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te-pu-si-ti · 8 months

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The Persephone Un-loop

Inspired by:

Sam Booth | Eric Jackson Bradley | Ali Goldsmith | Folu Odimayo | Carl Harrison

The man in the grey suit steps out into the town square, singing. "It's a lonesome old town, when you're not around. I'm lonely as I can be..."

He picks up a bouquet of narcissi from the flower cart. He carefully sets down the flowers one by one on the ground of the Trojan square, then he returns to his office and shuts the door.

Outside, a spotlight is moving slowly across the length of the square, from the office to the flower cart to the department store, finally settling on a well in the corner. You'd hardly notice it, if you didn't know it was there.

The spotlight lingers. The music begins to swell. Just then, a woman bursts out of the water. She looks around, her hair dripping, her eyes large and uncertain, examining her surroundings.

She climbs out and lays her bare feet on the bricks, leaving behind puddles. With inquisitive eyes, she picks up a daffodil, and another, and another, breadcrumbs leading her... somewhere.

She walks by a man dressed in rags who seems to recognise her, but she flinches away from him. She continues following the flowers, and they take her to the office door, underneath the blue light. She knocks.

The man in the suit opens the door and takes her in. "Welcome home, my love," the strange man says.

"Home?" She shakes her head. "I'm sorry, I don't remember..."

"The waters," he says coolly, "It's the waters. Give it time." He wraps her in a blanket and sits her down in a leather armchair.

She looks with consternation at the framed photo on the side table. It's... her. And him. He holds up his hand, showing her the ring on his finger, and pointing to the matching ring on hers.

"What's going on? What is this place?" She stands up, and looks at a painting on the wall, so dark, so terrible, and yet...

She shakes her head. "Where am I?"

"It will come back to you. It will all come back to you."

"The keys to the city," he says, nodding towards the rack of keys on the wall. "Don't rush yourself. You have all the time in the world."

She walks over, examining the keys, and the little wooden puzzle toy on the table. A labyrinth with a tiny metal ball inside. Seven keys, each hanging from their own hook, each on a keyring. A horse, a bull, a flower...

He's grabbing his coat. "Where are you going? Can't you stay?"

"I have to go," he says. "You have to find your own way." The only person she has in this strange city, and he's already leaving her alone.

He shuts the door, and she's alone with her thoughts and the sensory overload of waking up cold and wet in a strange world, with a strange man, who seems to know her even though she does not know him. But he is kind to her, and he shows her love, and somehow, she trusts him.

The more she thinks about this situation, the less it makes sense. The more she looks around this room, the smaller it feels, the more trapped she is. She spins around in the empty office, gasping for air, adrift. Blue lightning flashes outside the windows as the power surges, as if in tune with her. She would scream if she could, but there's not enough air.

Thunder rumbles. Discordant piano. Gasping, spinning, turning, choking, it's too much it's too much it's much too much --

She's exhausting herself. She goes to the desk, sits down, and counts backwards. Grounding. One thing at a time. One foot in front of the other.

She leaves the office, into the city, and finds a fashionable-looking shop. No one is working there, and she has no clothes of her own, so if nobody's looking then nobody can mind... She takes a red jumpsuit that fits her perfectly, and a pair of shoes, and a lovely fur coat. In the pocket, there is a torch...

In the alleys of the city, she finds a map pasted on the wall. Shaped like the wooden toy from the office, an intricate maze - no, a labyrinth. Labelled with strange names.

Hesperides? She sees the sign lit up above her head. She wanders into a beautiful flower shop, with roses and greenery dangling from the ceiling and every type of blossom you could imagine laid out in the corner. Once again, it's empty behind the counter.

So she searches for clues - What is this place? Where, and when? How does she fit in? Did she once belong here? She rifles through drawers, papers, a box full of... feathers? A portrait of a Grecian goddess? It's all so strange.

A man in a yellow velvet suit comes up to the counter. She freezes. Act natural. "Hello," she says, "...How can I help you?"

The man gazes around idly with large, round eyes. "I'd like a bouquet," he says softly.

"Sure!" she says. There's one right on the counter. "Here you go."

He chuckles and shakes his head. "I was hoping for maybe... that one, by the mirror?"

"Of course." She goes over and retrieves it. The flowers are beautiful, but they're all fake. Such a large shop, is there such a high demand for faux flowers?

She lays down the bouquet for him and he smiles. "Actually, could you add something extra for me? Something special. Your choice."

The charade is wearing thin. She doesn't actually know anything about flower arranging. What flower would suit? She looks around at the stems on the counter, and grabs the one that catches her eye. A fluffy pink peony, a splash of colour in the pale bouquet.

She unwraps the bouquet to add in the extra flower. But there's something else inside... a paper parcel falls to the counter as she's unwrapping. She sets it aside so her customer cannot see.

She wraps up the bouquet in some fresh tissue paper, with a green ribbon cut with an unnervingly large pair of scissors. "Here you go," she says, relieved that she has not been found out.

He examines the bouquet and sniffs the flowers. "Oh, uh," the woman says, "You do know they're fake, right?"

The man in the yellow suit, blue neon reflecting off his skin, smiles. He picks a business card up off the counter. "Yes," he says, "The finest." Hesperides: Finest Fake Flowers.

She laughs uneasily. "Right. Of course. Have a good day!"

The man pauses as he leaves. "Have a good night," he corrects.

She lets out a sigh after he walks out. How did she get into this mess? But something about the little paper parcel intrigues her, and she unwraps it. It's some kind of bureaucratic form, SPECIAL PERMIT. Inside, there's a little metal horse figurine. And on the paper, someone has scribbled an address: PEEP BAR, 3rd ~ C / 3rd Division / UW.

She takes her torch back into the alleys, reading the strange names on the posters and flyers and neon signs of the city. Philotas. Sikinnis. Terpsichore. Who are they? HIC HABITAT MINOTAURUS. What?

She emerges into a square, and she can hear pounding music from across the way, and she sees the sign for PEEP. There it is! And she wouldn't mind a drink to settle her nerves. So she goes in.

It's a wild and debauched place, this strange bar draped in velvet. Ghostly faces leer at her and cheer at the dancer on stage. It is a tall, thin creature in a black catsuit, beckoning one of the emcees on stage with a clawed finger. The emcee jumps up eagerly, and the dancer licks their lips, pulling their victim closer and then choking them and shoving them to the ground.

She finds a seat, and gasps at this dark entertainment that is driving the crowd wild. But there's something incredibly alluring about it.

The dancer leaves the stage to raucous applause and gives her a wink as they pass. She sips her drink and wonders if she should leave, when suddenly...

The door opens. The bar host drops their martini glass in surprise. "We have a visitor. A friend? A presence. A gift! A surprise guest has descended upon us!"

It's the man in the grey suit again. He gets on stage, and the bar hosts kiss him on each cheek. Unprompted, the band starts to play.

She decides to stay for a little while longer. Is he a performer too, like that slithering dancer dressed all in black? He doesn't seem the type at all.

"If the sun should lose its light,

and we lived in an endless night,

and there were nothing left that you could feel...

That's what it would be would be,

What my life would seem to me,

If I didn't have your love, to make it real."

He's singing to her. She doesn't know him, not really, but he knows her, and he's serenading her with this strange and beautiful song.

"If the stars were all unpinned,

and a cold and bitter wind swallowed up the world, without a trace,

That's where I would be! That's what my life would seem to me!

If I couldn't lift the veil... and see your face."

The lights swing around to light her face in red and blue. She feels herself blushing. All this for her? Why?

"To make it REAL! ...Real!" During the instrumental break, he fills the time with a cute little shuffling dance. He blows her a kiss - overcome by this whole sweet gesture, she catches it.

"If the sun should lose its light, and we lived in an endless night, and there was nothing left that you could feel...

If the sea were sand alone, and all the flowers made of stone, and no one that you hurt could ever heal! That's how broken I would be, that's what my life would seem to me... if I didn't have your love... to make... it... real..."

"Well. Shoot a speeding arrow through my tiny, tiny heart." The hosts of Peep pop up through a trap door behind him and usher him off the stage.

The man comes down and puts his arm around her shoulder. "That was wonderful," she says, brimming with sincerity. "Nobody's ever done that for me before."

A beat. "...I have," he replies. "Let's go."

He pulls her through the square with an odd sense of urgency. But she wants to see, she wants to know this city that he claims is her home - and why is this young man drawing a circle of chalk in the square?

But there are sirens blaring, it might not be safe, so she turns and heads towards the office. Another man, in a long leather coat, scared, desperate, is turning the corner just then and collides with her. He rushes away with hardly a chance for an apology. She scurries into the office, her makeshift home.

The man in the suit guides her to the desk. He offers her a pair of headphones, which she gratefully accepts. Anything to drown out those terrible sirens.

Take a deep breath and exhale for 5, 4, 3, 2, 1...

He hands her a papier mâché pomegranate from a wooden bowl, which she clutches as she closes her eyes and sinks to her knees.

Close your eyes and picture yourself in a meadow, on a beautiful May morning. The air is filled with the scent of wildflowers. All around you things are growing, blossoming, bursting with life. Feel the grass between your toes, the sunlight on your skin. Now, open your eyes and know that the sunlight is with you still. Even in the middle of the darkest night, it shines forth from within you, awakening life around you. As the world turns and season follows season, everything is unfolding exactly as it should. You have all the time in the world. All you need is here.

Slowly she opens her eyes and rises up from the floor. The pomegranate in her hand is real, fresh and juicy.

"Did I just...?"

The man claps his hands and has a broad smile on his face. "Yes, my love! You did!" He takes one side of the fruit, and together, they split the pomegranate in two.

"You're... you're my husband."

As she disappears into the cabinet, he smiles dreamily. "That's my wife," he says with affection.

Inside the cabinet, she moves backwards. Time rewinds, and she finds herself at a table, facing a pinboard of clues, speaking into a tape recorder.

"Meditation tape number... 572. Take a deep breath and exhale for 5, 4, 3, 2, 1..."

"Don't panic. Every time you panic, you lose yourself."

Frustrated, she shakes her head. "No, that's not right. You can't just tell someone not to panic. That'll make you panic."

"Take a deep breath, and exhale for 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. The mind is a maze, isn't it? The mind is a dark, mysterious maze of winding streets that are only seldomly lit by knowledge, and experience, but ultimately, memory. Memory lights our way through this dark maze.

And every time I come back, it's as if the power has gone out. As if I'm drowning in a sea of darkness. It's as if I am dead.

But every once in a while a glimmer of light shines from around the corner. An object, or a song, or a face... Your face. That feeling guides me the most.

I hate that it has to be like this, but show me the light and I will come back to you every time, my love, like a moth to the flame.

I can feel the seasons changing, and I know that I will leave you soon. I hope this tape can be a beacon for you, the way you are for me. Know that I will come back. I always do. Always."

She's not sure where to go next. She wanders back to where she started: Alighieri's department store. As she passes, her husband looks down at her from a balcony - she waves shyly, but hurries on.

Her next clue is the special permit border pass and the tiny pewter horse. She sees a sign - BORDER CROSSING AHEAD, HAVE PAPERS READY. So she crosses over.

She rummages around the border crossing station, finds other border passes like her own - or, the one addressed for Judith Kore. The one she has claimed as her own.

She wanders into some sort of store room, cold and deserted, full of massive wooden crates. In the corner is one covered in horseshoes. This must be the place.

On the floor of the crate is a horse, splayed out, motionless. She sits beside it for a while, looking for signs of life. Instead, she sees a coin resting on its head.

Harsh torchlight shines into the crate.

"You. Out. Papers?"

She slips the coin into her pocket as she marches out, not wanting to cause any trouble. She hands over the only papers she has.

He looks them over with suspicion. "You shouldn't be here. It's not safe. Go, now." The Watchman waves her away.

She heads back to the city - to Troy, judging by the poster plastered over a wall, reading TROY WELCOMES YOU. Troy doesn't feel that welcoming... it's dingy, a bit rough, with all the graffiti on the walls and the yellowing papers wheatpasted one over another. And in the corner of the square is a man, huddled up in his rags: by all appearances, a beggar.

But he looks... familiar. Yes! He was the first face she saw in this place! He takes her hand, spins her round, and... snatches the silver coin from out of her pocket.

"Hey!" She runs after him, chasing him to the doorway of a hotel - The Elysium. He holds out his two fists and nods for her to pick one. When she does, he opens his hand to reveal a key. Another link in this strange chain of events.

Then he stands stock-still, and points her into the hotel. "Rrrrrrring, rrrrriiing," imitating the sound of a telephone. She steps inside the cramped hotel reception area, and picks up the receiver.

She listens for a moment to the voice on the other side.

"Hello? ....I don't know. I can't remember."

"OK, fine. There was this big party, a chandeliers and caviar kind of thing. I felt... out of place. So I got a drink. A martini, I think. And there was this beautiful woman, covered in sequins, and she walks up to me and asks to read my palm."

"She traced her finger along the heart line, and said I was a hard girl to pin down. That I'd find love later down the line."

"Then she reads my head line, and she said I was... I dunno... Forgetful or something."

"And then she read my life line, and that's when things really got weird. She looked at me with her big smiling face, and she said, well the funny thing is, according to this, you're already..."

The line goes dead.

She goes back to her husband's office. He's not around, so she has a chance to search out clues.

She lays her border pass out on the table, and notices some stationery on the desk. His cards and letterheads all say HH, 9th C, 1st D, UW.

H, H? U, W?

She rifles through his papers, finding magazines, punchcards, music scores... Nothing helps.

She looks back to that haunting painting on the wall. Those lost souls, falling into darkness. 9th C, UW... 9th circle...?

The address on her pass matches. "Welcome home, he said... I am Judith Kore?"

Her husband walks in, and she hastily puts away what she's been searching through.

Judith scoots to the edge of the room and changes the music that's playing. She puts her arms around her husband's neck and sways gently. A solitary piano grows into a sultry tango.

And they dance.

Slowly, closely, until they find each other's rhythm. Then it grows. They are a whirlwind together, this tiny office cannot hold them.

They burst out of the door, and the city opens up before them. And though she's never done this before - or maybe she has - she feels like she's always known these steps. It's effortless.

She runs, she jumps, he catches her, they really must have been something, mustn't they? Back before she lost herself. They're so in tune.

Almost in tune. He's under her spell, so she can lead him back in the office, and he's so blinded by her that he doesn't notice her hand slip into the key case. Judith holds the bull key behind her back as he picks up a flower and presents it to her, like a shy little schoolboy.

She accepts it and smiles warmly.

"It's beautiful," she says with sincerity.

"It's fake..."

"I know." She gives him a kiss on the cheek, and turns to leave.

"Come back to me..." he says weakly.

"Sure, I will." She'll find her way back eventually.

