#or drinks a cup of water with flecks of that light glowing blue in it and like. she doesn’t know. but it’s too late

[enderspawn]

had a bitb themed dream last night except i still haven’t listened to much of bitb so instead it filled in the gaps of bitb horror with my own Personalized Horrors and also timothy rand was there

[aquaticstyles]

unchained

A while ago I was asked for a “Have You Ever Been In Love” sequel, and while this is probably not the direction you guys were expecting, this is what I came up with. Also, this one’s (loosely) inspired by the song “Scott Street” by the lovely Phoebe Bridgers (highly recommend listening to the spotify sessions version while listening). Fun fact, for forever I misheard the lyrics, thinking she was saying “unchained” instead of “ashamed.” After noticing that I have, in fact, been wrong this entire time, I realized I kinda liked my version better (sorry Phoebe). And, me being me, I ran with it and it spun into this quick, 1.4k part two. Reblogs + feedback help so much! Enjoy!! xx, Jane 

“Have you ever been in love?”

Harry’s heart stops.

The question catches him off guard, and not just because he’s not used to interviewers asking such personal ones (he guesses this is what he signed up for when he agreed to be the first male flying solo on the cover of Vogue). It makes his heart stop because of his answer, because of the woman that had once asked him the same exact question.

Harry has never been one to linger in his sadness; he finds it unproductive, and quite honestly, completely depressing. After a break up, one can find the caramel-colored curls belonging to the world’s latest phenomenon sweating out his sorrow, or frustration, at the gym, pounding the boxing bag again and again and again. “Nothing another set can’t fix,” his trainer, Mike, would often tease the man in denial, knowing good and well by his posture upon entering the ring, slumped shoulders and an ever-present crease between his eyebrows, that another one had bit the dust the night prior. Mike had learned fairly quickly to never ask questions, to simply let Harry work out his emotions as he pleases, even if that means letting him walk out with wrapped fists masking throbbing, crimson knuckles.

Harry has never been one to talk about his sadness either; he finds it prolongs the pain rather than diminishing it, an annoying gnat swarming around an abnormally large bite from a crisp apple, halting his progression in enjoying his afternoon snack because he just can’t catch the bloody thing. His sister has tried to break him from his stubborn ways, even resulting to getting the lanky man drunk off tequila in hopes of him finally opening up about his incessant missed targets; however, that only ever ends up with Gemma’s arms holding up the giggling teddy bear and folding his bulky body into a taxi, mimicking cramming a cotton ball into a straw. Therapy was suggested and waved off with an inked palm, because if he doesn’t want to talk to his sister about it, how on earth is he supposed to talk to a stranger?

Never-ending claims of “I’m fine,” and “It just didn’t work out,” and “Don’t worry ‘bout me,” and “It wasn’t even that serious.” Sure, each breakup took a little something out of the man that insisted he was “fine,” but eventually, a couple dozen inked journal pages later, Harry would be back to his normal, happy-go-lucky, perfectly-kind self.

All of these rang true for most of Harry’s young adulthood.

All of these were common occurrences, that is, until Harry met you.

You were unlike anyone he had ever met. Selfless, but not in an over-bearing, walk-all-over-me kind of way. Funny, but not in an underlying-hatred, fake-laugh kind of way. Genuine, but not in a look-at-me, fake kind of way. Honest, in a I-want-to-know-everything-that-makes-you-you, ask-you-questions-until-the-sun-rises kind of way. Drop-dead-gorgeous in the most unbelievable, glowing, ethereal, kind of way that he constantly reminded you of. You were the perfect balance, the missing diamond to even out the coal on the other end of the scale.

Loving you felt like the ocean.

In the morning when there’s a hazy screen covering your lenses, clouding the soft sunlight in a muted, white-washed filter. It’s more gray, yet still golden as the shining mass of fire lazily rises from its slumber. It’s calm, clouds stretched apart like cobwebs in the faded blue sky above, waves leisurely, almost too relaxed, crashing along the bleached shore then disappearing back into the horizon. Still sleepy, still new, an entire day ahead of you.

In the afternoon when the sun is at its highest and hottest, radiating down ultraviolet rays that burn your skin, causing alarmingly red shoulders in need of aloe that soon progressively heal and turn into a bronzed exterior. Speckles of light dancing upon excited waves, similar to a neighborhood of children dressed in pink polka dots and orange overalls running towards the ice cream truck filled to the brim with dreams of sugary stomachaches. It’s saturated, every color its brightest and loudest, pops of cerulean and coral. It’s a blanket of comfort, a suffocating scarf. It’s sweet. It’s sour. A cool glass of lemonade sinking into a bed of quicksand. Annoying and astonishing.

In the night, when the yellowing presence is long gone in the awakening of the moon, the deepest indigo swirling in between pockets of stars dotted and flecked into the atmosphere like freckles. It’s black and blue. You don’t know where the earth stopss and the water begins, familiarity lost as the waves erase each new footprint in the sand. The tide is an abuser, sweet as it sings you in, terrifying as it pulls you under. Skinny dipping, vulnerable, exciting, adrenaline, heart thumping, diving, sinking, drowning.

The morning, the afternoon, the night. The happening, the honeymoon, the heartbreak.

Ever since it ended, everything Harry had ever known was cast aside, thrown out like a Gucci jumper from last season. For the first time in his twenty-six years of living, fourteen of those juggling the obstacles that relationships can and will bring, Harry was irreversibly numb, a pair of frozen, gloveless fingertips blue from the icy wind. Not only did he linger in the gut-wrenching grief, he was absorbed by it. Instead of waking up each morning tucked into the bare side of your body diffusing innocent warmth, sipping a steaming cup of black coffee received by hands much smaller than his own, he woke up with a stranger laying on his chest, cold, with a pounding headache the bottle of whiskey had gladly supplied from the night before. The days felt as if they lasted an eternity, time stuck in slow-motion, tick, tick, ticking, one second, one and a half, one and three quarters, two. He watched the seasons pass, the grass dying and regenerating into its natural emerald shade from his bedroom, dust pocketing in the corners of a picture frame containing two pairs of sparkling eyes and genuine, toothy grins sitting on the windowsill. Nights consisted of him lying sleepless on his back, eyes wide awake, thumbs twiddling as the echoes of helicopters overhead drone in and out. Dozens of missed calls remained unanswered: Mum, Gem, Mitch, Mike, Adam, Sarah, Mum, Mum, Gem, Mum, Mike, Mitch, Gem, Mitch, Mum…

He was stuck, a pancake glued to an ungreased pan, charred. It was when this melancholy had prolonged for nearly its sixth month, and all at home remedies (which included drinking, writing, drinking because he was writing, and writing because he was drinking) failed to provide any peace that he decided to give in to the recommendations from almost every single one of his friends: therapy. After the first session, he was ready to book it and sprint off to a deserted island with nothing but a coconut filled with rum to accompany his solitude. Turns out that one session was the mento to his coca cola of bottled-up emotions, exploding months’ worth of buried feelings and memories in an hour. It took the will of God (and Gemma purposefully lying and telling him they were going to get lunch) to get Harry back in the baby-pink-painted interior of his therapist’s office. After months of talking, sorting, compartmentalizing, yelling, crying, healing, unpacking, and reflecting, Harry tackled down the closure he had been chasing. A year and an album later, when he heard your name, he no longer felt trapped, heart beating rapidly, trying desperately to break apart his ribcage, he felt unchained—a prisoner uncaged, pounds and pounds of metal unlocked from his wrists, free.

Before, your name was paired with a colorless photo album, snapshots of vibrancy draining into black and white, frozen, lifeless, still.

Now, your name resembled a film reel of the best moments, your sweater hanging in his closet, your arm thrown around his mother’s shoulder in a polaroid candid, your laugh echoing in the acoustics of his shower after you nearly slipped on the lavender bubbles coating sudsy toes, your hands massaging his scalp, twisting curls into detailed plaits, your foamy lips smushing against a stubbled cheek, leaving remnants of peppermint mocha in the winter air, your satin skirt contrasting from his purple flares in his backyard, playing thumb war and whispering confessions in the moonlight. The good memories built a brick wall to block out the bad, dimming the light of your downfall.

“Have you ever been in love?” The question echoes again in Harry’s ears, causing a grin and a dimple to pop into his cheek. The fuzzies. Once, twice, three times. Click, shake, tape.

“Yeah, I have.”

[uglypastels]

Soteria // H.O. - Greek Myth AU

(a/n) I know I said I was gonna write this like months ago, and i had written most of it fairly quickly, but then inspiration and motivation kind of slummed and i stopped, but then tonight I was like, ya know what, let’s finish this. so i did :)

word count: 9.6k

warning: near death experience, death, drowning. Maybe parts of this are questionable, but it was based on an ancient Greek myth, so please take it with a grain of salt oki

Love is not full of pity, as men say,  But deaf and cruel where he means to prey  - (Hero and Leander, C. Marlowe)

Persephone had returned from the Underworld, and her mother Demeter was celebrating once again. The night was warm, and the flowers around the town were in their full bloom as the green leaves in the trees blew softly with the winds. 

The city of Sestos had its yearly feast, honouring the goddess of love. As the sun was slowly reaching the horizon, it illuminated the streets in the soft golden glow. The people of the town were coming outside, ready to enjoy the festivities. At the city square, with a fountain positioned in its exact centre, you could hear the lyre player strum a melody. A woman joined in on her aulos not soon after. With music good enough for Apollo himself, people were quick to start dancing around the square, laughing and vocally copying the melody in a complementing manner. 

It was a long walk from Aphrodite’s tower to the city, so by the time you had joined, the festival had been going on for quite some time already. Like every year, it was crowded. People from every side of the world would come to the party in the name of the goddess, in the hopes to find their love- even if it was only for the night. 

As one of the priestesses of Aphrodite, your attendance was more of a duty than a privilege. You were there to, of course, devote yourself to your deity and honour her, while also making sure that everyone else was doing so accordingly. Fortunately, it would still be some years until you took over the duties of the higher priestesses of the temple. Meaning that all your work was done at the offerings ceremony of the fire.

You knew that you had arrived later than planned, only a few minutes short from the start of the offerings. Stepping up towards the small temple where your sisters stood, you straightened out your peplos. 

“Where have you been,” one of your fellow Hiereiai asked as she ripped up the last piece of the sourdough. You took it from her and put it in the final empty basket. 

“I had forgotten to flower the anemones,” you said. You didn’t dare to look at the horrified looks you had gotten from your confession. You knew it was disgraceful, neglecting the sacred flowers. 

“I went back to do so, that is why I am late,” you explained yourself further, not letting any comments come through. You did not need to hear this now. You had realised your mistake and fixed it. Then let it be history. 

And history it became. You continued preparing the feast with the others, as the crowd of the Sestos inhabitants, as well as the guests, were already forming a line. Soon, one by one, everyone came up to the tables filled with the delicious food, grabbing what they wanted. As quickly as they came up to you, so soon did they leave. Of course, not before dropping a handful into the fire that sparked before you. The sweet smells of the meats and fruit roamed up into the skies for Olympus to enjoy. Your mouth started to water, and your empty stomach was rumbling softly, but it wouldn’t be long before you could eat too. There were only a few people left to serve, and then it would be your turn to make your sacrifice. 

You handed over a portion of roasted lamb to the man in front of you, not even looking up at this point, being used to the quick interactions. But he surprised you with two simple words. 

“Thank you.” 

This made you look up. 

“Uhm, you’re welcome.” You smiled, a bit taken back. It was getting darker, but the eyes that were looking back at you were clear and mesmerising, as piercing as Poseidon’s kingdom itself. You had never seen such vibrancy in someone’s soul. 

At that exact moment, the man looked at you in bewilderment. He smiled at you, astonished at how the crown of flowers complimented your hair. The golden flecks made it seem as if you were sparkling in the setting sunlight. Your shy smile made his heart skip a single beat. 

You shared another moment of eye contact before he was pushed forward by his company of friends. That same time, you were brought back to your duty by an overlooking high priestess. But from that moment on, you had lost your focus. As you were giving out the last rations of the meals, you couldn’t help but steal glances at the handsome stranger. You watched him throw a handful of grapes into the spitting fire. The orange flames illuminated his physique, highlighting the lines in his arms. 

You couldn’t stop looking at him. Not to put the gods in vain, but he looked like one himself. He had almost an aura around him that made you wonder if it wasn’t actually the Sun god in disguise. No, it couldn’t be. 

You ate your meal at the side of your temple sisterhood, but not even the delicious food could keep your mind away from the man. He stood there, across the festival grounds, not far away from the fire pit. A cup of wine in his hand. He laughed loudly, draping his arms across the shoulder of his friend. When he looked across the grounds, your eyes locked. You saw that intense blue colour and froze, as if under a spell. Were the gods testing you? On this sacred day?

You shook your head to yourself. No, that couldn’t be happening. 

Not looking up again, you finished your food. The music had been playing the whole time. Still, once the majority of the celebrators had eaten, the volume and tempo went up slightly, making it more enticing to dance again. And sure enough, the square was quickly filling up once more with people spinning and moving to the music.

Not much of a dancer yourself, you stayed seated at your table, looking at a candle that had been placed in front of you, getting lost in the little flame. As if you were put under a trance. It was swaying from side to side in the draft, but it seemed to have caught on to the rhythm of the kithara. You were so caught up with the movements of the light that you almost missed what was happening around you. In fact, you would have if it wasn’t for the dry cough you heard above you. 

Still, in a bit of a haze, you looked up. 

There were those hypnotising eyes again, small wrinkles at their outer corners. He was holding two cups of wine in his hands, extending one of his arms to you. 

“I thought you would like a drink,” he said. You didn’t know what to do, so you accepted the drink and with a soft smile, took a sip. The sour taste went through your entire body, so it seemed, in an enjoyable way. 

“Would you care for a dance, my lady?” he made another offer, pointing out to the rest of the festival. 

“I’m sorry, but I am not much of a dancer,” you told him, heat rising to your cheeks. You always thought of it to be a bit embarrassing that you could not dance. However, that did not seem to be much a problem, to the man, for he nodded with an accepting smirk. 

“How about a stroll around the streets then?” He suggested. This, you could not decline. You agreed to the idea and got up, taking your goblet with you. 

“What is your name, if I may ask,” he said as you left the festivities behind you. Though the music still seemed to be only a few feet away, you were actually making your way across the city. 

“y/n,” you told him, “and what may I call you?”

“My friends call me Harrison,” he said, before taking a sip of his drink. 

“That is an unusual name. Where does it come from?” You had indeed never heard of such a name and were curious to find out where the handsome stranger came from.

 “Well, I come from Abydos,” he chuckled melodiously, “but the name is my father’s. Son of Harios, you see.” 

“Oh, but Abydos, that is all the way across the Hellespont!” you exclaimed, not having expected someone to have travelled that far. 

“Yes, my friends and I took a boat this morning. We will be going back soon after the feast ends, probably.” He looked out, behind him, mournfully in a way. As if he wished not to be returning to his home. It did not go unnoticed by you. 

“Have you been here before?” you questioned, bringing his attention back to you, instead of what was going on in the square. It did fulfil your needs, as Harrison turned to you with a faint smile on his lips. 

“No, I have not. We don’t get to leave much, unfortunately.” 

“How so?” you kept on asking curiously. 

“My family does not enjoy the idea of me leaving my duties for a festival across the waters.” 

“Are you telling me that you came here without permission?” The idea made you giggle. He and his friends were risk-takers, to travel across the sea without telling their families. Who knew what could happen on those waters. The idea excited you. It would be a fantasy to think of anyone from Sestos doing something so daring. 

As Harrison spoke about his typical days back home, the two of you made your way further away from the celebration. The sun had hidden behind the sea, but the silver glow of the moon gave enough light for you to see where you were going. It was a bit of a walk, but you knew it would be worth it for the view. If there was the possibility of him never having the chance to come back, he needed to see it.

And so you lead him up the hill, through the gardens that you forgot to flower some hours ago, and finally reached the outlook on to the shore. It was a gap between the trees, just big enough for the both of you to stand in. Your feet were touching the soft grass. Petals of the flowers hitting your ankles as you took a step closer to the edge. Harrison grabbed your arm, making you look up at him with a raised brow. 

“Don’t worry; I spend almost all my free time up here. It’s safe,” you assured him. 

“Promise me that you won’t fall.” 

“I promise.” As you said so, you took another small step. Nothing happened. He still didn’t seem too sure about this position, but pushing the hesitance aside, Harrison joined you. 

“Thank you for bringing me here,” he eventually spoke up, after a few moments of silence. “It is truly a magical sight.” 

“I know,” you had no better reaction. This had always been your favourite spot around the temple. It was the one place where the sea seemed to be calmer. As if Poseidon knew that the keyhole from which you were looking at his world was a little piece of personal Elysium to you if that was even possible. You had never thought of showing this to anyone, not even telling. Still, there was something about this Harrison, that made you feel good about this choice- secure. You had the feeling that he needed this—just this one moment—an almost sacred minute between the two of you.

You stood there for another short and silent moment. Both goblets of wine were now empty. Then, Harrison surprised you by grabbing your hand. He made you turn around to look into his eyes, his touch as well as his actions gentle. The silver moonlight made the blue in his eyes sparkle even brighter than you thought to be possible. 

“I know we have only known each other shortly, and what you have given me with this view is already unpayable,” he squeezed your hand, his eyes not leaving your face, “but can I ask you one more thing?” 

“Of course,” you asked without hesitation. Harrison took a step closer to you; he let go of your hand, just to cup your cheek softly. 

“May I kiss you?” 

This startled you. It was enough of a reaction for him to realise he said something wrong. He quickly pulled away. 

“I am sorry, I shouldn’t have-” 

“I wish I could kiss you, Harrison,” you told him before he went on. There was no need for him to apologise. “I really do. But I can’t.” As you spoke, you had the urge to bite your bottom lip to suppress any further emotions. The confusion in Harrison’s expression, however, was undeniable. 

“You can’t?” 

“No. As a priestess of Aphrodite’s temple, I have to honour the life of purity.” Saying that had never made you feel frustrated. It used to be something you were proud of, but seeing Harrison in front of you, it was merely an obstacle that you could not pass through. 

“Are you telling me, my love, that we can not show our adoration to each other, for you have promised to stay virtuous to-to the goddess of love?” His hand was back on your body. You could feel his fingers on the material of your dress, pressing in a squeeze as he finished speaking. Your head grew dizzy at how close he was. 

“Y-yes.” 

“Does that not sound absurd to you? A life devoted to Aphrodite, without being able to show love yourself? It would be like honouring Ares and not being able to wage war.” 

“I know, but-” 

“Have you made a promise? An oath?” He pulled you into him, his enchanting eyes desperate for you to give in. 

“No.” you shook your head. 

“Then what would be the harm? Don’t you think Aphrodite would be happy? To see us together?” He said all this with a kind smile on his lips, pulling you in closer. Your hand fell on his chest. Just by the simple touch of his chiton, you could tell that he came from a wealthy family from a different place. The material was unknown to you, but it was soft and smooth to the touch. You moved your hand slowly over the piece of cloth, but suddenly the texture changed. It was colder and firmer, and you realised you had moved your fingers on to his skin. With wide eyes, you pulled away. The way you surprised yourself made Harrison laugh. 

“It’s alright.” He said, taking your hand in his and placing it back on the spot you pulled away from seconds before. He held it to his chest tightly. 

“You can feel it, don’t you?” The intensity in his voice was mesmerising. That eagerness to show you every emotion possible through each word, no matter how small. “How my heart is beating, how it stopped at your touch? It is all for you, y/n.” He looked up at the black sky with a bright smile, “Aphrodite, be my witness, for tonight, my heart beats only for you.” He had looked back down into your eyes as he finished his bold statement.

Being so close to him and hearing those words leave his lips, you felt as if you were melting away from reality. Was this happening? Had Harrison just been struck by Eros’ arrow? Had you? You could not have said anything for sure, except that you could not get enough of his beauty. By far, he was the most gorgeous man you had ever laid your eyes on. 

“Please, y/n, let me kiss you?” 

Would you be breaking any rules if he were the one to touch you? You were not prepared to answer that question just yet. You took a step back, closing your eyes for you did not want to see the pain in his. Harrison understood your action. 

“Then so be it, but do not think that my affection for you will lessen, my lady.” And with that, he leaned in to kiss your cheek. That quick touch, not even lasting a second, was enough to make your entire body burn. Or, at least it felt like it was. As he pulled away, you wanted to lean forward, match his movements, not let him go. But your choice has been made. 

Harrison looked out at sea, his face illuminated in the silver light perfectly. But his handsomeness was overshadowed by the doubts and worries you saw were forming in his mind. You spoke for him, already expecting what was to come.

“You must go, don’t you?” 

“Unfortunately. If I don’t come back to leave with my friends tonight, the monsters awaiting me back home might be the end of me.” 

“Your parents will get furious?” you laughed at his dramatics, to which he joined. 

“Yes. But-” he took his hand in yours again, “I promise you that we shall see each other again, and my desire for your lips-” 

“Harrison,” you sighed. 

“I know. But I will prove myself to you and to the gods that I am worthy of your affection. I do not yet know how, but I will, and then, you may reward me with your kiss.” 

“You do not give up, do you?” You couldn’t help but smile at his stubbornness. 

“It is a treasured curse of mine, yes.” He kissed your knuckles before stepping aside, far enough to make it clear that this was where your night together would come to an end. 

“Farewell, my dearest, but not for long, as I promise you to come back.” He bowed down slightly before finally walking away, leaving you at the edge of the cliff. The night’s breeze flew by, taking some flowers from your crown with them. Not wanting to see him leave, you focused on the loose petals, disappearing in the dark sky. 

In the meantime, as the flowers made their way over the sea, Harrison made his way back down to the city, where his friends were none the wiser of his adventure with you. They yelled out in chorus when he came into their sight. It was his best friend, Thomas, that almost spilt his drink from excitement. It was clear that as Harrison was enjoying that, what seemed like everlasting paradise, they all had been enjoying the local wine a bit too much. 

But, of course, the night was not everlasting and the Sun would reach the sky once again. Sooner than later, even. And before it did, they would have to make their way back home, across the deep waters of the Hellespont. And then there was the challenging task of reaching their homes without being noticed by anyone. This was already difficult, and the fact that Harrison was the only one not overpowered by the restraint of the brew they had all drunk- it felt impossible. 

Yet, somehow, the men managed to cross the waters in their boat without problems. Poseidon had been on their side that night. The cold air and water sputtering around them, helped the others clear their minds in the meantime as well. 

Not much later, they had all reached their homes, and Harrison walked into his room. Though the morning would come soon, he did not feel tired. Instead of heading toward his bed, Harrison walked to the large open window. It looked out at sea. If he stared out long enough, it seemed as if he could still see the warm lights of Sestos ahead of him. He wondered if you were looking out for him as he was for you and if he would ever be able to see you again. With the images of you in his mind, he slowly fell asleep, still in the frame of the window.

Right across the Hellespont, up on the hill, in the temple tower, the same faith had fallen over you. With Harrison overtaking your thoughts, you had left yourself to drift off while looking out on the horizon. 

And the both of you were woken up in the same manner, startled awake as the doors of your rooms opened wide. Harrison fell to the floor as he reached consciousness again. It took him a moment to get his orientation back and realise he had, in fact, never reached the bed in the first place. 

“C’mon, get up.” Though they were not actually related, Thomas was like a brother to him. Hence, it was the last thing Harrison questioned when his great friend pulled him up to his feet at morning’s dawn. He was more surprised that Thomas was so active in the morning, considering that just a few hours ago he could barely walk in a straight line. 

“Your father is calling for you,” Thomas said as he finally got Harrison to stand up, “he wants you on the field.” Of course, today was time for training. Though the sun had not even surpassed the edge of the ocean, the warm air around him, told Harrison that it would be a hot day. 

“Yes, I’ll be on my way then,” He sighed, before asking his friend hopefully, “Will you join me?” 

“I wish I could, but I have been set duties at the house today.” 

