car than a horse." 

Shyla playfully scrunches her nose at him before they both start walking around the pub to get to her car. The headlights flash as she presses the unlock button, and she gets in the driver's seat. Harry smoothly slides into the passenger side. She twists the key in the ignition, and her Bluetooth automatically connects and plays a song. They both jolt at the loud volume, and Shyla embarrassingly turns it down before grabbing her phone to scroll through her playlist. In her peripheral, she sees Harry reach over to buckle her seatbelt while she finds the song. 

"So, I know you like Dolly Parton and Shania Twain. Country isn't my favorite genre, but for some reason, women artists just hit different, you know?"

Harry leans his elbow on the console and nods with an intrigued expression. 

"There's this one song that I've loved since I was a kid," she continues. "Like, it's one of the first memories I can remember with my mom because she would always play it in the car. It's called "This Kiss" by Faith Hill, and it's one of the best songs ever created." 

"The name rings a bell. Play it. Let's see if the lyrics come back to me." 

Shyla excitedly shifts in her seat and presses play before reversing out of the parking lot. She turns the volume up and grooves her head to the beginning instrumental, smiling when Harry does the same. She begins singing as she drives along the empty roads. 

When the euphoric chorus hits, she shouts the lyrics. Something about being around Harry brings out fortuitous bursts of confidence. 

"This kiss, this kiss!" Harry joins in as they both point at each other. "Unstoppable!" 

When the key change comes, they're at a stop sign with no one else on the streets. They lean their heads against the headrests and look at each other during the final chorus. Harry grabs Shyla's face, squishing her cheeks and mouthing the lyrics with his lips brushing against hers. 

She doesn't want to keep driving; she wants to stay in this moment forever. 

They continue singing all the way to his cabin. Harry gives her directions, and the song ends just as she slows down on his long driveway weaving through the woods. She parks under the balcony and shuts the car off, the absence of music creating a deafening silence. She turns to Harry and notices the rings on his fingers. His hands are incredibly attractive.

She shakes her head to eliminate the dangerous thought as Harry says, "I'll grab your stuff. You can go inside and get comfortable. The door is unlocked."

"Oh, thank you. Sorry if they're heavy. I didn't know how much to pack." 

"Not to brag, but I can carry a sixty-pound saddle with one hand. I think I'll be able to handle it," Harry teases while stepping out of the car.

She scoffs lightheartedly and begins walking up the stairs to the balcony. She gets hit with a second wave of déjà vu when she passes the jacuzzi, her skin growing hot when she recalls what they did in it. She'll never look at one the same way again.

Making her way through the door and turning the light switch on, Shyla smiles at the immediate comfort she receives from his home. It makes her feel safe. Harry eventually comes in with her suitcase rolling behind him and her duffel bag slung on his shoulder. 

"I'm so tired," Shyla says as she flops on his couch. 

"Well, my bed is more comfortable," he replies, walking up the stairs to his loft. "Please shut the lights off before you come up." 

She doesn't hesitate to slip her shoes off and set his leather jacket on the arm of the couch. Shyla hasn't been in his room yet, and Harry seems to be inviting her, so she smiles giddily and follows him. 

The string lights wrapped around the railing make the room more visible as Shyla takes in his quilted blanket-covered bed. There's one window in the middle of the back wall and a wooden bathtub in the corner. She also notices that he has an intricately carved dresser with a retro record player and a stack of vinyl on it. 

"I picked some out for us before you got here, but if you're too tired, we don't have to dance tonight," Harry says, folding the quilt back. 

"I think it'd be good for us to get some sleep," Shyla replies while sitting on his bed. 

"Agreed. Um, I can… take the couch," he mumbles as he begins searching through the drawers. 

"Why?" Did she misread the situation? Or is he just being a gentleman? 

"I-I just didn't know if you'd be comfortable sleeping together. It's been two weeks and—" 

"Harry, I rode your thigh the night I met you," she says boldly. "I wouldn't come all this way just to be away from you." 

His hands tighten around the shirt he picked out. "Really?" 

She pats the bed and scoots over so she's closer to the wall. "Yes. Come over here." 

"Okay," he murmurs while taking off his shoes. "I don't even wear a shirt to bed, so I don't know why I'm looking for one. I got nervous." He rubs his forehead and puts the garment back in the top drawer before shutting it. 

"Don't be nervous. We've got time to reacquaint ourselves." 

"Right." Harry shuts the lights off and climbs into bed, taking his shirt off. "Are you going to sleep in those clothes?" 

"If I get up to change, I'll lose my tiredness." 

"Wow. Sleeping in jeans is when you know you've hit rock bottom," he says as he slides under the covers. He takes his pants off before turning on his side to face her. 

"If rock bottom is here, then I don't want to leave," she mumbles against his pillow. 

It's silent for a brief moment before he whispers, "Please be here when I wake up."

Her eyes search for him in the dark. "I promise. Goodnight, Harry. Sweet dreams." 

He inches closer to place a blind kiss on her face. "Night, Shy." 

—— 

| The Boy | 

There's a heavy knocking on the door downstairs. Why is it so loud? What time is it? Is it part of a residual dream?

Harry grumbles and squints his eyes against the sunlight beaming through the window. He feels something resting against his chest, and when he looks down, he sees Shyla's cheek pressed against where his heart is. Slow breaths leave her parted lips as she sleeps peacefully.

A relieved sigh escapes him. Thank goodness she didn't leave. 

She apparently can't hear the knocking, and since he doesn't want it to wake her up, he gently slides out from under her to confront whoever it is. He tucks her in, closes the curtains, and then puts on his pants from yesterday. Heading downstairs with soft footsteps, he yawns as he walks toward the persistent pounding. 

When he opens the door, he comes face-to-face with his father. He looks angrier than usual. Maybe because— oh, fuck. He completely forgot he had work today. 

"I expect a phenomenal excuse, boy," says his father. Harry instinctively shrinks into himself. "You were supposed to be at work an hour ago. It's seven already." 

There's no way he can tell him about Shyla. He can't know she's here with him, sleeping in his bed. His father would go berserk. 

"I got really drunk last night and passed out here. I forgot to set my alarm," he lies, scratching his head. 

"That's the best you've got? I can easily count how many times you've come to work hungover. Why is today the day you don't feel up to it, huh? For heaven's sake, you—" 

"Dad," he says with a groan. He really doesn't want to deal with his explosive nature this early. "It won't happen again. I'll come right now, okay? I'll work overtime today." 

His father shakes his head disappointedly. "You're lucky there's no one waiting for a tour. Get a move on. Otherwise, you're not getting paid today." 