But first... find the bull. She hears pounding music up above - something big is happening. She climbs up the stairs into the hotel, down the long, dim hallway, into a terrible scene.

She can see it through a large window, glowing red. A gruesome gang are holding a man down, looking up hungrily at a tall, thin woman in a fur coat. The woman bends down, screams, and claws at the poor man's face. She triumphantly holds up two bloodied eyeballs.

"Shit." Judith backs away, aghast at the horror. But there's the bull, or rather, a golden idol, a man with the head of a bull, with compartments in its chest. She unlocks one to find a tiny plant, inside a glass dome. Small enough to fit into her pocket. It must be another clue.

The blinded man gets dragged into the room by a stone-faced woman. He crawls along the ground, pitiful, sobbing, alone. Crying for help.

"Come here," she beckons. "I can help you. Follow the sound of my voice."

There is a bowl of water and a cloth already there, as if waiting for him. The bloodied weeping man scoots over to her and she wipes his eyes, his injuries seemed so serious but all it takes is a few passes of the rag, and he is restored.

She wanders the halls of the hotel, and there is a strange feeling around her, as if the entire city is moving at once. As if something is dawning.

The next door she opens takes her into a room with a greenhouse inside. I thought we were in a hotel? But anyway, a greenhouse is where plants belong, so she must be on the right track. She retrieves the little plant from her pocket.

As she pokes around in the greenhouse - a strange greenhouse, where there are no plants, only barren trays of soil! - the man in the yellow suit arrives.

"Oh, hello again!" It's good to see a familiar face.

But he cocks his head. "Again?"

He's probably trying to save her the embarassment of their prior encounter...

"Is this your greenhouse? Maybe you can help." She show him her little plant. He smiles, goes to the back of the greenhouse, unlocks a safe. A safe? What does he need to lock away...?

It's another plant. Bigger, stronger, but still a seedling, and clearly precious to him. He hands it to her with reverence, and moves out of the way, as if he knows what's about to happen.

Because when she takes the plant - when she runs her fingers through its soil - she feels a connection that she has never known in her life. Or maybe, has never known since she forgot everything about her life.

Judith feels the earth between her fingers and she knows what she was made for. This is the root of her power, here in the soil. She finds herself, in the roots and the stem and the leaves.

Energy travels through her, electrifying her from toes to spine, and she bends back, taking it in, absorbing it, letting it return to her. It's terrifying and thrilling and yet it feels right. It's overwhelming, but she knows she can handle it - it's part of her. It was just waiting to awaken.

The florist looks on in awe. "Your majesty, welcome home." He bows deeply.

Your... majesty...?

He presses a baggie into her hand. "New life for Troy," he says softly. The bag is full of tiny seeds.

She thanks him, promises she'll keep them safe, and continues on her journey. Somehow, this raised more questions than it answered. But she feels she's on the right path.

She sees the man in the ragged coat, who helped her once - maybe he will guide her again. He takes her by the hand and spins her around, then holds her against the wall. With a piece of chalk, he traces her outline. Draws a pomegranate in her hand, and a crown on her head.

After this, he leads her over to a chair, and pours her a cup of tea. Sure, tea would be nice. The radio is playing; a chipper announcer is speaking.

"Hey! Thanks for tuning in. We're asking for your best party stories, we'd love to hear yours!"

"Hello? ...I dunno... I can't remember..."

Wait.

"There was this beautiful woman, covered in sequins, and she walks up to me and asks to read my palm."

The potter stretches his hand out, asking for hers.

"She said I was... forgetful, or something..."

Judith smiles, rolls her eyes, OK, very funny. Great prank.

But the man continues, tracing his finger over her palm, and she continues hearing her own voice over the radio, "And that's when it got really weird."

"The funny thing is..."

Judith cuts in. "The funny thing is, according to this, you're already dead."

The beggar holds up a candle and looks around. As he brings the light higher, ghostly figures appear out of the darkness. One by one, their pallid, motionless faces emerge from the mist. Judith staggers back.

"It's OK," the man says softly. "They don't do anything. They just watch."

She steps forward and brings a hand up to one, gently touching its face. Have they been here all along?

She takes a step, they take a step. She walks away, but they follow her. She turns a tight corner and ducks into the back entrance of a bar. Still, they pour in after her.

She tucks herself into a corner, finding a stool, and beckons the barman for a drink.

"There's so many of them..." Ghosts fill the bar, cramming themselves in, their eyes fixed on her. "There's so many of them."

"Just the right amount, I think," the barman says, oblivious, admiring his array of bottles on the wall. He pours her a drink.

Judith examines their faces, looking back at her attentively. "Maybe they're just lost," she muses. "Wandering in the darkness."

"We're all a little lost," the bartender says agreeably.

"Cheers to that. The funny thing about darkness, you know... You need the darkness to see the light. From darkness comes light, from night comes morning, from winter comes spring, from death comes rebirth... hopefully." She downs another shot of sake. Zagreus takes the empty cup and spins it on the counter.

"Over and over and over again. Circles and cycles and circles and cycles... they keep going, on and on... but do they ever break?"

The barman shrugs. "Everything breaks eventually." The spinning cup comes to a stop.

"Hey, I remember you!"

He looks back blankly.

"I recognise you, I do. We crashed into each other, remember?"

The bartender looks puzzled. "We've only just met. I've never seen you before."

"C'mon, you must remember... Nevermind. Thanks for the drink."

Judith rushes off, out into the square - outside the entrance to Peep. Familiar music is playing.

"Hey, they just played that song an hour ago! Is it just me, or is everything repeating? Going in circles, round and round?"

"I can see you... and you can see me, right?" The shade nearest to her nods.

"Right, so if this is all happening again, that means he'll be there, in there, and he'll know what to do! He can explain everything! Let's go!"

She rushes into Peep, and sure enough, Kampe is dancing on the stage again.

"Give it up for Kampe! They really glisten when they move, don't they? That reminds me..."

The emcee drops their martini glass. Judith catches it, a smug smile on her face. She nods, assuredly, "And now he'll come in... He'll come in... Where is he...?"

"...We have a visitor. A friend? A presence. A gift!"

The Peep hosts look down at her. They hold their hands out to her and hoist her on stage. They each give her a kiss on the cheek.

"No, this isn't right... It's not supposed to be me..."

The band begins to play.

"I... guess I do know this one. I think I remember the words. I can try, anyway."

"Something about... if the sun should lose its light? And we're in endless night? And a veil lifting up to see a face?"

"And if the sea were sand alone, and the flowers made of stone... Flowers made of stone? And no one that you hurt could ever heal?"

Everyone forgetting. All the flowers fake. All the water dried up. Morning never comes.

"That's... That's what this is. That's where we are. That's what this is!"

The hosts pop up from the trap door. Just like before. "...they're behind me, aren't they? I'm sorry, I have to go..."

"Well, shoot a speeding arrow through my tiny, tiny heart..." But she's already rushing off, back home, back to Hades House, the office where she hopes she will find him.

And she narrowly avoids running into the barman, because she knows he will be passing through at that moment. She swings open the door, where her husband is preparing a game of checkers for them.

A game? When outside, people are risking their lives? In a war that may be artificial, but is so very real to them. She saw the fear on the barman's face.

So they sit down, Judith and her husband, inside Hades House, and prepare to play a game.

"You see them now, don't you?" he says.

She nods.

It's a simple game, checkers, draughts, whatever you like to call it. One move after another, wait for your opponent to give you an opening. Faster and faster they trade moves, until Judith is sick of it all - she throws her keys down on the board. Look what I've accomplished, no thanks to you.

War is screaming outside. She screams with it.

He shrivels, he falls to the floor. She rips open the curtains, forcing him to see the blood that has been split.

What is this horrific place? And how do we figure into it, you and I? We are both a part of it, and not a part of it. They all forget. They all can never heal. You and I persist. What is this?

It's a shock to his system - perhaps he didn't expect her to work it out so quickly. He's frozen, stiff, curling up into a little ball, such a tall proud man now vulnerable. She softens, goes to him, picks him up. She reminds him of their bond, tangoes him to the desk, and finds...

Their pomegranate.

The one that she created. The one she gave life to.

She stands tall over him, pushes him down onto the desk. She takes the juicy fruit and squeezes, drips it down into his mouth and onto his face, the ruby seeds sparkling in the light, feeds him this product of her power until he believes again, until he begs for mercy.

Her demands are simple: "Show me."

"I'll show you," he replies, "I'll show you everything."

They pass through the rubble of the invaded city. A princess laid out, shroud over her head. A Watchman, picking up the pieces. Judith's husband hands her a lantern, and she lights her way.

A domestic worker freezes, caught in the light. Everyone here prefers darkness.

One of the arcade cabinets is full of black sand, with tiny figures inside - figures of her and her husband.

Hades hands her the final key. He points to the stage door.

She chooses a few shades to be her companions. Ones that have been with her on this journey all along, ones that have been paying attention. Ones who will see it through until the end.

They go up the steps, together. They look out onto the city, together.

Judith goes out onto the balcony.

"Is our city not fair and vast? It shines for you, all for you, dear Judith."

"Fair and vast is your city." "Yours, Judith. Yours forever. Here, multitudes reside. They'll be your companions forevermore."

"Fair and vast is your city..."

"Here is a handmaiden, loyal to us both." A young woman in red, barely more than a girl, looks up. "Here, a vial to catch tears of sorrow, tears of joy, dropped from the eyes of time's fleeting shadows."

"The streets of your city are marked with blood. Blood runs down the walls, blood stains the paving stones. The clouds above throw bloody shadows. Who has bled for the sake of your city?"

"See, but ask me nothing. Look, but ask no questions."

"I only remember one thing: I came here because I love you. But I will not have a single door held shut against me."

"Take care Judith, you're ahead of yourself. Why hurry? We have all the time in the world."

"Not a single door held shut against me. I demand it."

"I will show you everything. All in good time."

"All in good time… In a world where time seems to stand still..."

She turns to look behind her. "I was lost when I arrived, just like you. Lost in the labyrinth of these streets. But hedged by gloom, a garden. Our garden. Filled with lifeless flowers. A fallen horse gave me solace and made me rich. Rich with abundance, rich in brain and body. I am the sunlight. So many of you, wandering in the darkness. In a world filled with cruelty, torture and war, I heard your city sighing. I heard your kingdom crying."

"...city sighing, I heard your kingdom crying."

City sighing, your kingdom crying. City sighing, your kingdom crying.

There is a crack in the record. It begins to skip. She wasn't speaking, it was only a recording.

Now... The recording is over. She walks her own path.

There is a display case in this room. It holds a record player needle.

She opens a door and finds an ancient Greek pot in another display case. On one side, a scene of violence she has seen play out in this city. On the other side, a key.

Another dark room, another case of pottery. But there is much more ground that needs to be covered, and not much time.

"Run!" she calls to her ghostly followers. Down the halls, through the strange museum, until she finds a locked door, and a daffodil laid in front of it.

This must be the place.

The last door. The last key. She steps inside, and feels sand under her feet. She walks slowly, the lantern lighting her way. She picks up a stick of chalk.

Nothing but darkness ahead.

"It's the strangest feeling... I can feel it all coming back."

A straight path. One foot in front of the other. Don't panic.

"If the sun should lose its light, and we lived in an endless night..."

She begins to draw on the wall of the long corridor, organising her thoughts.

"and there was nothing left that you could feel... If the sea were sand alone" -- she draws the waves on the wall. Not a drop of water in this place, only sand. "And all the flowers made of stone..."

"And no one that you hurt could ever heal..." She draws an infinity symbol on the wall, tracing it over and over until something breaks in her.

MEM

BER

"I remember..."

She walks on, past more walls with more chalk scribblings, and more, and more, flowers and waves and infinities and labyrinths and I REMEMBER over and over and over and over and over, layered one over top of another.

Proof of the years gone by, proof of the seasonal cycle, proof that she always, always comes back, and she always remembers, and she's always been capable, and she's always been able to find herself again. The power was within her all along.

"My name is Judith Kore, better known as Persephone," she says, to herself and to her lost souls. "Queen of the Underworld. Child of Earth and Starry Skies. My people are heavenly, and yours are too. I grant you safe passage into the land of the shades."

She emerges, with her shades, through a curtain into a sharp dagger of light in the middle of No Man's Land, Mycenae. Iphigenia-turned-Hecate delivers to her the last tears of Patroclus before she murders him. Agamemnon ascends the stairs triumphantly to his doom. Persephone sees it all laid out before her in perfect order, ticking along exactly as it should, as it always has since time immemorial.

She heads back towards Troy - She must find her husband, Hades, and take her place on the throne alongside him. He tried to hide this from her because she had to find it herself. Would she really have believed him if he had told her from the start?

On her way to the border, she crosses paths with the Watchman. He has a talent for making things grow - he holds the last vestiges of new life in this country - she knows this. So she entrusts him with the seeds that Askalaphos gave her.

Something is brewing when she arrives in Troy Square - Hades is setting up a new cycle to begin. Or end. What's the difference, really?

They embrace. He knows that she knows. He points her to the office. One last secret?

She trusts him.

Persephone enters, puts the headphones on, and hears her own voice. She has been guiding herself all along.

"Get up," the voice tells her. "Stand up." More insistently: "Up. Higher. Higher..."

So she climbs up onto the desk.

"Now. Take a deep breath. And look around. This is where you need to be. Where you belong. There is power within you, feel it awakening deep inside you. Growing, flowing, and blossoming in spectacular profusion. You are the sunlight. This world is beautiful. This city is yours. From the highest heights, down to the darkest depths. Yours. All yours."

"When you are ready to go deeper, deeper, deeper, deeper..."

The darkest depths...

A floorboard is loose. She bends down and lifts it up, revealing a cellar, with dozens of vials of tears, exactly like the one she has around her neck.

"The history of the world in teardrops, Judith. Tears of sorrow, tears of joy... Mortal emotions, immortalised. Preserved. For us. Forever."

They kiss, finally reunited, finally themselves. She hugs him close.

"Thank you for coming back to me," he says quietly.

"Always. Always."

She goes to the record player, and lifts the needle.

"I love you..." "I love you too. Are you ready?"

Hand in hand, they emerge from the office. There are a few final orders of business.

He presents Hecuba with her coat; she wipes off her blood-stained hands.

At the end of everything in Mycenae, she finds the last soldier standing, the whole remains of the Greek army. She wipes the sweat from his brow, and points his way to join the rest of the lost souls.

The last of the music starts to fade. She throws down the rag with the sound of a gong.

There they are, the fall of the damned, rolling down the grand staircase to greet her. They are naked, broken, identities fading away, becoming one mass of the Dead, her faceless nameless subjects. She continues upwards, head held high, exuding power. She knows herself now, she is a goddess of two sides: life, yes, plants, yes, but death too. She knows both sides of the cycle. She too has died and been reborn, every six months she resets back to the start, and comes back stronger for it.