Both Harrison and Thomas were the eldest sons in their families, which gave them a significant number of responsibilities to carry. But the difference between them was that Thomas did not have the same pressure as Harrison. Oldest of four boys meant that yes, he was expected to hold up the family’s honour and wealth. Still, if he did not manage this, this responsibility would be then passed down to his younger brothers. Harrison, having only one sister, did not have that luxury- and his father made this very obvious to his son. 

Many days would be spent out on the fields, fighting and training. Most often they would not stop until Harrison felt too weak to actually fight back. When he was younger, he thought he understood the need for this discipline, but now… it all felt so cumbersome. Harrison wanted to be more than just a fighting machine for his family. In fact, he wanted nothing to do with the battles that were so popular in his area. In his mind, there was no need for such a thing as unnecessary violence. There came no real honour with winning a duel like it. Yet, he had no choice but to follow his father’s commands.

“Where is your head, boy?” His father said as he helped Harrison up for the so-manyeth time later that afternoon. Harrison hissed out in pain as he felt his arms sore up from the hours of vigorous exercise. 

“On my head, father,” he shook the fall off and grabbed his fighting stick in his tights fists, positioning his feet, ready for another fight. He ignored the shaking of his muscles and the beads of sweat covering his body.

But his father did not deem that an appropriate answer. He leaned on his own stick, placing his palms on top of it, a heavy arched eyebrow implemented his thoughts. 

Though reaching a ripe age and having already lived through many horrors, Harios of Abydos did not show any of it at first glance. The similarities to his son were uncanny. The only real distinction between the two was the fine lines forming on the elder man’s face and how his golden hair was starting to include shades of Zeus-like silver. Then, of course, there was the beard that he had been developing over his years on earth. Harrison had not been quite successful in this just yet. 

“I can tell there is something on your mind, son.” He stood still like a sculpture, but his eyes moved quickly over the fatigued body of his only son, looking for signs of what could be going on with him. 

“It is nothing, father.” Harrison let his body relax. He did not want to speak about the events of last night. For one, his father did not know he had run away to Sestos without his permission. Secondly, Harrison did not want to know what his father would say is the fact he had fallen in love with a maiden of the Aphrodite temple would come to light. After all, it was his duty to protect his family’s legacy, meaning it was his duty to court a woman of some title, this way, their land and property could grow. And Harrison knew his parents already had women in mind. How heartbroken would they be to find out his heart was taken by you. 

“It is a girl, isn’t it?” Harios was quick to conclude. For him and his son were the same in more than just their looks. He could tell what the young man was thinking without asking a single thing. It was a skill Harrison was still unable to understand. 

“I understand my son.” He did. “But do not be a fool to fall for Eros’ mind games. You know what you need to do, and none of that will come from feelings.” He said it with a surprising amount of disgust, Harrison felt like. 

“I know, father,” Let that be all of this discussion, Harrison thought and hoped. His father had picked up his stick again, singing to him that Harrison was to do the same. While he was not looking, Harrison took a pained glance at his father. Just like that his faith had been signed off. 

But that made him only want to fight more for himself. That evening, when he was finally done with training and had eaten his dinner, Harrison decided that he would not let this be the end of you and him. So, when the sun had hidden once more, and the moon was high in the sky, illuminating the black water of the Hellespont, Harrison left his room. Silently, as to not be seen, he sneaked out from the grounds and made his way to the shore.

He looked around him, spotting the row of boats ahead, and walked on. Taking a boat out held too many risks. Someone would notice it out on the sea, or just find one to be missing in the small harbour. He and his friends had taken that risk the previous night but to take it again, would simply be careless.

So, Harrison took off his sandals and buried them in the sand, right next to a rock, so only he knew where to find them back. Then, he made his way to the water. The waves took sharp inhales and pushed straight back on to the land. As he stepped forward, he made contact with the icy water. It was much colder than he had predicted. Still, he had to move on. Slowly, step by step, he sank into the sea. First his legs, then hips and chest, until he could barely reach the ground beneath him. Not to lose any time, he swam. He did not know how long it would take, but if he kept on going, sooner or later, he would find his way back to you. 

And he kept on swimming. It might have been an eternity, or it could have been just a few minutes. He could not be sure. All he knew was that his limbs ached, but that home was left far in the distance now, and at this point, it would do no good to return. 

The hard crashing of the waves around him into nothingness felt even louder. As if they were speaking to him directly.

Ganymede. Not sure what they meant, Harrison kept on swimming, ignoring the rough water as it kept hitting him in the face. Almost as if in protest of his actions. It did not matter to him, though. The anger of the waves did not matter to him when his goal was so clear. He needed to see you again.

It seemed as if he had almost made it to the other shore. When suddenly, the water was rushing along some stream with great power, making it even harder for him to continue moving. The waves were holding him back, nay, they were pushing him down.

It became harder and harder to move, and eventually, the waved turned too big to avoid. With each one, his head would sink below. With a large gasp of air, he tried to keep up, but it quickly became an impossible task. One final wave attacked him, pushing him down to the bottom of the sea. Harrison tried to claw his way back up, but it was useless. He had lost his battle with the water. As he fell to the dark pits of the sea, he released his final breath of air. In his last moments of consciousness, he followed the bubbles with his eyes. His lids felt heavy, and he knew what it meant, for his lungs began to burn. 

Harrison sank deeper and deeper. The small air bubbles had disappeared into the darkness of the water. Eventually, there was nothing around him but the black void. He could not tell if his eyes were open or not. If he was awake or not- if he was even alive? 

All he was sure of were the voices around him—two, to be exact. 

The first was the one of a girl. He did not recognise it, but it sounds sweet and youthful.

“What have you done, Your Highness?” she asked, to which the second voice responded. 

“I have finally taken back from my brother, what he owed me—the life of his son.” Harrison felt even more confused. Had his father done something? Have his wrongdoings now cost him his life? Most likely, so.

The voice thundered on. It seemed to be coming from all around him. It was as if… it was the actual water speaking.

“Prepare Ganymede, for you shall pay for your father’s debts!” 

Ganymede? Harrison did not know of anyone called that name. He tried to open his mouth, but without any oxygen, it was too difficult to move. How he was even alive, was a mystery to him.

But whatever it was speaking around him, heard his thoughts. The first mysterious voice spoke up again. 

“Lord Poseidon…” Poseidon? He had been pulled down to the depths of the Hellespont by the sea god himself. “I do not think this is the man you were looking for.” 

There was silence. For a moment, Harrison thought that this had been it. The end of his life. But then, he felt a touch to his forehead. Two fingers pressing right at the centre of it. Suddenly, the fire burning inside his lungs seized. He took a deep inhale, thinking he was out of the water, but when Harrison opened his eyes, he was still on the bottom of the sea. Panic struck through him, as he thought he had just let himself drown, but no water came into his mouth—only the sensation of air. 

Also, there was no more darkness. In front of Harrison stood two light figures. A young woman, who’s hair and cloak flowed softly in the water, and next to her, a man. He was at least a head taller than Harrison. His long grey beard reached his chest and seemed to have small shells woven into them, that sparkled in the god’s own aura. But what really amazed Harrison, and pushed away all possible doubt about the identity of the man, was the massive silver trident in the man’s hand. Harrison fell to his knee immediately and respectfully bowed his head.

“Who are you?” Poseidon asked, his voice deep and powerful, booming through the. 

Harrison wasn’t sure if he could speak under the water, expecting nothing but bubbles to come out of his mouth, but when he did, he actually heard his own voice. 

“I am Harrison... of Abydos,” he said, not daring to look back up at the god. There was another moment of silence. Then, the woman spoke. 

“Can you confirm, boy, that you are not Ganymede?” 

“I can swear on the river Styx that I am not, and have never met, Ganymede.” He bowed his head again in respect to the King of the oceans. Though the water had been cold at first touch and as he swam, with the divine presence, it felt warm, almost boiling around him. The heat, now that Harrison considered it, came in waves. Like a pulse, a heartbeat. He tried not to overthink this phenomenon. 

The god and the woman looked at each other, realising their mistake. Then Poseidon looked back at the mortal hero. His wickedly blue eyes gazing down sharply like his own weapon. 

“Then what were you doing in my domain?” 

Not daring to look directly into the god’s eyes, Harrison spoke: “I was swimming to Sestos, to meet my love. We met the previous day, and I have not been able to stop thinking about her. I wish to see her again before it is too late.” Was it possible to overshare your feelings with one of the mighty gods? Yes, but Harrison felt the need to explain his actions adequately. 

“And this woman, does she share your feelings?” The woman glided through the waters toward Harrison, extending her pale hand for him to take. He did so with slight hesitance. 

He didn’t know what to expect when touching her fingertips, but it was not that of the texture of ice. However, while it had all its feeling, it did not hold any of its bitter frost. She took his hand and helped him up to his feet. 

“Y-yes, I think- I hope so.” He stuttered out. The woman smiled at him lightly before waving her hand in the water. Bubbles started to form around it, creating an intricate pattern. Moving faster and faster, the air bubbles moved to be one broad line of ice, turning smaller and smaller. The woman rolled her hand again, guiding the icy ring towards Harrison’s wrist. It moved and glided over his skin, forming itself to him, tightening like a bracelet made out of the most valuable of metals. 

“We shall let you continue on your voyage, Harrison of Abydos,” she spoke, “and you may travel as often as you please. For as long as you hold on to this charm, the waters will help you pass and keep you safe.

“But be careful. My father has eyes on all the waters of the world, and though his eyes are sharp, his mind may not be focused at all times on everything around him. Loose this, and I can not promise you safety in the waves or the currents.” 

“Thank you.” He bowed down to the lady of the sea and the god. 

“Now, be gone!” Poseidon, who had watched his daughter gift Harrison the armlet, growled. He held his trident and hit the bottom of it on the sand next to his feet. The booming sound evolved in large waves, making everything around the god to push back, including Harrison. He felt a strange, tugging, sensation on his shoulders. Suddenly, he was swept up by the new current and was being carried by the water to the sky. 

As he was moving, he saw glimpses of the large moon above his head. Its massive presence overtaking that of any other celestial body in the sky. And it only turned bigger and bigger as Harrison rose to the surface of the sea. With a large gasp, he felt his face finally be free from the water, as the pure night sky held him. 

He did not know how much time had passed while he was in the captivity of the gods, but he still needed to take a moment before returning to his journey to the other side. With deep breaths, he filled his lungs with the oxygen he had missed under the water. 

Finally, with you on his mind, he was on his way. Just like the Lady of the Water had promised, moving on, Harrison did not feel any struggle. Not only did he not feel the current pushing him backwards, it actually seemed as if the waves were helping him move ahead. His muscles could relax for he did not need to use all his power to swim. 

When he looked out in the distance, expecting nothing but the dark shadows of the mountains and forests, he saw the tiniest of bright lights. 

Because, as Harrison was nearing land, you had been sitting in your room, just like the night before. Looking out on the still waters, you looked out the window with your hand below your chin. To not be surrounded by darkness, you had put up a candle next to you on the sill. The orange light did not illuminate much, but it gave off a fabricated glow that reminded you of the sun in the morning hours. 

You kept on looking out at sea, while also listening for any sounds of your fellow temple sisters roaming around the hallways, in fear of being caught awake at this ungodly time. If you had looked away or even blinked, you were sure you would have missed it. A wave slightly bigger in size than the rest had appeared near the shore and it seemed to be carrying something. At first, you simply assumed it was limber or a piece from some unfortunate wreckage. But no. You were proven wrong when you saw the object- or better said, the person, move. Slowly clambering their way up to the beach.

For a moment you thought your eyes were deceiving you, for it looked as if the person stranded at shore was someone you recognised. Someone you had just met a day ago, yet could not stop thinking about during the day. All you really could make out was the vague shape of the man but… could it really be him? 

Quickly you got to your feet and ran out of the room. As quietly as possible, you made your way down the long stairs of the tower you resided. The massive doors of the entrance creaked loudly, but you slipped through the wooden gates successfully. 

It was not a long walk from the temple tower to the beach. It was the cliff that made it so difficult to reach, but you had managed to do so swiftly. Light on your feet, you jumped down to the rocks covering the sand, until finally, you could see Harrison lying at the edge of the water. For a brief moment, your heart ached at the thought of him not breathing, but as you neared him, you saw his head move to the side. His eyes opened, and the energy in his body ignited again. He jumped up and ran the final distance toward you, closing the gap between your bodies. You cupped his cheeks in your hands, utterly astonished that it was really him. Completely soaked to the bone, he stood in front of you. His hair clung to his forehead, and his chest heaved with every breath. His eyes looked even more vibrant as the salt in the water had tainted them red. 

“Harrison?” you gasped, still questioning if it was him. Not trusting your own mind. 

“My dearest,” he took your hand in his, kissing the inside of your palm, “I had promised you my return.” You had not actually expected him to come back. At least, not so soon. Though your experience with men may not be varied, you heard plenty of tales of them making promises, only for them to break them or never coming close to fulfilment. 

Yet, here he was. He had come back to you, just like he had said he would. He swam across the large sea just to see you. Did a grander gesture of passion exist, you did not know nor care. 

Harrison pushed back a stray strand of your hair, letting his hand rest on your face just like you had. 

As you looked into each other’s eyes, a more profound connection was forming. An unspoken bond that could only exist between two people. One that only a rare number of people had the pleasure to encounter. 

With a smile, you let your hand down, moving over his toned arm. His skin was still wet from the seawater, but what surprised you was the icy feeling of an armband enveloping his wrist. 

“What is this,” you asked curiously.  Harrison held out his arm, and you could see the intricate patterns reflecting in the night’s light. Lines curving to form what looked like waves of the ocean. The tiniest move of Harrison’s wrist made it seem like they were moving up and down. In fact, their pattern resembled the ebb and flow of the waves at your side.

“A gift from the gods,” he said. You looked up at him, confused. He did not immediately explain. Instead, holding on to your hands, he sat down on the sand. You followed suit. Positioned like that, Harrison told you his story. 

He told you how, in desperate need to see you again,  he had decided to cross the Hellespont tonight. How the water had pulled him down and, fearing for his life, you were still the one thing on his mind. He told you the way the current overpowered him and brought him down to the seabed and there… stood Poseidon himself.

You did not say a word, amazed at his story. You kept quiet as Harrison explained that the god had mistaken him for another man. 

“I had told him who I was and that I was merely on my way to see you. My love.” His grip on your hand tightened slightly. Your breath hitched in your throat. “And the Nereid gifted me this. It shall protect me from any trouble at sea when I am on my way to you.” 

With wide eyes filled with astonishment, you let your fingers graze over the metal. While Harrison had managed to dry off in the summer air, the band was still ice cold. Then you looked into his eyes again, and while the colour should be just as icy, there was nothing but warmth in them. All his emotions seeping through without a word that needed to be said. His hand travelled to your cheek once more, and Harrison leaned in.

Just for you to move away. You placed your fingers on his lips gently.

“I can’t.” It pained you to say those words, as all you wanted was to be kissed by him. 

“Please, y/n, let me touch you.” He pleaded. “I have come so far to show the love I hold for you, let me- please.” 

You did not say a thing. It seemed to be the only way out of this situation. As you had not given him direct access to your body, you were not breaking any rules of the temple. Meanwhile, you had also not pushed him away. Harrison understood what you meant as he leaned in, but not directly to touch your lips. He kissed your cheek, like the night before. And like the last time, you felt warmth course through your entire being. That feather-light touch made you feel as if you were floating yourself. 

And it did not stop there. He kissed you again, just an inch lower, and then again. Leaving that tingling sensation at every stop of his lips. You had been sitting opposite each other, so he took your hips and guided you closer to him. Letting your head fall back, with your eyes on the night’s sky, you focused on the new feelings that erupted in you as he touched your neck. A sound of pleasure escaped from your parted lips, and you could feel the smile that was forming on Harrison. 

He kissed you once more, just at the corner of your lips, before pulling away. Slightly displeased at the loss of contact, you let your head fall forward again. 

“Will you hold me?” you asked, not sure where the request had come from. 

“With pleasure,” he let you position yourself comfortably before draping his arms around you. Together you sat on the beach, arms entangled as your heartbeats merged into one. Whispering about sweet nothings. You had come to realise that not only did he have the looks of Apollo, but the wisdom and wit of Athena. And in him, he held humour worthy of the Muses. The longer your conversation went on, you realised that there was more between you and him than the physical attraction. It felt right to listen to his stories. The feeling of his arms around you was secure and pleasant. It felt like… home. 

But, like any good thing, this moment had to come to an end. Before dawn would set, Harrison had to get back home. You walked with him to where land and sea meet. The cold water nipped at your feet, and you jumped. 

“It is freezing,” you gasped. Suddenly, his act felt even more heroic. Harrison just smiled sheepishly. 

“It is worth it if it means I can see you again, y/n. And I will do so for as long as you want to have me at your side.”

“Then forever it shall be,” you said enthusiastically. Harrison looked into your eyes, looking for something, but he did not quite know what. He placed his fingers tips at his lips and sent a kiss your way. Though you stood far apart, a rush of warmth burned through you as if he was standing right next to you. This couldn’t be further from the truth. He was forming more distance between you. Each step deeper into the water until he had disappeared into the morning greyness of the sky, like a dream or a fantastical story. You wanted to keep watching as the waves ebbed and flowed, but you knew to go back to the tower.

As the sundial in the gardens was the only measurement of time, Harrison did not know how long it took him to swim to you and back. Nor did he know how much sleep he had been losing over this nightly adventure. Still, he never felt more alive. Days went by, and there had not been one that was not spent across-shore, with you in his arms. He did not try to persuade you for a kiss any further, for he imagined that if it was meant to be, the right time would come. 

Besides, the true pleasure came just from being in your presence, to have you lay against his body in the warm sand as you looked out on the sea that separated you in the day, yet also brought you together at night. 

The moon was in the same position in its cycle as the day you met. A bright silver orb in the middle of the universe, much like a pearl found in an oyster. Some nights as Harrison swam across the waters, he pondered what would be the easiest to bring you. A pearl from the deepest and darkest ocean, or the moon. He had asked you the same question, to which you just responded with a gentle laugh.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You do not need to give me anything. We already have each other’s hearts-” at this, you paused for a second. “Don’t we?” 

“You have had mine in your hands since the day our eyes met.” He confessed, kissing the palm of your hand. A warm feeling burst through you. 

“And so you have had mine,” you replied. Your eyes were still on your hand, on the place where his lips had met your skin. Your other hand reached out for it, tracing your palm with a feather-light touch. It felt warm. 

You felt his eyes on you, and when you looked up, the light blue shine was the first thing you saw. Bright, full of life, of love. How such a cold colour still held so much warmth within itself, it perplexed you. You felt yourself leaning in closer, in a trance with not only his eyes but with all of him. You needed to be closer to him. You needed to- 

And so, your lips met his in a soft touch that translated all your feelings and unsaid thoughts in mere seconds. His lips were soft, but salty, most likely because of the water he had been swimming in for all these weeks. The kiss grew stronger, more passionate. He reached out to touch your hip. It was one of the gentlest of touches. You responded to it with letting your hand trace through his hair, almost brushing it. It was still wet, and your fingers simply sailed over the locks. 

Harrison savoured every second of this, not knowing which would be the last. The idea of not touching you was absurd now, to not be able to kiss you anymore. If the gods were ever in his favour, they would have let him stay like this with you forever. 

But when did the Olympians ever let such things happen for mortals like him or you? The need for air, how unimportant it felt in the moment, was bubbling up in your lungs. Growing until it burned. You pulled away with a gasp. It was dark, but you could see the tint of redness across his cheeks. When you touched it, it was as hot as you felt. 

“You are divine, do you know that?” He said with a small smile, which he could not hide even if he tried. 

“I might have heard it in passing conversation.” You said, not able to pull your gaze away from his lips. They just looked so inviting. And now that you had had that first taste, nothing else seemed to matter. “But I must say that you, yourself, are… exquisite.” 

“How so?”

“I could not describe it if I tried, but it is so. Please, believe me.” You sat up straight. “I have had days in which I doubted if you were even real. A man like you could not be just a man.”

“I shall have to disappoint you, my love, for I really am just me.” He chuckled with his shoulders. You shook your head, however. 

“No, it is no disappointment. It- it is...” Not being able to find the words, you looked out at sea in the hopes to find your answers in the waves. You were so focused that you missed the look of pure adoration that Harrison was giving you.

“Perfection?” he said under his breath. 

“Yes!” you turned back to him, grabbing his hand to kiss his knuckles. 

The next moment went beyond comprehension because suddenly you found yourself enveloped in his arms. He had pulled you closer to him. He was now the one to press his lips against yours in a kiss. This one was more urgent, feverish, hungry. But also quick. The parting felt messy, and you were left stunned. Not by his actions. By your own internal reaction. Your body had surrendered to Harrison, and nothing seemed to matter anymore. You needed him. 

But the sun was already rising, and you both knew what this meant. It was time for him to go. With one last kiss goodbye, Harrison got up like all the nights before disappeared in the waves.

The saltiness of the water did not matter to him, for the only taste on his lips that he cared about was you. It was an indescribable sweetness to it. A softness that he would never forget. That feeling and the moment of your lips touching for the first time replayed in his mind all the way back home, and it continued on in his dream. However sweet the dream was, he did not want it to last forever, since reality felt much better now that you were a part of it.

And so, the next morning he woke up. The energy in him surprised even his mother, who had not seen him that full of life in a long time. 

The energy also came to fair use out in the open field, where Harrison’s father was waiting for him like any other day. Maybe it was because Harrison had so much energy in him, perhaps his father had somehow found out that he was escaping the premises each night to cross the treacherous waters, but the training was more brutal than ever. It left Harrison bruised and sore. He could barely move his arms. But it would not stop him from seeing you again. Nothing would.

What he had not realised was that during his daily battle, the armlet from the Lord of the Sea received irreplaceable damage. Holding on to its last strings, so to say, Harrison did not notice it needed repair for the rest of that day. And when he reached the water like every night before, the bracelet dispersed, melting into the water. Unbeknownst to Harrison, he had lost all his security in the sea. 

He swam like any other night, however. The waters were calm and felt warmer as a result of the sun starting to shine longer and longer. 

But the deeper into the sea he went, the harsher the current became. It pushed him off course. Confused, he looked over at his arm and in that instant it all made sense. The bracelet, his protection, had been broken. Nothing was stopping the wrath of Poseidon to take him now. He hoped that for one night, the god would not see it necessary to use his powers. That hope quickly vanished.

No matter how hard Harrison pushed himself, he could not pass the heavy current. He quickly found himself being swept away with the water. A wave fell upon him. It hit him upfront. The steel-like impact made it even harder to concentrate on staying afloat, above water. With his arms still hurting from the earlier training session, the task felt impossible. Though he kept trying. And trying. 

No matter how hard he tried, with the current and the waves, any attempt of survival seemed futile. He didn’t know how long he tried to fight his exhaustion, but eventually, there was nothing he could do. He had been pulled miles away, most likely. There was no way back. And the further into the waters he moved, the colder and harsher it became. It was getting worse. There was no point anymore. His body was on hellish fire. His bones burned while his skin froze. His vision blurred with each hit of water he received.

He closed them, immediately your face appeared in front of him. It did not matter that it was only but an illusion in his mind. You were there with him. You reached out for his face. Your voice was a soft echo in the back of his mind. 

“It is alright,” you said. A sad, but proud, smile twinkled on your face, “You can stop now.” But Harrison did not want to stop. He tried to push himself up to the surface again. One final bite of air filled his lungs before another wave emerged. It was done. His body had given up the fight. He still saw you. The ghost of your lips pressed against him, but it didn’t feel the same. It was cold. There was none of that softness anymore, it was all gone. 

But it was alright, he thought. You were here with him. In his heart, in his mind. You always would be.

As he sank down deeper into the darkness, he felt no pain. No sadness. No remorse. The time he had spent with you was the greatest he had had. For once he felt like there was more to him than what he had been told in his childhood. There was more to life than war. There was love. You gave him that. You had given him a purpose. Something worth living and dying for.