Harry nods and rubs his tired eyes. "Okay. Give me ten minutes." 

"You probably reek of whiskey. Take a shower and fix your piss-poor mood." 

He has to bite his tongue so as not to talk back. He wants to tell him that if he just drove him to work, he'd be there faster. Alas, his father has never been a logical man. 

Without another word, his father slams the door shut, shaking the picture frames on the walls. Harry chews on the inside of his cheek to stop the irritation from taking over his body. He kicks the door before making some coffee. 

While it's brewing, he returns to the loft to check on Shyla. She's still lying down, but her eyes are now open. She must have heard everything. 

"Shyla, I'm so sorry," he murmurs as he finds an outfit. "I forgot I have work this morning, and now my father's pissed." 

She smiles and sits up against the headboard. "That's okay. Sorry for distracting you." 

"It's not your fault at all." He glances back at her tired eyes as he jumps into a pair of blue jeans. He then throws on a plain white shirt and shoves his feet into his boots.

"Still. It's our first day together again, and you have to leave." 

"That's on me. I should've had you come when I wasn't working, but it was karaoke night, and I wanted to see you as soon as possible. I feel terrible." 

"Hey, don't worry about it." Shyla sits at the edge of the bed. "I can stay here, right?" 

He sits beside her and admires how the morning sun strikes her skin. "Of course. You can make yourself something to eat. And, um, I've got books and records you can look through," he says meekly, hoping his cabin doesn't appear dull. 

"I'm sure I'll find something. Just know I'll be here when you get back." 

"Okay. I'll try to get out of working overtime. I'm sure it won't be too busy today.

She nods. "I'll walk you out." 

He watches her stretch, her shirt riding up to show a sliver of smooth skin. Then they go downstairs, Harry grabbing his filled coffee mug before he opens the front door. They lean against the frame and face each other. 

Harry clears his throat and says, "You should pick out some records for us to dance to tonight."

"I'd like that." Shyla runs a hand through her hair. "Have a good shift, okay? Don't let your father get in your head." 

"I won't." He gives her a soft smile and moves closer. "Maybe we can go to the pub and finish that game of darts." 

She wraps her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek sweetly. "That sounds perfect. I'll see you soon." 

He blushes and looks at the ground. Should he kiss her? Maybe a hug would be safer? He's overthinking everything. 

"Bye," he blurts. 

"Bye, Harry." 

He exhales and decides to just go for it. Slowly, he places his palm on her cheek just as Shyla looks up at him with those brown eyes that melt him. He kisses her. It's an innocent kiss, nothing more than a long caress of her bottom lip. After breaking away, he rests his forehead against hers, and they both smile like fools. 

He leaves with one last kiss before heading out. Walking down the driveway, he feels elated, knowing he gets more time with her when he arrives home. 

—— 

| The Boy & The Girl | 

Shyla spends the next eight hours getting acquainted with Harry's cabin. She observes every nook and cranny, not in a nosy way, but just because she genuinely wants to see everything that makes him who he is. She still doesn't know much about him and plans to ask him questions tonight without distractions. 

It's now four in the evening, and the sun still shines through the gaps of the tall pine trees outside. She made breakfast and lunch, looked through his book collection, and picked out some records. Now, she sits on his couch and waits for him. The sun will set soon, and she's looking forward to going to the pub later so they can finish their game of darts. 

Just as she's about to skim another book, she hears what sounds like hooves walking on gravel outside the windows she opened earlier. She goes to the one by the front door and sees Harry riding a horse as he chews on a Twizzler—not just any horse, but the same one she rode when she went horseback riding. 

Harry smirks at her confused expression. He also notices that she's changed out of her clothes from last night and into leggings and a white low-cut top with a string halter around her neck. He pulls back on the reigns and steadily dismounts Quake. He decided to bring the horse Shyla would be most comfortable with, not wanting to scare her by bringing his stallion.

Shyla walks over to them with uneasy steps, and he beckons her closer. "Uber's here," he says, grabbing Quake's purple bridle and guiding him toward her. 

"I think Lurgashall should have a horse and carriage ride share company," Shyla says as she timidly pets Quake. 

He laughs. "Let's ride to the pub." 

Shyla quirks an eyebrow. "What do you mean ride?" 

"On Quake. I mean, I did bring him all the way here. He told me he likes you." 

She pretends to mull it over as Harry drapes his arms around her shoulders and brings her in for a hug. He whispers, "You can hold onto me the entire time. I won't let you get hurt. Let's go inside and get ready, yeah?" 

Shyla nods and returns to the cabin as Harry ties Quake to a post. He then follows her to his loft, wiping sweat off his neck with his shirt. He sees Shyla place her suitcase on the bed, stuffed with many garments.

"Why don't you pick out an outfit for me to wear tonight?" he murmurs as he squeezes her upper arms. 

"Are we dressing casually or formally for our incredibly serious dart competition?"

"Hmm... we should be fancy. Did you pack anything like that?" 

"I might have brought a dress," she says, pressing her ass back against him. When she moves away, she hears his dissatisfied sigh. It's fun riling him up.

"Well, while you get ready, I'm going to give Quake a snack." Harry points to his dresser full of outfits, ranging from tattered sweatshirts to crisp button-ups. "Pick out anything you want. Make it good." 

Shyla hums an affirmation as he heads down the stairs. She begins sifting through his drawers, going through shorts, boxers, and different shades of jeans. When she gets to the bottom drawer, she moves some frayed sweaters around and stumbles upon something unlike his other clothing: a black leather jacket and pants. 

She touches the textured material, removes it from the drawer, and places it on his bed. She could never be confident enough to wear leather, but she has a feeling Harry could pull it off. Where could he have possibly worn this before? It almost looks unused. 

When Harry returns, he stops when he sees what Shyla laid out for him. He clears his throat and slowly walks toward the bed. 

"That's what you want me to wear?" he asks, picking up the pristine jacket. 

"Yes," she says hesitantly. "Is it too much? I can find something else if—" 

"Shyla." Her mouth snaps shut at his low tone. "You want me to wear this with no shirt on underneath and my tits out for everyone to see? Are you sure you can handle that?" 

She swallows and nods her head. "You look really good in leather." 

"Yeah? Leather it is, then." 

He begins taking off his clothes, and Shyla distracts herself by looking through her bag to find the dress she packed. She pulls out her black suede heels and silver slip dress she brought in case they went anywhere fancy. The hem falls to her mid-thigh, and the scooped neckline is loose around her cleavage. Before she zips her bag, she remembers that she brought the pink dart with her. It's in the mesh pocket of her bag, and she slyly takes it without him seeing it and puts it in her bra. She then goes to the bathroom to change. 