So she ascends, to meet her husband Hades, ruler of this underworld, harshly lit on that long, cold stone table.

Hades & Persephone find their spot to watch the proceedings, the last gasp of this world as it dissolves into nothing. The souls race around, Clytemnestra reaches out, desperate for any connection, but she cannot reach them.

What a beautiful piece of theatre he has built for her. She looks out with him, and points, cueing the dust to fall.

They break open a new pomegranate, each bringing a seed to their mouth. They kiss, and the lights fade.

What a beautiful record. Rips your heart out every time.

With thanks to everyone who worked on this show to make it as magical as it was.

#the burnt city #the burnt city spoilers #punchdrunk #persephone #hades #immersive theatre #writeup #tbc oc

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powerofelvis · 1 year

Text

Desires Of The Night

Pairing: Elvis Presley x f!reader

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: Elvis is having troubles sleeping due to his severe insomnia, you propose an idea during your nightly ritual of sitting next with him in the music room.

Warnings: fluff, mentions of prescription drugs, elvis' battle with his insomnia, smut, oral (f.receiving), unprotected sex, the use of his piano

A/N: This is a request for @richardslady121. I hope you enjoy this sweet and sensual fic of your choice with Elvis. As always, I also hope everyone enjoys this fic as well ;)

prompts.

Elvis had just returned home from his last show of his tour around the country. He was tired and seemingly not in a very good mood, but you did your best to satisfy him. Most of the time, he spent his time in the music room where he would play tunes of the musicians whom he adored. It was normally at night when he would be in the music room, often finding it hard to go to sleep because he was always thinking about how to make his career preferable to his taste. He wasn’t the same person who could belt rock ballads, as he usually favored softer ballads. You would frequently keep him company some nights, making his favorite foods or singing along with him as he sat at the piano.

One night, you awoke to the bed empty beside you, sighing out at the thought that Elvis had left you side only moments before. You got out of bed, grabbing your satin robe to put over your nightgown before you made your way out of your shared bedroom with him. You were right, hearing the soft music notes coming from the music room downstairs. You silently crept down the stairs, making sure that you didn’t wake anyone else who was sleeping away in their beds before heading to the kitchen. You figured that if he would be awake, he would need something to drink as he was sitting in front of the piano, softly singing a soft ballad.

You grabbed his favorite bottle of water before making your way into the music room. You took in your husband, hunched over the piano as he played the same keys repeatedly. “Awake again, honey?” Elvis jumped slightly, turning around with a small smile that graced his features. “Yeah, I ain’t been able to get a good night's rest for a while.” You shook your head, making your way into the room before sitting next to him. “Darling, something has to give. You can’t continue carrying on this way, you’re only going to burn yourself out quicker this way.” Elvis nodded his head, placing his ring-clad hand on top of yours as his thumb rubbed your knuckles.

“I know, honey. But I-I don’t know what else to do. I’m runnin’ outta options. The pills aren’t helpin’ and I know you don’t want me takin’ them cause they make me all wonky. The doctors gave me exercises to do to tire myself out, but those ain’t helpin’ neither.” You sighed, feeling sorrowful for the man that you loved. He gave up the sleeping pills because he would miss out on the entire day because he was so far gone that all he could do was stay in bed. You didn’t have to tell him more than once that you weren’t comfortable with him depending on the medicine, so he flushed them all down the toilet.

You sat in silence, going over multiple methods of helping Elvis overcome his severe insomnia but nothing would come to mind. Elvis watched you closely, his cerulean hues staring deep into your soul as his fingers hovered over the piano keys. You could hear the familiar tune of Unchained Melody. You had told Elvis that you wanted him to sing it for you one day, but you didn’t know that it would be tonight that he made your request a reality. You hummed along with him, opening the bottle of water for him as you watched him with adoration in your eyes. He was beautiful, even under the little light that shone in the room.

Oh, my love, my darling

I’ve hungered for your touch

A long, lonely time

Time goes by

So slowly

And time can do so much

Are you still mine?

I need your love, ooooh

I need your love

God speed your love to me

You sang along with him, placing your hands on top of his as his fingers moved along the keys elegantly. You felt as if your relationship with him was taking a turn that neither of you had noticed. Although you had been married to him for a short time, it felt as if you had known him forever. Suddenly, an idea popped into your head, making you remove your hands from his. His brow raised as he watched you stand up from the piano bench, ceasing the movements of playing. The silence was nice, but you weren’t concerned about that. “I have an idea, baby. This will surely have you falling asleep in no time.”

He turned his body around to face you, a confused look over his face as he waited for you to continue with the suggestion that you had. “First, I want to thank you for playing this song for me. I thought you had forgotten that I wanted to hear it.” Elvis chuckled, his tongue leaving his mouth to brush along his bottom lip as he took you by the hand. “Darlin’, how could I forget about an intimate request from ya?” You took a deep breath as you climbed on the piano, carefully making sure that you didn’t press any keys on your way up. As you sat on the piano, Elvis threw his head back as a soft laugh passed his lips.

“Baby, what are ya-,” You put your hand up, stopping him from continuing his sentence before spreading your legs open for him. “I want you to fuck me on top of this piano, but make sure you don’t make any noise. We can’t let anybody know that we are doing this.” You giggled. Elvis’ eyes popped open wide, choking on his saliva at your odd request, but he couldn’t deny you. “Now, ya know this is crazy. This is crazy, mama. However, how can I deny such a beautiful request?” His hands moved up your legs, the coolness of his rings burned against your warm skin. You hissed from the coolness of his rings and the air of the room, your toes pressed against the wood of the piano.

Elvis untied your robe, the material falling off of your arms to reveal the nightgown that you had worn to bed. He let out a groan, his fingers moving up underneath your gown; the heat from your vulva warming him up. “You’re so warm, mama. So beautiful.” He whispered as he pushed up your gown slowly, revealing your other surprise for him. You weren’t wearing any panties, so he didn’t have to do extra work to get to the main course. “Ya sure do know how to make a man happy, baby. Look at that beautiful pussy.” He whispered as his lips traced up your leg before stopping at the knee.

“I just know how to please my husband, that was part of the vows, yes?” You tilted your head down at him, shivering from his soft lips on your skin. “That was part of the vows, I think they go ‘will ya bear your fruit for your husband as long as ya live’.” You giggled, knowing that those words weren’t part of your promise to him, but it was a start. At that moment, Elvis moved his lips further up your body, kissing and licking at your hips, not wanting to leave no skin untouched. You let out a whimper, your toes digging into the wood more as he lingered closer to your core.

Elvis didn’t tease you for long, a long stripe of the tongue against your core made your mouth drop open as he took his time with you. His fingers were holding your lips open as his tongue danced in and out of you, groans passing his lips as he savored your pussy. “Fuck, you have the best tasting pussy, mama. It’s so sweet and so juicy.” Whimpers passed your lips as your eyes watched him, he was semi hidden from your view due to your gown covering his face so you leaned down to pull it up further over your hips. His lips sucked at your bud, his fingers still having your lips parted open for him to enjoy.

“Elvis, fuck. Your tongue feels so good on me, baby.” You whined, throwing your head back as you could feel the coil in your stomach tightening. “Keep going, baby. I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that.” You egged him on, knowing that he wasn’t the type to back down from a challenge. His index finger slid inside of your pussy, dragging against your walls as his ring pressed roughly against your vulva. You took your bottom lip between your teeth, hissing in pleasure as he continued to lap up your juices. “Fuck, cum for me, mama. I need to taste ya.” He moaned against you, the vibrations from his mouth sent shivers up your spine.

You followed his directions carefully as your orgasm crashed over you, your hand placed across your mouth to stop your moans from getting louder. “Oh fuck, Elvis. Oh fuck.” You softly whined, letting out a breath as you watched him resurface from his place in between your legs. His lips were glistening in the light from your juices, his tongue licking them clean before he placed his finger into his mouth, sucking you off of the digit. “That was amazing, honey. But, now I’m ready for the real thing. Are ya ready for me?” Elvis asked, standing up from the bench before pushing his pajama pants off of his hips.

“Yes, baby. I need you so bad.” You whimpered, laying back against the top of the piano, the wood cool against your skin. Elvis followed suit, shutting the rim of the piano before climbing on top of you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his pillowy soft lips to yours as you kissed him passionately. You could faintly taste yourself on his lips, groaning against him as you wrapped your legs around his waist. Elvis lined himself up with your entrance, slowly pushing inside of you. The both of you groaned with his intrusion of your velvety walls, still engaged in a heated kiss. His hips slowly moved in a circular motion inside of you as his lips moved from your, peppering soft kisses along your jawline.

“Yes, Elvis. Yes.” You chanted repeatedly in his ear as he slowly dragged his cock against your walls. You clenched around him, holding onto him tightly as he made love to you. The light shone on both of your bodies, the room in absolute silence as the only sounds that could be heard were your moans and his pants. “Fuck, you’re so tight, baby. It’s as if you were made only for me.” He whispered into the shell of your ear, your head thrown back as little breaths of air were pushed from your lungs with each thrust from him. “I’m made for you, baby. I’m only yours and yours forever.” You promised him, tears falling from your eyes as the sensual moment that was being shared between you and him were all that you craved.

Elvis sped up his thrusts, the little squeaking noises from the piano becoming prevalent as he tried to keep you both from falling off. Beads of sweat pooled on his forehead, dripping on the wood of the piano as his hips slammed softly against you. You could feel his balls slapping against you, but you didn’t care, it felt better than you imagined. You were feeling invigorated from the idea of making love with him in the middle of the music room, the thought of someone possibly witnessing Elvis being balls deep inside of you excited you. “What are ya thinkin’ about, mama? Are ya thinkin’ about someone watchin’ me take ya in my music room? What’s so wrong about that, baby? It’s my goddamn house.” He chuckled as he pressed open-mouthed kisses on your neck, leaving saliva behind. You groaned in pleasure, nodding your head as you held on to him. “Fuck yes, this excites me daddy. I want people to know that I’m your woman. Only you can fuck me like this.”

Elvis nodded his head along to your words, pushing deeper inside of you as he sped up his thrusts a bit more. At this moment, your body was sliding along the top of the piano, your hair displayed in a halo above your head. You could feel the coil returning, this time, it was pulling tighter. You struggled to breathe, the feeling overcoming you as you whimpered repeatedly. You couldn’t form the words to let him know that another orgasm was over the horizon, so you just pressed your lips to his jaw as your orgasm crashed over you. You were a whimpering mess, tears mixed with his sweat mixed on your cheeks as you clenched around him. You wanted him to fill you up, clenching repeatedly around him as you wanted to milk him for all he was worth. Elvis was close, his moans turning into grunts as his cock drug against your walls. “Fuck, your pussy is so fuckin’ good. I ain’t gonna last, mama. Here I come, take it baby. Take all of me.” He softly roared into your ear, whispering how much he loved you as spurts of his cum filled you.

You let out a long moan, peppering kisses along his shoulder as you shivered against him. “I love you too, baby. I love you too.” He let out a hum of contentment as a yawn passed his lips shortly after. “I can see that it worked, baby. Let’s get you to bed.” Elvis nodded, sleep filled his eyes as he pulled his cock from your vulva. He slid off of the piano, pulling his pajama pants up over his hips before helping you down from where you were laying. He placed his hands into yours as he took one last look at the piano, a smile gracing his lips. “We may have to do this often, I’m exhausted.” He laughed, pulling you up the stairs as he groggily crawled into bed once he was in the bedroom. You closed the door, leaning against it as you heard soft breaths passing his lips. He was out cold, the idea that you proposed had worked. As you crawled into the bed with him, you could make out the little snores that were now passing his lips. He didn’t need the pills or the exercises, from now on, you had him covered.

Taglist: @lindszeppelin @loving-elvis @softsatnin @lovininapinkcadillac @missmaywemeetagain @flwrs4aust @elvis-bucket-hat @cryingabtab @ab4eva @elvisabutler @oh-my-front-door @rainydayz101 @oh-kurva @presleyenterprise @prayerstopresley @presleysdarling @plasticfantasticl0ver @rosaminny @18lkpeters @steph-speaks @precious-little-scoundrel @austinsmutler @literally-just-elvis-fics @crash-and-cure @venus-haze @foreverdolly @wonka-gifs @woundmetender @rjmartin11 @elvisshowusyourpelvis @burninlovebutler @luluthesandgoose @succsessions @iloveaustinelvis @ccab @arianatheangel-girl @troubleinapinksuit @polksalademma @thatbanditqueen @dre6ming @dkayfixates @generoustreemystic @kendralavon7

#elvis presley #elvis 2022 #daisy’s 1k celebration 🎉#elvis #elvis presley x reader #daisy writes

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vanfleeter · 10 months

Text

Willy Nilly Silly Old Bear // JTK

Author's Note: I do not own the lyrics to this song.

Tommy's current obsession is Winnie-the-Pooh.

He has all things pertaining to that bear all stuffed with fluff. Bedsheets, pillow cases, window curtains, wall decor, a bedside lamp and a night light. His little One Hundred Acre Woods stuffed animals all lined up on a shelf on the wall, all except Pooh, who he always has in his bed with him.

Over the course of a few weeks, Jake has learned that the theme song for Winnie-the-Pooh is what seems to be the calming factor for Tommy. Whether he be upset or having a hard time falling asleep, yourself or Jake would play the piano cover on your phones to lull him to sleep or calm him down. Sometimes Jake would hum it as he rocks him in the rocking chair or swaying him back and forth in the living room with his Pooh blanket tucked around him as he clings to his stuffed Pooh in his hand.

Hearing the doorbell ring, Sam hops up from the couch and goes to answer the door. He beams when he sees Jake standing on the porch. "Hey! You ready?" He says as he welcomes Jakes inside the house.

"Let's do it."

"Alright, we'll start out with you watching me play it first and then I'll let you get a feel for it."

A few days go by which then bleed into weeks before Jake finally masters the song on the piano. And just in time too for one of Tommy's late nights, unable to fall asleep.

"Just like you babe." You giggle as you pat Jake's shoulder. He chuckles and gathers up Tommy's blanket and stuffed Pooh before bringing it downstairs with him to the living room.

Jake scoops up Tommy from the couch and carries him over to the piano. "Daddy.." Tommy say as he cuddles into Jake's body. "You don't play the piano."

Jake fakes offense making Tommy giggle. "I do too--just not all the time." He says. "And besides Uncle Sammy taught me a new song, one I think you'll love."

"Okay!" Tommy squirms around on Jake's lap until he makes himself comfortable.

"Are you ready?" Jake asks and Tommy nods his head. Lifting the cover on the piano, Jake makes a show of cracking his knuckles and stretching his arms making Tommy giggle. "Here we go.."