Like any night, you had watched the sea from your window. You saw how the storm had brewed. You saw the battle between the currents. And so, when that evening Harrison had not come up to shore, your mind held nothing but fear in it. But you held hope. Maybe he had seen the dangers in the waters and decided to wait. Maybe he was still at home. Watching the sea from across the other side, thinking of you like you did of him. 

You held those hopes for every night since. Hope that he would emerge from between the waters and kiss you like he had once. You didn’t dare to think that he was not here anymore. From that night on, life had become hard to live. Nothing felt the same anymore. Nothing felt right. 

Was this a punishment from your goddess? For breaking your vow? But then, why had he been the one doomed to die? Except, it wasn’t really his punishment, was it? You were the one left to suffer his loss now.

And part of you died too that night. For Harrison still held your heart in his hands, and so when he passed on to the kingdom of Hades, your heart, and with it a part of your soul, went with him. 

The End

> Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed

> please leave a comment or ask with your thoughts. i love reading them 

>masterlist and link to taglist in bio

tagging:

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[tabletoptrinketsbyjj]

Trinkets, 41: Interesting baubles, semi magical objects and items touched by mystery.

A rustic lute carved of driftwood engraved with images of ships and clouds.

An oval-shaped stone the size of a human eye, made from the darkest obsidian. The color is the purest black, and the glossy surface shines like a mirror. The reflections are strangely distorted, as it seems to reflect shadows rather than light. It is rumored in some occult circles that in the same way that a person can fall sick from a dark plague, so too can a ray of light become infected by shadow.

A parrot-sized urn of ashes with the name “Petey”.

A one gallon keg curiously labelled “Rations Foie Gras” along its length. The keg contains a solution of goose liver that has been fermented in lye creating a nutritious slurry that doesn’t spoil. The drinkable solution is thick enough to eat as a stew (Although it doesn’t technically require chewing) and its flavor is best left undescribed. The keg contains enough of the mixture to serve as 2d4+1 days’ worth of trail rations.

A large padded envelope containing a single silvered crossbow bolt and a note that reads; "You know what must be done. Make the right choice."

An odd receipt of a business transaction where a dragonborn adventurer wearing a full suit of ebony armor sold the shopkeeper salvaged bones collected from a half dozen slain dragons and bought 638 wheels of cheese in return.

A ceramic chamber pot shaped like an otyugh with brass accents.

A coin sized token made of etched, blackened brass which begets a connection to the spirit realm. When held, one can hear the whispers of the dead begging for retribution. Is it not righteous to answer their call?

A map of the stars that shows the mystical lines connecting the constellations.

An iron coin with an evil sigil on one side and the face of a demon on the other, flipping it causes the holder to hear a deep malevolent laugh.

—Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

A rustic lute carved of driftwood engraved with images of ships and clouds.

An oval-shaped stone the size of a human eye, made from the darkest obsidian. The color is the purest black, and the glossy surface shines like a mirror. The reflections are strangely distorted, as it seems to reflect shadows rather than light. It is rumored in some occult circles that in the same way that a person can fall sick from a dark plague, so too can a ray of light become infected by shadow.

A parrot-sized urn of ashes with the name “Petey”.

A one gallon keg curiously labelled “Rations Foie Gras” along its length. The keg contains a solution of goose liver that has been fermented in lye creating a nutritious slurry that doesn’t spoil. The drinkable solution is thick enough to eat as a stew (Although it doesn’t technically require chewing) and its flavor is best left undescribed. The keg contains enough of the mixture to serve as 2d4+1 days’ worth of trail rations.

A large padded envelope containing a single silvered crossbow bolt and a note that reads; "You know what must be done. Make the right choice."

An odd receipt of a business transaction where a dragonborn adventurer wearing a full suit of ebony armor sold the shopkeeper salvaged bones collected from a half dozen slain dragons and bought 638 wheels of cheese in return.

A ceramic chamber pot shaped like an otyugh with brass accents.

A coin sized token made of etched, blackened brass which begets a connection to the spirit realm. When held, one can hear the whispers of the dead begging for retribution. Is it not righteous to answer their call?

A map of the stars that shows the mystical lines connecting the constellations.

An iron coin with an evil sigil on one side and the face of a demon on the other, flipping it causes the holder to hear a deep malevolent laugh.

A small looking glass which plays tricks on the eyes. Glancing through it provides normal magnification, but one might see a spire of gold in the shape of a sunlit mountain, or a musical box and floating notes in a cloud, or a laughing rabbit in the shapes of the stars.

A mask crafted from thin cast iron covers the entirety of the head. The face itself is made of brass and shaped into the face of a hideous snarling creature.

A rabbit felt wide brimmed, high crown fedora with a band around it. It looks dusty with age.

A one gallon cask filled with inky black whisky. Thicker than most scotch whiskeys, it has a black tone that glows golden when the light hits it. The whisky has a penetrating woody taste, and does not light a fire in the belly; it goes down smooth and cold.

A small black metal box that fits under the arm. It has 20 colored pieces of glass arranged in a spiral pattern on one side. With the switch of a lever and the twist of a few knobs on the back , the glass pulse with glowing light at different rates, immediately drawing the eye to their pattern. An noncombatant viewer can lulled into a slight state of relaxation and well-being, being momentarily distracted by the pattern. A bearer can use this as a relaxation tool or as a hypnosis aid.

A piece of crimson coral carved into the shape of a shark.

A pair of earrings, made of wrought silver and ivory. The design appears to be two sinuous female forms, touching at the hands, which are extended above their heads (This is where the clasp is) and the feet.

A conch pearl the size of the thumb's first joint, of a deep and brilliant blood-scarlet hue.

A silk robe, dyed blood red with extremely long sleeves that hang past the hands, down to the knees. The outside is plain, but the inside reveals a subtle motif woven with orange threads: a nightingale swallowing a fox.  Small, jingly bells hang from the hem.

A brass chalice with chilling imagery of demons and tormented humans.

A fleshy ball the size of a large man’s fist. Dozens of tiny mouths appear, disappear and reappear at strange intervals, each one constantly groaning and muttering unintelligible words.

A large, brightly colored, decorative tin containing a well preserved fruitcake. The sweet bread is studded with dried fruits, nuts and strongly flavored with brandy which adds both to taste and shelf life. The loaf is so dense and nutritious that a single slice can be substituted as a full meal. The sealed tin can be used as 2d4+1 days’ worth of trail rations.

A large conch shell that, when put to the ear, makes the wielder hear the sounds of the ocean. If the bearer closes his eyes while doing so, he will see visions of infinite horizons and calming ocean waves.

A raw, unprocessed chunk of tourmaline that catches the and reflects different colors as it moves. It protrudes out of a base of stone and is flecked with dust and dirt.

A whistle made from deer antler with a silver mouthpiece. Its single mid-range tone is strong and audible at a long distance.

A bizarre, intricately painted miniature sculpture, made of a lightweight material; neither wood nor stone. The figurine bears an uncanny resemblance to a member of the party.

A translucent pearl with a coral blue shimmer.

A set of glass playing cards in a brass case. Each card has a set of symbols and numerals unknown to scholars and the learned.

A flask with an unknown liquid. It cannot be poured out unless it is standing upright (In which case nothing happens since gravity). The flask is very sturdy and in inscription reads; “Those that drink smart and slow will drink this drink made long ago.’’

An envelope stuffed with cheap woodcut prints of men in various states of undress.

A tattered, oft-folded letter on which are written a mother’s pleas for her daughter to stop her dangerous adventuring and come home while they both still live.

A turquoise courtier’s uniform adorned with the stylized symbol of a dagger poised above a cup just above the bearer’s heart. Crow’s feathers dangle from the epaulettes.

A dented tin bucket filed with human teeth. Hundreds of them. Teeth of all shapes and sizes, from white, through all the shades of yellow, to brown. Teeth with bloody roots and with shreds of flesh attached.

A delicate silver bracelet, fashioned into the appearance of a spider, it's legs hugging the arm.

A silver charm bracelet with small kitsunes holding up different types of gemstones as if presenting a gift.

A sequined squid skin belt pouch.

An ivory scroll case with silk bands and silver plated caps.

A gold coin of strange design, one one side of the coin are two crossed-swords and on the other a bulbous eye that appears to blink occasionally.

A marble bust of a vainglorious adventurer.

An oddly detailed drawing of a pack of wolves chasing a small cloaked child. The numbers six, one, and two are arranged in a equilateral triangle pattern with the six being on the point above the wolves. Strange symbols are on the corners of the page.

A petrified pixie that would make a cute paperweight.

A lizardfolk statuette made from petrified wood and snakebone in the shape of a scaly hand emerging from water holding an axe.

An ancient scrimshaw with a well carved boat labelled, “The Mourning Hag.”

A finely tanned, soft leather pouch filled with thirty-six small, polished hematite tiles about 2 cm across, inscribed with non-magical glyphs on both sides. Some of the tiles have different glyphs on opposing sides. The pouch has a leather drawstring.

A small sapphire hairpin carved into the shape of an ocean wave.

A large oil painting of some otherworldly sea where creatures who are octopoid from the neck down but with human heads float in bliss.

A bar of lavender colored soap that when used, makes things dirtier instead of cleaner.

A mundane looking flat rock has been washed smooth by eons of swift rapids flowing over it. It still drips as if recently removed from the river that created it.

A copper pot with dragon head handle.

A large wooden box of dozens small painted lead figurines depicting knights, wizards, beasts, and dragons.

A simple silver ewer etched with a floral pattern.

A pouch of dried kelp filled with razor-sharp mollusk shells broken into pieces and tied together to act as an area denial weapon. The shells functions as caltrops in every respect.

A quartz statuette of a pegasus taking flight.

An old, straw-filled ragdoll with a patch above its heart. It is always comfortably warm to the touch.  

A glossy black hunting horn, chased with runes and knotwork of silver.

A well-loved teddy bear missing one of its button eyes. An observer who looks at feels a strong urge to comfort the bear, wanting to repair it. Yet for some reason they wish to repair it with an actual fresh humanoid eye.

A squat hematite idol with blue quartz eyes.

Pocket Watch of The Far Realm: A blued steel pocket watch with a silver chain that always tells the accurate time of the entire plane of the far realm. The far realm is a place beyond space and time. The pocket watches hands move fast and sporadically, sometimes even gaining a third and fourth hand. It is completely useless at telling the time on the material plane.

A dark soapstone sculpture of a large crouching cat.

A barely legible prayer written on leather, dotted with stains. It reads “May vengeance steady your hand with righteous anger. In this den of thieves, murderers, and monsters, there is but one answer, one god, and her name is written in blood.”

A large silk flag for a fallen kingdom.

A knotted gland consisting of a cancerous mass of gnarled tissues. The tissue thumps with an irregular cadence, as if two  hearts are intertwined in this tangled clump. The longer it's held, the more clear if becomes that a multitude is contained within one's own flesh.

A bronze brooch of an maple leaf.

A featureless steel cube with one open side. Light does not penetrate the open side and an overwhelming sense of power emanates from within.

A crystal that projects starry patterns when placed before a light.

A gold plated compass with cracked crystal in a small teak box carved with waves.

An obsidian tablet the width and height of a human hand upon which when viewed under the night sky tiny green and blue dots appear to move.

A large glass jug, stoppered tightly. Inside appears to be a diorama of a small forested island with a port town. If left undisturbed for a time, observers may notice that the water surrounding the island seems to move, and the trees wave. At night, tiny flickering lights can be seen in the town.

A perfectly fresh pineapple that has somehow resisted the ravages of time.

A sturdy cloth backpack made of high quality cotton, adorned with exotic feathers and pretty cross stitches.

A wand made from a rare elm with grains of sand sprinkled across its handle.

A bronze ashtray of a sleeping dragon.

A gold rimmed monocle with light rope of gold and clip. The glass of the monocle is smudged and cloudy but resists all attempts at cleaning.

A tear stained map of the local cemetery with an “X” marking a specific grave.

A hairpin with head shaped like a spider and set with red agate.

A crystalline hand-sized scorpion figurine that is so full of cracks and occlusions that it looks as if it could fall apart at any minute.

A portrait of an unsmiling woman painted on a poplar panel.

A human skull goblet with silver base.

A one gallon cask of Eye of Medusa, a paralyzing mix of grain alcohol, lime juice, simple syrup, and poppy flowers. This drink numbs the tongue before leaving you feeling like solid stone.

A slate tablet on which is carved a prophecy by a famed oracle.

A small knife forged from a unique metal alloy created by a fallen star.

The mostly straight bones of a humanoid bound with rough twine to make a macabre sort of ladder, rolled into a bundle.

A boar tusk scroll case encircled with silver bands.

A gilded puzzle box decorated with a asymmetrical geometric pattern.

A flat, round gray stone ring the size of a coin worn smooth by water and time with an attached tag reading "Shieldmeet 1120 DR, is this the key?"

A clay tablet with the answers to the favorite riddles of a certain guardian sphinx.

A tall brass rod is etched with an abstract circular design that seems to be devoid of any pattern.

A small glass sphere the size of a fist is astoundingly heavy, and appears to be mostly full of a thick golden liquid. It weighs ten pounds and has no visible opening or markings on it.

An odd contraption comprised of a small crystal orb set within a thick metal semi-sphere, covering most of the orb, and is about six inches across.

A pouch made of rough toad skin.

A small bottle of eyes-burning-from-the-smell-alone wretchedly spicy but delicious hot sauce (Which will cause vomiting and incapacitate the non-spice tolerant).

A well made bracelet of silver chain with small silver heart charms hanging off each link. A single one of these charms is carved from a rose zircon, which gives off a small amount of heat.

A wand made of a line of conjoined tiny rodent skulls with emerald eyes that makes it a grisly site to behold.

A wooden flute made of red wood with etchings of leaves around part of its base

An oddly shaped curved wand with elven writing carved within. When held at nighttime it helps its owner sleep peacefully to the sounds of nature.

A bone case containing black votive candles that burn with a green flame and can only be quenched by blood, not water.

An ode to Genial Jack, the Godwhale, who swims the Sixty Seas with the city of Jackburg on His back and in His belly. Scribbled on the back is a mysterious phrase: “The tongues of the dead wag at midnight.”

A pink stone sculpture of an ear which grows warm when it hears false flattery.

A beautifully carved wooden prosthetic arm fitted for a small humanoid, etched with tiny runes in ancient High Goblin, a language now all but forgotten along with the proud culture that produced it, who some say were forerunners of goblins and gnomes alike.

A small pouch containing a handful of moss crusted with what looks like dried blood. The blood was in fact taken from a patricide, the moss from a hangman’s tree; the combination makes this quite a valuable reagent to the right buyers.

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Summertime prompts list: 27 or 28 with rami? Please and thank youuu😘

I tried to do both—hope it turned out okay! “Late night talks around a bonfire—confessions (27) —serious musings (28).”

* * * * *

The sun was just setting and for a moment, you looked out at the ocean and let yourself get lost in her expanse, the sound of her surf, and the way the hues of the sky were melding with the hues of her water to become one palette of midnight-blues.

“Earth to Y/N!” your friend said, tugging on your ponytail.

“What? Sorry—I was just thinking.”

“Surprise, surprise. I wanted to know if you were ready for Moscato?”

“Ooo yes! I wanna see if the bottle I bought is any good.”

“The apple?”

“Yeah—how’d you—”

Your friend cut you off by handing you a wine tumbler as they took another sip from their own.

“It’s really good,” they confirmed as you took a drink, relishing in the sweet burst of the wine on your tongue and smiling as a strong flavor of crisp, green apples lingered once you swallowed.

“That’s gonna be dangerous.”

Smiling, you spread out the red and black checkered blanket you brought, ignoring the crumbs of sand that inevitably crept their way over the freshly laid fabric, and plopped down, wiggling your bum to encourage the sand beneath to provide you a more comfortable seat.

You watched as a few of your friends lit the bonfire and before you knew it, the sun had been replaced by the moon, nothing but the big fire’s glow and a few tiki torches left to light up the night.

Buzzed from the wine, the laughter, or maybe just from the ocean herself as she continued to crash on the shore, your eyes widened when a sudden whoop of cheers erupted. Immediately, your eyes met Rami’s. Swallowing thickly, you refilled your tumbler and retreated back to your blanket, wondering what the hell he was doing here.

As Rami made his round of hellos, someone turned on their speaker and music filled the night, loud enough to issue a challenge to the crackling bonfire and to the ocean.

“Come on! Come dance,” your friend pleaded, and you waved them off.

“I need way more booze in my system before I dance.”

Your friend laughed and gave you the middle finger as they headed into the small crowd that had begun dancing on the opposite side of the bonfire.

“Anyone sitting with you?” a deep, familiar voice sounded and you took your time traveling up the owner of that voice’s body before you met his gaze.

Rami looked like . . . Rami.

He was dressed in a pair of slim-fit, green shorts that stopped about two inches above his knee, and a blue or grey lightweight button down, loosely buttoned to show a portion of his chest, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up at his elbows. He was wearing a pair of worn canvas flip-flops, and when you shook your head “no” and he sat down, the smell of his cologne washed over you like a baptism.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Same old,” you shrugged. “I think the more interesting question in this situation is how are you?”

Rami smiled softly, his pretty eyes finally turning away from you and toward the fire.

“Tired.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he affirmed, giving you time to take a sip of wine.

“Ready for a drink?”

“I did a little pre-gaming,” he confessed as he shifted just a bit closer to you so he could reach into his back pocket and retrieve a small, silver flask.

“And you drove out here?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

Rami laughed as he answered, “Still giving me shit, Y/N? I missed that.”

Rami’s eyes connected with yours and everything you’d ever felt for him came rushing back—the good, the bad, and the neverwas. Those feelings sloshed around in your gut like the sweet, summer wine you had been drinking, and when you finally broke free from his gaze, you took a shaky breath as you realized you felt like you were on fire, your skin set to melt at any second.

“Rami fuckin’ Malek! How are you? And where the fuck’s Sami?”

As Rami reached out to clasp his old friend’s hand, you shot off the blanket and escaped what you thought was the heat of the bonfire. As you brushed the remnants of some sand off the backs of your thighs, you walked down the beach until you were out of the light and immersed in shadow.

The Rami sitting around tonight’s bonfire no longer led the same life as the Rami from a few years ago who had shown up on your doorstep, grinning like a madman to tell you he landed the lead of a TV show. This Rami—this Rami was an international movie star.

He wasn’t the same man . . . was he?

As you made your way back to the bonfire, you shook off your thoughts and were nearly free of Rami’s intrusion until he was suddenly there, right in front of you, holding out your cup.

“You left this—thought you might want it.”

“Thanks, Ram,” you said, reaching for the tumbler and as you took it from Rami’s grip, his fingers brushed yours and when that old surge of electricity shivered through your skin, you knew you were fucked.

“Wanna, uh, toast with me?” he asked, his eyes flicking up from the way they had been watching your lips move when you thanked him.

Shaking your head and unable to hide your smile, you said, “Sure—but you better have something good to say.”

“Still giving me shit.”

You laughed and kicked some sand over his toes. “Shut up and toast already.”

Rami took a deep, dramatic breath and said, “To the possibility of tomorrow. Or tonight. To the possibility of possibility.”

You giggled and raised your glass, and he clicked his own tumbler that someone must have handed off to him with yours.

“That was a terrible toast.”

Rami swallowed his wine and grinned closing the distance between the two of you and wrapping you up in a strong hug.

Your brain short-circuited for a moment as you were assaulted by memories of friendship, and your sometimes more than friendship, the memories crashing like the dimmed din of the ocean until you just let yourself go, let yourself get swept out to the sea that had always been Rami. Rami fucking Malek.

“I missed your smartass mouth,” he said as he kissed your jaw near your ear and released you from his grip.

“I missed how expensive you smell.”

“You used to tell me that when I was buyin’ shit that was like 30 bucks a bottle.”

“It’s just the magic of you, I guess,” you grinned as you reached up and tweaked his chin.

“I’m not magic—I’m not even sure what the fuck I am anymore,” Rami said through a smile, his eyes containing more seriousness than you were prepared for.  

“Oh, now that’s deep,” you said, your brows furrowing with slight concern, but your voice still holding a teasing lilt. “Don’t go all tortured artist on me now. Surely you didn’t come out tonight to muse about your life?”

Rami was quiet for a moment, taking a sip from his cup before he said, “I came out to see you.”

You groaned and closed your eyes for a second before replying, “Scratch that, Alex. I’ll take Tortured Artist for 300.”

Rami laughed quietly, “I meant it when I said—”

“Rami?! Dude! Thought you were Sam! How the fuck they hangin, man?”

Saved again, you returned to the comfort of your blanket, but pulled it away from the fire and out of the light of one of the tiki torches. You flopped down onto your back, your heels dug comfortably into the sand as you enjoyed the cool breeze that wafted up from the ocean instead of the intense heat of the bonfire.

“Rami’s here!” your best friend announced as she landed next to you, flecks of sand pinging against your arm.

“I know.”

“You talked to him?”

“He talked to me.”

“He talked to you?”

You chuckled. “Yes, sweet drunk. He talked to me. Said he missed me.”

Your best friend launched herself half on top of you, her eyes looking ginormous as they peered into yours, the wine from her breath wafting over your face as she faux whispered, “Oh my fucking GOD.”

You reached up, laughing, and squished her cheeks as you said, “I KNOW!”

“Tell him. Tell him how you feeooph—"

“Finish that sentence and I’m garnishing my wine glass with your lips.”

She licked your fingers and you released her as she countered, “S’not a glass. It’s plastic.

You looked at each other and laughed, her rolling away to lay on her back next to you again for all of 30 seconds before another song came on that she liked.

In a stumbling flash, she was up and gone and your field of vision was once again unimpaired as you looked up at the night sky.

“Tryin’ to hide from me?” Rami asked as he sat down.

“You found me, so I’m not doing a very good job.”

Without looking, you could tell that Rami’s face fell by his tone when he said, “I’m sorry. I have no right to impose myself on you.”

Before he could get up, you reached out and grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t go.”

“You sure?”

You looked over at him and gave him a sweet smile.

“I’m sure. Besides, one of our pals is sure to interrupt us.”

Rami snorted, “Yeah. Lookin’ for Sami.”

“By the way, where is he?”

“Not you too,” Rami groaned as he laid on his back, mimicking your position with his knees bent and heels dug into the sand.

“Fine. Don’t answer. Shall we just dive right into your existential crisis?”

“I hate you,” Rami deadpanned.

“You brought it up by saying what the fuck even is my life earlier . . .”

“Sami is out with his new girlfriend. Didn’t bring her because she doesn’t like the beach.”

You sat up on your elbows and looked over at Rami. His eyes were closed, his wine cup nestled into the sand near his hand.

“She doesn’t like . . . the beach? That’ll last,” you finished with a snort.

He chuckled. “Haven’t met her yet, but I’m not feelin’ her. I think he’s still hung up on Annalise.”

“Who is here tonight, loving the beach . . . and that Pauly-D lookin’ guy she brought.”

“I texted him that as soon as I got here.”

“Snitch.”

Rami opened his eyes and twisted his head to look up at you.

“What? You’ve always been a snitch. And the two of you have always had the worst taste in women.”

Now Rami sat straight up and turned to face you, his face now hidden in shadow thanks to your distance from the fire. However, people seemed to have forgotten about you, so it didn’t look like you were going to be interrupted again.

“Like you’ve had better luck.”

“Keepin’ tabs on me?”

Rami shifted and you were able to see his face again, his eyes lit up with his desire to tease you.

“And if I am?”

“I’d really love to know why.”

Rami bit his lower lip, sucking it into his mouth before releasing it.

“I’d rather show you why.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you looked over at him, the night suddenly too hot again despite your distance from the bonfire.

His eyes held yours, more effective than any venom that could cause paralysis.

Your tongue wet your lips, seemingly of its own accord, and that was all the invitation Rami needed before he leaned over and kissed you, his warm hand sliding around the back of your head.

His lips were a little chapped, but when your tongue met the warm, wet, softness of his, desire replaced every conflicting emotion that had run amok in your mind that evening.

