#※》t: merry & bright 00

[varldsormr]

※》 Aevitas verse; holiday starter 🍒🌿@igneuscrvx cont. ( x )

The melancholic pluck of mandolin strings vibrates across the surface of the water, tangling in a dance unseen with the star-mirrored waves and white nets of gentle foam before they're pulled into the depths below; submerged, the tiefling's idle strum reach further yet than the the world above and winds alone could carry it, drowned and stirring something vaster, deeper still. Offering a promise as much as a melody, singing wordless whispers to a rumble in the dark. A void which listens.

The serpent doesn't know when it started or how - only knows that it calls him, in a way he can't entierly understand and never quite tried to. Slender fingers of a familiar hand playing effortlessly on distant chords as though somehow they were fringes of his soul, intertwined with something ancient in him, bound and pulling at its edges whilst a beaconing ember kindles at the core. He feels the muted warmth of it flicker as he follows, guiding him through an endless ocean. Feels the waters' unwillingness to relinquish as he urged towards the source, the waves around him swirling with protest as the burn in him strains and rises to a crescendo -- And then it stops, having breached the precipice to silence where he stands upright amongst the waves of night, a bare and towering figure broken free from the tides, allowing for the frigid air of late winter to callously wash over him while he casts his gaze ashore. To the moonlit outline on the rocks, awaiting his emergence with a curve of clever lips and a snuffed-out tune.

Somehow, this is an easier way to coordinate than through text.

Jormun is not surprised to see Thorne rising to observe him as he unhurriedly makes his way through the shallows and over the sands - damp silt cool beneath the soles of his feet - a tanned hand coming up to passively comb through dark soaked locks of loosely tangled hair while he walks for the first time in months. Limbs stiff, but not unsteady. In step, excess water trickles from both the tips and aquine slits along his ribs down the length of the sea spirit's form, to glisten in coldly beading trails where muscle shifts and dips in motion, catching briefly in whatever light still faintly graces these two old friends in their reunion.

At the greet proffered his way in nigh approach, he rumbles a tonal sound of vague acknowledgement regard his tardiness apparent, withdrawing the straying palm upon finally coming to a stop in front of the other; stood plain and stripped raw in his nature before a grand pose of silken wine suits and sharp angles, sharper eyes, dark hues like the abyss he clawed free of met hard with the sights upon him. Expectant.

"There was... traffic."

He sees the flash of Thorne's teeth before the other bends to rummage through the duffles brought (to preserve at least a fragment of the serpent's modesty before they join the rest, the eve yet far too early for the manner of scene which might otherwise be caused--), only barely missing the way the tiefling's gaze strays off path for how Jormun turns his own to their surroundings, letting attention wander with idle consideration over the Grecian village ahead. Waiting, he listens for the wind and muted bustle of life in the distance, ladden by sleep, the end of a day where theirs was just beginning. Though ultimately it is overtaken by the sound of rustling search quite near - until that quiets once more in what he takes for success in the quest for marginal decency.

He turns back to see Thorne spread the towel in his arms with an innocent smile.

Through narrowed lids, he relents to the embrace for approximately a second.

It's always the same song and dance with them.

Thorne knows troublingly well which buttons to push and where to let before the serpent's grumbling turns to bite, the rougish man ducking away for a spare cloth just ahead of the moment where the bounds of Jormun's patience starts to strain, disappearing swiftly somewhere behind and leaving him to dry himself off. Though he senses his friend's presence slot soon enough against his back, radiating off the hellish fires that feeds him, just barely beyond. As he grasps the towel he is left with, proceeding to smooth it over the thick of his arms for the prospective relief of being merely cold rather than cold and wet, he makes no move to discourage Thorne from tending to his hair on his own whim, the flash of prior annoyance traded rather for appreciation with an ease which should probably concern him. The tension he'd held settling to soothe under strangely gentle care.

At least, until the other speaks up again.