Winnie-the-Pooh Theme

His finger flow over the piano keys and the music fills the room. Tommy perks up when he recognizes the tune. Jake can hear Tommy whispering the words along to the song. He smiles before joining in on it with him.

Deep in the hundred acre wood Where Christopher Robin plays You will find the enchanted neighbourhood Of Christopher's childhood days A donkey named Eeyore is his friend And Kanga and little Roo There's Rabbit and Piglet And there's Owl But most of all Winnie the Pooh

You couldn't help but sneak downstairs to catch a peek of the two of them singing. You couldn't pass up the core memory your son was making with his father.

Winnie the Pooh Winnie the Pooh Tubby little cubby all stuffed with fluff He's Winnie the Pooh Winnie the Pooh Willy nilly silly old bear

Jake pulls one of his hands off the keys and tickles Tommy's side. It's very rare occasion that you catch Jake singing. When you do, he usually shies away and tries to pretend that you were just imagining things.

Eventually Tommy starts to yawn and cuddles more into Jake's front side as he clutches his blanket in his fist. Jake brings his voice to a soft tone as he carries out the rest of the song.

Winnie the Pooh Winnie the Pooh Tubby little cubby all stuffed with fluff He's Winnie the Pooh Winnie the Pooh Willy nilly silly old bear

He whispers the last few words of the song and finishes playing the song on the piano. Wrapping his arms around Tommy's little body, he carefully stands up from the piano bench and starts to make his way to the stairs. He stops when he sees you sitting on the bottom step of the staircase.

"You heard all that, didn't you?"

You nod your head as you smile. "It was very sweet."

A smile tugs at Jake's lips and he looks down at the sleeping toddler in his arms. "I'm definitely gonna have that song stuck in my head for a while."

You giggle and stand up on the steps. "It's worth it when it makes you kid happy."

#greta van fleet fic #jake kiszka #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka fic #greta van fleet fanfic #greta van fleet #dad!jake

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noodyl-blasstal · 6 months

Text

Piano Man

Big thanks to @ceilingfan5 who sang "pretty lizard" to the tune of "pretty woman" this morning, it got stuck in my head, morphed into "pretty wizard" and now we're here. Enjoy below or on Ao3.

Kravitz is tired. Kravitz is tireder than tired. Not in body, his hands would keep skimming the keys forever and always if he doesn’t occasionally put them away, and he can’t ever resist singing along to something whether he knows the words or not. No, what Kravitz is tired of is fancy people parties and all the fancy people nonsense that comes along with it.

The pay is good enough, that’s how he knows he won’t walk out, no matter how bad it gets - someone has to keep his apartment paid for - but these parties are always full of the most obnoxious people. His mouth is dry and his back is sore and Lydia, sorry, Ms Adventurezone, because ‘we don’t use first names, darling, it’s uncouth’ has been promising him a break for the last 23 minutes, but every time he winds down she suddenly appears to ask him for just one more song. It looks like she’s on her way to derail his break for the seventh time when someone, a glorious, perfect, wonderful man in a huge elaborate hat steps into her path, blocking her from Kravitz’s view which definitely means she also can’t see him!

Kravitz mentally beams gratitude at his saviour and respectfully doesn’t notice exactly how fantastic the guy’s arse looks in those silky trousers as he finishes up the song. The man is probably just intervening by accident, Kravitz needs to reign in his impulse to romanticise. There’s no deeper plot to rescue him from Lydia’s clutches, but he definitely needs to take advantage and escape while he still can - in fact, it looks like Edward, sorry, Mr Adventurezone, is headed his way. Kravitz will commando roll under this piano to escape if it comes to it. It doesn’t. He cuts the song a few bars early, pretends not to see Edward (ha, take that!) and beelines for the bar.

“Hey Krav, you sound great!” Ren waves in greeting.

“Thanks.” He croaks slightly.

“Say no more.” She laughs as she hands over a glass of water. “I’ll be back with your tea in a tick. Have this in the meantime.” She nudges a plate his way too.

Kravitz smiles his thanks and is already shoving the lemon-y mousse topped biscuit into his mouth. He needs to start eating before he comes to these things. They always say they’ll feed him and it’s rare they bother. Praise the lady for Ren, her fancy cocktail bar for hire tends to mean they coincide at a lot of these events. They very quickly worked out that they had allies in each other and used it to their advantage whenever possible.

“Anyone sat here, handsome?” Asks a voice over his shoulder.

Kravitz prepares to turn away whichever entitled prick is trying to ruin his break, but clamps his mouth shut when he realises it’s his saviour.

“No, no one is, that’s good, that’s fine, it’s free.” Kravitz intends to pat the seat invitingly, panics, withdraws his hand, and ends up caressing it instead. Perfect. An incredibly normal gesture. Maybe the guy will just turn and leave, spare Kravitz from any other awful attempts to flirt.

The man sits down instead.

“Thank you.” Kravitz says, realising slightly too late that the guy probably doesn’t have any idea what he’s thanking him for.

“No problem, I figured you were due a break. I used to work these things before, well, you know.” He waves a hand as if whatever incomprehensible thing he’s alluding to is obvious. “She hates that she has to invite me instead of hiring me. The handle’s Taako, by the way, what’s yours?” He crosses one knee over the other and his trouser leg parts to show a length of dark skin. Kravitz wants desperately to find out exactly how high the split in the thigh goes.

“Kravitz.” Says Kravitz. Focusing on doing anything that isn’t staring intently at Taako’s thigh. Not that Taako seemed to mind, he definitely grinned when he noticed Kravitz go slack jawed. But still, he could have misinterpreted, easier to stick to small talk. “What did you use to do at these things?”

“Steal, mostly, you know, light pick pocketing here, grand theft auto there… the usual stuff.”

Kravitz’s eyes widen. Fuck. He couldn’t tell Sloane about this one, she was already keeping the list of ‘reasons Kravitz isn’t allowed to pick his own men’ and ‘being immediately attracted to possibly a mob boss’ was likely to make it into the top 3.

“I’m joking, Krav.” Taako takes a sip of his drink, swallows slowly, eyeing Kravitz as he does.

Kravitz’s stomach clenches, he likes this, he likes this a lot. Taako’s welcome to observe him as much as he wants, preferably when he’s wearing less.

“Of course. Yes. You got me!” Kravitz manages a short laugh, it’s breathier than he intended it to be.

“Good to see you, Taako!” Ren greets Taako, plonks a cup down in front of Kravitz, winks, and leaves to attend to the disorderly queue because none of these people knew how to wait their turn.

“Do you like these things?” He asks Taako, then sips gently at the tea. It’s sweet, honeyed and fiery with ginger. Ren’s good to him.

“Nope.” Taako says passionately, looks like he means it. “They’re boring as all hell, my guy. No one is any fun.”

“You seem fun, the hat’s definitely fun.” Kravitz points at the spangled monstrosity atop Taako’s head.

“I’m a wizard and a genius, obviously I’m a delight. I meant the rest of them.”

“No one else is worth it?”

“You think Lydia’s fun?”

“I thought she might be if she respects you.”

Taako snorts. “I’ll let you know if that ever happens, but I wouldn’t hold out hope… fuck, speak of the devil.”

Kravitz turns to see Lydia stomping over. By the time he turns back, Taako’s gone.

“Kravitz! There you are.” The vulgarity of first names didn’t extend to talking to ‘the help’ clearly. “You need to be very careful about overdoing your breaks, you were supposed to take 15 at 9 and it’s already half past. You wouldn’t want me to review you badly would you?” She smiles her awful poisonous smile and eyes him with undisguised glee.

Thankfully he knows this dance. There’s no point in arguing. He’s only had 5 minutes and the reason he didn’t go at 9 was because of her, but she’ll just use any rebellion against him. He just nods demurely, finishes his tea in a long gulp, and says. “Of course.”

She looks disappointed about the lack of fight in him, which is exactly what he was hoping for. He leaves without another word.

–

The first few times he thinks he might have imagined it, but Taako is definitely gravitating closer to the piano. Kravitz didn’t notice him at all before, but he’s danced by, walked past, or stopped to look on appreciatively. Kravitz smiles every time he catches his eye and Taako’s even winked back at him a few times, but he needs to do something to show he can be the fun person Taako’s nights are lacking.

Lydia doesn’t seem to notice the Thong Song instrumental he works into the rotation, Taako spits champagne through his nose and claps so hard Kravitz can hear it over the general smattering of applause when he finishes a piece. It emboldens him enough to try something, he just needs to wait for the perfect moment.

Taako finally does a walk by, flicking his gaze to Kravitz as he finishes a song and transitions into Roy Orbison.

“Pretty wizard, walkin’ right past me”

Taako pauses.

“Pretty wizard, the kind I liked to meet Pretty wizard, I don't believe you You're not the truth No one could look as good as you Mercy!”

Taako turns, wide eyed. Points to himself, innocently.

“Pretty wizard, won't you pardon me? Pretty wizard, I couldn't help but see Pretty wizard, that you look lovely as can be Are you lonely just like me? Rwar-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r”

Kravitz gives it beans with the roar, if there’s a bit, he will commit to it. Taako laughs delightedly, it’s worth it.

“Pretty wizard, stop a while Pretty wizard, talk a while Pretty wizard, give your smile to me..eeeeee Pretty wizard, hey hey hey Pretty wizard, saw you look my way Pretty wizard, say you'll stay with me 'Cause I need you, I'll treat you right Will you maybe, dance with me tonight?”

Kravitz wiggles his eyebrows alluringly. Taako laughs, not unkindly, eyes soft, the corners crinkled with mirth. Lydia’s aggressively trying to catch Kravitz’s eye but he resolutely refuses to look away from Taako.

“Pretty wizard, can we go for coffee? Pretty wizard, just you and me? Pretty wizard, I’ll even spring for the whipped cre-eeeaaam”

Taako’s laughing so hard that he’s dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief, trying desperately not to smudge his eye make up.

“Okay I see you’re dairy free, okay I guess I’ll get the coconut cream, but wait I could get you some lactaaaaaaaaaid A scone, or two, or three? I can do that for you, you’ll see! If you’ll just go out with me, Oh, oh, pretty wizard”

Kravitz plunks out the last notes and laughs at Taako lounging dramatically on the front of the piano.

“Here’s Taako’s number, handsome, cha’boy can do dairy and he’s absolutely going to need those three scones tomorrow.”

“Kravitz!” Lydia yells.

He starts playing a jazzy version of Ace of Spades.

“Kravitz! I know you can hear me. We didn’t discuss any deviations from the playlist or the lyrics.” Kravitz nods as if he’s listening to everything she’s saying, and not staring at Taako.

“If you like to eat scones, I tell you I’m your man. Plain, fruit, cherry, they’re not all the same to me. The pleasure is to spread, jam, butter, or cream instead, If a scone is what you need, the only place you should be’s, Paloma’s Bakes, (Paloma’s Bakes)”

#They go on a date and Taako has four scones and Kravitz doesn't complain or resent him for it #It's three months in before Kravitz gets a straight answer about what Taako does #Surprise! He's a super famous chef now #Taakitz #Noodyl Writes #TW alcohol mention #It's just a mention of a place that serves it but I didn't want to jumpscare anyone with the implication.

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sunshinestrand · 2 months

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Happy Wednesday, everyone! The good news is, this fic is ever so slowly coming to a close and should be around here soon enough! But until then, I provide you with another snippet.

tagged by @welcometololaland and @iboatedhere — thank you so much, lovelies 💛

Alex clicks into the most recent post on Henry’s feed, a photo taken of a plane window with the simple caption new album incoming, without much thought, Alex likes it. Along with another of a beagle that Alex remembers reading once is named David and is an emotional support animal for Henry.

Finally, Alex closes from the app and tosses his phone on the bed beside him. He sits for too long trying to convince himself that this is nothing and when that doesn’t work, he runs his hands down his face, turns on his side and presses a pillow to the side of his head. It does absolutely nothing to qualm the thoughts echoing in his head. For a moment, his body tricks him into thinking his eyes are growing heavy, and he groans when they reopen on their own accord.

Alex rolls himself out of bed, his bare feet hitting the cool flooring. He needs to run or make a list, or both. He begins with the latter of the two while throwing on clothes and pulling on his running shoes.

1. Feeling anything for Henry would be breaking his number one rule of never getting involved with a visiting musician.

2. He’s only known Henry in professional sense for mere hours. There is absolutely no way anyone can develop feelings in that amount of time.

3. Granted, Henry is very beautiful and talented and everything that draws Alex in.

4. Perhaps Alex has always thought Henry was beautiful and talented (but not since he was twelve, Nora).

Alex rolls his eyes as he descends the steps from the apartment and down into the main studio area. For a moment, he doesn’t quite realise it, but upon a second glance, he discovers that Henry’s door is wide open. Another moment passes before he hears it, the melodic tune of a piano. Alex follows it until he’s at the doorway of the recording booth where sure enough, he finds Henry, his fingers almost floating against the keys of the piano. Alex goes unnoticed due to the angle in which Henry sits, and for a moment, he’s able to take him in, the way his eyes are fluttered closed, his lips parted ever so slightly and—

5. Alex desperately wants to know how those lips feel against his.

6. Henry’s long, skilled fingers.

Alex lingers for a beat longer before he sucks in a deep breath, forces himself away, and moves toward the entrance of the studio building. He opens and closes the door as quietly as possible, thankful for the cool breeze against his too warm skin. He begs his body to immediately stop reacting to his thoughts.

7. He is officially screwed.

As per usual, I'm late to the game, so an open tag to everyone and then my forever tag @avacoleman <3

#rwrb #firstprince #userkimmy #userthai #tusersonia #wip wednesday #paige writes

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themysteriousauthor18 · 20 days

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PT. 1

1985 Louisiana New Orleans. The French Quarter.

“Good morning, New Orleans! My name is Alastor, and I’ll be your brand new host for this morning broadcast! We’ll be taking some calls later, but for now I’d like to play you one of my favorite songs. Please enjoy!”

An upbeat jazzy tune begins to play. A little outdated for the time period but hey, radio itself was pretty outdated.

The man crouching by the radio hums along to the tune. “Interesting.. He managed to do it.” He’d been hearing about Alastor a lot recently; an up-and-coming star in the radio industry. Only the age of 19, and he had already become a fan favorite.

That singular thought in the man’s mind swept away as he closed his eyes, listening to the music.

This man is Lucifer Morningstar.

He is a young 18-year-old, and the heir to his family's fortune. Everything about his appearance screams privileged. He has short blonde hair that’s always gelled back, his white skin hadn’t a blemish on it; smooth as a newborn's skin. His amber eyes are soft, relaxed. His body’s dressed to the nines in a collection of gold and white. Although right now, in place of the full suit he’s shedded his overcoat to reveal the pink striped vest. Which is laying open.