You pulled Rami closer as you laid flat on your back and he shifted, his body half covering yours as he explored your mouth.

When the kiss ended, you knew things would never be the same between you again. This was it—this was the moment when your relationship chose a side. No more straddling. No more giving, then taking back.

“Rami. I—”

“Shh. Just listen,” he interrupted, leaning up on his arm so he could look down at you. “No matter what happens to me, my first instinct is to talk to you. I just wanna hear your voice. I find myself living with you in my mind as this eternal figure of response. I always wonder what you would think about something. And I think that’s what’s happened in my past relationships—no matter who I’m with, the only voice I wanna hear is yours.”

You searched his face and were overwhelmed by the vulnerability you found written on it after his confession. For this single moment, you held the power to accept him or to reject him.

“Thank god you’ve finally pulled your head out of your ass to realize that what’s best for you has been right in front of your stupidcute nose this entire time.”

“In front of my stupidcute nose, huh?” Rami said, his face transformed by your acceptance.

“Yeah. I said it.”

“Wanna get out of here? Go someplace and talk?”

“I do,” you answered. “But first I really wanna make out with you.”

Rami laughed, a deep rumbling that sounded low in his throat and chest.

“Whatever you want, Y/N. I’m gonna do my fucking best to make sure you have it.”

Grinning, you pulled him into a kiss.

[nialledfromfics]

The Dating Game | Chapter One 

~~

8:37. 

He was already thirty seven minutes late. Her fingers lightly tapped at the veneered mahogany bar top, the ice in her drink having nearly turned to water in the bottom of her empty glass as she picked up her phone to check the time once more. 8:38. 

Slumping her shoulders in a soft sigh, she reached up to tuck a few strands of her red hair behind her ear as her narrowed stare drifted around the semi-full bar area of the restaurant. She carefully inspected each lonesome male guest one last time, hoping that maybe she had just overlooked the man she was there to meet. Her teeth scraped incredulously along her bottom lip, her back straightening slightly as she attempted to peer over the heads of seated patrons, though it was becoming increasingly obvious by the second that she may have been stood up.  

“Are ya waitin’ for someone?” 

The low voice startled her at first, but she just casually chuckled and glanced down at her phone. “Yeah...uh, a blind date actually,” she spoke up, tapping at her phone screen to check the time. 8:42. She rolled her eyes and gently peered over towards the stranger that was standing a few feet from her left, who she, for a moment, thought maybe could be her date. Her hazelnut eyes caught his bright blue ones before she noticed the soft sweep of his chestnut brown hair laying across his forehead and the rugged stubble of his beard adorning his jaw, and she, for a moment, almost wished he was her date. “He’s almost forty five minutes late already, pretty sure that’s not a good sign.” 

The guy laughed; the roaring sound resonating right through her as she watched small crinkles form by the corners of his eyes. His infectious smile was lighting up his entire face. It made her smile too. “Probably not, no.” 

His voice was deep, gritty almost and riddled with an Irish rogue that she was certain could send anyone to their knees. The young woman faintly cleared her throat at her thoughts and took to stirring the half melted cubs of ice around her glass with the straw. “Is there, like, some kind of handbook on first date etiquette?” she jokingly asked the man, shifting her stare back over to his. “How long should I sit here and wait like an idiot before it’s okay to get up and leave?” 

“Honestly, I couldn’t tell ya,” he said with a heavy sigh, bringing his glass to his mouth to sip down the rest of his drink, “I don’t go out on dates that much.”

She sat back in her chair and chuckled at his, frankly astonishing, confession. One that, just by the looks of him, she was having a very hard time believing. “You’re joking, right? ‘Cause if you’re having a hard time finding a date, there is absolutely no hope for me.” 

A flush overcame the man’s cheeks, and he bowed his head down slightly. “I wish I was jokin’!” he replied, looking back over at the stunningly gorgeous girl sitting just two feet from him. “It’s actually my job that makes datin’ kinda hard.” 

“Yeah, I wish I could say that about my job,” she said with a slight narrowing of her one eye, “much better than realizing that men are just shit.” 

Another laugh belted from him before he gave her a shrug. “Fair enough, I’ll give ya that. So...what is it that you do then?” 

“I’m a kindergarten teacher.”

“Really? That’s nice.” 

“Yup,” she nodded. “What about you, what do you do?”

He cleared his throat, his shoulders rounding as he rested his forearms on the edge of the bar, twirling his empty glass around against the wooden bar top. “Um...I’m a musician, a singer actually.”

“Well, that’s pretty damn cool,” she shot back with her eyes going big, “much cooler than my job.”

“Doubt that, you get to be with kids all day.” 

She smiled and leaned towards him, reaching out to lightly lay the tips of her fingers over his right bicep. “Like I said, much cooler than my job.”

Sitting herself back up in her barstool, she flipped her long red hair over her shoulder and clasped her hands together on top of her crossed thighs. She was unaware of his wandering gaze on her at that moment: stretching down the long slope of her neck to the slight peek of her ample cleavage that was showing from her top. She had soft full lips, painted in a muted mauve color and a delicately rounded chin. She was absolutely captivating. He quickly averted his stare when she curiously flicked her eyes over to his, and he reached up to card a hand through his dark hair as a distraction. “Uh...can I, um, get ya another drink?” 

She looked down at her empty glass, pondering his question. “You know what,” she started, glancing back over at him, “yeah, I’d like that. Thanks.” 

He smiled at her and raised his hand to motion the bartender over to them. “Whatcha drinkin’?”

“Vodka soda.”

He rolled his lips into his mouth and nodded. “Vodka soda for the lady, please and I’ll have another Jameson, on the rocks.” 

By that time, it was her gaze that was wandering over him as he ordered. She watched as his lips curled intricately around each word that left them, her eyes drifting from the small spots dotting across his thick neck up to the glow of the bar lights that flecked through his soft eyelashes. He was very beautiful. It almost made her nervous. Feeling the heat of her stare, he locked his eyes on hers and slid himself into the seat next to her. She pulled in a deep breath as he situated himself in his chair and she was quick to realize that not only was he crazy attractive, but he also smelled incredible. Of course he did. 

Her stare flicked down to her lap. “So...are you here on a date too or…” she asked, her soft voice waning slightly.

“Oh no,” he replied, shaking his head, “I’m actually meetin’ some of my mates here soon, we’re goin’ out to some club. This is my buddy’s bar actually, so...it’s kinda like our designated meetin’ point.” 

“Gotcha.”

“I’m Niall, by the way.”

Her brown eyes fell to his hand as he held it out towards hers. She shook it and gave him a sweet smile. “I’m Joey, nice to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet ya, too.” Niall’s brow quirked up slightly as the last word left his lips and Joey couldn’t help but bite down on her bottom lip in reaction. He really was wicked handsome. “Can I ask...do ya do this often? Go out on blind dates?”

Her shoulders lifted in a laugh, a real genuine laugh that spilled effortlessly past her pouty lips like a cool breeze on a hot summer's day. Her eyes pinched shut and her nose scrunched with her loud giggle, and he couldn’t help but think how adorable she looked. It nearly left Niall breathless. But he just amorously smiled back at her. “Oh God, no,” she began, gathering her breath as the bartender set down their drinks, “this is actually the first time I’ve ever done anything like this. My best friend, Alexis, she made me download Tinder and Bumble a couple weeks ago-”

“Oh God-”

“I know, right? That’s what I said!” she agreed with another giggle. “But...I told myself that I should just try it out, ya know? Put myself out there, go on some dates, experience shit and see what happens. So...here I am. To be honest, this is the first real date I’ve been on in...a really long time. I’m...pretty nervous. And, of course, it’s already going super great, if you couldn’t tell.” 

Niall let out a snort just as he went to take a sip of his drink. “Precisely why I barely ever go on dates…” 

“I thought it was because of your job,” she snarkily replied, smirking at him around the straw of her drink. So she was clever too. Niall took notice and he chuckled. 

“A bit of both, to be fair.” 

“Ah, I see.” 

“So, this guy you’re meetin’,” Niall began again, lightly waving his hand around as he spoke, “you know anythin’ about him?”

Joey set down her drink, her foot kicking back and forth as she pulled in a breath. “Um...not much really. He said that he is self- employed, around 5’11”, dark curly hair and that he was going to be wearing a light blue shirt.” 

Niall’s mouth turned down at the corners. “Oooh sounds sexy,” he teased.

Tossing her head back in a boisterous laugh, his eyes went wide with enticement as her neck bared itself to him. Her shiny red hair flowed over her shoulder, cascading down her arm just as she reached up to cup her hand over her mouth. Niall’s heart might have skipped a few beats watching her. After her giggles had settled, she tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear. “I’m sure I’ll be swept right off my feet,” she joked back at him. 

“Dunno, Joey,” Niall said with a sarcastic click of his tongue, “he could be the one…”

She sighed dramatically. “I definitely better prepare myself.”

“Better have that officiant on speed dial.” 

“Obviously. Every girl’s must-have on a first date.” 

They both broke out into a fit of giggles and Joey couldn’t help but take note of how easy and comfortable she felt talking to Niall. She hadn’t felt that way in a long time. “So,” Niall said, picking up his half empty glass and readying himself for a sip, “have you ever been here before–”

“Joey?”

Whipping her head to the right at the mention of her name, the young woman was met with a dark curly haired man wearing a light blue button up shirt. She was almost disappointed to see him. “Oh...uh, Josh, right?” 

“Yeah, sorry I’m so late. Traffic was a nightmare,” he mumbled, slapping his hand to the back of a nearby barstool. “Also I had to feed my cat.” 

Joey’s brows buckled at the last bit, but she waved it off. “No, no, it’s no problem, really.” 

He nodded. “Should we get our table?”

“Yeah, sure, let me, uh...grab my stuff.” 

Turning back around, she captured Niall’s stare and gave him an awkward ‘ugh’ expression, one that he was fast to reciprocate with a chuckle. She stood herself up, smoothing down the front of her skirt before grabbing her bag and jacket. “Thank you so much for the drink, Niall,” she told him, keeping her tone low and between them, “And the friendly conversation.” 

Niall nodded. “My pleasure, Joey. Have fun, and be safe.” Giving him a kind smile, she turned to follow her date, who had already begun to shuffle off towards their table. Niall watched as she walked away, Joey barely making it a few steps before she had glanced back at him over her shoulder. He had a coy half-smirk on his face, one that could without a doubt ignite a fire in a snowstorm and, for a split second, Joey wondered what the hell she was doing. 

•

She had known who he was. The second she looked over at him, saw those heavenly blue eyes and heard that brogue accent, it clicked. But there was no way she was going to freak out or tell him that. Besides, by the end of the conversation, she had practically forgotten that he was a multimillionaire world famous musician and singer. He was just...another guy she met at a bar.

However, the moment she sat down at the reserved table with her date, randomly meeting Niall Horan at a bar in West Hollywood was the last thing on her mind. Josh, her blind date, seemed nice enough. He ordered them drinks, a lot of drinks, and kept up fairly well with the initial awkward getting-to-know-you conversation, though his frequent mention of someone was starting to stump Joey. 

“....and Tina really likes it when we play together.” 

Joey set down her drink. “Um...you keep mentioning Tina, who is that? Your daughter or something?” 

“Daughter?” he laughed. “No, I don’t have any kids. No, human kids.” 

Her eyes narrowed in perplexity as the guy tipped his head back to guzzle down the last of his mixed drink, the waiter having already brought him a fresh one. “Tina is my cat.” 

“Oh.”

“Listen, if I could marry her, I would. But I guess that’s not really legal, huh?” 

Joey stayed silent, her widening eyes slowly falling to the salad plate that rested in front of her. She chalked his comment up as a joke, but as the night dragged on, five more drinks being consumed by her date as he gleefully showed Joey about forty two pictures and twelve different videos of Tina the Cat, she began to think maybe he wasn’t joking at all…

Half way through their main course, Joey could tell that Josh wasn’t really holding his alcohol too well. His eyelids were droopy, his skin blotchy and clammy with sweat settling across his brow-line and his words were slurring to the point that Joey could barely understand a single thing he was saying. She knew it wasn’t looking good. 

“Hey...are you okay?” she finally asked, noticing the redness in his cheeks starting to fade to blue. Josh simply looked up at her and swallowed hard before attempting to lift himself out of his chair. He grabbed at his stomach, a slightly worrisome grumble bubbling up into his throat as he kept his balance with his free hand gripping to the edge of the table. 

“Oh...oh, okay,” Joey mumbled, “...this is happening…”

She went to reach out for him as he began to wobble past her, assuming he was headed towards the bathroom, when he paused; the look on his face harboring sheer terror the second his eyes caught hers.

Oh shit. He wasn’t going to make it. 

Joey’s mouth dropped open in a horrified gasp, not even having time to lean out of the way as Josh bent over and puked right there on the restaurant floor next to her. The entire place fell silent as the sounds of uncontrollable retching and half digested contents hitting the tiled floor echoed throughout the large open space. Joey slapped her hands up to cover her nose and mouth, the entire side of her bare leg splattered in his vomit. 

He stayed bent over, heaving and moaning after he was through, servers rushing around him as they tried to figure out how to handle the situation. Joey slowly peeked back up to his face, his glazed over eyes meeting hers and all she could do was let out a defeated sigh. “I’ll get you a Lyft.” 

•

After cleaning herself up as best she could in the restaurant bathroom and helping Josh into his Lyft–and a couple half-assed apologies being muttered as she buckled him in–Joey watched the car pull away, tightening her jacket around her body. It wasn’t cold outside by any means, but there had formed a slight chill in the late night air and instead of grabbing herself a ride, Joey decided to walk the few blocks north to the small Italian bistro, Italiano’s, that her brother worked at. Italiano’s also happened to be her favorite restaurant and had a to-die-for Tiramisu that Joey absolutely loved. She thought that after the night she had endured, she deserved to treat herself to something indulgent. 

It was only a fifteen minute walk, Joey arriving just as they were about to close up for the night. She yanked open the door with a relieved sigh and smiled at Ramona, the hostess and Joey’s brother’s girlfriend, who was standing beside a small wooden podium. “You’re here kinda late,” Ramona mentioned as she stepped to the side to give Joey a hug. 

“Yeah, just left what was probably the worst date I’ve ever been on,” Joey explained, “thought I’d stop by to see if you guys’ have any of that Tiramisu left?” 

Ramona smiled. “I’m sure we’ve got a piece or two left,” she said with a wink, leading Joey over to a table. “I’ll put you in Carter’s section.” 

“Thanks Ramona.” 

Showing Joey which table to sit at, she poured her a glass of water and rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’m gonna go clean up those couple tables over there and then I’ll be back. We can have a little girl talk if you want.” 

Nodding at her with a smile, Joey watched Ramona walk off just as her brother, Carter, began heading towards her table. He was already carrying a small plate that had a generous portion of Tiramisu on it. “You are a lifesaver,” Joey mumbled as he stepped up and set the plate down in front of her.

“I wouldn’t be your bro if I didn’t know exactly why you were here.” 

Joey rolled her eyes and pulled the fork from her folded up cloth napkin, quickly digging into the dessert. Carter took the time to sit down in the chair across from her, his shift pretty much over with Joey being the only patron left in the establishment. “So, how was your night?” he asked her.

“Shitty,” she said between bites, not even looking up at him. “Or maybe I should say...’vomity’.”

Carter’s brows pulled in. “Huh?”

She peeked up at him. “I went on a blind date and the guy threw up on me,” she said with a snort, “well…on my leg.” 

“Fuck,” he chuckled. 

“Yeah.” 

Ramona came shuffling over, pulling out the chair between Joey and Carter and sitting herself down. “Okay, what’d I miss?” 

“She got puked on,” Carter told Ramona, pointing a finger at Joey. 

A gasp left Ramona’s red lips. “You’re joking?!”

Throwing her brother a spiteful look, Joey sighed. “Wish I was, but nope, the guy got totally wasted and just...threw up everywhere. It was so embarrassing.” 

“Yikes.” 

Joey licked the last bit of Tiramisu off her lips and pushed the plate away from her. Dropping her chin into the cups of her hands, she rested her elbows on the table. “I feel like this is some kind of sign, that I’m just destined to be alone forever.” 

Carter sighed. “Jo, don’t say that.”

“It’s just...I’m really trying to put myself out there, ya know? And of course, I can’t even have a decent first date. I have to, literally, get puked on,” Joey said, carefully tucking some hair behind her ear.

Ramona shot her a soft smile and leaned her arms on the table. “Carter and I had a pretty bad first date. It doesn’t always mean the rest will be bad too.” 

“What was wrong with our first date?” Carter asked her, his face pulling in. 

The dark haired girl laughed. “You were twenty minutes late picking me up, our reservations got ‘lost’ so then we had to wait an extra hour for our table and then your car got towed while we were eating. That’s pretty bad.”  

Carter rolled his eyes. “Oh, that’s not that bad.”

“Anyway,” Ramona continued, peering back over at Joey, “all I’m saying is that you never know how it’s going to end up. Maybe Puke Boy deserves a second chance.” 

Joey chuckled and shook her head. “Most definitely not. We really didn’t have much in common anyway. I’m just worried that I’ll never be able to find someone.” 

Reaching out to put a hand on Joey’s shoulder, Ramona leaned closer to her. “It might seem like you can’t find anyone, but I promise you will. You’re amazing Joey, and you shouldn’t have to settle for just anyone. You gotta keep searching.”

“You think?” Joey flicked her eyes from Ramona to her brother.

“Definitely,” Carter assured her with a gentle smile, “just don’t give up. Not yet, ‘cause it’s usually right where you least expect it.”

•

[doc-pickles]

livin’ for the hope of it all

Fun Fact: This is probably my favorite track from folklore (betty is a close second and they’re actually connected in the same storyline) so I created an AU College Sweethearts Jolex storyline just for this. I also needed to change things up because my fics for this week were feeling repetitive, but the good news is that I actually love the storyline and this piece!

(And while we’re at it, shout out to @odd-birds-and-booksellers for beta reading this and helping me clean this up for y’all. ILY and you’re the BEST!)

Also oops I slated this as angst and that just absolutely did not happen. It’s pretty fluffy but uh warning the ending is not happy… at all… So sorry about that.  So without further ado, the folklore fic that stole my whole entire heart!

But I can see us lost in the memory

August slipped away into a moment in time

'Cause it was never mine

And I can see us twisted in bedsheets

August sipped away like a bottle of wine

'Cause you were never mine

“Alrighty boys, can I get anything else for you?”

“Yeah how about your number, sweet cheeks.”

Jo rolled her eyes, used to the degrading remarks she would often get as a waitress in the greasy diner. The table of young boys didn’t bother her, they were a dime a dozen working in a college town and it was a sure bet that one of them would say something stupid or degrading to Jo.

Ignoring the comments and laughs from the table, Jo began to walk away but didn’t get very far. The boy closest to the edge had tugged her arm hard enough that she went flying backwards, landing in his lap as one hand came up to hold Jo in place against him. 

“Aw come on baby, don’t you want this,” the boy was speaking directly into Jo’s ear, a clear attempt at seducing her that was failing miserably. She tried desperately to squirm out of his grasp, but he only held her tighter. “I can show you a good time.”

“Hey dick wad, it doesn’t take a genius to realize that the lady doesn’t wanna talk to you,” a gruff voice sounded above Jo, the speaker holding his hand out to help Jo up. She took it with a grateful smile and stood, wiping off her apron while he continued to stare down the table of now terrified boys. “And don’t forget to tip generously.”

Jo watched in amazement as the man went back to his spot at the counter, eyes trained on the newspaper before him. She rounded the diner once more before walking behind the counter to stand in front of the mystery man, refilling his coffee as she eyed him. 

“Thanks for doing that. Those losers can’t take a hint sometimes,” Jo offered her hand to the stranger, a small smile on her face. “I’m Jo, by the way. I’ve never seen you around here before.”

“Alex,” the man shook Jo’s hand, a crooked grin appearing on his stoic face. “I just finished med school last month, I finally have time to eat breakfast and enjoy a Thursday morning.”

Jo’s response was cut off by her boss yelling at her, her hand coming up to wave to Alex before she bolted to the other end of the diner. Her eyes flicked back to him once or twice, always finding him staring back already. The small action left Jo with a near constant blush on her cheeks. 

By the time Jo makes it back around, Alex is gone. His empty coffee cup sits on top of a $20, which she grabs with a grin. A corner of the newspaper rests on top of the bill, neat block printing across it that makes Jo’s cheeks flame once again. 

‘If you get sick of stupid frat boys, give me a call.’

+

“I hate to say it, but you might be better at darts than me,” Alex let out a chuckle and grabbed his beer, taking a long swig from it as he turned back to Jo. “You have nothing better to do than practice your aim?”

After her shift at the diner, Jo had sat in her car and hesitated all of thirty minutes before calling Alex and asking him to meet up with her at the bar down the street from her apartment. Nerves flying all around her, Jo had finally made it down to Red’s Bar and Grill, meeting Alex with a wide grin and the first round of beers on her tab. 

“Mmm I practice between classes and work,” Jo rolled her eyes, throwing another dart and hitting just outside of the bullseye. “I’m about to start my last year of school at UI. Architecture degree, the boring stuff.”

“Hey hey, I don’t judge,” Alex shrugged, eyes glinting with amusement. “I’m sure that doodling buildings is just as thrilling as cutting people open.”

Jo let out a laugh, her eyes roaming appreciatively over Alex for the first time. He wore jeans and a t-shirt that hugged his arms and torso, the dark blue bringing out the flecks of gold in his eyes. The low lighting in the bar didn’t help Jo as she tried to concentrate on anything besides the way Alex looked at her, cheeks flushing as she imagined his hands running over her body. 

“Oh you should see me in class, I’m the only woman in my major so,” Jo blindly threw her final dart at the board, relying on Alex’s shocked expression to tell her that she had hit close to her mark. “Had to find something to beat the boys at, keep their egos at bay.”

Satisfied with the dark look that came over Alex, Jo swigged her beer and took a step towards him, her fingers trailing over the collar of his shirt. She’d held back through the three rounds of beers and the pizza they’d shared, but she couldn’t keep her hands off of him any longer. 

“I don’t wanna be too forward but,” Alex finished his beer with one gulp, one hand moving to rest on Jo’s hip. “You wanna get out of here?” 

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life,” Jo breathes out, pulling Alex down to kiss her chastely before letting go and walking towards the exit. “Come on, Doctor Handsome. Let’s go.”

+

Two weeks after their first date, Jo is scrambling during the morning rush to touch each of her tables and makes sure they’re all taken care of. It’s just her and her boss Nancy working this morning, so she’s really busting her ass to make sure that she makes good tips. A hand reaches out, swiping her arm delicately and makes Jo sigh in relief. She was so used to the gentle brush against her arm that it felt like second nature at this point.

“Hey you,” Alex’s voice is soft, something that Jo can barely hear above the rush of the crowded restaurant. “Long morning?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe, Katie called out sick so there’s only two of us,” Jo groans as she reaches for the coffee pot to refill Alex’s cup. “I have the next two days off though so I’m just trying to make it through this stupid shift.”

Alex’s hand reaches out and grabs her wrist, holding it for the briefest second before letting her go with a grin. Jo can never seem to control the way her heart beats out of time around the man she just met, but she can’t say she hates the feeling of her heart fluttering nervously. 

“How about we drive to the lake and spend a day or two up there,” Alex shrugs, as if the idea of spending a few days away with Jo is the most natural thing in the world. “Just the two of us. I’ve got some camping gear and a hard top for the pickup. We’ll make a weekend out of it.”

Jo’s eyelashes batted against her cheek, eyes roaming over Alex with a focused stare. They hadn’t labelled whatever it was that they were doing (sleeping together, spending nights stargazing in the back of Alex’s truck, meeting up almost every night to drink cheap wine and order whatever takeout was offering a deal, actually just sleeping together) but spending a few days alone was something entirely different. Spending a few days alone was real. 