Once her dress and shoes are on, Shyla splashes her face with cold water and wanders toward his bookcase while she waits, her fingers running along the spines. She still needs to look through all of them. Based on the titles and covers, many of them seem to be in the romance genre, and it tugs at her heartstrings knowing that Harry reads such vulnerable stories in his cabin all alone. 

While reading the back of a book titled Emma, she suddenly hears heavy footsteps descending the stairs, the heels clicking against the wood. When she turns around, she gasps at the sight before her. 

Harry is in his full leather get-up, which fits him perfectly. He has on black heeled dress shoes to match. But most shocking to Shyla is his hair; it's been pushed back from his face, with no curls hanging over his forehead or a significant part down the middle. 

"Ready?" he asks with a smile as he tugs the lapels of his jacket. 

"Holy shit, you look hot," she says, ogling every inch of him. 

He admires her outfit, his tongue running across his teeth. "You look breathtaking. Trying to get me off my A-game tonight?" 

She shrugs playfully and grabs her phone as Harry leads them out the front door. He unties Quake and keeps the rope secure through his belt loops, then mounts him, careful not to rip or ruin his leather. He waves Shyla over. She ambles to Quake. He offers his hand so she can balance more easily, then watches her lift her leg over to sit behind him on the saddle. 

Shyla's hands immediately circle around his waist under his jacket and rest on his exposed stomach. Harry turns his head to smile at her, leaning in for a quick kiss before gently kicking Quake to get him to start trekking down the driveway. 

"This is actually really nice." 

"Atta girl." Harry reaches his hand back to squeeze her thigh. "Wasn't so bad, huh?" 

"As long as we don't start galloping. Don't even try to be funny," Shyla warns, grabbing his hand on her leg. 

A comfortable silence persists throughout the journey. There's no need to talk when the nature around them is a beautiful point of interest. Shyla never feels like she has to fill in empty conversations with Harry since being in each other's presence is enough. 

After about ten minutes, they arrive at the pub. Harry stops Quake around the back of the building and ties him to the fence post. He usually asks for a clean bucket to bring fresh water out for him during the night. He swings his leg over to dismount, then helps Shyla off with his hands on her waist. 

"Ready to lose?" Harry teases in her ear as he interlocks their fingers and guides her through the back door.

"You have to go easy on me. Dumb down your skills so it's a fair game." 

"What happened to being so confident about kicking my ass?"

"I wasn't serious," she mumbles with a small smile as they walk toward the familiar dart board in the corner. No one is playing, and only a few locals are in the room. Some eat appetizers at the bar, and others sit at tables, talking and enjoying the music. 

"I may or may not have told everyone that I needed the dartboard for tonight," he tells her as he grabs chalk to write their names. It doesn't go unnoticed that he writes 'Shy' on the board.

Shyla comes behind him and whispers, "I brought the pink dart." 

Harry tilts his head to look at her, glancing down at her lips. "Best get to using it," he says lowly, jerking his chin to the dart board. 

Shyla smirks and reaches inside the cups of her bra. Harry's eyes trail downwards, and they watch her every move. He inhales sharply when her cleavage is exposed, and she walks behind the white line before he can say anything. 

"Are we playing 305 again?" 

"Yes. Wait, no. Huh? You mean 301?" 

"What? I swear it was 305." Shyla confusedly shakes her head as she tries to replicate the professional stance Harry showed her last time. "Maybe I was thinking of Pitbull. You know, Mr. 305." 

"Right. Mr. Worldwide and all that," he says from his place next to the dartboard. He then smiles mischievously. "Elbow bent, dale." 

She furrows her eyebrows and tries not to laugh. "What did you just say?" 

"Isn't that what Pitbull says? It means darling, right?" 

Did he fuck that up? Why is she laughing? He was just trying to be romantic. 

Shyla snorts. "No, it doesn't. It means give it or go ahead, Harry. Querida means darling." She bends her elbow and brings the dart up to her line of sight. "Also, please move. I don't want to accidentally hit you." 

"I trust you, darling." He smoothly recovers from the embarrassment as he fully leans against the board and crosses his ankles, making Shyla more worried that she might hit him. 

"You have a death wish speaking to me like that when I'm trying to focus." Shyla places weight on her front foot and snaps her wrist forward to throw the dart. It hits the six on the right side of the board, and she pouts at the low number. Harry shakes his head in faux disappointment as he writes her score down. 

"You distracted me! You can't just stand next to the board looking like that and expect me to do well." 

"Switch." Harry dismisses the compliment and gestures for them to trade places. Shyla stands next to the board as he places himself behind the line. While he stances up, she decides to delve into some teasing. 

When Harry glances at her, she slightly lifts the hem of her dress, exposing bare brown skin that he can't get enough of. He clears his throat and looks back at the board, focusing on the bullseye. He closes one eye and throws the dart. 

He scoffs when it lands on the seventeen. She's going to pay for that. 

"Aw, that's too bad," Shyla says sarcastically. She sways her hips as she walks over to the digital jukebox against the opposite wall and types in a song she wants to play. 

"My Kind of Lady" by Supertramp starts, and Shyla shimmies her way back to Harry. They both forget about their ongoing game and join each other to dance. She can't get over how he looks in his outfit, his stomach muscles flexing with each sway and his tattoos looking more tempting than usual. 

Harry dips her when the saxophone solo plays and kisses her neck before smoothly bringing her back up to his chest. They dance in their little corner of the pub, not caring who's watching. It's just like Shyla felt yesterday when Harry was singing karaoke: in their bubble, feeling like the only ones in the world. 

They eventually got back to finishing the game. Harry won by a mile. Shyla told him that she didn't want to drink tonight when he offered to buy shots, and he agreed because he thought back to when she left and how he drowned himself in whiskey every night until he passed out. He's sick of alcohol, and he also doesn't want to have Shyla be a part of riding a horse drunk. 

A little after seven, the pub got crowded, and they decided to leave. Harry told Shyla on the way back that they didn't need to bring Quake back to the stables because he has his own area around the back of his cabin for the nights, and he's too drunk to go to the ranch. Shyla and Harry walk inside after he's tied up and given water and hay. Harry flicks the light switch on, illuminating the safe space he can now share with Shyla. 

"Did you pick out something for us to listen to?" he asks as they head up to his loft. 

"I did," she replies while taking her heels off. "Can we dance some more? I'm not tired yet." 

He nods and smiles, walking to the small record player on his dresser. He sees that she's picked out two of his vinyls when he was at work. He looks through them, finding Super Trouper by ABBA and Eat to the Beat by Blondie. 