The music picks up a bit more. It had started off with upbeat piano, and now a blend of trumpets and saxophones were carrying the melody. An undertone of trombones added the bass, and soft drums kept the beat. A hint of clarinets top it off with the high notes. This goes on for a bit before a smooth yet fast-paced violin solo picks up the melody. Overall, it's a really fun song, considering it's from a time period that was over sixty years ago. Everyone nowadays prefers rock.

He pushes off the dresser the crimson radio is sitting on and begins to dance with himself around the large bedroom as the trumpets take over again. It's way too big - in his opinion - to even be a bedroom. I mean, who needs a room the size of a gas station? Hell, this place was like his own personal apartment. He had his bed, his bathroom, his balcony, his..

Okay, yeah…this is too much room. Like, waaaaay too much.

But when the radio plays, the music seems to take up all the unnecessary space. He likes music, he likes swaying to it. He likes using all the extra room to needlessly dance around. It’s…fun.

A loud bang suddenly comes from behind him and he flinches. The large wooden doors were thrown open so hard they hit the wall. Lucifer turns to find his doppelganger staring him down, his nose wrinkling at the upbeat jazzy music. “Turn that off.” He scolds. “You're supposed to be practicing ballroom dancing, not…that.” He gestured to Lucifer’s random twirling around the room that he was doing.

Michael Morningstar. Lucifer's spitting image…no literally. They’re identical twins - well, except for their eye color. They look the exact same at a first glance aside from Michael having dark eyes as opposed to Lucifer's bright blue eyes. Everything else, however, is the same. Their jawlines, their facial structures, their body types…Truthfully, the only way anyone could tell them apart without paying close attention - if they were to cover their eyes, of course - is their mannerisms.

Lucifer sighs, “come on, brother. My tutor isn’t even here. How am I supposed to practice without her?”

Michael’s posture is perfect, while Lucifer is slouched at the shoulders. His hair is gelled back too, while Lucifer’s is sticking out in random directions now. “I don’t care.” He states. “You know what you're expected to do. Now do it.”

Lucifer walks to his brother, and without warning he grabs his hands and pulls them towards him. The loud jazzy music is still playing through his room. “Come on, brother,” Lucifer says joyfully with a bright smile. “Come dance with me, let's have a bit of fun!”

Michael rips his hands away at the word fun, like Lucifer just said something foul. Lucifer watches in dismay as Michael shrinks back to the doorway. “Just turn it off. You have to meet with our father soon anyway. Clean yourself up and meet me in the dining room.”

There isn’t another word on the matter because Michael is already closing the door. It roars with a louder slam than expected as it closes and Lucifer stands there, defeated. From the radio, the jazzy song starts to slow; yet to Lucifer, it's far away now. He’d been cruelly ripped from whatever fantasy he was just in. Dejected, Lucifer walks over to the radio and quickly turns the knob, silencing the radio and thus the room.

Michael is the brother the family wishes was their heir. He’s everything they could possibly want. Perfect posture, perfect actions, perfect teeth, perfect manners. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect everything.

Then there was him.

Lucifer.

The odd child to the Morningstars. The one that acts as a normal teen, all things considered. The one that likes to have fun, play pranks, sneak out with friends and go partying. While Michael preferred to attend the business meetings, Lucifer wanted to go out and party. Where Michael preferred classical music, Lucifer liked loud energetic jazz and some rock. Where Michael wanted to eat a high-class lobster dinner prepared by the finest chefs, Lucifer would gladly take a greasy burger from a diner, or hell, some macaroni and cheese with chicken strips.

The point here is that while they look practically the same, they couldn’t be more different. If Lucifer was being honest, he does wish Michael was the heir, and he knows Michael wants to be the heir, too. If they had the same eye color, he would gladly agree to switch places - hell, even identities with him - if it means he doesn't have to be forced to do all this boring stuff. That he doesn't have to put up a front, to pretend to be something he isn't. Deep down, Lucifer knows his father would probably have switched them too, given the choice. If not for their one - very clearly different - physical trait.

Maybe Lucifer could have gotten eye surgery or something when they were younger to change their eye colors. If that was even possible? Or maybe he could've worn color-changing contacts while out in public? That would've been much easier.

But now, he’s sure it was too late to try anything. They’re older, and the difference in their mannerisms are too noticeable to the public. The public even knew Lucifer as the oddball to the Morningstars. The one who's more kind to the lower class, more goofy. Whereas Michael was the colder of the two - all business, all work, and absolutely no play.

In all honesty, the only reason Lucifer was the heir was because of their birth. They were twins, but Lucifer had been the first out of his mother’s womb. They were the only children of their father, twin boys. And he was the oldest - if only by 5 minutes, but still the oldest.

Lucifer sighs, deciding to stop wishing the gods above for a second chance at birth. And to take his time and let Michael go out first. Honestly, if he could go back in time to the day of his birth he’d tell his unborn self. There’s no rush. Really. Being the first born sucks! Just take your time, enjoy the scenery of uh…Anyway- don't rush kid! Really. Dont. He swore Michael was practically pushing him to get out first anyway. He should have let him, if he was even conscious enough for that. Probably not he barely had a brain at birth.

Lucifer groans loudly and shakes his head.

Okay no more stalling. He has to get cleaned up and meet his father in the dining hall. He knows there’s no way to get out of this position he’s literally born into. So he sucks it up and tries to make himself more presentable. Putting his white overcoat back on.

…The halls of Lucifers ‘home’ are large. Towering above him. He’s always felt so small here. It doesn’t take him long to descend the spiraling stairs to the first floor of the mansion. And walk the Victorian styled halls. Their mansion and family came from old money. The mansion being around for far longer than Lucifer and his generation. So the interior design was never designed for the time period they were in. Not compared to friends of his who had their own mansions. Ones that were far more bright and colorful. Compared to his own that always held a dark and dready feeling to it.

Lucifer side eyes a particular painting hanging on the wall as he makes his way into the main hall that leads to their front door. He stops walking, examining it.

Its a portrait of his father in black and white. There hallway is lined with portraits of each of the house masters. Or as he likes to put it…whoever is currently in charge of their fortune. And right now, that was his father.

He stares down the portrait.

His father is sitting in a large armchair, his face is a stern look. He’s frowning and staring straight ahead at the camera. His blonde hair is gelled back with wing tips at the earlobe. Lucifer is disturbed by how much he looks like his father, the only different is the that his father looks older. He has wrinkles under his eyes and frown lines around his mouth. But the portrait was painted when his father was only twenty. When he took over the house.

Lucifer doesn’t deny the truth. That the portrait is his future. That the man sitting in that chair will be him very soon. He’s eighteen and he knows whatever freedom he has, it's quickly drying up. He frowns, debating for a moment weather or not he could find some happiness in such a future. If he could truly be that kind of person. If he even had it in him.

He shakes his head, freeing the thoughts of his mind. He briskly turns on his heel and walks down the hall to the dining room at a brisk pace. When Lucifer gets to the door he desperately pushes down the rising energy trying to push its way through his body. Urging his legs to turn and run. He doesn’t. He’s learn not to.

Pushing the door open welcomes that same loud and foreboding creak it always does with these old doors. Lucifer’s eyes immediately find the three bodies sitting at the table as he entered the large dining room. The fireplace is lit - even though its much to warm for it - and its warm glow is flickering off of the man at the head of the table. Dark shadows dances across his wrinkled and sunken face. His dark eyes hold no warmth and they find Lucifer immediately. Already looking at him with annoyance. A lecture on his tongue.

“You're late.”

He was only a minute late.

“I’m sorry father.” Lucifer apologies anyway.

He and his brother are practically the spitting image of their father. Their faces just softer than their old mans. And were they have that bright blonde their fathers hair has already fully grayed. Something not uncommon for the head of their family. Its due to stress, Lucifer believes. For his father isn’t old enough to have full gray hair. But its something he doesn’t need nor have the time to ponder on.

His father demands him to sit without saying it. Lucifer is already in his chair. When he’s had a moment to catch his breath he finally looks at the other two in the room.

One is an older white man with dark short hair thats a comb-over. He has a small mustache and he’s a little on the heavier side. Beside him his a young woman appearing to be around his age. Or at least that’s his guess. She shares the same colored hair to her - presumably father? - her face is soft. Round. Her hair is long and delicately styled into a french braid. Her eyes are green but they aren’t particularly bright. She’s wearing a white dress, and sitting with perfect posture.

His father doesn’t wait a second. “Lucifer this is Mr. Caleb. And his daughter, Eve,” He gestures to them.

Eve holds her hand out expectantly. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

Lucifer - trained like a dog - rises out of his seat long enough to take Eve’s hand and press a polite kiss to her knuckles.

“The pleasure is all mine madam.” He returns, trying not to cringe as the insensirity between them. “And you as well sir.” He says, reaching out for a handshake from Mr. Caleb who returns it quickly. His hand is weak compared to the older mans. But it seems to suffice. He sits back down promptly.

With pleasantries out of the way Lucifer’s father continues. “Lucifer, you are not engaged to Eve.” He says it so matter of factly that Lucifer barely registers it. His father doesn’t wait, simply going on. “You two will have a proper wedding in two months from now. You will begin making public appearances next week together.” He pauses, gestures to Eve and adds “she will grace you with her company from now until the wedding. That is understood I presume.”

Lucifer hopes the panic doesn’t show on his face. “Yes father.”

That's the end of their discussion. Nothing more and nothing less. That’s the way of things in the morningstar manor.

…

…The next few weeks go by as you would expect. Lucifer is essentially ordered to spend time with Eve. He doesn’t mind it all that much. Eve isn’t annoying or rude. He’s just…not sure how to act around her. Their first meeting (alone) went about as well as he could hope.

They’re meeting in his family's garden now. A large lush area (and probably the once place he liked on the property). It was the one thing on their property that had color to it. In his opinion. It was a large space with a gate around it. The perimeter is filled with rose bushes. The interior is paved with trees, a fountain and smaller bushes. There’s a brick path leading around the garden and at the center is a gazebo. Where Eve waited.

When Lucifer steps into the gazebo she looks at him. She’s wearing white again, so is he. It seems they are always matching. He’s not sure if that's on purpose or an accident. “Hello, Lucifer.” She says and he feels…weird, at how robotic she sounds.

He walks over and takes her hand, giving her that same greeting he had when they first met. “Hello Eve. Lovely to see you again.” He looks up at her, hand loosely in his. She stares at him and he stares back, trying to examine her face. She looks flat. Her expression that is. Like a blank slate.

He takes his hand away and takes a step back. Feeling weird about being so close to her. But when he looks at the greenier around them she continues to stare at him. Keeping her hands on her lap. Lucifer’s outfit is a little lighter today. He’s just wearing a white vest and short-sleeved button up. He needed his skin to breathe a little. But now he feels a little too exposed.

To say things were awkward between them was an understatement. For Lucifer at least. “Sooo…what do you like to do?” Lucifer isn’t sure when he started tapping his foot. But he is.

“Whatever my father permits me to do, I enjoy.” Was what Eve chose to say.

Lucifer frowns, rubs his nape. Its sweaty. “Do you like to wear the white a lot?”

“My father says it's elegant. So I do.”

Lucifer begins to walk around the interior of the gazebo. Tapping his fingers on the railings. Eve never seems to move much, just observing him. He pauses, looks at her then gets an idea. “Hey!” She does the most expressive thing so far, raising her brow.

“Yes?”

Lucifer walks a little closer. “Do you wanna go get some food or something? I know this great pizza place! It’s kinda down near the slums…Buuut their pizza is really great. And if he throw on some disguises nobody will-”

“I’m not interested in such activities.” She says pointedly. But politely. It doesn’t have the same bite as his fathers words do when he refuses something. But it does have that same implied message. We are rich. We don’t associate with the lower class.

“Oh…okay.” Lucifer deflated a little. He pauses, “then what do you wanna talk about?”

Eve ponders the question, then says “Only what’s necessary.”

All of their interactions after that were the same. Lucifer doesn't enjoy the feeling he gets when around Eve. She wasn’t a bad person herself. But he noticed whenever they were together, compared to her, he felt like…well like a child. He offered to go out and do fun things. Pizza, parties, dancing - the fun kind, not the boring ballroom dancing with poise and proper etiquette. But every time he suggested anything of that sort she would always promptly - yet politely - turn him down. Saying it wasn’t something they should be doing. Because they were high class people and they shouldn’t do such things as having fun…Okay maybe she didn’t say exactly that but he knew she meant it.

So while he tried to enjoy the time spent with Eve, he didn’t. He tried to watch her, examine her. Figure out what she was thinking. But she was impossible to read. So one day he simply asked, “do you even wanna marry me?”

Eve’s always calm face falters for once, and she frowns. Something in her eyes becomes a little more distant. Her reaction throws him off a little and makes him think, maybe she isn’t a robot.

“It's what my father wants.” Is what she tells him.

When she said that, he had added “do you even like me? Or like being around me?”

She looks at him then, and thinks about his question..for once. “You're pleasant company to be around,” is the simple answer she gives. He takes that as her not liking him in a romantic way, but at least considering him a friend. At least that's what he sees it as.

He isn’t offended, he is relieved honestly. Because truth be told, he didn’t like her either. Not romantically at least. She was fine to be around. And while it was super boring he had been around worse people. She wasn’t bad, she was just quiet and doing what she was told. He was fine being friends but he couldn’t consider there to be any chemistry between them. She was too mature, too…all business and no fun. She’d already grown up. And he was still a child.

He felt worse because he knew deep down it didn’t matter how he felt. They had less than a month by the time he realized he could never love her. And further realized that a marriage between them would be more like a play they were forced to put on for the rest of their lives. He dreaded it honestly. It felt like he walked into a much larger cage. It was just now, he had a cellmate.

By the time their wedding was two weeks away Lucifer had given up all hope of finding happiness in his future. He had spoken to his friends about it. And while Bee and Ozzy suggested he just marry her and do secret dating on the side he knew he couldn’t. Even if Eve agreed to it. Not for the fact of cheating, because they weren’t together. It was an act, so he knew she wouldn’t care. It was more for the sake of whatever person he chose. If he fell in love he wanted to share a life with them. One that was out in the open, not hidden away behind closed doors. That was no way to live. And it would only add more stress to him.

His friends understood when he told them this. They were freer than him. Don't bond too these old money rules of marrying people your parents chose for you. He envied them, he really did.

His friends felt bad for him, and so it was for this reason they decided to whisk Lucifer away one night. Tangled style. Except in reverse. They came to his window and he threw a rope down, tying it down with something and shimming down the wall and out of his ‘palace’. And off the three of them went, him Ozzy and Bee. They took him to a night club down in the lower class area. Those were the best according to Bee. They knew how to have fun. Lucifer had gone with some kind of disguise wearing a brown wig (that Bee got him) and instead of his usual white that he was so known for. He was wearing black. He meshed well with the dark lights of the club.