“You know what,” Jo laughed, leaning forward to peck Alex’s cheek. “Let’s do it. Let’s get out of this hellish town, god knows we both need it..”

The crooked smile that appears on Alex’s face made Jo’s heart stutter again, the look ingrained in her mind so well that she thought she might be able to paint it from memory. 

+

“I haven’t been up here in years, I didn’t realize how beautiful it was,” Jo stood at the edge of the small cliffside overlooking the water just a few feet down. Alex stood behind her, arms wrapped around her waist and head propped against her shoulder as they both admired the beginnings of the sunset reflecting on the water. “I’m glad we came up here.”

“Me too, I’m glad I get to spend some time with you,” Alex turned Jo around, his hands squeezing her waist as he kissed her gently. “And I’m very sorry about this.”

Before Jo could respond to him, Alex had lifted her off the ground and jumped off the small dirt cliff, plunging them both into the icy water of the lake. When she resurfaced, Alex was already laughing at her shocked expression. 

“You’re gonna pay for that, Karev,” Jo laughed, feet treading water as she swam closer to him. “Oh you’re so gonna pay for that.”

Alex seized the opportunity in front of him, quickly wrapping his arms around Jo and pulling her body flush with his. His lips meet her neck as she tries in vain to squirm away from him, loud peels of laughter escaping Jo as she let herself relax into Alex’s embrace. 

It’s hours later when they’re laying in the back of Alex’s truck, eyes glued to the sky as they lay wrapped up in one another in a pile of blankets and pillows. There’s a discarded wine bottle next to them and the last embers of the fire they’d built are still glowing. It’s peaceful and quiet and Jo doesn’t think she’d ever felt so relaxed in her whole life. 

“The stars look way brighter out here,” Jo noted as she rested her head against Alex’s chest, eyes closing as he ran his fingers through her hair. “I wish I could stay here forever. It’s the perfect spot.”

“Well this truck bed is uncomfortable as hell so I don’t think us living in the woods would be great on your back,” Alex chuckled as Jo’s hand hit his chest with a soft whap. She sat up then, reaching for her overnight bag and digging through it. “What’re you doing?”

“I got you something! It’s not much but,” Jo pulled out an immaculately wrapped box and handed it to Alex with a wide grin. “I figured it might be handy when you become a hot shot doctor.”

Alex cocked an eyebrow at Jo, before unwrapping the box and popping it open. Inside laid a wrist watch, a silver watch face mounted on a thick leather strap. Jo revelled in the crooked grin on Alex’s face as he took it out and handed it to her, silently asking her to latch it onto his wrist.

“It’s vintage, I found it at a thrift store the other day and I couldn’t resist buying it,” Jo gushed as she adjusted the strap against Alex’s wrist. “I read somewhere that most doctors want to keep a watch on because they’re easier to check and more reliable than digital. And it helps with counting seconds an-”

The rest of Jo’s sentence melted away as Alex pressed his lips firmly against hers. Jo couldn’t help the smile that overtook her, a giggle escaping quietly as Alex leaned her back and pressed her into the truck bed.

“Thank you, you’re more than I deserve,” Alex kissed Jo once more before moving his lips to her neck. “Maybe I can show you how much you mean to me.”

“Mmmm that sounds like a fun way to end the night,” Jo giggled as Alex moved his lips further down her body. “A really fun way to end it…” +

Once the thrill of their spontaneous weekend trip wears off, Jo is surprised at how normal her relationship with Alex feels. It’s August now, Alex’s short break between med school and the start of his internship nearing an end. He had applied all over the country, but the county hospital had been the only one to accept him. 

“I didn’t hear back from Hopkins, Mass Gen, Seattle Grace, or UCSF, but they were all long shots anyways,” Alex shrugged, slinging his arm around Jo’s shoulder and bringing her closer to him on the ratty couch in her apartment. The movie they had chosen rattled on in the background, neither of them paying much attention to it. “Besides, staying here means I get to hang out with you all the time.”

Jo leaned into Alex’s embrace, eyes closing as she relished the feeling of his heartbeat pounding steadily in her ears. She’d become so comfortable in spending so much time with Alex that she didn’t know what she would do when he began to work long nights and days at the hospital. Of course, her own classes would begin in two weeks and then who knew where the two would land up. 

“Mmm yeah I don’t think I can let you go even if I tried,” Jo felt Alex’s hand slip into her own, squeezing gently as he kissed her head. “I’m pretty sure I love you.”

Jo didn't register the hitch of Alex’s breathing, she didn't even notice that he was staring at her so intently. She had dozed off in his embrace, head heavy against his chest as he watched her carefully. He only moved when his phone began to vibrate in his pocket, stepping into the other room so he wouldn’t wake her. 

“Hello? This is him. Umm yeah, yeah absolutely. I’m definitely interested. I can be there, I will be there… Three days? Yup. Not a problem. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name. Thanks Doctor Webber, it’s been a pleasure. I’ll see you soon.”

+

“I have to take this stupid Calculus class and I can’t drop it and I already hate it,” Jo groaned as she plopped into the seat next to Alex. It was a Tuesday morning and the diner was near empty, allowing Jo a few minutes to breathe easy. “Honestly, I’m not excited to start classes next week. I’ve been absolutely exhausted the past week and I would rather just sleep until graduation.”

Reaching over, Jo grabbed Alex’s toast and took a bite and then returned it to his plate. She looked at him curiously, watching as he stared deep into his coffee cup and didn’t flinch at her quick action. Alex usually swatted her hand away when she stole his food, or at least said something to her. In fact, she didn’t think he had spoken more than a brief hello to her all morning. 

“Are you okay? You seem off today,” Jo rested her hand on Alex’s shoulder, a pang of relief coursing through her as he leaned into her embrace. “What’s up? You stressed about your internship? Because you’re going to do great.”

“No it’s just,” Alex heaved a sigh and turned to Jo, his normally bright eyes a dull brown. He looked sad, upset almost, but Jo couldn’t tell why. “You know I love you, right?”

A brilliant smile took over Jo’s face, a distinct glow coming about her as she leaned her forehead against Alex’s. 

“Of course I do,” Jo pecked Alex’s lips quickly, one hand coming up to rub his cheek. “I love you too. You’re pretty special, you know that?”

Alex responded with a nod, leaning up and kissing Jo once more. She left the seat next to him after that, checking on her tables and refilling coffees before heading back to him. Alex was shrugging his coat on as she walked up, coffee cup drained and bill paid. 

“Heading out?”

“Yeah I got stuff to do,” Alex pulled Jo in close, lips meeting hers in a kiss that was much more passionate than what he’d normally reserve for the diner. He pulled back and stared into Jo’s eyes, a look of longing filling the dark orbs. “I meant what I said. I love you Jo.”

“I love you too,” Jo whispered back, leaning up and kissing Alex once more before patting his chest and stepping away from him. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, I’m working a double today. Bye Alex!”

“Goodbye Jo,” Alex stood a moment longer in the doorway of the diner, watching Jo carefully as she flitted around the dining room. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open, stepping out into the cool August breeze. 

+

“Hey pretty girl, where’s your hotshot boyfriend now? Dipped out on you?”

Jo tried as much as she could to tune out the catcalls and insults flowing from the rowdy table of boys behind her. What she would give for Alex to come swooping in to save her like he did that first day they’d met, but she knew that he wouldn’t. She hadn’t seen him in so long, the August weather turning darker and colder as the months shifted to autumn. It was November now and between classes and the diner, Jo barely had a spare moment to think of the man she’d fallen in love with. 

Except that she did. 

Every minute of the day all Jo could think about was Alex and how much she missed him. His phone number had been disconnected, his apartment was cleaned out, and she hadn’t seen his beat up red pickup truck since it was parked outside of the diner the last day she’d seen him. She’d even gone down to the county hospital to look for him, but a nurse had informed her that there wasn’t anyone under his name working there, much to Jo’s dismay. 

She knew she was being stupid, that Alex and her had just had a fleeting summer romance and she needed to let it go. There was not going to be a magical reunion like the beginning of Grease, there would be no singing and there would be no happy ending for Jo. But she couldn’t let Alex go, she didn’t think she would ever be able to.

“You need to calm down, I know there’s a lot going on, but you are not helping me out,” Jo sighed, eyes closing as she took a moment to press a hand to her protruding stomach. “I know you get excited when we’re here but today… I can’t deal with the constant kicking of my bladder little boy.”

You know when you’re already down and out and then something comes along and just knocks you flat on your ass? That’s exactly what Jo was experiencing. After spending two weeks straight crying over Alex and insurance commercials and the grocery store being out of strawberry ice cream, she’d finally realized that her period was late and that she just might be carrying the child of a man who didn’t want to be found by her. Three stupid plastic tests later confirmed just what Jo had thought: Come April of next year, she would be a mom. 

“We’ll get through today and all the days coming,” Jo sighed as she spoke to herself, a few tears slipping out and dragging down her cheeks. “It’ll all be okay, things will change for us.”

[rainstormcolors]

I wrote another piece of fanfiction, this one focused on Mokuba and Atem, with background Prideshipping. 1.2K words.

- - -

The courtyard Mokuba stepped into was rich with spring, sky glowing like blue opal, brilliant green of young chlorophyll bursting from the ground, held like orbs on the tree branches. The cherry trees carried and shed their clusters of white petals, shed like star fall over the yard. Creating beauty and throwing it away. Mokuba took slight pause when he noticed Atem sitting on the bench by the pond at the center of the green space, water lined with grey stones, a gentle babble from the tiny waterfall at its corner. But Mokuba continued on towards the pond.

“Hello,” Atem said to him as he approached, Atem wearing a black button-up shirt and indigo-blue jeans, a colorful beaded bracelet tied on his left wrist.

“Hey,” Mokuba said without emphasis, dipping his hand into the small plastic bag he’d brought with him.

Inside the water, among the fleck of starry petals, were the living orange jewels of goldfish, racing to the edge where Mokuba stood, opening their happy mouths as he sprinkled in a fistful of pellets. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Atem stand.

Atem was standing beside him now, watching the fish. They were nearly the same height.

“Hold out your hands,” Mokuba commanded.

Atem, with a puzzled look on his face, did hold out his hands. Mokuba tilted his bag so that a small pile of pellets collected in the cup of those hands.

“Thank you,” Atem said with a hint of hesitation. He brought his hands over the water swirling with fish and opened them from the bottom like a clamshell, everything falling at once.

“Pft, we weren’t supposed to do it that way,” Mokuba said, with a coldness to the pft.

This Atem was a little different from the Atem he’d known before. Darker skin, his face more distinct from Yugi now. His hair was still a spray of dark color. Mokuba might have been able to get away with pretending to be distrustful if not for the fact he felt it to his core this truly was Atem.

“Do you like feeding the fish?” Atem asked.

“This is my fish pond,” Mokuba said.

“Yours?”

“Nii-sama isn’t outdoorsy, so these fish are for me,” he said.

The truth was the help fed the fish on most days. But there was something relaxing about feeding and watching them. There was a gentle tug to this place that felt warmer than the rest of their property. He wanted to bring Nii-sama here.

The rest of this place became so fractured in shadow sometimes.

“What is it?” Atem asked, and Mokuba realized he’d hunched at some invisible memory.

“What are you doing out here?” Mokuba asked, relaxing his body.

“Kaiba’s still working. Unlike your brother, I suppose I am outdoorsy,” he said. His voice was as warm and as kind as his face.

“What is Nii-sama to you?” Mokuba asked, watching Atem.

Atem gazed over the blue incandescence of sky, the spun-sugar fluff of clouds. “Kaiba is… He’s my friend. A good friend.” Atem smiled and shut his eyes. “He’s stubborn to a fault. Stubborn enough that I’m here now.”

“Not quite ready to be out yet, huh?” Mokuba hummed and he watched Atem’s face flinch, and Mokuba wasn’t sure if he regretted making the comment.

Mokuba hadn’t actually been sure if Atem and his brother were lovers. Atem’s eyes now told him they were.

Mokuba felt the small pinches of pellets left inside the plastic bag and turned the bag over the water, the spill of pellets mixing with petals and brilliant fish.

He’d stunned Atem enough with his comment that Atem wasn’t talking anymore, he noted, and so he turned back towards the architecture of the mansion. There was some piece in him that wanted to linger but everything felt too bright.

Memories felt like waves. A dark navy wave with some speck of glow. Surrounded by strangers in the stadium, Atem had opened the door and taken his hand and pulled him from that churning nightmare box. What was that feeling of salvation? Why did he trust it so much back then?

His brother had trusted it too, so deeply and so desperately as to chase it to the edge of the universe.

And Mokuba felt that maybe Atem was too brilliant for either of them.

Flower petals were spilling. Nature crafted beauty and threw it away, and it would create new beauty next year.

.

Atem spent the night over. Perhaps Mokuba’s comment had given him permission. Mokuba couldn’t guess.

The three of them sat at the small circular table in the enclave inside the kitchen, the wood of the table as pale as seashell. The enclave light was clear and set in hexagonal glass. Atem wore the same clothes he wore yesterday. Neither Seto nor Mokuba wore their business jackets yet. And it was cozy, an almost sugary warmth spooled around them, as Atem took bites of a bread slice with its smearing of fig jam. And Seto took sips of black coffee from a porcelain cup. And Mokuba almost wanted to shovel all the fried egg into his mouth all at once, almost felt he should leave the space as soon as possible.

“Isono can drop you off before he drives us to headquarters,” Seto said to Atem.

“I appreciate it,” Atem said before finishing off his bread slice and then sipped pink grapefruit juice from a slender glass.

Mokuba finished his eggs but stayed.

The rest of this place could become fractured in shadow sometimes, but there was something soft and kind in the air.

“Have you seen Mokuba’s fish pond?” Atem asked Seto suddenly, and Mokuba perked his head, stumbling a bit in thought.

“Is it his fish pond?” Seto asked softly.

“It’s nice in your courtyard. Mokuba let me feed his fish,” Atem said.

Seto looked to Mokuba. “I guess you’d have to be the one to order more fish when they die. Or have the same fish been in there all this time?” he asked.

It flickered by like dust sparkling in the air, the image of Seto when he was ten, peering into the pond waters beside him as jeweled fish bobbed at the surface.

“To be honest, the groundskeeper handles most of it,” Mokuba said as he tapped his fork once on the plate, “I feed them sometimes.”

“Do any of them have names?” Atem asked.

Mokuba gave a small hum as he thought. “I think a few years ago I named the littlest one Bruce.”

“Why Bruce?” Atem asked.

“Bruce Lee,” Mokuba answered.

“Jonouchi-kun likes Bruce Lee movies I think,” Atem said while Seto seemingly ignored the comment by drinking more coffee. “Maybe we can try watching one sometime. I mean, your brother and you and I.”

“Maybe,” Mokuba said.

“Maybe,” Seto said as he set down his cup.

The frigid silent dinners with Gozaburo and Seto in the tall cold elegance of the dining room had melted away to Mokuba eating quiet dinners with the maid in the kitchen enclave and that had melted away to Mokuba eating quiet dinners with Seto in the kitchen enclave. The world was becoming warmer.

Atem stole the uneaten biscuit from Seto’s plate. Seto stared at Atem as Atem held the biscuit up to his lips and Atem noticed him watching.

“Did you want it?” Atem asked, wiggling the biscuit.

“No,” Seto said, and Atem finally took his bite.

And Mokuba thought maybe it wasn’t bad having Atem here too.

[docholligay]

The End of the Chuck-Line Rider

Hello! I wrote this for @rhiorhino, a McCree fic, as she is the only one who has ever commissioned me for McCree. I hope you like it, it gave me some trouble, but I think it turned out with some merit. It takes place after McCree rejoins my Overwatch, and you can find where it is in the fics here. About 2400 words. 

Jesse McCree had spent the whole of his life bouncing from job to job, group to group, and it was the same in the city. He rode the line out to Brixton and Whitechapel and Poplar, sure as he’d bounced from Deadlock to Blackwatch to Talon. 

But sometimes he got tired of the bouncing, and he went to Winston’s house. 

Winston’s house was more than just a house, was why. A large, expansive place that had once been a warehouse, it should be grey and gloomy still surrounded by other warehouses, but Tracer, long before she had any capacity as commander, before there even was a second Overwatch, had painted it in lovely cheerful colors, and planted a few rows of flowers around the front stairs. It was a strange sight in the middle of the industrial park, lacking a quality of covertness one might have expected from the place.

For you see, it housed more than just Winston’s couch. It housed his lab, Mercy’s exam rooms and medical center, it housed arms lockers and a garage for D.va to tinker with her mech. Pharah had made herself busy digging out the bottom of the place to make a training room.

And it was for this reason that McCree felt he could be there. It was a sort of satellite headquarters for Overwatch, even if the official office was above some sort of fry shop off Well Street. He was a member of Overwatch, and the dog tags that clinked at his chest were proof of that. So he was allowed to be here, and when he tired of his tiny room, and of wandering around the city, he came here.

Winston had not yet discovered a way to keep him out of the kitchen, as it happened to be the only kitchen in the place, wide and generously spaced as the rest of the house, built for Winston and tolerated for McCree.

He was rubbing his gun idly as he sat there, drinking the coffee that bubbled out of Mercy’s housewarming gift to Winston that had probably been more than a little self serving. Pharah couldn’t hardly get mad at him for firearm safety, he thought as he pushed the brush through the bore.

How many times had he cleaned his gun in the past few months? He’d barely had the opportunity to shoot it, on Overwatch’s side, but still he cleaned it, a good habit. A good habit that got him out of the house.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t grateful for his small place across the river and down the way. He’d had a hard enough time finding anything he could afford, not to mention a place that would let him have his cats. And he wasn’t giving up his boys, just so he could have a little bit more comfort, no sir. Whatever else he was, he wasn’t quite that kind of man, to give them up after all they’d taken him through.

Mercy had suggested that Tracer had an extra bed in her home, and McCree hadn’t been dumb enough to ask her if he could stay, not when he was shooting daggers at him with her eyes, on account of she wasn’t allowed to shoot actual bullets at him with her gun.

So he was grateful, after all, for the tiny place he’d found, but it was still a single room with a microwave and a tiny cube of a fridge, with a tile floor and barely enough space for the cat tree.

And so sometimes he cleaned his gun at Winston’s.

The thing about Winston’s is that people came in and out of it, looking at him with various levels of suspicion and regret. He tried not to notice. He noticed anyway. Ashe had often said he had too much of a conscience to be in the Deadlock Gang. Yael had retorted that Ashe was the only one without one, before adding the venomous “rich kid” to the end of the sentence.

McCree had always chuckled when she said that. Until he heard his name said with that same venom, flecked off everyone’s teeth, everywhere.

A high ding rang out over the kitchen.

Tracer walked into the room, bouncing as she walked and humming happily to herself, till she caught sight of McCree, slowing and focusing her as if she’d hit a brick wall. She did not take her eyes off of him as she removed a mug from the cabinet, her canister of tea from next to the kettle, and then, just as quickly, snapped her head back to the task at hand, pouring the boiling water into the bright cup.

“We’re together on the next go round, you know.” McCree looked down the barrel of his gun, the oil from cleaning it filling Winston’s kitchen with its perfume.

She continued making her tea, with no response, pouring a bit of cream as her sloth tea infuser smiled out at McCree, the only one happy to see him.

“Tracer.”

She did not look up. “‘Eard you.”

It had been months since he’d been captured, since he’d decided to defect, since Mercy had passionately argued, using a religion none of them believed in but all felt strangely compelled by on the back of Mercy’s belief, that he should be allowed, that he should have a change to be something different and new.

We wiped down the edge of the barrel. “Think we should, you know, run a drill, maybe? Might be a solid idea to get some sense of the other.”

Tracer reached for the sugar bowl. “Know ‘ow you fight.”

Mercy was the only one who thought of him as a member of the team, if he was being honest. Pharah regarded him with suspicion. Winston hated him passionately, and wasn’t afraid to say so. Dva didn’t seem to care either way, and would tell you that if you asked her, but she somehow forgot to invite him to her apartment for dinners and games with the others.  

Even Jack and Ana got invited to those.

He gave a weak grin and inclined his chin to her. “I mean, you’re the boss.”

She spun around quickly, somehow not spilling a drop of her tea, moving her hand with the motion of her body, practiced in all the ways she moved, and gave a smirk and a nod. “S’right, McCree, I am. See that you don’t forget it.”

But somehow it was Tracer who surprised him the most, a woman he would have said previously didn’t know how to hold grudge, who often joked she didn’t have the attention span for it but who had managed to gather it up to hate McCree. Tracer, who had mostly ignored the divide between Overwatch and Blackwatch, whatever Ana told her to do, who’d taken McCree out to his first gay club and laughed all the while. Tracer who now spoke to him only in snaps, for months.

There was a small part of him that was done with it, and it aimed forward.

“S’true, but,” He set down his gun and crossed his arms “Now Lena, we gotta--”

Tracer slammed her mug onto the countertop, tea spilling out the top of it, sloth tea infuser thrown off the edge of the mug and onto the stone, even his back to McCree, now.

“You SHOT me, Jesse!” Her eyes glowed with hot fire, willing and ready to answer the volley. “And you shot me to kill me! Near succeeded, too, you did, and wouldn’t that ‘ave been a lovely day for you, right? I don’t ‘gotta’ do nothing!”

McCree looked down into his coffee, watching the thin ribbon of cream he occasionally allowed himself circle around aimlessly in the dark.

He knew the feeling.

It would be impossible to explain to Tracer that it wouldn’t have been a lovely day for him, that he felt the full weight of regret like a fifty pound sack of flour the second he’d heard her cry out, the moment he saw the glitter off her blood in the moonlight. He’d thought it was the right thing, but it had been the wrong thing, and his gut had known that, same as Yael said it would. That he’d felt a wave of relief when Reaper had growled that she was still alive, that he had fucked it up, in the way this time at least.

But everything else she said was true, and Tracer had only spoken the truth into the light. That he’d shot her. That he’d shot to kill. And he would have to live with her hatred for the rest of his life, with Winston’s hatred, with everyone’s hatred. He’d made his bed, and now he had to sleep in it, and that was the god’s honest truth.

Tracer stared at him cold, daring him to defend himself, daring him to say anything at all, and he found himself unable to meet her gaze directly. She’d become a commander, in these ensuing years, and not just by title. Her back was straighter, her voice was clearer, and she did not look away.

“I--” He scrambled for a thing to say, trying to quiet the small voice inside of him that said he deserved another chance, that punishment enough had been meted out, that it was a commander’s duty to correct but either correct him and let it be done or send him on his way. The larger part of him, that part that knew what he’d done, fell upon that voice like a wave. “I’m, you know, I apologize.”

“Jesse.” She said very softly, wiping down the counter with a napkin.

“Yah?”

“I’m going to ‘it you in about, oh, one second, most like.”

“What the--”

He did not have time to finish the sentence before a mug came sailing at his face. He raised his arm, and barely blocked it, but the surprise of it caught him, and he stood up, tumbling backward into the wall. His gun was ripped from his hand and scattered across the kitchen floor, and McCree barely had time to worry that Tracer had knocked his gun out of timing before he felt the volley of her fists into his body.

He grabbed out for her, but there was only a small blue light where she had been and a fierce whack across the back of his head. Less than a second. The accelerator she wore every day gave her less than a second of movement.

It was enough, he reflected, as his nose cracked against a tiny fist, and she knew how to use it. The blood spewed out of his nose, and he reflexively grabbed for it, his other arm throwing out a wild punch in the hopes of finding her, but the most he felt was the graze of cotton that was the edge of her shirt. God, but she was fast. He wasn’t used to fighting someone like her, he was a barroom brawler and a one gun cowboy, and her heard her spring off the table ust in enough time to barely shield himself from the full force of her body on top of him, bring them both to the floor.

It seemed to last forever, but it could not have been half a minute before he heard Pharah’s voice, shouting above the sound of McCree’s head slamming to the floor, and the force of a knee falling into his chest.

“Ya rab! Hey!” He felt the knee lift from his chest, “Tracer!” and as he rolled over onto his belly and blinked around, he saw Tracer, her arms firmly held by Pharah, “You cannot do this! Not like this!”