"What should we start with?" He glances back and admires how much shorter she is without her heels. 

"Something slow. After that, I want to play you a song I listened to when I was younger." 

"Of course." He steps out of the way so she can play a record. "Show me all the music you like. It's one of the best ways to get to know someone." 

Shyla's face heats as she takes the ABBA record out and places it on the turntable. "Um, I don't know how to make it play a specific song." 

He stands beside her. "This one is ancient, so you have to do it manually. What song did you want?" 

"Track four, please," she says shyly. 

Harry kneels and gently sets the needle against the specific groove. It scratches before a slow, sultry electric guitar crepitates through. He stands and smiles when he recognizes the song: "Andante, Andante." 

Shyla closes the distance between them and repeats the intimate action she did when they first danced. She takes off his black leather jacket and leaves his inked upper half exposed, then wraps her arms around his waist as Harry cradles her head into his chest with both hands. He thinks he could hold her forever in his loft, skin igniting like a never-ending flame. He has never felt this content, her soft breathing synchronizing with his own, their bodies swaying.

"Do you work tomorrow?" Shyla asks against his collarbone, feeling his heart beat melodically. 

He moves one of his hands to run his knuckles up and down her spine. "I have the next two days off. Did you have something you wanted to do?" 

"I don't know. You'll have to show me around Lurgashall." 

"I'd be happy to, Shy. We'll think of something." He clears his throat before asking the question he's wanted to know the answer to since she arrived: "How long are you going to stay?" How long are you willing to stay?

Shyla's breath hitches as she looks at him. "I'm honestly not sure. I just wanted to see you. Do you need me gone by a certain time?" 

"No, you can stay however long you'd like," he says with a kiss on her forehead. "I just don't know if you'd want to stay for a while. I know you have a new apartment and everything, but... shit, I don't know what I'm saying. I want you around." 

"I want to be around you too. We can talk about it tomorrow, though. Let's just dance for now." 

They continue slow dancing. Harry hopes she'll stay longer than a day, but he fears she'll become bored of the place—or worse, bored of him. 

When the song fades, Shyla pulls away to put the other record on to show Harry the song she mentioned. She removes the sleeve and black vinyl, takes the needle off the record, and puts it back where it belongs. 

"Let me teach you how to play something," Harry says.

"Okay. Track four." She laughs softly and sets the record on the turntable. "Again." 

"They're the best, in my opinion. Track four on Fleetwood Mac's self-titled album is "Rhiannon." It's such a good fuckin' song." 

"We should dance to that album tomorrow." 

"Absolutely," he says without hesitation. Anyway, what we'll do is raise the cue lever so we can move the arm." He grabs Shyla's hand and moves it to where it's needed. She raises the lever, and the arm picks up, hovering in the air. "Skipping tracks on vinyl can cause them to be scratched, but I'll let it slide for you." 

He pinches her hip, then maneuvers her hand to where he assumes the fourth track is. There's a loud crackle before the beginning of Blondie's instrumental "Shayla" starts. 

Shyla smiles at the nostalgia that suddenly hits her. "You know how I love Blondie? When I was younger, I pretended my name was Shayla to act like this song was about me." 

Harry rolls his lips inward to hold his laughter but eventually sputters a breathy chuckle at her confession. 

"Stop laughing!" she says, playfully hitting his arm. 

He captures her hand and pulls her back into his chest. "No, it's cute. It can't be worse than pretending songs I don't even relate to are about me. I used to dream about being Rosanna or Fernando. How incredible would it be to leave such an impact on someone that they write an entire song about missing you." 

Shyla laughs as they twirl around his loft. "I can't believe you can sing and didn't tell me." 

He shrugs, wanting to avoid further flattery. "Mediocre at best." 

"I think you're fantastic at it. You could be a star one day." 

"I don't know if singing in front of twenty people in a rundown pub would get me anywhere." 

"You won't get anywhere with that pessimistic attitude." 

Harry just shakes his head with a grin and leans in for a kiss. Shyla hums into his mouth, feeling his warm lips envelop her own. His kisses, she's come to realize, are always led with purpose. They're never too often and surprise her when she least expects it. So delicate and addictive, leaving her wanting more. 

He leans back just enough so their lips brush against one another. He stares into her eyes, drowning in her brown irises that lighten every time she smiles. 

"Let me paint your nails," Shyla whispers. 

His eyebrows furrow at the sudden topic change. "What?" 

"I brought some nail polish. We can listen to more music, and I can paint your nails." 

"My father would kill me." 

"We can take it off before you go to work. Screw your dad. Do something for yourself." 

Harry tosses the idea around in his head. He can't say no when she looks at him with such promise. Her eyes could persuade him to do anything. "Okay," he says eventually. "Just make sure it'll come off easily." 

"Have you ever painted your nails before?" 

"No." Is he missing out? Should he have painted his nails before? He's never seen anyone in town partake in it. 

Shyla pats the bed and leans over the edge to unzip her duffel bag. "Then I'm glad to be your first. Come sit by me." 

She digs until she finds the six bottles of nail polish she packed in a small makeup pouch. Harry sits beside her and nervously wipes his sweaty palms against the sheets. He wants to slap himself to get the image of his father's face out of his head. He needs to stop worrying about doing things that he wouldn't like. He has over a hundred tattoos; polish on his nails is nothing. 

"What color do you want?" Shyla asks, splaying the bottles across her palms. 

"Um, I don't know what would look good on me." He's been so used to wearing neutral colors that he doesn't know where to start. 

"How about smiley faces. Kind of like that yellow shirt you were wearing earlier." 

He shrugs, knowing she can make anything look good on him if the outfit she picked out is any indication. "Sure. Whatever you want." 

Shyla starts shaking the yellow and black bottles to stir the polish, then motions for Harry's hand. She takes his right one when he slowly extends it. She can tell he's hesitant because of his father, but she would never force him to do anything he's uncomfortable with. 

"Are you sure this is okay?" She rubs her thumb along his knuckles to soothe his noticeable anxiety. "You don't have to. I won't be upset." 

"It's fine. My father never really sees me outside of work." Harry awkwardly clears his throat. 

She just nods and begins applying the first coat on his thumb. His nails are surprisingly clean, considering he works at a ranch. "I'm sorry for saying this, but your father's a dick," she tells him, moving to paint his pointer finger. 

Harry laughs through his nose. "You hit the bullseye with that assumption. Shame you couldn't hit an actual one at the pub." 

She scoffs and sits crosslegged next to him for a more accessible angle. "Excuse me? Where did that come from? I insult your father, and then you insult me?" 