So it was here he found himself, two weeks before the wedding. At a nightclub one night. Sneaking out to meet up with his friends Bee and Ozzy weren’t uncommon. But it has been more difficult recently because of the upcoming marriage. He wondered if he would ever be able to do these kinds of things after the marriage. The club was owned by his friend Bee. And this one was located in more of the lower class area. The nightclub was noisy, crowded with people that all melted into white noise of endless conversations and chatter.

It's dark - obviously - and multicolored lights light up the club. There’s a dance floor all lit up with a rainbow pattern bouncing around, that's where Bee and Ozzy are right now. Or last he saw them at least. As for Lucifer himself, he’s standing at a high table, leaning his elbows on it. The public in general aren’t really his thing, he’s never good at being social. He always comes off more awkward than he wants too but Bee and Ozzy always make him more relaxed. But tonight he can’t calm down no matter what he does.

“Woo!” Lucifer jumps at the loud - although familiar - voice behind him. He peers over his shoulder and looks up, and up and up and upppp. Until he finds Ozzie behind him. He’s stretching, “damn they are killin’ it on the dance floor tonight.” Ozmodious is a bulky built black man who is very tall. His hair is braided into short dreads that came down to his earlobes, the tips were dyed blue and what looked like the beginning of a beard was starting to grow around his mouth and jaw. Although as intimidating as Ozzie looked, he was actually very laid back and the chillest man Lucifer knew.

“Hey Lucy,” he said, swinging an arm around him. Nearly squeezing him half the deaf, he manages to lift him an inch off the ground - not on purpose - In his hug.

“Hey Ozzy-” Lucifer all but wheezes.

Ozzy loosens his grip on the lord's shoulders. “You sure you dont wanna join me and Bee on the dance floor?” He pauses, inspecting Lucifer’s face. How it scrunches up slightly. “Or maybe go somewhere else? After All this is supposed to be your night.” Your last night of freedom. The truth goes unspoken.

Lucifer for his part offers a smile, it was in no way convincing but he tries anyway. “No, I’m okay, but thank you.” He has to raise his voice a little over the blaring music and crowd.

Ozzy frowns, “are you sure?” He says loudly. Also talking over the music, it's a bass heavy song.

“Yeah.” Lucifer maintains his smile. He’s used to it from all the public appearances over the course of his life. “Go have fun. I’m just gonna hang here and keep on drinkin!” He holds up his martini glass. It’s a pink fruity looking drink with an umbrella in it. Some would argue it's emasculating to drink something so pink but he doesn’t care, he can’t stand the more bitter alcohols he’s expected to drink at gatherings. Besides, he likes pink. It meshes well with his usual white wardrobe.

Ozzy shrugs,” if you say so. But if you need us you know where we at.” With that Ozzy walks off leaving Lucifer to his drink.

He keeps his smile up until Ozzy melts back into the crowd and he lets it fall.

He turns his eyes back to his martini glass. And studies the pink liquid inside. This is his…5th? 6th? Glass? He’s lost track honestly. And while he’s not as out of it as he wants to be his senses are certainly dulled. His movements feel more sluggish. The music doesn’t feel so close anymore. He prefers it this way. Even though in the back of his mind, he knows he’s an easy target.

Lucifer lazily traces his index along the rim of his glass, his eyes fall lidded and he frowns. There’s a part of his mind that whispers, like a temptress. That he doesn’t have to go back, he could run away tonight. Run away somewhere far were nobody knows his name. Its…an appealing thought. But only to someone half drunk and well on their way to being wasted. And he knows that while it’s an appealing thought now, it would probably come back to bite a somber him in the ass. So he ignores such an intrusive thought.

He sighs, and pours the entire glass down his throat. It tingles and burns only a little but it's sweet. He sets it down on the table with a heavy clink. Great…his distraction is now in his stomach and well on its way to his brain. Now what?

As if on cue, something snatches his buzzing mind away from his empty glass. Lucifer looks up hearing the loud cheers that manage to cut through the booming music. Was someone being murdered? Would they consider shanking him too? No? Too bad.

Thankfully nobody is being killed, rather it's just a small crowd around a table. They’re honestly too close to him. Being just a few feet away at another table. With their shoving and bumping he fears they might shove him too. With all the commotion he can’t help but see what the fuss is about. He doesn’t have to look far. The woman dancing on top of the table isn’t exactly hard to miss, even amongst the sea of people in the club. She’s the only person doing that he notices.

Lucifer stares at her.

She’s a tall slender white woman, her body is thin and curved all to viewable for the public through her form fitting black dress. That has an open back - all the way down to her waist, and cuts off at the mid-thighs. She’s dancing to the bass of the music - her long, waist-length hair swaying with every movement. Her hips move as if they are the ones producing the music coming out of the club. Her hair is long, blonde and her lips are coated in a black lipstick. Her eyelids are colored in a dark purple coating.

The beat bounces and she bounces with it the crowd below her cheers.

It's definitely erotic. But she also dances in such a way that feels so…freeing. So, carefree.

Someone hands her a drink, and she swallows it effortlessly before tossing the glass back to the stranger who catches it barely. She rolls her spine along to the rhythm, throwing her head back. Her hair falls through the air like an ocean wave.

Lucifer is transfixed on her.

She looks over at him, and their eyes meet for the briefest of moments. Shame rises in him,having been caught staring at her and he immediately looks away. His face burns. Ah what was he doing staring at some random stranger? He’s probably creeping her out.

Lucifer suddenly feels an arm entrap his shoulders and at first he assumes it's Ozzy. But when he looks up he yelps at the sudden face alarmingly close to him. He backs up, stumbles. It's the woman, and she’s chuckling at his reaction.

Lucifer catches his breath, she came over to him? Why?

Now that she’s closer though, he can tell she’s taller than him. Not by much but definitely taller. He doesn’t mind it. The base of the music burst to life once again threatening to pierce his eardrums. But it's as if he can feel the hammering beat of the base in his chest, as the woman walks close to him. He’s unsure of what she wants, what she wants to do. He doesn’t even know her name.

He just can’t help but watch her.

She moves so freely even just walking towards him. Never letting the music not move her body. She reaches out and grabs his arm and tugs him close. Lucifer for some reason, lets her. His pulse is climbing. It's racing.

She drags him along and he doesn’t quite know what's going on, just that she shoves him into a nearby chair. And she’s letting the music take over her again. She’s dancing above him, her hands pressed against his shoulders, keeping him pressed into the back of the chair. Once she’s; sure he’s not going to move - how can he, really? - she takes her hands back and cocks her hips in a hypnotizing motion to the thundering beat of the music. Lucifer's eyes are dragged to her hour-glass like figure. Her hands continue moving across her large thighs, up into a dainty curved waist. She tries her hands over her thighs, up over his hips. Lucifer’s eyes follow. Her hands travel inward over her breast over the neckline and they shoot up over her head.

Lucifer breath hitches in his throat.

She’s…

“You're beautiful.”

The woman looks at him, amused and a bit perturbed. She laughs. It’s a glorious sound, it's light and jovial. She leans into his space, placing her hands on either side of his chair. “What was that handsome?” She speaks. God she speaks and her voice is like that of an angel. It's low and silky smooth; it's like a goddess tempting him to do sinful things.

Christ he must be drunker than he thought if just one sentence from a stranger is enough to have his tongue tied.

“I-I said you're beautiful.” He stutters out, making his voice louder. She smiles - it looks like an honest smile.

“Thank you. You're hot.” She bluntly states. Lucifer turns into a tomato and she laughs again. “And cute. For being Lucifer Morningstar.”

His brows raise, “you know who I am?” The brief instance of his name rather than being referred to as ‘my lord’ throws him off a little. But he doesn’t mind in the slightest.

“Of course.” She says. “And the rumors were right, you're a lot nicer in person.”

Lucifer flashes red for a whole other reason now. “What's your name?” He calls over the rising music.

She looks surprised at the question. “Lilith.” But she leans closer to him, their chests almost pressed together. If he had been more sober the public display of…whatever this was probably would have put him off. But right now? His mind was too focused on the goddess who was now on his lap.

“You're really pretty Lilith.” He giggled, fuck he is drunk.

She smirked, eyes lidded.

Without so much as a warning or hint Lilith leans forward and captures Lucifer’s lips in hers. His eyes grow wide. And there’s a part of his mind that tells him it's not a good idea. But he immediately shuts that part down. He’s going to be throwing away his life soon. So he doesn’t care right now. Eve wouldn’t care. They aren’t married yet and it's not like she even likes nor cares about him.

Still his heart races because…

Well as pathetic as it is this is the first time he’d been kissed.

But his brain doesn’t focus on that, because Lilith is a good kisser. She takes control of his lips, abusing them with a practiced pace. She truly is a siren, for she gets his lips apart and slips her tongue in like a serpent. Their tongues wrestle for a moment, and it's a losing fight against the expert that Lilith is. Her tongue tastes like alcohol and it mixes with the sweeter alcohol he had been drinking. It tastes like heaven.

His fingers twitch and something burns in him. Aching for more.

Lilith pulls back too soon in his opinion. But she doesn’t go far, keeping their faces close. She looks at him then, their faces inches apart. Her eyes look almost gold under the club lights but he thinks they are actually green? He’s not sure. He looks at her, her face is curved, her eyes narrowed and beautiful. Her hair long and waving freely, her dress leaving little to the imagination. But it restates the fact that she is pretty. “Wanna go somewhere private?”

Lucifer eyes shoot wide open. “Uh-” his face burns and he glances around for his friends. He knows full well what she’s asking. He’s not an idiot after all. But… “I-I dunno. Uh…” He rubs his neck. He peers back at her. She’s waiting, and she’s tilting her head ever so slightly.

“Don’t be scared.” She cooes, trailing a finger along his chest.

Lucifer frowns and raises a brow, “are you a hooker or something?” He doesn’t mean to sound rude. It's an honest question and one his mind has worked up to after seeing the way she dances around the club. Was this her ploy to get a session out of him? Seeing him as a dollar sign?

Lilith looks offended though, just a bit. “What?” She scoffs, “no. I have more class than those bitches.” She says waving her hand about. She leans back then, hands on her hips. “I just like to have fun!” She says with a wide proud grin.

Lucifer raises his brows, “I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean to offend. I-I just thought…” he trails off.

Lilith eyes him, standing straight up, above him. Towering over him. The club lights bathe her in a blend of different colors. The white light behind illuminates her figure. “You're hot. I’m not trying to get money out of you. I just think you're hot. I wanna fuck you.”

She says it so…so bluntly. Lucifer is so taken aback at her boldness. God nobody has ever spoken to him like that. Besides Bee and Ozzy but…not even to this extent. He should be offended..but…

“So you wanna take this somewhere else?” She says, slipping into that sultrier voice once more. She leans down to his level, so she doesn’t have to be so loud. “Wanna see what's under these clothes?” She says, dragging a hand down her dress.

Lucifer eyes her figure…it's nice but he looks up at her. At her face. At that mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

How could he be insulted by such a bold, confident and beautiful woman?

“Sure..” He replied; his voice is dazed and husky.

They go to a nearby motel and Lucifer isn’t sure if he should be alarmed or surprised that Lilith already has a room in the run down place. With his mind both buzzing from the alcohol and an erection below his belt that was begging for attention, his mind decides he doesn’t care.

…Lucifer is pushed onto the bed.

Lilith isn’t in any way shy or timid. She’s definitely done this sort of thing before. - Which makes Lucifer feel a bit bothered, but that's a thought for sober him. - She unbuttons his shirt with practiced effort. Their pace isn’t by any means slow. It’s fast and impatient. Which for a drunken aroused Lucifer? Is perfectly fine with him. In minutes she’s unfastening his belt and pulling his pants down before Lucifer can properly enjoy any of it. There is a sliver of his mind that feels embarrassed and nervous. But it's quickly washed away when Lilith strips her dress and undergarments off without any shame. Lucifer is still marveled by her confidence. And in that moment he stares at her like she truly is a goddess kneeling above him.

“Wow…” He mutters dreamily.

Lilith smiles and chuckles. It seems to be a genuine laugh. “Shh.” She says, pressing a finger to his lips. “Relax.” He does. “Goodboy.”

Lucifer flushes.

There are no more words spoken between them after that.

…Lucifer honestly taps out after fifteen minutes, - which Lilith doesn’t seem to mind for she has her ways to get him started again - but the next hour goes by with him in a haze. He doesn’t remember when he falls asleep. But he does with him and Lilith on the hotel bed naked.

When he wakes…he doesn’t remember how he got where he is. Because he’s sitting on a park bench and immediately looks down, to find himself - thankfully - dressed. But he’s dressed more casually, dressed in a way he would prefer. Just a simple button down and slacks. He looks up, seeing a little girl swinging on monkey bars. Her face is blurred for him but he can tell at the very least she’s a child. With long blonde hair. He watches her for a moment and sees her hand begin to slip, he stands ready to go and catch this girl, but someone beats him to it.

A man who he hadn’t even noticed was there shoots up from his seat and runs to catch the girl just in time. His hair is a bright and noticeable red. But he can’t make out his facial features either. Maybe that's her dad, he assumes at least. The man holds the girl in one of his arms and they share a laugh. They pause and turn to look directly at Lucifer, he still can’t make out their faces. But he can’t deny a blooming warmth flooding his chest. He’s never felt it before but one word cuts through his mind, clear as day.

Happy.

He suddenly wakes up, his eyes flashing open into the darkness of the room. His heart is hammering and he takes a minute to breathe in. He feels his heart slow, into steady beats. He registers Liliths soft breaths and sighs.

That was a weird dream. He thinks.

His attention goes back to the sleeping woman. Lilith.. How beautiful she is. Even sleeping.

Lucifer waits for her to wake. Maybe he's smitten, or maybe it's because she took his virginity. But he feels waiting is the right thing to do. When Lilith does wake it's almost morning. And Lucifer knows he could get in trouble. But to see her surprised expression when she finds him waiting beside her with some coffee from the motel lobby. It's worth it.

Lucifer asks to see her again. To keep seeing her. Until he's to be married again. Much to his surprise, she says yes. It's enough to make Lucifer feel light as air. With that agreement he stumbles out of the room, smelling of booze and sex. Looking like it too. But he has no time left and has to get home.

Lucks on his side because he makes it home before his disappearance is noticed. It's.. Sad, actually. But he's to happy and hungover to care. He calls his friends when he's able to let them know he's safe. They naturally both want details which he would provide.

Time goes on, Lucifer and Lilith do meet up again. But sparingly. What with still being ordered to spend time with Eve. But what little time he does get to spend with Lilith - undercover - is usually under the cover of night and a blessing.