“No, Fareeha!” She pulled away from her, “Tired of being bloody FUCKING told I’m not permitted to get the slightest bit angry over ‘im coming back into the fold, on account of your wife decided it was okay to the ‘ole lot of us!”

“Lena!”

“Let me ‘andle it!” She stomped her foot, as if she were an enraged toddler. “‘E TRIED TO KILL ME!”

“I know!” Pharah sighed, and took a breath. “I was there. It was horrible. I do not blame--”

“Makes no never mind to me.” McCree grumbled. “I had it coming, think we all know that.” He looked up at her through an already-swelling eye. ‘We square, or you not have your pound a flesh?”

It felt good, he would have said, if he had allowed himself to say such things. He wanted to handle it this way , too. That as different as he and Tracer could be, they both had a clear understanding of the fact that sometimes diplomacy didn’t work, and sometimes the only way to let bygones be was to pay it out in blood. That this was the most hopeful he’d felt since joining.

Pharah nodded. “I will get Angela. You will need care.”

She hurried away, Tracer still leaning against the edge of the countertop, arms crossed, the blue of her shirt peppered with blood that McCree was pretty sure was all his. He didn’t remember landing a hit.

He grinned up at her, still tasting the iron of it. “Good training, Commander.”

She gave a weak chuckle. “Fuck, Jesse.” She walked toward him, and extended a hand. “Come on then.”

He looked up. “You gonna hit me again?”

She smiled, and he felt his shoulders relax. “Not today. Most like.”

He took her hand, and as she pulled him up, she paused for a second by his hear. “Promise you this, you ever walk toward Talon again, it’s the last thing you ever do.”

He appreciated knowing what a man can do, and what a man can’t do, and Tracer was good at making that plain. She’d make good on the promise. She kept promises.

McCree straightened up. “Understood.” he went to tip his hat only to realize it wasn’t there, and awkwardly saluted, “Commander Oxton.”

Tracer looked around the kitchen, and put her hands on her hips. “All right then, clean this up,” She shrugged, “guess that’s the lot of it. Hm,” she looked at the floor, “broke me mug.”

McCree grabbed the broom and mop, and when he turned around, Tracer was offering him a handkerchief.

[alastair-made-me-undo-it]

That One Bandersnatch Scene But It Goes Right

Colin/Stefan, drugs and music and good, good touches.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=22HY7v9lWZw  The background music, just in case you wanna get immersive up in here.

Sequel here

The music is sweet and soft on Stefan’s tongue. It floats past him in pearly purple clouds. For the first time in a long time, he smiles.

Colin is talking in the background. His voice is muted, opaque, softly bitter, like dark chocolate. It’s a nice voice. It makes Stefan feel nice.

The posters are alive with gentle movement. Ink shifts before his eyes like ripples in water. He touches them, watches them curl and flow and move beneath his hands. Hints of strawberry flicker on his tongue, warmer, softer than any berry he’s ever tasted. Rose-colored sparks tingle in his fingertips. 

A hand on his shoulder, like the soft glow of a glass table lamp. Scent of smoke the color of a newborn fawn, shining in the air around him. Everything shining, shining, with more hope than he’d felt in longer than he could remember. 

He turns, and Colin is there. Soft look in his eyes like the warmth of the sun.

“How’re you feeling?”

Stefan giggles, a little bit. His laughter is bright green, colored like limes but sweet as lemonade. It turns soft, soft blue as he quiets and stops, a grin spreading easily across his face. “Good. Yeah. Really good.”

Colin’s hand is on his shoulder. Colin’s other hand is on his hip. It warms him like a hot drink.

“Want to feel better?”

Colin is serious, so very serious, but the question, in Stefan’s mind, is light, airy, as easy as choosing a song. 

He laughs a little more, can’t really help it, softer and more dignified and more solidified in flavor, lemon shortcake, cookies, lemon meringue pie. 

“Yeah. Yeah, all right.”

Colin’s smile is so pleased, so good, and then his hand is on the back of Stefan’s head, their lips pressed chastely together, and Stefan’s eyes are closed but the kiss blooms like a rose in the darkness, deep dusky pink fading slowly to the velvety blue of the night sky outside.

It is so good. So good. Colin tastes like smoke and tea, music curling between them in delicious notes of grape cotton candy. So good. Hands on his back like warm prints seen through thermal vision, gentle white fading to orange at the edges. So good. Sliding under his shirt, skin against skin in layers and layers of pink. So. Good. Lips on his neck, bright as bright as bright. He turns his head in soft green surrender, vivid and healthy as well-tended grass. 

Lips on his chest, color darkening now, burgundy-red as they move lower. He’s loose against the wall, every part of his body relaxed, every part of his mind content to let it happen. Blue as the sky, soft and calm, music thrumming behind his eyelids in gentle, gentle purples. 

Fingers on his pants. New ground being covered in easy, easy measures. How are they here, already, so easily? Excitement zinging through him, dark, dark shapes wearing halos of light. He gasps, soft, gray sound lost in the shifting music. He whispers Colin’s name, falling from his tongue the color of laughter, flavor like a citrus he doesn’t have a name for. 

Colin.

Colin.

Pants around his thighs, absence of clothes an absence of color, sensation of warmth and fabric gone and leaving nothing behind. He’s never been more naked. 

Colin covers him again.

Romance colors. He sees romance colors, deep, deep reds, black at the edges, shot through with flecks of light and gold. Light and dark and light, in his chest out to his fingers, filling him up like a jar of fireflies. 

It is so good. Everything is so, so good.

Warm hands on his thighs feel like safety, like promises, browns and pinks in wholesome shades, substantial as bread. Warm mouth on him, around him, dark and light and everything in between, a rainbow condensed down into shades of light and shadow. 

“So good.” Reverent words lost in the music. “So good.” 

Colin hears them, he can tell by the soft stroking of his thumb, soothing against Stefan’s thigh in blues and browns. Appreciation wholesome, helpful, refreshing as cool water. 

So good.

The sun is rising inside him. Lights are getting brighter. 

It is so good.

He breathes in deep and it’s like blowing on an ember, every breath closer and closer and closer.

So good.

The shadows in his body are melting away. Lighter and lighter and lighter, his own private sunrise coaxed over the horizon by Colin’s mouth.

So good.

Dawn breaks slowly, and yet all at once. Bright white light sparks behind his eyes, the entire color spectrum distilled down to a brilliant crystal. On and on and on, and then softer, softer, fading back into darkness, night falling again, covering him like a cloak, faint stars still shining through him.

Everything is good.

He opens his eyes slowly, taking in the room. The music continues, calming, soothing purples hanging in his mind. 

Everything is ordinary. Everything is extraordinary. 

Colin is climbing to his feet, hands holding Stefan’s body with protective gentleness.

“Feeling all right?”

His voice. His voice. So harsh a taste, Stefan almost can’t connect it with the soft, gentle touches. The contrast makes him laugh. The laughter is good.

“Yeah.” He’s unsteady, swaying a little in Colin’s grip. “Yeah.”

“Want to keep going?”

Loaded question. Hunger in Colin’s eyes a deep, deep purple he could drown in. A look that could devour him. And yet it’s easy. It’s all so easy. 

Yes. Yes, always.

“Yeah.”

Colin’s smile is hungry, ravishing, grateful and wondering. It’s a nice smile. Stefan wants to make him smile like that again and again and again. He wants to give Colin everything, everything, things he doesn’t know how to give.

But Colin does. He does. And Stefan can trust him to take.

Colin is undressing him. He lifts Stefan’s shirt up, over his head, and his gaze is like a physical thing, warm and tingly against his chest.

It’s so easy. Stefan can’t believe it could be this easy.

The pants make him stumble. Colin grips him tight, and he laughs, just laughs, and has never felt so safe.

Colin guides him to the chair, and it’s strange- but a good strange- to feel the velvety fabric against his bare thighs. He rubs his fingers over it, little soft-rough micro-bristles, subtle shift in color as he moves them back and forth going “ssssh, ssssh” in his mind. He feels them behind his ears, in his head, something between a memory and a secret.

Colin is dragging the thick, plush rug out the open door. He steps back inside, tosses a throw pillow from the couch over his shoulder like an afterthought, and extends a hand to Stefan.

“Want to see the stars?”

An idea of a response forms in Stefan’s mind, something like “You’ve already shown me stars,” but he just smiles instead, rises on unsteady legs and takes Colin’s hand, lets himself be led through the doorway.

The concept of a doorway is an amazing, amazing thing. He can feel a change in temperature as he steps through, a change in air pressure, the presence of a breeze, a deeper darkness and a lack of walls. And it’s a mile-marker. A passage from one state into another. Moving forward from a time when he has not had an experience to a time when he has, entering the physical space in which Colin will satisfy that hunger in his eyes, where he will take and Stefan will give.

Colin’s hands guide him, help him to lay down. They cup his head and tuck the pillow under it. The rug is touching every inch of him. The soft, soft breeze strokes him from head to toe, fluttering down his body like a fine lace curtain. Above him the music twinkles, carrying with it the warmth and light of the room. Then he blinks, and through the music, he can see the stars.

“This okay?”

Colin is down here with him, body over his, above him like a roof. Like shelter. And Stefan cannot stop smiling.

“Yeah. Yeah.”

Colin’s hand smooths down his side, cupping around, under, finding the back of his thigh and lifting. Excitement builds inside him again, dark, dark shape expanding and expanding until Colin’s fingers find their destination, stroking ever-so-gently along the crease of his ass. He shivers, then, shape exploding in a shower of sparks.

“You want to do it like this?”

He can taste the hunger in Colin’s voice. Colin wants. Colin wants very much. Colin wants permission, and Stefan wants to give it.

“Yeah.” The word is a soft breath of air, wondering and delicate. “Yeah, I do.”

He opens for Colin, makes room for him between his legs. Colin touches him, touches him, slick, well-prepared fingers finding him and pushing, pushing, opening him like a door. He gasps and shifts against the rug, plush softness against his body, against all of his body.

Colin touches him, other hand cupping his face, looking down at Stefan with hunger, so much hunger, but buried under care.

“You need a little more to smoke?”

“No.”

The word is sudden, abrupt and wrong, and he doesn’t want to say ‘no’ to Colin, doesn’t want to deny him anything, but he also doesn’t want to take any action, alter any sensation, just wants to live and breathe this moment, so no, he doesn’t want any more to smoke, but he does want more.

He covers Colin’s hand with his own. Turns his head. Kisses Colin’s palm. Revels in the little gasp it gets him.

It feels good, so good, to kiss any part of Colin. He does it again, and again, Colin’s other hand still working between his legs, altering him, making preparations in shades of dark, dark navy.

He feels like the sky. Rich, deep blues ripple through him, pushed into him by Colin’s inexorable fingers, silver flecks flitting through him like shooting stars. It’s strange and unfamiliar and he’d never, never thought that he’d be here, but it feels right. It’s all so right.

Colin has stopped entering him, hand pulling away from his lips, and Stefan looks up at the wondrous sight of Colin undressing, skin revealed to him in quick, utilitarian motions. Clothing falls to the ground with a soft sound, little gray-brown puff beside him, and then Colin is back, body blanketing his, sliding right back into the space Stefan had made for him.

“This okay?”

The words are whispered, rich, dark color static-white at the edges, close and intimate against his ear.

He has no words. He lifts his head instead, finding Colin’s lips in a pliant kiss, delicate as an opening rosebud.

Insistent pressure between his legs makes him startle. His body wants to move, to pull away, but he doesn’t want it to, and he’s so, so grateful when Colin steadies him, hands holding him firmly in place. He slides, inescapable, inevitable, into Stefan’s body, his mind, smell of smoke and warmth of skin-on-skin surrounding him like a blanket.

Colin moves, body flexing above him like elegant machinery, inside him like a wave traveling up through water. Like Colin is adding to him, completing him, finishing him like a recipe.

And again. A repeated motion so beautiful in its simplicity. Colin is giving, giving to him, lightening him like milk poured carefully into tea.

So beautiful.

“Beautiful.”

He doesn’t mean to say it, doesn’t think it was louder than a whisper, but Colin hears him, and he smiles.

“You like the view, Stef?”

Because he thinks- of and course he thinks- that Stefan means the stars. But Colin is haloed by the soft light of the room behind him, body moving over him like the pistons of an engine, pushing waves of blue and white into Stefan, and he reaches up, fingers grazing over Colin’s lips in a shower of pink and gold.

“Yes.” It feels so, so good to say yes to Colin. “Yes, I like the view.”

Colin is giving to him, still giving. Even when he’s taking, he’s giving. Advice, and then music, and now this night, this whole night is a gift to Stefan. He’s given Colin everything he knows how to give- his body, his mind, his trust- and still Colin is giving to him.

And then Colin’s hand finds Stefan where he’s hard and wanting, gives him what he hadn’t even realized he’d wanted, and he gasps out a desperate, desiring noise, orange as the sunset.

“Yes?” Colin asks him softly, squeezing him once in a burst of deep, dark magenta, and Stefan gets to say it again, gets to tell Colin “yes,” yes, he’ll take anything he wants to give, and please, please yes.

He feels everything, everything, doesn’t know how there can be room in his body to feel so much. Deep, deep shades of red bloom from under Colin’s hand, and he’s still pushing more into him, color heating up, lightening up with speed and friction, shifting slowly, slowly from blue up into yellow.

So good.

Colin seems to think so, and Stefan is grateful, so grateful, that he’s enjoying this. He should enjoy this. This was all him, all of it, this whole night was Colin, and Stefan is so, so grateful. Colin is touching him more forcefully now, moving inside him with intent, and harder, much harder. But it’s still good, still so good, and he’ll take it, he wants it, wants everything Colin wants him to have.

Colin’s hand moves faster, more and more sensation pouring into Stefan’s body, like he’s a cup in danger of overflowing, and he’s not sure how much more he can hold, thinks he’ll spill over at any moment, any moment now, until Colin grips him tightly, holding them close together, desperate gasps against him in gratifying browns and oranges, and oh- oh. Yes. Yes, Stefan can hold a little more.

Colin gasps against him, satisfied noises smooth and rich as butter, slides out of him in a wash of white empty space, sparkling with sensation. And presses close again, hand continuing its work, kissing slowly along Stefan’s neck, his jaw, still giving and giving and giving right here, on this rug, under these stars, until Stefan makes some noises of his own.

It’s better the second time. He’s full, truly full, sensation lingering in places he wouldn’t have known to ask for it. He’s not doing anything more than existing, not thinking or working or worrying, worrying, worrying. There’s nothing but Colin.

Nothing but Colin.

It’s cold, he notices, when Colin moves away from him. He shivers as he’s cleaned, rough swipes with Colin’s shirt, inside-out from the urgency of his undressing. The cold is surprising. It’s the first thing in hours- miraculous hours- that’s been unpleasant.

And then Colin is back with a blanket, heavy and woven like a tapestry, pinning Stefan down like an anchor where it falls across his body.

“What’d’you think? Worth moving inside?” Colin asks him as he tucks him in, pushing the blanket in under Stefan’s shoulders so that nothing but his head is exposed. “I don’t really feel like it is.”

“Mmm.” Stefan had closed his eyes at some point, and now they’re too heavy to open. He hums his agreement, snuggling down against the soft, soft rug. There’s a brief rush of cold against his back as Colin slides in beside him, and then they’re pressed together, warmth and comfort with nothing in between.

Nothing in between.

[oneeyeddestroyer]

Sharing Skin: The Home Game (Part 1)

Atmospheric and sensual, Sharing Skin has produced a handful of you mentioning just how much it makes you want a good bath. The goal of the prose was to create a unmistakable relaxing vibe with just the right touch of decadence. The bulk of my planning period for this fic was crafting the delicate details of each bath, piece by piece. Every aroma, every color, every bubble, every bath bomb, every drink, all the way down to the flower petals and the snacks, was hand picked to build an ambiance (as Eliot would say) and indicate the overall mood of the characters in that scene.

As a little treat, I wanted to curate some of my favorite bath essentials*. Recipes, products, mood lighting and wine pairings for your nerves!

We’re going to take it bath by bath to help you guys recreate the magic of each chapter. That was super fucking cheesy, but I bet you lived for it anyway. I think El and Margo are really starting to rub off on me. 😉

Bath One: What We Deserve

Upon entering the room, Margo’s fingers twist intricately and the room fills with cool, flickering light. She’s always loved the way Eliot’s skin looks in blue.

The first bath is pretty simple: brisk, refreshing air, cool toned lighting, sparkling wine, bubbles and a quick smoke.

While I can’t magically alter the tone and color of the lighting, I do have this pretty fucking best oil diffuser with color changing lights. There are a few really neat ones on the market, and I’ll link to a couple I have personal experience with. Easy to use, you add a few drops of essential oil into a small amount of water in the basin, and let it do all the work of diffusing a fine, gorgeously scented mist of your own creation. The lights change color in a slow, fluid movement, and some can be made to maintain a single color light with soft pulsing effects. Mine is Bluetooth compatible so I can play all the Enya I want as I take a soak.

Recommendations:

1. Colorful Essential Oil Diffuser

2. Ultrasonic Bluetooth Oil Diffuser

If you’re a drinker, sparkling wine is easily the best part of any bath. A nice, chilled wine is both refreshing and lovely balance to the heat of the bath—it doesn’t hurt to have a glass of ice water in the side as well. I’m not a huge fan of proper champagne, so I’ll share some of my favorite sparkling wines instead.

Something Dry

La Marca Prosecco is affordable a delicious. Not too dry, but certainly not too sweet either. Super lovely for people who are a little shy on dry whites.

Something Sweet

Bartenura wines are so fuckin delightful. If you like sweet wines, these are definitely for you if you haven’t already tried them. Fruity and fun, and also Kosher if I am not mistaken

A Rosé

Grapefruit isn’t everyone’s jam, but if you’re down to try something new, this shit is fucking delicious. A lot of wines get described and crisp and refreshing, and this is the first time I fully experienced what that could mean for a wine. It’s definitely worth the shot even if you’re not super keen on grapefruit. Eliot and Margo would definitely want you to try new things. 😉

For the bubble bath, instead of recommending a product, I wanted to share an easy recipe to make your own. Hand making bath and skin care products is a low key hobby of mine and it’s a ton of fun.

Simple Bubble Bath Recipe:

½ cup warm distilled water

½ cup liquid castile soap, scent of your choice (find unscented castile soap here)

¼ cup vegetable glycerin (find organic glycerin here)

a few drops of essential oils of your choosing

Combine all the ingredients and stir them until they're even and smooth. Over time they may separate, so just give them a quick shake in the container until they mix back together, just don’t shake too hard or it will froth up before it’s time for your bath. There is a premature ejacualation joke in there somewhere, I’m sure of it. 😂

I’m not a smoker, and I certainly do not smoke indoors, but I have had a casual smoke after a bath before, it really hits the spot if that is a thing you do. Some hookah, a vanilla clove, or handmade cigarettes of herbs like lavender and damiana can be truly lovely if you’re so inclined. Or, you know, you could just smoke weed like a normal 20-something, your call.

Bath Two: Intertwined

A quick dance of her fingers around each other causes the candles lining the tub to ignite, one by one. The warm flickering illuminates the room with a soft glow.

For best results, wait for a rainy day and bring a friend.

A minimalist bath after a rough night. Budget whiskey, candles, and maybe a good smoke at the end of it all before calling it a night.

Floating candles are a great way to create a simple but relaxing vibe. You can go through the delicate balancing act of lighting real candles and keeping them afloat without putting them out, or you can use these nifty, waterproof LED floating candles and save yourself the trouble. Maximum vibe for minimum effort is Eliot and Margo as fuck.

Whisky recommendations (Eliot takes his in a flask here, but feel free to have yours in a glass, maybe with a spot of water or over cold stones):

Bushmills 10 Year

Jameson Black Barrel

Knob Creek Straight Bourbon Whiskey

Bath Three: Winner’s Circle

Margo nods her approval as she settles against Eliot’s chest. With the bubble situation under control, the soft, rosy gold water is visible where their bodies emerge from bubbles. As their movements still, the water shimmers with brilliance that could make the night sky jealous as the light catches individual flecks of glitter.

Confession: I spent way too much time on the Lush website trying to dream up this bath. I suffered through hours of product reviews and ASMR videos of “Lush Cocktails” before I finally settled on the right mix of products. I will never look at a strainer the same way again.

If you’d like to soak in your own gloriousness a la Bath 3, you’ll need to pick up Sunnyside (a lovely citrusy bubble bar with glitter for DAYS) and The Comforter (the classic black currant bubble bar that many considers Lush staple, and a personal favorite) from your local Lush or order them from the website. Combined, they make the prettiest rose gold. It’s everything, I promise! The bubble bars are designed to be broken apart and used in small chunks, because they create a serious amount of bubbles. I’d cut them in pieces and use a small chunk of each, or you can go buckwild like El and Margo, but expect some serious overflow if you do it right.

Oh! And bonus points for setting up a trophy to gaze at as you soak.

If you liked one of the wines from the first bath, you can easily pair it with this bath too, or you can use one of these. I will alway have more wine to recommend.

Something Dry

Ruffino Prosecco is lovely, dry and fruity. It can be a touch pricier than La Marca, but not by much. Totally affordable—as most proseccos are— and tasty. Even if you don’t really like dry whites, it’s hard to go wrong with a prosecco.

Something Sweet

Martini & Rossi Asti. Affordable, sweet, Italian sparkling wine. It’s self explanatory and delicious.

A Rosé

I told you guys I live for Bartenura wines. The Malvasia di casorzo is seriously one of my favorite wines. Sweet and fruity, it’s just really fucking good. I won’t try to sell you with somm lingo and flavor notes like “wilted vines” and “fresh tennis balls”, just drink the wine. If you like sweet, it’s awesome.

Bath Four: Delusions, Major and Minor

Notes of ripe, juicy peach, and hint of honey fill the air. The bath water is a bright, creamy orange with a soft light glowing from beneath the surface. Their subtle movements create a shimmer as they stir the water.

**

Margo lightly strokes the water and hums as she considers her next choice. She brings her hands together, rolling her wrists over each other before stitching her fingers together in an intricate shape. A deliberate tap of the surface of the bath with her middle finger causes the water to turn pink beneath her touch. The color ripples out from the point of contact in concentric waves, quickly changing the entire bath. With the same finger, she traces a small sigil on the back of Eliot’s left hand to tie him into the spell. Eliot makes three quick taps along the surface of the bath. Orange, yellow and red diffuse into the water, the edges of Eliot’s colors are much more feathered and frayed than Margo’s. The colors swirls together, blending into beautiful gradients when they come into contact with each other and the pink hues from Margo. The result is somewhere between the light of a setting sun and an abstract painting.

I have a couple of ways you could recreate this bath if you’re so inclined. If you want to go for the bright, peachy vibe complete with Bellini, a peach scented bath bomb while you rub yourself down with scrubee will give you that mix of ripe stone fruit and honey. (And don’t skimp on scrubee, that bad boy will leave your skin silky smooth and hydrated as fuck and the scent is incredible) The bath bombs I wanted to recommend seen to mostly be out of stock, but I hope a few come back for the summer months.

Peachy by Lush

Pretty as a Peach by Bath & Body Works

Honey Peach by Sabon

Basic Bellini recipe:

One part peach nectar

2 parts prosecco

If you want to get really fancy with it, you can purée a couple of peaches and mix one part of that with 2 parts prosecco (or you can flip those proportions if you want a more fruit heavy cocktail), but if you want to get fancy without doing a ton of work, you can buy a peach nectar instead. Just make sure it’s the good stuff, actual peach nectar, and not some sugary “fruit juice blend” where none of the fruits involved are actual peaches. I’ve used both Goya and Jumex. I always garnish with a peach wedge or wheel.

If you don’t want to go with the peach bath, you could do a multicolored bath instead. Hot Topic has a cute dragon egg bathbomb that changes a colors as it fizzes and finally settles into a nearly black final bath color. It’s super fucking huge and so much fun.