"I'm joking, Shy. You're right; he's a total dick. I don't know how my mother dealt with him for all those years." 

When she finishes another nail, Harry mimics her position so they face each other. They both fall into silence when his mother is mentioned. Shyla doesn't want to pry. 

However, Harry feels the need to jump over that hurdle since he's falling for Shyla and knows that if he doesn't open up soon, she'll slip right through his fingers. 

"She passed away from a stroke," he says, keeping his eyes focused on the strokes of the tiny brush. "It happened out of nowhere. One day, she was completely fine, and the next, she was on a stretcher. She was already gone when they got to the hospital." He swallows roughly and rubs at his throat with his free hand to stop the pain from crawling up his throat. 

"She chewed tobacco and smoked cigarettes," he continues in a thick voice. "She started when I was probably around seven or eight. It was every day, too. Just an awful addiction that eventually caught up to her, you know? I should've expected it to happen, but the thing with death is that you never see it coming. Anyway, it flipped my world upside down. One day, I woke up and didn't have a mother anymore." 

Shyla stops and stares at him with sorrowful eyes. Unfortunately, she can relate, but she keeps quiet and lets him proceed.

"I still talk to her. When I get lonely, I sit in bed or in the bathtub and talk to her about everything. Mostly about how my own father acts like he despises me." 

"Do you really feel like he hates you, or is he just projecting his repressed emotions onto you?" 

Harry lets out a humorless laugh. "God, I can't even tell anymore. He's always been strict and closed off since I was young, but ever since my mother passed, he's been unbearable to be around. It's like he sucks the life out of everyone." 

"He wasn't very friendly when I met him," Shyla confesses. When we went to the stables, he told us if you were cranky, we should let him know so he could talk to you." 

Harry's eyebrows raise. "Sounds about right. He thinks I've got anger issues. I don't, at least not anymore. I was barely hanging on the first couple of years without my mother. I didn't want to see anybody or go anywhere. I was eighteen and had just moved into this cabin because I couldn't handle living with my father during all of that. It may sound cruel to just leave him to grieve by himself, but he's stubborn and would probably tell me to fuck off if I had tried to comfort him." 

Shyla nods understandingly as she puts the last coat of polish on his delicate pinky. She then screws the cap on and brings Harry's hands up to her mouth so she can blow on his fingernails. 

"I'm sorry," she whispers. That's never easy, especially when you're eighteen and still trying to figure out life and expect to rely on your parents. I hope you're okay now. It's normal to still have those days where you want to cry over something that happened long ago. I still do." 

"I'm doing well," he says with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. What about you?" 

Shyla opens the black nail polish to apply smiley faces over the yellow. Focusing on the tiny details, she exhales, thinking about where to start. 

"I haven't told anyone this since I went to therapy ages ago. I still cry over my parents. It's funny because I can't even remember how I felt as a kid when they died. I think I blocked it all out. I mean, I couldn't even tie my own shoes yet. I had no grasp on emotions or death. I was four when my grandma picked me up from daycare and told me that they had been in an accident. All I know is that it wasn't fun growing up and not having my parents there to teach me things." 

She sighs and pinches her eyes shut for a second. "For some reason, at the time, it didn't really affect me until I got older. Like, twelve or thirteen was when I started getting really angsty, for lack of better words. Everything caught up to me, and it crushed me that I didn't have a mom or dad to watch me grow up." 

"Did you have any other family?" 

"I stayed with my grandma for about five years before she passed away. Then, I moved in with my aunt until I was about nineteen. Almost ten years of living with her was a journey, to say the least. She's not bad, just stagnant. Never really let me go out of the house to do things. She was trying to keep me safe, but it got old. Then, I finally went to university and found what I wanted to do there. I realized I loved psychology, and I'm hoping to get my degree within the next year. 

Harry watches Shyla finish the last smiley face on his thumb before setting the polish back in her bag. 

"Come here." He pulls her into his lap, careful not to smudge the polish, wrapping his arms around her body. "I can't even begin to fathom what that was like. I'm so sorry you had to grow up like that. I'm always here to listen, okay?" 

"I know." She hugs him back. "I'll always listen to you too. It's so easy with you. I would have never imagined I'd be talking about this after so long of keeping it inside." 

"I never had anyone to talk to until you came here." Harry's voice wavers before he swallows. There's something about you that makes me want to live differently, not be afraid of being vulnerable." 

Shyla melts at his confession. "Tell me something else." 

"Like what?" 

"Like... your tattoos. You have so many. There has to be stories behind each one." 

"Pick one out, and I'll tell you."

Shyla smiles as her eyes rove over his exposed skin, trying to find one that intrigues her the most. They're all so specific; she has no idea what they could symbolize. 

"The one behind your ear. I just noticed it. Your hair is usually covering it." 

Harry tilts his head to the side so she can see it better. "It's an orchid. My mom and I would pick them by the creek during summer. I have a lot of little tattoos that remind me of her." 

Shyla admires the minimalistic black ink of the flower along the curve of his ear. "Did you sketch it yourself?" 

He nods. "I went out to the creek one day and brought my sketchbook. I did all sorts of flower styles, big and small. I decided on it behind my ear because she would always kiss me there before I went to bed." 

She feels tears build in her waterline as her fingers trace the lines of the tattoo. "It's so beautiful." 

"Thank you," he says, tilting his head back toward her. "I tattooed it myself in the bathroom mirror." 

"Is it difficult to tattoo yourself?" Shyla can't imagine the skill needed to permanently ink something on your skin. 

"It gets easier with practice. I have a few on my arm that are rubbish from when I first started." 

"Did they hurt?" 

Harry tenses and clears his throat. "Depends. The ones above my knees hurt a bit." 

"Oh. I don't have any, so I wouldn't know. I'm too scared of the pain." 

"It's not a bad pain," he mumbles, fidgeting with the hem of her dress. 

"What?" 

"It's... not a bad pain," he admits sheepishly. "Sometimes it feels really good." 

"Seriously?" she asks with shock. "How? It's literally a needle going through your skin!" 

"Pain kink, Shyla." He doesn't want to awkwardly beat around the bush anymore. He might as well just get it out of the way. 

She gapes at him, absorbing the simple yet complex words he just spoke. "Pain kink. Cool. Hey, listen, that's your thing. I don't find feeling like I'm being stabbed to be pleasurable, but I won't judge you for it. You can do whatever—" 

"Tattoo me," he interrupts. 

"Excuse me? Are the fumes from the polish going to your head? Harry, don't you need a literal license to do that?" 