Much to Lucifers dismay his snap fantasy life comes to an end. With the day of his wedding creeping up on him like death itself, he has to bid Lilith goodbye. Unsure and unwilling to keep pursuing whatever it is they have under in secret.

So the day of his wedding comes. With the girl he wished was Lilith. Maybe he's crazy for having that thought. He probably is. But it's a pointless thought nonetheless. He knows his place, and he’s aware that the short time he had with Lilith was nothing more than a break from his reality. So here he stands, before Eve in her white wedding gown. Her face no less changing than the day they’d met. Stoic and calm as usual. So unlike Lilith’s bright and expressive face. He can’t help but compare the two not, even though he shouldn’t.

The wedding is what would be expected of the morningstars. Its lavish and fancy. Set in a large park well taken care of. A park the rich frequent most often, but today is reserved for this occasion. The guests are not only consisting of Lucifer and Eve’s respective family members. But the other hundred people in the crowd are friends of the morningstars. Friends of his father. Bee and Ozzy are among them. But they aren’t as excited for this wedding like Lucifer’s father is. Excitement is actually…not the right word to describe his father in this circumstance. Eager is a better way to put it. He’s at the front row, sitting beside his mother. His arms are crossed. He has that same impatient look he always has on his face. Like the world is moving too slow for him.

Impatient.

That’s the right word to describe his father.

Lucifer looks back at Eve. He offers her a small smile, unsure why. Maybe to steady his own nerves. She returns the smile but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“We are gathered here today…” The priest begins. His words sound like he’s speaking underwater, to Lucifer at least. As he goes on Lucifer can’t help but glance at the crowd again, he’s aware that he should be looking forward. But can’t help it with his nerves growing. He sees his twin in the front row too, beside his - eager - mother and he looks jealous. Of Eve? He doubts it. Of him finally proclaiming his position as the new head of the home? Likely.

He catches Bee and Ozzy in the crowd, and they find his gaze. And both nod to him. It's a condolence. He knows. A sharp clearing of the throat from his father snaps Lucifer back to attention. A warning.

“Samiel Morningstar. Do you take Eve to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold from this day forward?” For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish until death do you part?"

Lucifer hesitates, he glances at his father. Who gives him an icy look. He lowers his brows and gives one curt nod. Lucifer swallows, he looks at Eve who as usual is stoic. “I…I do.” He says, stuttering a little. When he glances at his father again he looks annoyed, but satisfied.

The priest turns to Eve. Repeating himself.

Lucifer in that moment, takes those final seconds to lament on his life. This…wedding, this ceremony. It doesn’t feel like a celebration of love at all. As it should be. It feels like he is being sentenced to prison and he’s signing away his freedom that he had with those words.

This is wrong, he thinks solemnly. A wedding should not be held to force two people together. Two people who hardly know each other muchless love each other. Because Lucifer is certain Eve does not love him nor has come to love him in the brief month they had been introduced and then pushed into this wedding.

He looks at her.

He was naive. He was naive to what a real relationship required. Lilith opened his eyes to that at the very least. While what he and Lilith had was in no way a relationship, it felt far more real than whatever he and Eve were supposed to have. What he did with her, being intimate with her. He…he couldn’t, he couldn’t do that. Not with Eve. Not with someone who didn’t even look at him like he was wanted. Looked at him with that same empty stare his father had. Someone he felt no attraction towards. Lilith was a star that shines and shimmers so brilliantly. Eve was an empty husk of a person she could have been. He knew what was expected of him. But he’s failed to realize how heavy that burden would be until now.

Lucifer looks Eve in the eyes.

How can I ever have children with this woman? How can I ever try to love her? Someone Who looks at me with not an ounce of love or even a person in those eyes?

A chill runs down his spine.

“I do.” He hears Eve say, and her words for the first time carry an ounce of trepidation.

Something in him snaps. And he feels like that sliver of fear in her is what pushes him over the edge.

“Then with the power invested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

Lucifer's hands curl.

Don’t do it.

You’ll regret it.

He looks at Eve, her eyes hidden behind her veil. She’s defeated. She’s surrendered.

“I can’t.” His thoughts come out of his mouth far too late for him to take it back. And his eyes blow wide as a gasp rushes over the crowd like a wave.

Dread pools in Lucifer, it's cold and frozen over. It's icy.

He hears his father stand from his chair. “You will.” He states. That’s all he says.

Lucifer can feel his throat tightening. He can’t…HE CAN’T GODDAMMIT!

“No!” He shouts looking at his father who looks downright appalled. He’s shocked, registering what his son said to him.

The crowd is deadly silent. Lucifer feels his heart in his ears. “No?” He repeats like he’s never been told that word. “No?!” He repeats once more like he’s never heard it. “You do what I tell you Samiel!”

Something boils in Lucifer, in this second he thinks of Lilith. How free she is, how confident she is. He wants to be that confident. He wants to be free. Free with her. “I refuse! I don’t love her! And she doesn't love me! I won’t marry her.”

His father growls “I gave you an order.”

Lucifer stares his father down, every ounce of his body is screaming to stop. To get on his knees and beg for forgiveness. But no, not this time. “I refuse.”

His father takes a step forward, pointing an accusatory finger at Lucifer. He could see the red rising in his cheeks. “You listen to me right now Samiel or you are OUT of this family!”

Lucifer swallows. He looks at his mother, who is staring at him with a pleading look. At his brother, who seems satisfied. Happy. At his father, the seething man looking his usually well composure at a wedding. Then at Eve.

She’s frowning, she looks…sad. She is looking at the floor. He feels for her, but he can’t free her. Only she can, But he won’t be her captor, and he can’t remain a prisoner himself any longer. He wonders, if his mother wanted him. His brother. If that was a willing choice, or one his father pressed on her. He can’t imagine she did, when he looks at them.

Lucifer sighs, and says calmly “then I guess I’m done here.”

Its all he says. As he walks down the aisle, alone.

Eve is at the alter, a look of pure shock on her face. The strongest display of emotions she’s ever displayed. Lucifer wishes her best, hopes she can break free from her own shackles one day.

His father is screaming at this point. The angriest he’s ever been with him. He’s swearing, cursing, telling him all the things he is. How broken he is how wrong he is what a failure he is.

But Lucifer keeps walking.

He doesn’t even get to say goodbye to his mother, or his brother. But he wishes them best, knowing that with him gone his brother will get his place. Its for the best. He never wanted it in the first place.

He refuses to live his life as someone he’s not. He refuses to end up like Eve, to become a shell of himself. He can’t do it. He might have, if not for her.

As he walks the city streets, he slips the ring out of his pocket. The ring meant for Eve, the ring he managed to take before leaving. He’s young, he’s only eighteen. But he’s free, free to make his choices and maybe this is a stupid choice most would argue. But for him, its the only one that feels right.

He walks into the motel, and climbs the stairs to the room he’s memorized. The one she’s been living in. He knocks, and waits. When she opens the door, she is surprised to find him there. “Hi.” She greets, “weren’t you supposed to be getting married?” She asks confused.

Lucifer is still in his white tux.

He looks at Lilith like she’s something to be worshipped, the smile that breaks onto his face isn’t forced. Isn’t fake. Its never with her. “Wanna do something crazy?” He asks her instead, with a grin threaneing to slip his lips.

She raises her brow.

Lucifer pulls the ring from his pocket, and he kneels before her. Lilith eyes blow wide. Lucifer simply says with hope in his eyes. “Wanna get married?”

He’s crazy. He’s known her less than a month, He is absolutely nuts. He knows that. But he also just swore off a lifetime of fortune and his family. But they had never given off the same warmth Lilith had. A stranger.

Lilith laughs. “Sure, why not.”

Lucifer grins, she grins.

They are both insane, surely they both must be insane. Right?

It doesn’t matter…not to Lucifer.

All that matters to him is that he’s finally gotten to make his own choice for once. And he chooses Lilith. Maybe there’s a chance at being happy for him afterall.

#radioapple human #hazbin hotel #lucifer #radioapple #writing #fanfiction #alastor #lilith

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merakiui · 2 years

Text

[ii.] ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵈᵉʷ ᵇˡᵘᵉˢ

serial killer!jade leech x female!reader cw: brief mention of death/murder chapter i│chapter ii (you are here)│chapter iii

Today’s Horoscope: It is advised that you tread with care today, for the next twenty-four hours are scripted with new opportunities for personal improvement.

In the private confines of the blue-green aquarium you sit before the outline of a police officer, his image constructed from moon jellyfish that are so red they resemble blood cells, and he asks you a grocery list of questions ranging in specifics. Riddle’s witness statement came before yours, and you try to picture his face as a source of comfort while you power through the underwater interview. Instead, his crimson hair provides you with more unsatisfying imagery and you grimace as you relate your account to the officer. There’s a notepad and a pen in front of him, but he doesn’t pick it up. The answers you rattle off automatically write themselves in messy, slanted script. It’s in a language you can’t comprehend.

His final question—what frightens you?—comes and goes and it isn’t long before you’re out of the interrogation room, where a fidgeting Riddle waits in the lobby. You reach for his outstretched hand, fingertips just brushing, and the scene falls away when you blink, bursting like a bubble on the water’s surface. Unable to pursue the crooked memory any further, you find yourself standing in an opulently furnished room with a vaulted ceiling and arched windows, curtains parted to reveal swarms of jellyfish in the distant blue outside. A piano sits in the center, bathed in dappled shade and awaiting a skilled player.

There’s a hand on your shoulder and then a voice as smooth as alabaster invades your pounding eardrums.

“I’ll play something for you. Name a piece.”

“A piece?” You move to turn, but the man has covered your eyes with his gloved hands. “Um… How about my favorite song?”

He doesn’t respond and when you reach up to peel his hands away from your face they have morphed into a blindfold. Darkness closes in, snuffing every warm beam of light that attempts to pierce through, just as a familiar melody begins to play. It’s an enchanting sound, filled with a fantastical sort of whimsy that sings of youthful confessions and a bouquet of dandelions.

The intercom, hidden deep within the vast room, crackles and the tinkling tune abruptly ends. “Hello? Is this on? Can you hear me? I’m trying to reach you. Is my voice reaching? Hello?”

You whirl around in alarm when the door slams shut and yank the cloth down to search for the culprit.

“I need you to listen,” the woman, whose voice has become strained with urgency, says. “Something is wrong. An instability. No, more than that. It’s—protect you—something else... Can you—listening to me… Not safe. Something is—” Shrill static devours the rest of her warning, bringing with it a suffocating silence that fills the room like toxic gas. And then she speaks again, but her voice has retained its robotic quality. “Today’s color is blue. As vast and wide as the sky and sea, as deep and dark as water’s soul, blue is the color of trust and sincerity. It is the color of bruises and sadness. It is the color of you.”

You’re shaken awake before you can comprehend her words, tugged from the ethereal tendrils of the dream world by your phone’s cheerful ringtone. Groaning, you snatch it from the bedside table and stare at the caller ID.

“Riddle… What does he want?” Rubbing your bleary eyes, you place your phone against your ear and mumble a sleepy greeting.

“Took you long enough! Oh. It’s earlier than I thought. I must have woken you.”

“No, no. It’s…” You pull your phone away to gauge the time. “It’s fine. I have to get up anyway. I’ve got this run with a friend, so it’s probably good that you acted as my alarm clock.”

“Then I won’t keep you any longer. I just…wanted to call.”

“Uh?”

“T-To check in!” he insists with a cough. “Right. That’s all there is to it. And now that I know you’re well I’ll hang up.”

“Wait. We got caught up in a mess, right? It’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

“Rather than admitting fault, I’d say it’s for the best that we stumbled upon it. Who knows how long that man would have remained there had we failed to notice him.” He exhales slowly. “At the very least, we prevented someone else from finding him. Had it been a curious child or a couple of reckless teenagers…”

“But it’s disturbing, isn’t it? He was…” You lower your voice, as if doing so will save you from a nonexistent threat. “Someone killed him and they could still be out there.”

“It’s not something we should dwell on. The authorities will handle it.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? You sound tense.”

“I’m perfectly fine.”

“Are you handling it fine? No nightmares? No fear?”

“I’m…handling it.”

“If you want to come over to my place, you’re more than welcome to. We can do some stuff to take our minds off of it. Oh! What if we made that strawberry tart you like so much? That’s still your favorite dessert, right? I’m not really good at cooking, but I think I can handle baking. There’s also this mug cake mix I bought recently and I’ve been wanting to make it.” The line goes quiet. You think he might’ve hung up because of how deafening the silence is, so you add, “Or I could come over and help you with your furniture…or something.”

“Thank you for the offer, but I have prior engagements tonight,” he finally says.

“Rain check?”

“About your application—”

“Hey, no fair! You can’t just change the subject!”

“Time waits for no one. You should submit it as soon as possible.”

“I know, I know. I’ll do it.”

Stop pestering me.

“Good. I’m wishing you all the best.”

“Thanks…” You turn on your side in bed, staring at the empty space beside you. “When are you free?”

“Aside from my shifts, I haven’t planned anything for the weekend.”

“Really? Then we should hang out! I’m free on Saturday.”

“All right. I’ll let you know what time works for me.”

“Cool! I can’t wait. There are so many fun things we can do! I’m a great tour guide, you know.”

“I’m sure you are.” There’s another prolonged pause before he adds, “Well, now that we’ve established that I’ll see you tomorrow at work. Enjoy your run.”

“You should come with!”

“Thank you, but I’d rather not subject myself to such an exhausting activity. And at such an early hour of the day, no less.”

“You can walk. Azul does that sometimes. It’s not a big deal.”

“One moment. Did you just say—”

“Oh, the time! I should get ready. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Sure… Yes, okay. Have a pleasant morning and don’t forget to—”

You end the call and cast your phone aside. For a moment you lay there, staring up at the dull ceiling as last night’s events play in blurry detail. You can recall the horror that engulfed Riddle’s expression, so raw and real that even the most skilled actor could never hope to imitate it. Your chest fills with a terrible ache when you think back on what led up to the discovery. If you hadn’t been so insistent on dragging Riddle along with you, this could have been avoided. Neither of you would have witnessed the brutality that befell an unfortunate man. If you were so deep in the emotional trenches, you could have called Azul or Cater or anyone with enough willpower to shoulder your baggage.

“My dream!” you exclaim, shunning all thoughts of Riddle and the murdered man as the realization hits you. Scrambling for your phone, you input the password and open your dream diary to a blank entry. “What was it about? Shit. No, no… There was something red and—or was it blue? No, red. Red and…Riddle. Or am I remembering him because we just talked?”