Continued in Part 2

*I am not paid or sponsored in any way shape or form, nor am I associated with any of the above brands, licenses, etc.. I’m just overly enthusiastic about a fanfiction I wrote and a slut for good bath vibes.

[aamccarthy]

Lucifer and Thomas - The Deceit

Wattpad Link: https://www.wattpad.com/story/186855778-lucifer-and-thomas

Artwork Master List

Chapter 1 - 10 Master List

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

“Satan, I don’t know what to tell you.” Nicholas raised his arms, shrugging as he closed the book in front of him. Scrawled on the front of the cover in golden cursive were the words, ‘Nice List’. “His name is in here, so he can’t be bad.”

“You don’t get it, Nick.” Lucifer growled, frustrated at having to repeat the argument for the tenth time, “There is something up with that kid.”

“What so wrong with having a golden soul?”

“That’s the thing. Humans don’t. Even Angels struggle to have a pure soul, and they still get flecks of darkness upon it. This one is pure golden. Nothing evil. Nada. Zilch. His thoughts are completely innocent. It’s unnatural.”

Nicholas sat down at his bench and grabbed a cup of cocoa that Freya had prepared earlier, taking a sip, “My soul is sometimes golden.” He mused.

“I said human, Nick. C’mon. I’m repeating myself here.” Lucifer paced up and down the room, his hands scratching his head. “Are you sure that every name in that book is bonafide human?”

“I’m certain, Satan. He’s a normal boy, born to human parents.” Nicholas looked up at him, “I thought you can read minds, emotions, desires? Can’t you just, I dunno… read him and find out for yourself?”

“I can.” Lucifer took a seat with a huff.

“And?”

“Nothing.” He leaned back, “He’s just a normal child. There are no evil thoughts, no ill will, just… a child. A child filled with curiosity of the world.”

Nicholas took another sip of his drink then placed it down, “Have you considered that maybe the world isn’t as bad as you think it is? Maybe there are still pure souls out there?”

“There isn’t.” Lucifer’s eyes darkened, “I carry the title of Satan. I see the souls that come through the pits of Hell.”

“Exactly. You see the worst of society, not the best. Only Heaven get’s that.”

“I can still see them.”

Nicholas paused, raising an eyebrow, “How?”

“I steal Saint Peter’s book from time to time to make sure I’m not getting jipped of souls.” Lucifer replied nonchalantly, squinting into the empty mug beside him.

“If I were your Father, I’d smite you on the spot.” He shook his head, partially in disbelief and partially in amusement. “How’d that other matter go?”

“I have Berith sorting it out.” He placed his hand under his chin and stared at the white-haired man, “You know, if you gave up this whole Christmas thing, you could take back your name of Odin and do it yourself.”

“I gave up that name back in 280 AD.” He waved off the suggestion.

“I miss the old you.” Lucifer grinned, leaning forward.

“I’m sure you do.” Rolling his eyes, Nicholas finished his drink. “So? What now?”

“Keep digging I guess.” Lucifer stood up, stretching, “If the kid is indeed human, I’ll leave it at that for now and just observe.” He paused, scratching his butt, “I need to work out who keeps bringing these Summon Circles to the Earthen plane, and on top of that, work out what the Empyrean are doing.”

“I doubt they would take you out. Someone needs to keep an eye on Hell.”

“Yeah? Tell that to the idiots up there.” He looked up at the sky, raising his middle finger, “They don’t seem to understand that I’m what stands between the evil in Hell and peace on Earth.”

Nicholas stood up and clapped him on the shoulder, “I know. I fought alongside you against Belial. Ever since you took the throne, we have definitely had more peaceful times.”

“But not perfect.”

“No,” He sighed, “Unfortunately there will always be Evil in the world. It’s Heaven’s job to banish it, and your job to contain it.”

Lucifer huffed in annoyance, “Sure you can’t help me with my other problem?”

Sighing, Nicholas shook his head. “You know I’m of no use to you now. My strength flows from the wishes of children at Christmas, so all of my power is useless any other time of year.”

Patting him on the back, Lucifer smirked, “It’s OK. Just admit you’re old.”

“I am not!”

Laughing, Lucifer jumped back, and raised a hand in a wave. With that he tapped his hoof on the ground twice, disappearing in a pillar of blue flame.

Lucifer stared out across Judecca lake, the red surface reflected into his golden eyes. The surface bubbled as steam rose, he hadn’t been here in several years. Glancing around, he watched as various demons of different shapes moved about. Occasionally one would knock into another and they would gnash their teeth, falling into a frenzied fight until their opponent was defeated. Disgusting, mindless creatures. He curled his lip back in disgust.

Walking up the edge of the lake, he held his hand out and a golden light glowed, taking on the form of a pitchfork. Gripping the handle, he lowered it to the surface of the water and immediately the water parted, showing a staircase.

Descending down the steps, Lucifer could hear the echoes of souls that were trapped in the lake around him. Their screams and cries echoed the further he descended, as he entered the deepest part of Hell.

Slowly, a dancing light flickered across the steps and Lucifer stepped down, staring at the burning centre of Hell. It was a large, barren cavern, and fire burnt everywhere, the flames danced in the air. It was here, in this spot, thousands of years ago, that his Father had cast out him and the other Fallen. Upon the walls, carved into stone, were depictions of each of the battles for the title of Satan. Lucifer counted each battle, there were ten total, nine battles of the past Kings and the final carving was a depiction of his own victory. The first Angel to rule over Hell.

Smirking, Lucifer grinned at the memory. His Father certainly hadn’t expected that. When he and his followers were banished to Hell, his Father had intended them to be punished by the former Satan, King Belial but, of course, Lucifer wasn’t one to listen and follow the path set out before him. No. He would never have to listen to his Father again. His golden eyes drifted around the room before settling upon a throne. There were several steps going up to it, blackened skulls and bones littered it’s base. His thoughts drifted back to the boy, and the questions he asked him the night they met.

“Luce, what do you like?”

“Torturing human souls.”

The boy frowned, rolling over onto his belly as he propped himself up on his arms, “You’re lying.” Lucifer blinked, staring at the brown eyes that bore into him. He laid his head back on the pillow and looked up at the ceiling.

“Flying.” He confessed.

“What’s it like to fly?” Thomas leaned forward, eager for more information.

He paused then replied, “It’s the feeling of being free.”

“What are things you don’t like?” The boy crawled closer, his eyes bright with curiosity.

His lips thinned in response, he hated his Father, but he wasn’t going to tell this human child that, “I’ll tell you some other time.”

Thomas dropped his arm and rested his chin on the bed sheet, “Favorite cartoon?”

“Don’t have one.”

“Favourite superhero?” His eyes danced around with excitement, clearly enjoying himself.

“What’s a superhero?”

The boy raised an eyebrow in question, “It’s a person that saves the day.”

“There isn’t anyone like that, kid.”

“Sure there is! They have superpowers and always come to save you.”

“Pssh.”  

Standing at the throne, he ran his hands over the scorched skulls and bones, deep in thought. The boy hadn’t been bothered to ask him about his abilities, his powers or his kingdom. Thomas simply just asked questions about him, Lucifer. “Such a strange kid.” He murmured to himself. Even now, he still didn’t understand just what the child wanted from him. It bothered him, he was used to people aligning with him because of his power. He entered contracts with humans to fulfil their often dark desires.

But this child? Lucifer couldn’t understand him.

He had said he wanted a friend, but really, was that it?

He thought back to the Pandora’s Box under the Christmas tree, the Demon Summon Circles and the actions of the Empyrean. He could feel as if the had pieces of a puzzle in his grasp, but something was missing. He had gone and hassled Nicholas because he was certain that the child wasn’t human and was possibly a trick setup by the Empyrean, but Nicholas was adamant that he was just a normal, human boy.

He had tried, time and time again, to feel the child’s emotions, thoughts and desires, yet not a single time was there anything sinister. His ears perked up as he heard footsteps behind him. Turning, he looked at the man that stood before him.

He stood at the same height as Leviathan, with curly brunette hair and a golden tan. He had a goatee, which he was stroking as his turquoise eyes locked with Lucifer. Behind him floated a wooden wheel covered in eyes. The eyes blinked and darted around, looking everywhere at once. “I was wondering who had come to open the Grand Throne room, I see you’re back, brother?”

“Gressil.” A sly smile graced Lucifer’s lips as he drew out the name, “What brings you here?”

Gressil shrugged raising his hands, “First you disappear without even a mention to your Generals, and now Leviathan, Berith, Astaroth and Asmodeus are nowhere to be found within their respective Circles. You should be careful, brother.” He lowered his hands and stared back at Lucifer, his turquoise eyes darkening, “It’s unwise to leave so many Circles of Hell unattended.”

“Is that a threat?” Lucifer’s eyes darkened in response, a growl at the back of his throat.

Gressil closed one eye, tilting his head, “Merely advice, brother.”

The two stared at each other, unmoving before Gressil broke out into a grin, grabbing Lucifer by the arm and clasping it to his chest, “It’s good to see you.”

Lucifer sighed, shaking his head, “Why must you insist on doing this, each time?” Chuckling, he patted the other man on the back. Gressil was one of the Fallen and a General of Hell, Ruler of the Eighth Circle of Hell, Fraud. He took great joy in manipulating the emotions of those around him, whispering words of deceit into the ears to any that listen.

“Because you are my favourite to tease, brother. Always so distrustful. It makes you easy to twist and manipulate.” He flashed his teeth in a grin and stepped back.

“Go and tease your other siblings.” Lucifer shook his head.

Gressil waved a hand and the wheel at his back turned on it’s side, allowing him to sit on the edge of it. “No way. Soneilion and Berith are both crazy fuckers that would set a Cataclysm upon me if I even tried. Beelzebub is off who-knows-where. Leviathan and Asmodeus are both stuck up pricks. And Astaroth and Verrine don’t know how to take a joke. You know she nearly marched her Legions into my Domain when I threatened to torch her dress?”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, not at all surprised at Astaroth’s actions, “You could just stop.”

“Nope!” Gressil laid back upon the wheel, crossing his hands behind his head as he stared at the cavern ceiling, “Father always punished me for my pranks, but here I don’t have to bother about that.”

“Surely you didn’t come to Lake Judecca just to tease and complain to me.”

Gressil grinned, “No.” Sitting up, he crossed his legs, leaning forward, “What I say now is the truth. I heard an interesting rumour that someone within the Royals has been gathering Essence in secret. The other interesting thing is that Vine was pissed because someone stole a Pandora’s Box from his collection.” He smirked, watching Lucifer’s reaction. “Whatever is going on, dear brother?”

Lucifer kept his face calm, not betraying any emotion. Gressil may be a manipulator, but he was good at finding out information. “What do you think is going on?”

“I think that we may have war again soon. And I want the chance to beat those Royals so they can never rise up again.” The wheel that Gressil sat upon shook, flashing red. Lucifer watched has Gressil’s hands tightened on the wheel, his knuckles turning white. Although Gressil had never lost against the Royals during the Battle for the title of Satan, he had come close.

Lucifer grinned and leaned over, whispering into Gressil’s ear, “Well then, I suppose someone needs to find out who the little traitor is and bring them before me so they can be punished accordingly.”

The wheel stopped shaking and Gressil looked up at Lucifer, a gleam in his turquoise eyes. He jumped off the wheel and dropped to one knee, resting his fist upon the ground, “As you command, Sire.”

Continue to Chapter 12

[jaguarundis]

Dream Made Real

A little oneshot for xio @kuurapika ‘s lovely characters!! This is way overdue, but it was lots of fun to work on and helped me stretch my writing muscles a bit. Hope you enjoy it! 

1.3k words on girls being gay UNDER the cut

The sun glows white-hot and overly bright in a blue, blue sky. Winged creatures sing strange and musical songs from the treetops. Somewhere out of sight, a waterfall is making a quiet rushing sound.

Azari relaxes her shoulders and closes her eyes, drinking in the sounds and sensations of nature around her. These are the best days: whimsical, serene, full of magic. Full of content.

That is, until the peaceful spell is very rudely broken by a crashing sound from a distant grove of trees. Which can only mean one thing--

“Found you, Azari!”

Yup. It’s Ina, looking disheveled from her travel through the woods but also unfairly pretty at the same time. The sight of Azari’s girlfriend--girlfriend!! She still can’t believe it--makes her heart jump suddenly against her ribcage. It’s been far too long.

“You’re late,” Azari points out, trying to hide her smile.

“Excuse me for having trouble making it to the middle of nowhere,” Ina fires back, but there’s no bite to her voice. “This whole thing was your idea! I just got dragged along for the ride.”

“So you’re not happy to see me, then?”

“Hey, I never said that.”

Both of them are quiet for all of a second before glancing at each other and bursting into laughter. Even after months of dating, they’ve never gotten tired of their own banter. Azari knows that she, at least, will never pass up an easy opportunity to get a laugh out of Ina. She suspects that the feeling is mutual.

“Well, let’s get going. If we manage our time right, we can probably hike all along the longest trail by sunset.”

“Lame,” Ina says, but she’s grinning anyways.

Sometime later, the sun has traced a wide path across the sky. Noon brings with it more warmth, but also more insects. Far too many insects. Azari swats aside an iridescent winged menace for the umpteenth time before linking her fingers with Ina’s. She doesn’t miss the redness creeping into Ina’s cheeks and the tips of her ears at the gesture. None of them speak to acknowledge it, but the silence is comfortable. It settles over them with the lightness of silk threads.

As Ina and Azari weave their way through fallen branches and overgrown shrubs, the various sounds of the woods fade into the background, overtaken by the distinct noise of a something else: something new.

A waterfall.

The very waterfall that Azari remembers hearing earlier that morning, in fact.

Except oh, it looks so much grander up close, and all the more breathtaking. Azari has to crane her neck to see where it begins among the frothy white bubbles: upon her examination, it seems to trace back to a craggy collection of boulders, about seventy feet up in the air.

Azari kneels down beside the pool where the waterfall ends and dips the fingers of her metallic arm in its coolness. A thin orange-blue fish zips by her hand, a blur of color and motion. The water sighs and burbles in the way that water does, and Azari is so caught up in its rhythm that she almost doesn’t notice Ina sneaking up behind her.

Almost.

“Watcha up to? Talking to the fishes?” Ina has both of arms draped around Azari’s shoulders from behind, and she’s taken the liberty of propping her chin on her head too. Azari can feel her skin tingling from the contact. Her enhanced senses are a blessing and curse, times like this.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Azari finally manages, trying to look up at Ina backwards. It doesn’t work.

Ina absentmindedly twirls a strand of Azari’s hair between her fingers. “Mhmm,” she hums, voice dreamy. “I think we should have something to eat, don’t you? I’m famished.”

Azari blinks at the sudden change in topic. She wriggles around in Ina’s grasp to face her, tucking her legs underneath herself to sit properly. “Well, my pack isn’t just for show. You can help yourself, you know. I have some boar meat in there, rice from yesterday’s leftovers, cornbread, a bottle of raspberry wine I snuck out of the pantry…” She trails off with a sly smile when she sees Ina’s eyes go wide.

“No way.”

“Yes way, and I can prove it!”

Ina beats her to the worn leathery hunting pack, though, and fishes out the bottle in question. She makes a face. “Azari, you bold faced liar!”

Azari giggles. She can’t help it. “Well, you see, it technically is raspberry juice, and who knows how long it’s been in Mom’s cupboard, so--”

“Come on, Azari! What happened to good old-fashioned drunken fun?”

“Hilarious. You can say that again when we’re of age.”

Ina pointedly sticks out her tongue, but doesn’t argue. Instead, she plops down on the grassy ground and fishes out a sizable loaf of cornbread from Azari’s pack. Azari settles beside her, but not before retrieving the aforementioned rice for herself.

The sky twists and contorts into a sunset: blue and purple and orange clouds sprawl out across the pink backdrop. Azari watches with her head tipped back, not wanting to miss a moment of it. Around her, she can make out the shadowy shapes of tree trunks and smooth boulders and forest ferns, as well as the jagged rocks shaping the waterfall nearby. Ina is shadowed by the sunset, too, but only halfway. The sun’s managed to illuminate a strand of her hair so that it looks glossy and faded all at once, and her eyes are unusually bright.

Unusually bright-- and focused on her. Azari feels her skin tingling again, not unlike before. She knows Ina inside out. She knows her desires, knows her dreams and aspirations, knows her fears and sorrows.

And she knows what that look means.

Azari suddenly feels uncomfortably aware of herself: her right hand, with the fingers splayed out on the soil and grass. Her hair brushing against the back of her neck. Every movement of her mouth as she swallows. Her heart pulsing in her chest like a contained beast.

Slowly, carefully, she shifts to face Ina. Their eyes meet. And Azari’s breath catches when she sees Ina’s eyes-- really sees them, every fleck of color and every flash of emotion.

Ina is so beautiful it hurts.

But as it is, Azari doesn’t have long to agonize over the fact, which is just as well. If she did, she’d surely sink so far into the depths of infatuation that she’d never return.

No, Azari doesn’t get the chance to contemplate her bubbling feelings further, because Ina seems to read her mind and smiles--really smiles, pure and compassionate-- before cupping Azari’s cheek in her hand and kissing her.

Around them, time seems to trickle impossibly slowly. Clouds inch unhurriedly across the sky. The crickets barely whisper. Even the waterfall’s incessant roar sounds muted. The forest is bathed in pink and black and orange, and it’s beautiful, and Ina’s beautiful, and Azari is kissing her back.

For that moment, nothing else exists.

It’s been a minute, or a few minutes, or an hour, before the two of them pull apart. Azari feels flushed all over. Her mouth buzzes with the memory of Ina’s lips on hers.

She’s certain Ina is in a similar state, but she can’t tell for sure. The shadows have expanded to cover every part of her save for the glint of her teeth in the dark.

A beat of silence, and then:

“Azari, the look on your face!”

“Oh, shut up!!”

But they’re both smiling now, because the world is dark, and the night air is soothing, and nothing warms the heart like cornbread and leftover rice and a shared kiss during a sunset.

Azari relaxes her shoulders and closes her eyes, drinking in the sounds and sensations of nature around her. These are the best nights: whimsical, serene, full of magic. Full of love.

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

I just saw some blueberry pancakes that made my mouth water sooo can I get a fluffy Zenyuki breakfast? cooking, eating, or just morning time, whatever ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It’s rare to have mornings like these.

Mornings where the sunlight shines bars of gold across cold stone, breathless laughter frosting the early morning air. Mornings where Shirayuki’s hand is cool in his, smile dimpling the corner of her cheek as she peeks at him over her shoulder, one finger pressed to her lips. Mornings where he isn’t second in line to the throne; where he isn’t a Prince of Clarines; where he isn’t the future Duke of Wilant- 

Mornings where he is a man. Just a man with a girl that he has missed far too much for far too long, slipping past sleepy scholars and under the noses of watchful guards, sneaking into empty kitchens and firing up a stove until iron hisses with the heat.

“Do you think they’ll be alright?” Zen asks, turning the spoon through the batter, just the way she said.

Shirayuki hums, picking through a bowl of blueberries and setting aside only the plumpest, juiciest ones. “If they’re not, breakfast will certainly help!”

He wonders about that. He’s had enough drinking bouts with Obi to know he was anything but hungry the entire following day.

They both were woken at first light by drunken snores rattling windows, Mitsuhide and Obi and empty bottles sprawled across Shirayuki’s bedroom floor. It had been confusing at first, seeing stacks of books and papers littering stone and tabletop alike, the winter light of Lyrias harsh in comparison to the gentler glow of Wistal. Kiki had been missing, too, but she had always been a light sleeper; she was probably in her own room. And then he sat up, head cradled in hands and there she was: wide eyed, flushed faced and staring at him over their open mouthed and drooling friends.

“Zen.” Shirayuki is giggling. “The batter is supposed to be lumpy!”

“Really?” he frowns, stirring harder. “Won’t there be big lumps of flour?”

She gently extracts the spoon from his hand. “Trust me.”

He doesn’t know much about this. He was never taught; never allowed. But he doesn’t need to be taught to trust her.

The iron crackles when she pours, a delicate coordination of wrist and bowl and distance from the heat, and something about it - something about seeing her like this, with her hair tied back and bent over a stove, making him breakfast out of all things - catches his breath in his chest, thickens his tongue, steals his thoughts of anything outside this moment.

“Are you sure everyone will be fine with blueberries?” She’s worrying her lower lip between her teeth, sprinkling fresh fruit onto slowly spreading batter.

She looks over at him and- Oh. She’s expecting him to reply. He blurts out the first thing. “Who doesn’t like blueberries?”

She laughs, ushering him to take in place in front of the stove. The heat radiating from it must be the warmest place in Lyrias outside of where her hand cradles his wrist.

“You’ve gotta wait until it bubbles,” she murmurs, slipping the spatula into his hands and stepping behind him. His heart skitters into a panic and then her hand cups his.

It skitters faster.

“Um,” he coughs into his shoulder, face heating from the warmth of the stove. “Is it ready yet?”

“Almost,” she says, peering over his shoulder. Her body, so soft, presses against his back and the stove is- uhm- It’s really warm. 

She shifts behind him, steering his hand. 

“Shirayuki…”

“Now.”

Her hand is guiding his, sliding wood between pale batter and pan and she twists her fingers around his wrist so the pancake flips, perfectly golden and spotted with little flecks of dark blue.

“Perfect!” she exclaims, fingers tightening as she pulls him back.

He stares down at it. That’s it? That’s all that he needed to do? He grins, giddy, overwhelmingly excited about such a simple thing that he turns, pulling her to his arms and muffling her surprised squeak with his mouth.

She tastes like-

Zen pulls back, smiling, and thumbs her reddened lower lip. They are almost as red as her cheeks. “You could have just told me that you wanted strawberries in yours.”

Shirayuki grins back, impish, and he leans back down to steal the smile off of her lips, their kisses tasting like strawberries and sunlight and-

“Oh!” she pushes back against his arm, eyes wide and panicked, stealing the spatula from his hand. “Quick, grab a plate! It’ll burn!”

It’s a rush after that, scrambling hands and dripping batter and clattering plates, but it is- it is easier than anything he has done these last two years. Easier still to return to her room, plate piled high with accomplishment, to two groaning men just beginning to regret their decisions from the night before and-

They smile at him. Like they’re happy to see him. Like they always have been and always will be his friends.

“Hungry?”

Mitsuhide whines, cradling his stomach and turning away from them all while Obi doubles over laughing until he groans.

Zen smiles, Shirayuki’s hand wrapped up in his free one.

It’s rare to have mornings like these, but they worth waiting for.

[sugarsnap-caely]

Das Gebrochen Arzt (The Broken Doctor): Chapter 4

When Henrik woke up he had two cups of coffee rather than his usual one. He didn't feel all that hungry either so he left the house with a single piece of poorly buttered toast. Thankfully, he managed to get to the hospital without causing any issues. Today was going to be a long day…

As he walked into the lounge he raised his hand to wave to Suzi but hesitated as he remembered yesterday’s events. She had had to go home early due to the—albeit minor—cut on her leg.

He gathered up the courage to walk up to her and apologize again when he nearly ran into Jeff. He groaned, he really did not want to deal with him this morning. And just when he thought he was getting over his migraine too…

“So…I heard what happened yesterday,” Jeff said, cocky eyebrow and all, “And to think I thought you were a surgeon.”

“And to sink, I sought you vere less of a hypocrite.”

Jeff narrowed his eyes, as if unsure what he was talking about.

“Remember zee incident vis zee saline?”

For the first time in a while, Jeff stammered, “I-I umm…no…yes…I mean uhhhh…”

Henrik smirked, that put him in his place. He had to admit, he got some enjoyment out of seeing Jeff put down a peg. He checked his watch as he continued to walk, his first appointment for the day was in two minutes. He picked up his pace as he left the room.

He rolled his shoulders briefly as he moved to place the pacemaker wire in the ventricle. For the first time since this morning he was all focus. It was as if his very job itself kept a firm anchor on the worries that had built in his head. He had no time to worry, after all, people’s very lives depended on every ounce of his concentration. That fact alone kept him in reality. He could let his worries fester later.