"How many more times do I have to say I trust you, Shy? C'mon, I'll teach you. You can do a small one." 

Shyla mulls over everything that could go wrong. Her hands would shake, and she could do a disastrous job. She's not particularly proficient at art, so anything she'd draw would no doubt end up looking like a shitty elementary school art project. She also doesn't want to hurt him, but that's obviously been punted out of the equation, given what he just admitted. 

She sighs, realizing she has to live a little more. There's nothing wrong with doing something out of her comfort zone, especially with Harry. "Okay. You trust me, and I trust you. But don't be upset when it looks like the scum of the earth." 

Harry fondly kisses her cheek and then pats her hip to remove her from his lap. "Thank you. Follow me. I've got my own makeshift studio around back." 

He picks her up bridal style, not wanting her bare feet to step on anything that could be a hazard in the grass outside. He carefully goes downstairs and kicks the back door open with the toe of his boot. Out there, which is an area Shyla has yet to explore, is a lovely, open lawn with a wooden picnic table and a couple of chairs in front of a fire pit. However, what catches her eye is a covered wagon she's seen on Western TV shows before, just like the ones oxen or cattle pull. 

The canvas material lights up when Harry flicks a hidden switch. He strides toward the three steps that lead up the open doorway, setting Shyla down in the process. 

When she walks inside first, her eyes don't know where to land. There's a wooden table at the back with scattered tattoo supplies—ink containers, cotton balls, a half-empty bottle of rubbing alcohol, and a pair of black surgical gloves. She immediately takes note of the daunting tattoo gun, the metal shining under the low light and intimidating her greatly. 

"It's nothing fancy, but it's just for me," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "And now you. No one else knows about this." 

"I hope you'll invite me in here again after the terrible job I'm about to do," she says self-consciously under her breath. 

"Oh, shut it," he murmurs in a fun-loving tone. He brushes past her and organizes the space a little before taking a new pair of surgical gloves and dangling them tauntingly in front of her. A wicked smirk grows on his face. 

The pit of Shyla's stomach churns at the thought of inking Harry's skin with no experience whatsoever. She blows out a nervous breath and takes the thin gloves from him, stalling by putting them on very slowly. Harry opens a black ink bottle and removes new, sterilized needles from a package. 

Shyla sits in one of two rolling chairs and watches him assemble the tattoo gun with ease. Then he takes a piece of gum from a stray packet on the table, setting it on his tongue as he loads the canister with ink. His jaw flexes with each chew, and she's transfixed by his expertise. 

"Start thinking of something to ink on me," he says, plopping down in the chair beside her. 

Shyla tilts her head and brainstorms what she could permanently tattoo on Harry's beautiful skin. Everything she's coming up with seems too embarrassing to say aloud; a horse that would most likely look like an entirely different animal, a lyric that would definitely be illegible, a dart that would... hold on a second. A dart! That couldn't be too hard, right? 

"Um, a dart? Maybe? You probably already have that somewhere on you." 

"I don't, actually. That's perfect. A tiny, simple one that you can do freehand." 

Shyla's eyes widen. Freehand? She doesn't even think she could do it if Harry guided her hand the entire time. 

"Where do you want it?" she asks apprehensively, rolling her chair closer to him. 

Harry shrugs. "Wherever. I don't care." 

"Okay, how about somewhere on your wrist?" She points to his left one, observing the other tattoos there — an anchor, a clover, and a lock. "I can do something tiny near your other ones." 

"Wherever you want, Shy," he reiterates softly. 

Readily setting his left wrist on the table, he opens the rubbing alcohol and splashes a couple of drops onto a cotton ball. He then sterilizes his entire wrist so whatever patch of skin she picks is safe to prick with a needle. 

"All right. It'll be so tiny. Microscopic, even. And simplistic." Shyla swallows thickly, her hands sweating under the tight gloves. "That's what I'm comfortable with." 

Harry offers her a hopeful smile, then turns the tattoo gun on, its loud buzzing instantly filling the confined space. "Hold your hand around the canister," he instructs, grabbing her hand and maneuvering it to the correct position. "Rest it diagonally against my skin and push down so the needle goes through. Not too deep, but still, make sure it's in there. My skin should resist when you pull it out. Only go a few centimeters before taking it out and continuing." 

Shyla exhales slowly and focuses on an empty patch of skin where she can tattoo the dart. 

"Hey," he says over the buzzing. "It'll be fine. I'll help wipe any excess ink off. If you need me to step in, just let me know, okay?"

She nods and leans forward to shift the gun closer to his wrist. She stretches his skin until it's taut, delicately tracing a short line with the needle. She pulls back quickly and looks at Harry with anxiousness wavering in her gaze. 

He laughs and wipes the liquid ink off, then squeezes her knee. "Keep going," he says hoarsely, feeling the pain rush through his bloodstream. "Stick the needle in for a bit longer. It feels good to me, I promise."

Shyla shifts in her seat and clenches her thighs together. Harry's eyes flutter shut as he comfortably leans back. She goes back at it, then realizes she has no clue how to draw a dart by memory. She wings it, pressing the needle down once again and creating an amateur triangle above the line she drew to represent the tip of a dart. 

When she lingers just a little too long, Harry can't subdue the groan of pleasure that crawls its way up his throat. He blinks up at the wagon covering, his pupils dilating from the addictive pain. 

Shyla thinks his groan is caused by her hurting him, so she removes the needle and blurts, "Sorry! I'm almost—" 

"Keep going," he says, patting her thigh in encouragement. "Please, baby." 

Baby. He's too worked up to notice what he just uttered, but Shyla notices, and she wants to get this goddamn tattoo done so they can head back to his cabin and fuck the tension away. She finishes it by adding two minuscule lines coming out of the straight line. It looks like a toddler did it, but she doesn't care. Harry is so tense, jaw tightened as he chews his gum, and her heart is pounding. 

Harry exhales when she manages to shut the gun off by herself. He lazily wipes the excess ink off, then swiftly pulls her into his lap. He grabs the aftercare ointment and rips the cap off with his teeth before applying a layer over his new tattoo. He then tears some plastic wrap off and hurriedly covers the area, finishing it with gauze. 

He'll clean up later. Right now, he needs Shyla. 

She straddles his legs and takes the gloves off, feeling his cock already hard underneath the leather. He groans again, this time from the pressure of her core against him. The dress she's wearing bunches up around her hips, her underwear entirely exposed. She begins rocking against him as his bandaged wrist pushes on her lower back to guide her, and any movement from his wrist causes a burst of pleasurable pain to shoot throughout his arm. 