Defeated, you sigh into your pillow. Only a few words litter the draft: blue, red, Riddle, murder, interrogation. You’re certain there’s more meaning to those keywords, but the dream is fragmented beyond repair, lost within the folds of your brain. It’s impossible to compare the significance of your dream and the intercom lady’s colorful prophecies to your horoscope when you can’t remember it in its entirety. And when you can’t use one to interpret the other, how can you possibly rely on what’s truthful?

Maybe I should make today a lazy day. I’ll call Azul and tell him I’m not feeling well. He’ll understand.

After minutes of quietly sulking, you pick your phone up and swipe to your contacts. Your messages remain soulless, a facet of life you’ve grown accustomed to. As you scroll to find Azul’s number amidst the few you rarely contact, a notification pops up from the dating app you’ve yet to uninstall. You tap it on instinct and are instantly pulled from your messages to the app, where a dozen texts await you. From strangers to past hook-ups to new matches, there are almost too many for you to handle. Among them, one profile stands out. You tap on the chat. According to the timeframe, the two of you were conversing just after midnight. Before you can kick yourself for bothering her at such an ungodly hour, you skim the conversation.

And that only prompts you to grimace. If only you had a shovel so that you could bury yourself and evade the encroaching shame.

[(Name)] Quick question.

[sea♡sluggi] :D quick answer!!

[(Name)] Is my voice reaching?

[sea♡sluggi] ??? this isn’t a voice call sorry. do u wanna talk???

[(Name)] Can you hear me? I’m trying to reach you.

[sea♡sluggi] i’m not sure i understand :( ´◦ω◦｀): ur messages are sending just fine if that’s what ur worried about

[(Name)] Something is wrong idk what does that mean? i d k. You used it before in the diary. Sometimes it’s blue. Tonight was red. Red red red red red red red blue must protect you.

[sea♡sluggi] lol;;; umm

[(Name)] Have to go. Waking up now. Try again later.

You stare at the screen, eyebrows knitting together, while attempting to make sense of the exchange. You comb through your head in search of the memory of your fingers flying across the keypad at one in the morning, but all that bubbles up are hazy images of the boardwalk and the corpse tied to the post, the waves crawling onto the shore as a police officer separated you from Riddle, and the anxiety splayed across his face as he stood with his hands folded primly in front of him, as if he intended to pray the macabre away.

And then, just as you attempt to recall the brief interview with the officer, you draw a blank. The rest of that night fades into obscurity, leaving you with an eerie sense of emptiness.

Flustered, you find yourself typing out a simple excuse: Just read last night’s convo and wtf was I on about??? I think I had too much to drink sorry if I scared you!

Sluggi’s response is immediate: np!! ^^ i was a little worried. ur okay, right?

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed and assure her that, other than the hangover that’s currently crushing your soul, you’ll be okay. Her next text is brimming with understanding and you heave a breath that mirrors her relief, even if it’s mainly due to the fact that she fell for such a subpar lie.

Chewing your bottom lip, you debate sending another text. Sluggi seems nice enough from the tone of her messages—so long as you’re interpreting them correctly—and you’d like to have another female friend to talk to when midnight calls with Cater fail. Instead your fingers slide over the letters and you write something else. You click send before you can drown in doubt and jump up, determined to start the day with a fresh bout of confidence despite last night’s grisly madness.

“No lazy days!” you announce to your room. “I’m going to get up, see Azul, and make today a good day. No matter what.”

Framed in the golden glow of the rising sun, its rays extending to form an arching crown, Azul stands beside the entrance to a beachside trail. Dressed in slim-fitting activewear, he raises his arms above his head in a long stretch of popping joints and clicking bones. Another man lingers next to him, a silent shadow, and he brushes a dark strand of hair behind his ear with lithe fingers. You stuff your car keys into the pocket of your nylon leggings and jog over to him, a broad smile stretching your lips. Every inconvenience that has burdened you since last night vanishes when he catches your eager stare and returns your glee with a genuine grin.

“Azul! Hey!” You stop before him, heart exploding into an elated frenzy. He’s so normal compared to the gore that haunts your headspace like a persistent phantom. “Sorry I’m late. There was lots of traffic and I got a little distracted listening to the radio, and as a result I got off on the wrong exit. I hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

It wasn’t a bad horoscope, you remind yourself. The radio said so, so I’ll do everything I can to follow it even if I can’t remember my dream.

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

“Safe and sound,” Jade adds, and you’re suddenly made aware of his presence as he waits patiently near Azul.

“Good morning, Jade.” You adjust your crop top so that it hugs the upper half of your torso more comfortably. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

His eyes flick briefly to the jagged scar that runs up the length of your stomach before settling on your face. “I couldn’t possibly miss an opportunity to exercise on such a pleasant day,” he says, smiling. “The view here is truly a joy to behold.”

Nodding in agreement, you glance at your surroundings. The beach runs parallel with the trail, a pathway that’s the length of a mile and a half. On the other side, dense forestry crawls towards the weathered concrete, cracks spider-webbing through it like the shattered surface of a mirror. You’ve run the distance plenty of times in the past and it’s been just over a year since Azul started accompanying you. You’d wanted him to stay in shape after he complained about the models on Magicam and how they always looked so flawless.

No one’s perfect. But if there’s something you’re unsatisfied with, you can work hard to improve upon yourself, you’d explained while he pouted at his phone. After some negotiation, he begrudgingly joined you the following day, claiming he was only doing it for the experience. Definitely not because it was you who convinced him.

“Floyd’s not here?”

“Thankfully,” Azul says, but he falters at your critical look. “Thankfully…because he’s back at the club cleaning, I meant! Of course it’s a shame he can’t join us. I guess.” That last part is muttered and you pretend to have not heard it. You know Azul prefers it when it’s just you and him and, if you’re being completely honest, you like it that way, too.

“He’s missing out. The forecast said it’d be sunny all day.” You fall into step between Jade and Azul as the three of you walk past the rugged cedar sign. From the earthy scents clinging to the treeline to the salty air rolling in from the white-capped waves, you immerse yourself in the miracles of Mother Nature. Inhaling a breath of land and sea, you ask, “Did either of you dream last night?”

Never missing a beat, Azul replies, “I’m afraid not. Dreams are rare for those who work.”

“Really?”

“A hard worker dreams less frequently because they’re always exhausted, so when they fall asleep they don’t have enough mental energy to produce dreams. It’s like trying to get a robot to carry out tasks when it’s low on fuel.”

What are you, a dream doctor?

“But I always dream when school starts and that’s usually stressful. Actually, now that I think about it I can’t really remember my spring semester. All of the partying and drinking felt like one crazy dream. Despite that my grades were good. I think. And it wasn’t too tiresome. I…think.”

“It’s because you take those things too lightly that you’re able to dream. I envy you,” he says with a mournful sigh. “The youth are so carefree these days. It must be refreshing.”

You roll your eyes. “Or maybe you’re dreaming every night but aren’t remembering. That’s why I keep track of my dreams. You should, too.”

“I’m certain I’d be able to remember whether or not I dream. My memory isn’t Swiss cheese, (Name).”

“Well, regardless of that it’s quite the blessing that you’re so imaginative. Dreaming is therapeutic for our minds and bodies.”

“Ooh, like an overnight therapy session for the brain! You totally understand it, Jade.”

“Indeed. Although it’s very unlucky that our dear Azul can’t dream. A life without dreams is meat without seasoning.”

“A flower field without flowers,” you add.

“An ocean without salt or a feast without a main course.”

“I get it. I’m dreamless,” Azul snaps, glaring. “To think that both of you would pair up against me… I’m heartbroken.”

“Aw, don’t be so sad, Zuzu. You’re a dream to me.” To complete the cheesy line, you form a heart with your fingers and send him the cutest wink you can muster.

He bristles and a deep cerulean coats his cheeks. “(Name), you are a wonderful creature. Talented, gracious, and occasionally amusing. But for the sake of your pride and my cringe tolerance, never say that again.”

“Yeah… I promise it sounded better in my head.”

I am never using that line again. Why did I say that?

“On second thought, I’m getting a head start.” Abandoning you and Jade, he jogs a generous distance ahead, soles pounding out a steady rhythm on the concrete.

“The two of you have known each other for a while. One would assume he wouldn’t be so flustered at this point in your relationship,” Jade remarks as he strides beside you, arms folded behind his back.

“No, I think he’s just cringing. I’d run away from myself if I could.” Smiling at the hilarity of the situation, you mutter, “I don’t mind it, though. I like it when Azul’s honest. It makes the time I spend with him even sweeter.”

“I suppose.” He chuckles, tilting his head at you like a curious bird eyeing fingers through the bars of its cage. “They say true love often feels like a dream. Perhaps you aren’t so inaccurate when you make such claims.”

You blank at those words and then an uneasy laugh trickles out of you. “I wouldn’t call it love, per se. We’re just…together. He helps me with money problems and I help him with whatever he needs help with. That’s all there is to it.”

“What wonderful mutualism.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“Would that make you the anemone and Azul the clownfish?” Jade hums as he ponders the answer to his hypothetical. “Or perhaps it’s the other way around? Clownfish are known to be territorial of their anemones, but as an upcoming marine biologist I’m sure you’re aware of this. Perhaps there will come a day when another fish wishes to indulge in the anemone that is Azul.”

“I hope he won’t toss me aside when that day comes.” You roll your shoulders while viewing the scenery that stretches ahead, a portrait of natural serenity. And at the very center of such a picturesque scene, Azul stands, his gait having slowed into a strut. He turns to wave you onwards, a broad grin playing at his lips. Your heart, rejuvenated and reanimated, floats like a cloud. “If that happens, I think I’ll stay on the sidelines and let him do his thing. Like watching jellyfish in an aquarium. They’re prettier when separated by glass, but when you’re within touching distance it can be dangerous.”

“Are you saying Azul’s dangerous?”

“Not at all. In fact, he’s too soft. You ought to see him every morning. It’s cute.”

“And yet you claim your heart is not bound by love. How peculiar.”

Heat claws up your neck and you cup your hands around your mouth to enunciate your intonation. “A-Azul, wait up! Jade’s being weird!”

Jade’s gentle laughter grows increasingly faint when you take off down the path. Once you’re beside Azul, you heave an embarrassed sigh.

“Define ‘weird,’” he insists. “I can assure you Jade can be weirder.”

“It’s nothing. He’s just…annoying.”

“Those words have vastly different meanings.”

“Not in my dictionary!” Your inquisitive stare bores into his side profile while he admires the road ahead, a twinkle in his powdery hues. “Hey. Um… If you were in love, what would you do?”

“If the object of my admiration reciprocated, I’d confess. If they didn’t, I’d simply keep it to myself.”

“What if you didn’t know you were in love?”

“I’d figure it out eventually. There are signs and symptoms.” He flicks his hands about as if discarding something filthy. “Butterflies and whatnot.”

“You say that as if it’s an underlying illness.”

“It most certainly is! Haven’t you heard of lovesickness?”

“That’s just an exaggeration. Like saying you’re so hungry you could eat another person.”

“Depending on someone’s opinion and their experiences with love, it can be viewed as such,” Jade interjects, and you whirl around to find him standing behind you and Azul. “Lovesickness itself isn’t considered a mental ailment by most doctors. It’s more of a biological response. Sometimes you can’t help longing for a certain person or a love that will never come to fruition.”

“Hah!” You smirk at Azul. “See? It’s completely normal. Not a disease.”

Azul scowls in return. Despite the ferocity smoldering in his countenance, you know from experience that he isn’t truly cross with you. Aside from the occasional bickering, which usually ends in good-natured surrender from either of you, you’ve never engaged in an actual argument with him. There’s no shrieking until vocal chords are frayed and spent, no onslaught of tears that come pouring after venomous words have been spewed, and no shattered hearts after short-term separation. In fact, now that you’re dwelling on it, Azul almost always tries to avoid falling into any conflicts with you.

“And have you ever felt lovesick?” His playful question dissolves your bravado like sugar in water and a sardonic smile twists onto his face. As always, even when he’s slyly prodding at the truth, his energy is invigorating. It lures you in, dangling itself before you like a worm on a hook and you’re the foolish fish who has taken the bait. “I’d love to hear how you felt about your lovesickness. Why not explain it now? We’ll gladly lend you our ears.”

“Okay, that’s not fair! I was a kid and love was so sparkly and there was this really cute boy…” As soon as you catch sight of their knowing grins, you shake your head and step away from them. “Forget it! It wasn’t even a bad feeling. It was just… Can you believe I gave him a bouquet of dandelions? I mean, of all the plants to give the love of your life…”

“You poor soul. I wouldn’t do such a brainless thing.”

“It’s the thought that counts, no?”

“I tried to give him a basket of tomatoes after that. I don’t think little (Name) had much going for her back then.”

“Tomatoes! That’s rich! Could you imagine receiving a vegetable bouquet as a gift?”

“It would certainly make for a delicious feast,” Jade says, which earns him a snicker from Azul and a groan from you.

“Looking back, there was no way he’d ever fall for me. Not with the things I was giving him. And yet I continued to like him.” Shaking your head in dismay, you turn your gaze skyward. “Love is so odd.”

“But you admit it’s a sickness, right?”

“I guess. Sometimes it’s irritating and—hey! No way!” You swipe at Azul, who narrowly dodges your attack. “Start running, Ashengrotto! I’ll give you a workout for real this time and by the end of it you’ll admit love is nice and great and definitely not a disease!”

“I’d like to see you try!”

Relishing in the competition, you set off after Azul, leaving Jade to follow dutifully behind as he always does whenever he accompanies the two of you on your morning run.

And as you chase him, abandoning recollections of those summer days spent standing outside of that special someone’s window, you realize you wouldn’t have had nearly as much fun as you are now if you’d listened to your concerns and stayed home.

Stop worrying so much, you remind yourself as you race towards Azul. You’re okay.

Once you catch up to him, you throw your arms around him with a triumphant shout. “Got you!”

“Get off of me! You’re sweaty!”

“So are you.” You stick your tongue out at him. “Thanks for putting up with me on these runs. I know it’s not the most exciting thing in the world.”

“It’s not so bad. It is part of our arrangement, after all.”

“You’re literally the worst. I was genuinely thanking you and you brought up that stuffy contract!”

“Yes, yes. Crucify me for souring the moment.” His eyes soften when you pull away and he grabs your hands, squeezing them reassuringly. “It doesn’t matter where we are or what we’re doing. As long as I’m with you, it’ll always be enjoyable.”

Don’t say stuff like that.

“Oh. Um. Y-Yeah, I agree.”

If you say that with such a sincere face…

“What’s this? A group hug?” Jade asks, standing before the both of you with his arms spread.

Vexation darkens Azul’s visage and you roll your eyes, both of you exclaiming in unison, “Go away, Jade!”

His hand shields his mouth as he chuckles, eyes crinkling with mirth. “How precious.”

I won’t know how to truthfully respond.

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