He kept his eyes on the x-ray, making sure everything was lining up properly. This had to be done carefully otherwise the device would not work. He continued to attach the wires one by one to their appropriate places in the vein, the steady sound of the patient’s heart monitor beeping in his ears.

Once the last wire was in place he took the last one and hooked it up to the pulse generator, checking to make sure it was functioning properly. He positioned the device under the skin and close to the collarbone. Final checks were made and when everything was good to go he began to stitch up the incision. He cut the extra thread, letting out a sigh of relief as he did so: another successful procedure.

As soon as the patient was rolled out of the room he began to take off his equipment and wash up at the nearby sink. Aside from the gentle hum of nearby machinery and the water from the faucet, it was quiet. It was a calm, familiar sort of quiet. It was a quiet that he liked.

So why was it that he felt so uneasy?

He looked up at his reflection in the mirror, the same glasses-covered blue eyes stared back at him. He raised a hand up to the reflection, as if he had to make sure it was still him. The reflection mimicked his motions.

He waved his hand in front of the mirror, still unsatisfied with what he was seeing.

He looked over his shoulder to find no one there, yet he still felt like someone was in the room: watching. He turned back to the mirror and found it smirking back at him. He blinked his eyes and his reflection returned to normal. He ran a hand through his hair. God, what was going on? How long had he been in here again? He checked his watch, tapping the face to make sure it hadn't messed up again. He needed to get back to work. He slowly turned around and headed for the door.

Two green pin-pricks stared at him from the mirror.

Henrik’s eyes darted around for a moment as he walked down the hall. He was sure he was probably just being paranoid but he still couldn’t shake off the dread that seemed to constantly follow him like a predator stalking its prey: slow and methodical. He managed to distract himself when he came up to Suzi in her office. She was currently plugging information into a computer, her fingers typing quickly on the keys. When he saw her finish he cleared his throat, “Hello Suzi, are you coming to lunch vis me?” The two of them almost always had the same lunch break and so they would go together.

“I’m sorry Henrik,” she closed the computer’s window and the file she had open as she turned to face him, “I have to help out some interns with surgeries today.”

His smile fell, he had been hoping that some time with his friend would help heal his stress.“Oh...vell...I vill see you later zen?”  He had started back on his way when he was interrupted by Suzi.

“Wait!” She stood up, quickly slinging a bag over her shoulder.

He turned back around to look at her, “Yes?”

“I umm...well…” She seemed to try and avoid his gaze, choosing to stare at her fiddling fingers. “I was wondering if...since I won’t be having lunch with you,” she took  a deep breath through her nose before continuing, “if you would like to have dinner with me this evening?”

He stuttered, unsure how to react.

“I mean, it won’t be anything special really, just a small place I know in town, you know?”

A smile formed on his face as he considered, “Y-yes, I vould love to...to have dinner vis you.”

She beamed, “Really? Thank you so much! Anyway, I-I’ve got to go, bye!” She waved to him as she left the hall.

He raised a hand, giving a small wave in return. He smiled as he felt some of the foreboding atmosphere lift like fog disappearing in the sun. There was a slight bounce to his step the rest of the day.

A cool breeze floated through the air, giving him a sense of peace. It was a great evening to walk through Brighton. He opened his eyes and looked over at Suzi, “Vhere did you say vee vere going again?”

“You'll see when we get there.” She picked up the pace a bit nearly stranding him behind a group of people.

As he jogged to catch up he seemed to soak up her energetic atmosphere like a sponge. He watched the light bounce off her face, almost making it glow. He had sworn to the others that he had never seen her that way but, now that he thought about it, there had been times he noticed the way her hands moved while performing a surgery or how she would occasionally snort when she laughed. It had always managed to make him smile. ‘Maybe…’ he thought, ‘being wrong isn’t alvays such a bad sing.’

They sipped on some drinks as they sat across from each other in a booth. “So,” Suzi began, “what do you think of this place?”

He glanced around taking in the scenery, she had taken him to a German themed diner, “I love it actually.”

She smiled, “I thought you might.”

He couldn’t help but smile in return. He hadn’t realized how much he needed this to be honest. It was such a welcome experience that cleared away the clouds that had been surrounding him as of late. Perhaps she had sensed his apprehension and wanted to do something nice to help him. Well, it had been working so far.

“How vere zee interns zis time? Did any of zem give you trouble?”

“Oh no, they were fine. One of them was a little nervous but they did a wonderful job!”

“Zat is good to hear, vee could alvays use an extra hand around zee hospital.”

She suddenly let out a giggle.

“Vhat’s so funny?”

She put up a hand as she tried to stop her own laughter, “I…I just remembered something that happened today. O-One of the interns was being given a hard time by one of the other interns...and he put him in his place hard. I’d tell you the joke but you had to have been there.”

Henrik stifled a laugh of his own, “It is alright, in fact I did somesing similar to Jeff today. I sink vee both needed it to be honest.”

She giggled again as she picked up the menu and he decided to do the same. Before he could even glance at it though there was the ding of a notification on his phone. He took it out of his pocket and looked at the message. He beamed, trying his hardest to contain his excitement as he smiled across the table at her.

“What’s up, what happened?”

“My little edelveiss, she is coming over zis veekend!”

“That’s great!”

He nodded and looked back down at the menu. He shook his head, some of the words looked blurry. He took off his glasses and cleaned them before putting them back on. Flecks of red now decorated the page. His chest shook with suppressed nervous laughter. He decided to just focus on the words, that was what was important right now. He looked back down and started reading.

‘Ì̴̡t’s̷ h͏͟͏͘ope̸̶̢le̢͞sś̨͠͝. Fa̡̧̨̢i̢͏̷̕luŗ̸͝͏e. You c̛͟͝͠aǹ̶͢͡’t s͏̀a̶̧ve t̶̶͜h̵͠em̢͢’

He quickly shut the menu with a slap that caused people to look up from their meals. He nervously started to duck down as he felt their eyes leave him. Or did they? Some had to still be watching him, right? No, no they couldn’t be, no one would stare for that long. Would they?

“Henrik?”

He whipped his head around to her, startled.

“You look pale are you ok?”

He nodded slowly, deciding to look at the table instead. There was a fake vase full of fake flowers sitting against the fake wall. Wait, no the wall was real. He put his hand against it as if he had to make sure. Yep, still solid. He looked back over to the table noting the silverware sitting on it. It was the same as always: spoon, fork, and knife. His eyes continued to stare at the silverware for a long time. It seemed almost mesmerizing. He felt the need to pick up the knife...and drag it across someone’s skin as they beg-”Henrik.”

He shook his head as he looked up a Suzi, she had given a quiet yell and concern was written across her face.

He swallowed the tension that had built in his throat, “Y-yes?”

“Henrik if something is wrong you can tell me.”

He opened and closed his mouth several times like a dying fish before managing to spit something out, “I...I sink I need to go on a...o-on a valk.” He stood up from his chair, feeling his feet stumble for a split second.

“Maybe I should come with you.”

“No!” He yelled a bit too loudly. “N-no. I’ll be fine on my own.”

She gave him a sad nod and let him on his way. He felt so tired as he walked out the door.

He stumbled through the door to the house, nearly tripping on the step. The house was dark, outside was dark, his mind was dark, everything felt dark. His body appeared to move on its own accord, moving before his brain knew what it was doing. He vaguely told himself he needed to sleep and vaguely agreed.

The moment he crossed into the hallway to go to his bedroom it was like he stepped into a thick fog. The air felt thinner and he had trouble breathing. He felt jared as the disorientation he had been feeling simultaneously doubled and left his senses heightened. He felt the need to run but he was frozen on the spot. He could feel his hands shaking and the hairs stood up on the back of his neck. His eyes darted frantically about the room, something was watching him. He could feel it but he couldn’t see it.

His eyes widened. Unless… He slowly forced himself to turn around.

It was JJ.

An exclamation point appeared above his head as he flinched back slightly; his hand was outstretched as if to grab his shoulder.

“O-oh, it is only you…”

“Are you ok?” JJ asked.

He nodded, “Y-yes...I am only tired is all…”

Without even saying goodnight he walked to his room and went to bed.

He found himself standing out in the hallway. It was pitch black and he could not see a thing. He wasn’t sure why he was standing outside his room but his feet started to walk anyway. The further he walked down the hallway the closer the dread started creeping up on him. Someone was watching him again. Someone always seemed to be watching him, and yet the panic never lessened. No, it only got worse. He felt like the walls were closing in on him. There was something everywhere. It was everywhere and yet he could not see it. He needed to see, he had to see, he had never felt so blind. At his request an eerie green light illuminated the hallway. He immediately regretted it as a hard shudder traveled down his spine.

The walls were covered with eyes. He had seen eyes by themselves before, often in his job or the one that often floated by Jack’s shoulder. But these eyes were not like those, they were not round and adorable like Sam; no, they were human and alive.

They all blinked erratically and blood started to pour from them like tears. His instincts kicked in and he ran. His feet hit the floor one after another. The hallway seemed to stretch on infinitely, adding to his anxiety.

He glanced behind him but when he turned back the hallway came to a sudden end. He practically skidded to a halt, nearly touching the multitude of eyes in front of him. He whirled back around and found another wall had closed off behind him. He was surrounded.

His chest moved up and down rapidly. He needed to find a way out.

A singular voice suddenly surrounded him from all sides, loud, distorted, and harsh.

“Ǹ̴̡o̡̡w̷͡…”

There was a cacophonous hiss and all of the eyes peeled themselves from the walls with a disgusting slurp. They opened up their eyes again to reveal a maw of sharp teeth.

The eyes’ teeth dug into his skin, drawing blood. He went down. He tried to cry out in pain but no sound came out. All he could do was writhe on the floor as they tore into him. Ripping flesh from bone, the eyes burrowed under his skin giving him an agonizingly uncomfortable sensation. The voice from before laughed at him the whole time.

Henrik’s eyes snapped open and reality came flooding back to him. He found himself shaking in a cold sweat, staring at the ceiling.

Two hours later, he finally fell asleep.

Oh my god guys I am so SO sorry for the wait on this chapter! When I was writing this I had school and finals and HORRIBLE writier’s block. But, despite that I have managed to push through and so here we are!

Now I am sure you are all aware of recent events regaurding Jack’s egos. Including one for our favorite doctor. At first, I was half happy and half crushed to see Schneep alive. Happy for obvious reasons and sad, beacause I thought it might ruin my story. I had most to all of the major events planned out before that event happened so I was nervous that my ideas would not be enjoyed, considering this story is meant to be a build up to a very important video we all know. ;)

However, I came to my senses and realized, “Hey wait. This is a FANFICTION they almost ALWAYS  diverge from cannon.” and so here we are. I am still going to write my original ending and epilouge for this story. BUT that doesn’t mean I havn’t been given some new ideas as well... So, along with the original epilouge I will also be writing one that will fit into the new video featuring Henrik! So prepare yourselves as usual and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Totally Legit Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

[legendofzeldaalinktothepast]

Opalescent Tides - Chapter 4

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter 

At first, Amethyst thought she'd fall asleep easily; after all, she had a place to stay, a comfortable bed, and she'd eaten a pretty satisfying dinner. Yet she lay wide awake at 5 in the morning, wearing one of Greg's oversized tee shirts and Rose's boxer shorts, staring at the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling. 'Humans are weird... They spend all this time building houses, but still wanna see the sky at night... The real thing's way prettier.'

* 

As she rolled onto her side, she eyed the broken sand dollar laying on the night stand. Guilt and embarrassment washed over her as she remembered her little incident at the antique store. 'I'm such an idiot.' she thought with a groan, burying her face into her pillow. Even if Rose had paid for the damages, she still felt terrible for breaking all those dishes. 'Gotta stop dwelling on it... The damage is done, and it's probably too late to give her a better apology, anyway.'

The door to the guest room creaked open; Amethyst bolted upright, but relaxed as soon as she realized it was only Lion. "Fuck, dude. You really know how to startle someone." she huffed.

Lion leapt up onto the bed and pawed at the blankets, and only then did Amethyst realize what he wanted. "Aw, okay. Come on." she said, lifting up the comforter so he could slip under. The cat's throat rumbled -- she recalled Rose calling that a 'purr' -- and he rested his head against Amethyst's lap.

"You just wanted to cuddle, huh?" she cooed, scratching him behind the ears. Lion lifted his head, however, peering over Amethyst's lap and directly at the mirror on the wall. Curious, Amethyst turned her head in the same direction and noticed two pairs of eyes glowing in the otherwise pitch-black room; the golden ones being Lion's, and the blue ones being her own.

"Whoa..." she remarked to nobody in particular. Lion gazed up at Amethyst, slowly blinking his eyes at her. Amethyst laid back against the mass of pillows and took a deep breath. "Hm... Maybe that's why I can't sleep." she said, running her fingers across the cat's back. "Maybe I'm a night owl like you. Aren't cats usually awake during the night? I'm not as experienced in land creatures, so sorry if that's wrong." she continued, sitting upright and nudging Lion off of her lap. "In any case, I'm gonna take a night-time stroll. You wanna come along?"

Lion merely slow-blinked at her again. "Alright, suit yourself." Amethyst stepped out of the guest bedroom, making sure to leave the door open a crack in case Lion wanted to leave, and quietly made her way down the stairs.

Once the reached the kitchen, Amethyst unlocked the back door and stepped out onto the concrete patio. As she gazed ahead into the yard, faintly lit by the magenta sunrise, her heart nearly dropped out of her chest.

Little green flecks of light floated around in the air. Her eyes wide, Amethyst stepped out into the grass, the dew wet beneath her feet. She reached a hand towards one of the lights and grasped it in her palm; only then did she realize the little flecks of light were insects. As she cupped another hand on top of it, the bug's body lit up again, causing her hands to glow. "Whoa..." she whispered. Amethyst opened her hands and allowed the bug to fly away. 'Just like the stars in my room...' she thought to herself, gazing up at the sky. 'Wonder if that's what they're made of...' The thought of crushing up these cute little bugs just to make some fake ceiling stars made her skin crawl, though.

As she made her way through the yard, she approached the swimming pool all the way in the back. The water reeked of chlorine -- something she'd easily overlooked when she was mid-transformation the other day, but now that she wasn't quite as desperate, she realized just how disgusting it was. 'Why would they ruin perfectly good water like that?'

"Amethyst?" Greg called from the house, causing Amethyst to jump. She turned around -- damn it, was Greg a night owl, too? "Oh, uh, hey." she awkwardly waved a hand.

"It's a little early to go for a swim, isn't it?" Greg teased.

"Huh? Oh, nah." Amethyst scoffed, crossing her arms and making her way back towards the house.

"I was only joking. You're free to swim if you want." Greg clarified.

"Yeah, but that water stinks. Full of all kinds of nasty chemicals." Amethyst snorted. "What are you doing up so late?"

"I think you mean early." Greg chuckled. "I just woke up; this is a family of early birds, you know. And I was actually about to go for a morning walk... I like to do it just when the sun is rising. Care to join?"

"Pfft, sound like a bunch of nerds." Amethyst smirked. "But yeah, sure. Got nothing better to do."

Greg unlocked the gate to the fence, shutting it behind them and leading the way down the dirt path towards the woods. "It's beautiful out right now… If we’re lucky, maybe we’ll see some deer out and about." he remarked. "Did you get any sleep?"

"Nope, not really." Amethyst responded with a shrug. “Never seen a deer before, by the way...”

“They’re pretty easy to scare away. You gotta be real quiet if you plan on seeing one.” Greg said.

“So uh…” Amethyst swatted away a mosquito. “You’re just like… a normal guy, right? No mermaid genes?”

"I guess you can say that." Greg shrugged. "If you can even call a guy with a mermaid wife 'normal.'"

"Pfft. You'd brag about that if you could, wouldn't ya?" Amethyst teased, nudging him playfully with her elbow.

"Not sure who I'd brag to. But hey, even if she wasn't a mermaid, she'd still be worth braggin' about." Greg said with a grin.

Amethyst stuck out her tongue. "What a sap." she teased. "So, uh, she told me she doesn't remember much about her mermaid life. Kinda went out of her way to forget it, even. But... do you remember anything?”

Greg went silent; for a moment, Amethyst worried she'd struck a nerve, but Greg spoke up again before she could apologize. "I do. It... wasn't a very happy time for her, I guess." he said. "I’m not sure she’d want me telling you the specifics… And I can’t ask her, because that’d involve reminding her about it, which is a big no-no.”

“Ah, I get it. Don’t worry about it.” Amethyst said, turning her gaze down towards the ground. “Just got kinda curious, I guess… Thought maybe it’d help me remember why I chose to be a human.”

Greg chuckled. "Yeah, I don’t blame you… Trust me, I’d tell you the whole story in an instant if I had any say in it. But I don’t, so I’m gonna stick to respecting my lady’s privacy. Just having Steven around is risky enough, honestly; he’s got good intentions, but all we can do is hope he’s not blabbing to everyone in town that he’s a mermaid…”

Amethyst snorted. “Yeah, that kid sure knows how to talk…”

The conversation trailed off, and the two of them continued on their way through the woods, listening to the sounds of chirping crickets and the waves from the nearby beach. 

* 

"Amethyst!" Steven called from downstairs -- and just when Amethyst was starting to doze off, too.

With a groan, she rolled over onto her back. "What is it, dude?"

"Will you take a walk with me? I gotta pass out some invitations, and Mom and Dad aren't home, and they don't want me walking by myself!"

Damn, did she hate yelling back and forth across the house. But if she said no, it'd only go on longer, so she heaved herself to her feet and stretched her arms. "Alright, on my way down." she mumbled, rubbing the back of her head. "What're these invitations you're going on about, now?"

"For the pool party this weekend!" Steven said, waving the stack of papers around in his hand. "Don't you remember? I'm gonna invite Connie, and Garnet, and Pearl, and Priyanka, and Doug, and Sadie, and Lars, and Peedee, and -- "

"Alright, I get the picture." Amethyst waved a hand dismissively.

"--and you!" Steven added with a grin, handing her one of the invitations.

"Well duh, I sure hope so, since I'm living here and all." Amethyst smirked, taking the card from his hand and looking it over. Come 2 Our Pool Party! Friday at 6:00! was written in black sharpie, and there was a drawing of a swimming pool in crayon underneath. As they made their way out the door, and Amethyst locked the door behind them, she looked at the people Steven had drawn around the pool; one of them had purple hair, which she assumed was herself. "Aww, you're a good artist. How old are you now, kiddo?"

"I'm gonna be ten in August!" Steven said, skipping down the sidewalk and stopping every few moments so Amethyst could catch up; the latter was strolling at a leisurely pace, still not nearly awake enough to be around such a bouncy kid.

"Let's see... First stop, The Big Doughnut!" Steven declared. He gestured towards a building with a giant doughnut on top; the smell of deep-fried food immediately hit Amethyst, making her stomach growl.

"Righty-o." Amethyst said, following Steven in through the glass doors.

"Hey Steven!" a girl greeted from behind the counter; she was pale, short, a little chubby, and had light blonde hair that was tied up into a little bun. "Who's your friend?"

"Hey Sadie! This is Amethyst!" Steven said. Amethyst yawned, waving sleepily at the girl. "'Sup. I'm his responsible adult." she said.

"Oh! Well, nice to meet you, Amethyst!" Sadie smiled. "So, how can I help you two? You want your usual, Steven?"

"I'm actually not here for doughnuts! In fact, I'm giving you something!" Steven slid one of the invitations across the counter.

"Aww, thanks!" Sadie said, her expression brightening up as she looked it over.

"The party starts at six, but you can come a little later after that, since you guys close at seven and all." Steven said. "It'll be going on all night! And we'll save you and Lars plenty of drinks and snacks, too!"

"What about Lars, now?" a voice called from the back room; a tall, lanky boy with light brown skin and curly hair (who Amethyst presumed to be Lars) stepped out from the freezer room.

"What were you doing in the freezer?" Sadie narrowed her eyes.

"What do you think? It's hot as fuck today, I was cooling off." Lars said.

"Watch your mouth!" Sadie hissed, gesturing to Steven.

Lars merely rolled his eyes, approaching the counter and grabbing an invitation from the very excited Steven, who was bouncing eagerly and grinning from ear to ear.

"Hmm... Pool party, huh?" Lars said. "Will there be food?"

Amethyst half-listened to the conversation, eyeing the array of pastries sitting beyond the glass case. 'Holy shit...' she thought. 'They're so pretty! Wonder how hard it is to decorate them like that...'

"Yep! We'll have popsicles and pizza, and when it gets dark, we'll roast marshmallows and make s'mores!" Steven grinned.

"That's enough to convince me." Lars grinned. "See ya friday, dork."

"See ya friday!" Steven waved and turned to scurry off, but then noticed Amethyst eyeing the doughnuts. "...Are you hungry, Amethyst?"

"Maybe..." Amethyst smiled sheepishly. "I haven't eaten yet today. And you woke me up to drag me out here, sooo..."

"Alrighty, one doughnut for the nice lady!" Steven said, fishing a handful of quarters from his pockets and dumping them on the counter. "Keep the change. Let's go, Amethyst!"

Lars shoved the pile of quarters towards Sadie, clearly not wanting to deal with it, and retrieved a doughnut with a pair of tongs and dropped them into a paper bag. "Here ya go."

"Thanks." Amethyst said with a wink, grabbing the bag and following Steven out the door.

"Let's see..." Steven hummed in thought, tapping his chin. "Next stop, Pearl and Garnet! They're our friends at the antique store, remember?"

Amethyst tossed the paper bag into a nearby trashcan and took a bite of her doughnut. "Oh boy, how could I forget?" she mumbled.

Steven raised an eyebrow. "What, do you not like them?"

"I mean, I'm cool with Garnet. She was pretty nice, but a little quiet." Amethyst shrugged. "Pearl's just kind of a prick."

"Like a porcupine?" Steven giggled.

"Uh, sure." Amethyst said, though she wasn't even sure what that meant.

"Well, try not to get poked, because we're here!" Steven said. He grabbed the door and held it open for Amethyst. "Ladies first!"

As Amethyst and Steven made their way inside, they both spotted Garnet standing on a step-stool with a feather duster in her hand. She glanced down at the two guests, smiling slightly. "Good morning." she greeted softly, turning back to the dusty shelf she was wiping down. "Anything you're looking for?"

"Just you!" Steven said, hurrying over and handing her an invitation. "You're invited to a pool party at my house! There'll be snacks, and games, and pool noodles! And a bonfire later on in the night, too! So think of some scary stories to tell!"

"Sounds like a fun time." Garnet smiled warmly, looking at the invitation. "And that's a very good drawing. Did you do that all on your own?"

"Yep! No tracing, just me and my colored pencils!" Steven beamed with pride. "Where's Pearl at?"

"She's upstairs getting some cleaning supplies. She'll be down soon, though." Garnet said, ruffling Steven's hair.

As the two chatted, Amethyst wandered through the store -- this time, making sure not to touch anything -- while she munched on her doughnut. But then she heard the sound of creaking stairs, followed by the unlocking of the gate that blocked off the stairway. "Why, hello!" Pearl greeted. "What a pleasure to see you!"

"Howdy." Amethyst greeted, causing Pearl to flinch. Her cheery expression fell, and only then did Amethyst realize her greeting had been directed towards Steven, and Steven alone. "Ah... And good morning to you, too." Pearl said with a forced smile.

"You're invited to a swimming party!" Steven blurted out as he scurried over to Pearl. "There'll be snacks, and games, and pool noodles, and -- well, Garnet can tell you the rest. My throat's getting tired."

Pearl burst into laughter. "Well, as long as nothing comes up, I'm sure Garnet and I will both be there." she said.

"Awesome!" Steven gave a thumbs up. "Lets-a-go, Amethyst! On to Peedee's place!"

"Coming." Amethyst said. As she made her way out the door and shoved the last bite of her doughnut into her mouth, she felt the piercing gaze of Pearl on her back. 'What's her deal?'