"Cabin," he commands gruffly as he lifts her and walks out of the wagon. He blindly shuts the light off, then makes a beeline through the back door and straight up to his loft. 

He gently tosses her on the bed and crawls between her legs, his forearms beside her. "Is this okay?" he asks, his mouth resting against her spread legs. 

"Yes," she whines, sitting up to take her dress off. 

Harry helps lift it over her head, then tosses it over the edge of the bed. Her strapless bra and underwear remain, and he takes his time, leaving kisses up her thighs. He presses his nose into the damp spot forming on her underwear, placing an open-mouthed kiss over it. He moans at the taste of her arousal through the thin fabric before gripping his hands around her upper thighs as Shyla arches her back on the bed. 

"Be a good girl and stay still," he says while looking up. He sees her eyebrows furrowed, silently begging for him to give her what she wants. 

"Rip them off. I don't care, just please," she says, grabbing a fistful of his hair. She pulls it, hoping that his love for pain isn't just with tattoos. 

His reaction to her eagerness and the pulling has him biting marks into her thigh. He then kneels to remove her underwear down her legs. She's already dripping down her entrance, so Harry reaches into the nightstand drawer to grab one of the condoms that he stored up when he found out she was going to visit. He felt some shame about it, especially when the cashier gave him a knowing look as if to say: It's about time. 

Harry gets off the bed to pull his leather pants and boxers down, then takes his shoes off. He opens the package and rolls the condom over his length, moving to crawl over her body. He notices that Shyla has taken her bra off as he lines up with her entrance and swallows his nerves down. 

"Before you ask, I want to do this. I trust you, H." 

The nickname makes him whimper, and his cock throbs. He takes his right hand down to it and guides it up and down Shyla's wetness, getting her used to the feeling. He looks at her one more time to ensure she's ready, and when she nods in a frenzied way, he pushes his tip in. He opens his mouth at the tightness, morning at how well she fits. Like she was made for him. He pushes in slowly until he's all the way in. Shyla gasps at the way he fills her, clenching around him as he thrusts in steady, long movements. His left hand holds onto the top of the headboard, and his other slips under her waist. 

"You feel amazing," he mumbles in the crook of her neck. The bed creaks with each thrust, Shyla's first moan leaving her mouth when he hits deep. 

"I can feel you... right here," she says, touching her lower stomach. She can quite literally see and feel his cock nudging the skin there from how deep he's going. 

"Yeah?" He spurs her on, continuing to thrust in extensive motions through her tight walls. 

He doesn't think he'll last long, not having been intimate with someone in so long, but he wants to make it worth it for her. Shyla lifts her hips to meet his, placing her arms around his neck. She whispers breathy moans in his ear, and Harry is getting close to his climax just from her sounds alone. 

"I'm close," he says through kisses on her neck. 

"Let me be on top." He doesn't dispute this, simply flipping over so that he's on his back. Kiss me. I'm almost there." 

Harry kisses her, quieting her moans as she unravels. She grinds on top of him, holding his shoulders tightly. Harry comes when she clenches around him, his hips stuttering as he rides it out with quick thrusts. He spills into the condom, and his face grows red at how quickly he lets go. Shyla orgasms with him, lifting her hips off him when she gets sensitive. They're both breathing heavily as he rolls the condom off and disposes of it. His hand rests on his stomach, and Shyla flops next to him.  

Eventually, Harry sits up and opens the window to allow the summer breeze in. 

Just as he gets comfortable in his bed again, a sudden and startling noise comes from downstairs. He and Shyla freeze and stare at each other with confused expressions. He holds his pointer finger up, mutely telling Shyla to stay put, then quickly slips into his boxers and a random pair of jeans before slowly walking down the stairs. Shyla covers herself with his sheets and watches from afar, her heart hammering from the unexpected interruption. 

Harry cautiously stops on the middle step when the noise becomes clearer. There's raucous knocking on the front door, and it sounds like the person on the other side is furious. 

—— 

[alex-journal]

Hay Fever

Summary: y/n has hay fever for the first time, and it isn’t fun. Pronouns: They/them

The Straw Hat crew was sailing on the Grand Line, course set to the next island. The last one was a beautiful fall island, the weather got warmer, not as warm as the summer, and the wind brought a grassy smell. y/n sneezed, as the wind tickles their nose. “Did you catch a cold? I told you it wasn’t warm enough to swim in that lake!” Chopper scolded him like a worried mother - or as then overprotective doctor, that he was. y/n laugh, “Na, everything is fine. I don’t feel sick, just a sneeze.” “I'll make you a broth to boost your immune system. Better safe than sorry.” Sanji handed Chopper, y/n and Usopp their lunchtime snacks and tea. “I am fine, but thanks Sanji.” y/n was sure they weren’t sick but appreciated how much the others were worried about them.

-

The Straw Hat crew took two more days to reach the new Island, and y/n had to endure more teasing because of their sneezing. The Crew was sure they caught a cold, even tho y/n swore they felt fine and just have an itchy nose. As they reached the new Island, it made more sense, for y/n at least.

This one was a beautiful spring Island and everything was filled with life, and pollen. They were greeted by a beautiful scenery filled with blooming flowers and lush greener, birds sang a happy melody and the wind carried everything over to them.

Everyone was excited to explore the Island. Luffy was so eager, that Nami had to order him to help Franky to anchor before their Captain would just jump over on the Island before they were close enough to set over with the Mini-Mary. y/n wanted to explore the island too, but the Crew thought they had a cold, so they were on house arrest - or better ship arrest - and have to rest and keep an eye on the Sunny with Chopper and Zoro. Not the fun they had hoped, but Nami made it clear that there was no point in arguing with her. 

While the others explored the Island, the three were left on the Ship. Zoro took a nap, Chopper were in his Room preparing some Medicine and y/n stand on the deck not knowing what to do. Their eyes were heavy and watery, but y/n wasn’t tired. Even if they were tired, their itchy and runny nose made it impossible to rest. Combined with the couch, it felt wore than the last flu. y/n swore they weren’t sick, but this wasn’t normal and the first time they felt like this. y/n tried to ignore their discomfort. What ever this was, it wouldn't stop them from what ever they're going to do! But the only thing they could do was to sniff, sneezes and coughs - which annoyed Zoro. “I’m gonna get sick, just listening to you, Sniffles!” Usually nothing could wake up Zoro from his nap, nothing that wouldn’t threaten his life at least, but y/n concert seemed to be life-threatening if it kept Zoro from sleeping. “Sorry, Zoro…” y/n sniffed and waked away. y/n went inside and sat in front of the aquarium. It was a little bit better, the cough stopped and breathing was a little bit easier, even tho y/n had to breathe through their mouth. You only appreciate what you had when you don't have it anymore. “WE ARE BACK!!” Luffy announced in full volume. y/n looked tired as they stepped outside to great the adventurers. “Hey, did you find something cool?” y/n asked and sniffed again. “Look! I found a cool bug!” Luffy said and shoved a big purple flower in y/n face. They saw the blue shimmering bug, sitting in the center of the flower, but they also smelled the pollen the beetle kicked up as it rubbed its legs. Without a warning, y/n sneezed, and the only thing left was the stem in Luffy’s hand. The bug landed on the ground, the petals and pollen flew around and filled the air. y/n couldn’t apologies, because that flower set off a chain reaction of sneezes and y/n stumbled backwards. “Noooo! My bug!” Luffy cried out and tried to catch his shimmery friend so that y/n couldn’t step on him. The rest of the crew quickly noticed y/n struggling. Robin used her Devil Fruit Powers to catch them, before falling. “It seems you have a severe case of hay fever, y/n” Robin stated as y/n tried to stop sneezing. “My nose burns…” y/n wined as they finally could do more than sneezing and crying.

“You should stay inside and don’t come in contact with anything from this island.” Chopper advised, but it was difficult. The Crew tried to find a place for y/n to rest, but no matter where they went, they were still affected by the allergens on the island Everyone and everything had contact with the pollen, so even after a shower and cleaning, y/n had difficulties breathing. “I am sorry... That you lost your cool bug...” y/n sniffed as they sat beside Luffy in the aquarium bar. “Ah, don’t worry. Hope you feel better soon.” Luffy smiled.

- As they finally left the island, y/n started to feel better. Their symptoms slowly faded away, and they were able to enjoy the journey with their crewmates again.

Although they were disappointed that they couldn't explore the beautiful spring Island, they were happy to finally breathe freely again. Chopper made sure to do his research and take any necessary precautions to keep everyone healthy and safe next time, and prepared allergy medicine for every future adventure. Just in case, they encountered another spring-like island.

[womensworldtour]

5 Takeaways from La Vuelta Feminina

Competition is good.

There were no boring stages. Every stage of La Vuelta Feminina was competitive this year, and most were quite close. Even the sprint stages ended up having major GC action with the cross-winds. If you look at the results, it seems to favor the super teams like SD Worx-Protime and Visma Lease-a-Bike, and they certainly did have good results. But every stage was hotly contested, there were no dominant solo breakaways, and teams like FDJ-Suez or EF Education-Cannondale played their cards well to upset the favorites for some stage races. Frankly, the Vuelta Feminina was a lot more fun to watch than the men's Giro d'Italia is looking to be. (There, we said it!)

2. La Vuelta Feminina's spot on the calendar is fantastic.

We think the organizers of the Vuelta Feminina have absolutely nailed the spot on the calendar. That lull at the end of the spring classics was just begging for a stage race, and Spain's beautiful countryside and cities look best in spring. That's always been the down side of La Vuelta versus Le Tour in the men's calendar, the scenery is so much greener and prettier during the Tour in July than the Vuelta in August. A spring Vuelta solves that problem and avoids overlap with the Tour de France Femme or the Giro Donne, bringing top talent to the race.

3. Weird dynamics at SD Worx-Protime continue.

Honestly, we don't know what is going on in this team. Demi Vollering's performance was great, she deserved both stage wins and the general classification. But her best mountain domestique was arguably Grace Brown of FDJ-Suez and not any of her own teammates. There were times when Marlen Reusser or Mischa Bredewold seemed to attack Vollering, or when Vollering was leading out the group with her own teammates behind. It didn't escape our notice that Vollering wasn't on the podium when SD Worx accepted the best team award. No one outside the team can tell, but Abby Mickey of the Escape Collective probably said it best when she said "the SD Worx-Protime team bus can’t be a fun place to hang out at the moment."

4. Crashes continue to be a real danger.

It's been a horrible year for crashes in both the men's and women's peloton, and the Vuelta Feminina saw its share of them, even in the winning team on the first TTT stage! It's a shame we didn't get to see a rematch of Gaia Realini versus Demi Vollering due to Realini's crash and withdrawal, although Evita Muzic took us somewhat by surprise and rose to the challenge instead. Likewise, the withdrawal of very strong riders like Ellen van Dijk (Lidl-Trek), Anna Henderson (Visma Lease-a-Bike), Emma Norsgaard (Movistar), Marta Cavalli (FDJ-Suez), Clara Emond (EF Education-Cannondale), and several others due to injuries from crashes was a real shame.

5. Several riders and teams are stepping up.

It wouldn't be fair to say that Evita Muzic has been flying below anyone's radar, but until last week, we didn't know how good her form has become. If she hadn't been caught in the second group during the crosswind echelons of Stage 4, she would have had a real shot at the podium, but she can be happy with her stellar victory on Stage 6. Similarly, Riejanne Markus was remarkably consistent in the mountains and her second-place finish is a real mark to watch her in future GC competitions. Both FDJ-Suez and EF Education-Cannondale were very strategic, using their riders effectively, and nabbed some great stage wins as a result. Ricarda Bauernfeind's (Canyon-SRAM) sixth-place finish was impressive, if only because she lost two minutes in the Stage 4 crosswind split, and was presumably riding for teammate Kasia Niewiadoma until Niewiadoma had to withdraw due to illness.

And we have to tip our hats to Karlijn Swinkels of UAE Team ADQ, who fought mightily to keep the mountains classification jersey after winning it in Stage 2, which enlivened several of the breakaways throughout this year's Vuelta Feminina. We would prefer to see the polka-dot jersey points to be calculated so as to not favor the GC winner, and the last-minute rule change before Stage 8 probably doomed Swinkels' campaign to win the Queen of the Mountains, but Swinkels fought hard regardless, and for that we salute her.

[undrthelights]

rules: pick a song for each letter of your URL

thank you for the tags @joelsgreenflannel @joelsversion @demonjoel 🤍

sharing what i listen to is actually so embarrassing idk idk

u - under control // the strokes

n - ninety - seven // alkaline trio

d - disappear // mazzy star

r - roland // interpol

t - till we earned a holiday // the anniversary

h - hear you me // jimmy eat world

e - everyone feels like you // owen

l - lotion // deftones

i - i caught myself // paramore

g - greener with the scenery // the used

h - head in the wall // ethel cain

t - this is what makes us girls // lana del rey

s - stole my heart // one direction (iykyk 😤)

pretend this isn’t all over the place

np tags: @javiscigarette @sweetercalypso @tinycozycomfort @stonerwitch