As if on cue, an idle shiver runs the length of his spine and prickles his skin upon the purr of Thorne's voice in his ear, but whence from the shrill winter breeze which picks that moment to blow over them, or the heat of the breath ghosting over the naked skin of his nape, he couldn't say. Neither or particularly conductive to the serpent's current state of undress. It brings him pause, forehead slightly knitting, bidding cease in his ministrations to linger the response.

Then he grunts, and slowly resumes.

"...The others are waiting." The gruffness of his tone comes through, no traitor to what else passes through his mind, though laced with a brush of something indistinct as he tilts his head to glance - quirking a querying brow. "Did you not say I was late?"

[chrancecriber]

Radio NET Bulgaria (December 18, 2022)

23:56 WAYMAN TISDALE - Front Runna 23:51 CHRISTMAS CAROLS - Happy Christmas 23:47 PATRICK YANDALL - I See You 23:43 DANNY LERMAN - You Take My Breath Away 23:39 JACKIEM JOYNER - Journey of Passion 23:34 EVERETT B WALTERS - Mom's Biscuits 23:30 DAVE KOZ - This Christmas (feat. Eric Benet) 23:25 REI NARITA - Monsoon in Crimson 23:21 NORMAN BROWN - Heart To Heart 23:17 NILS - Step Into the Beat 23:13 PETER WHITE - Bright 23:09 RONNY SMITH - Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas 23:04 KIM WATERS - Reaching Out 23:00 KONSTANTIN KLASHTORNI - I Need You 22:59 MO'JARDO - Sonador 22:55 SUPER8 & TAB, JAN BURTON - Free Love 22:50 GARY B - Easier (Marga Sol Sunset Remix) 22:45 SAGI REI - Fall Again 22:41 ELLES DE GRAAF, MOONNIGHT - Sunset Kindness (Chill Out Mix) 22:38 IDENLINE - At Sunset (Original Mix) 22:31 DEEP SECTOR - Rainbows (Original Mix) 22:28 LOST FREQUENCIES, FLYNN - Recognise (Acoustic Version) 22:24 VELVET DREAMER - Summer Breeze 22:18 DENIS SERGEEV, 4ONE - Merging Of Two Destiny 22:12 R.I.B - I Look At Sea Horizon 22:07 THOMAS LEMMER - Through My Father's Eyes 22:02 VIVIAN LACOSTE - Ibiza Magica 21:58 PRIME CIRCLE - As Long As I Am Here (Cafe D'Afrique Mix) 21:53 ABOVE & BEYOND, OCEANLAB - I Am What I Am (Original Mix) 21:48 MATT DAREY, KATE LOUISE SMITH - See The Sun (Original Mix) 21:43 BISCAINE - Sunrise At Paradise Beach (Original Mix) 21:38 LUSTRAL - Raven (Album Mix) 21:32 SYNTHETICSAX - Beach (DJ Rostej Remix) 21:28 ARMIN VAN BUUREN, FIORA - Waiting For The Night (Zetandel Chill Out Mix) 21:21 MENZI - Aufbruch 21:14 FLAER SMIN - Alone In The Dark 21:11 SCUBBA, IVETTE MORAES, RONAN - The Sweetest Taboo (Remix) 21:06 ADELE - Skyfall (Skerdi M & Angelo DownTempo) 21:02 MODJO - Lady (Acoustic Version) 20:59 SENSPROOF - Starflight (Alex Atmospheric Chillout Remix) 20:56 AUDIO BULLYS - Take You There 20:50 NO HORIZONS, SHEEMA - Summer Son 20:46 DARK MATTERS, ANA CRIADO - The Quest Of A Dream (Original Mix) 20:42 MARIUS NEDELCU, RED HEAD - Rain (Acoustic Version) 20:39 GORDON GECO - Fade In Away 20:33 DINKA - Hotel Summerville (Original Mix) 20:28 HESS IS MORE - Yes Boss 20:24 DT8 PROJECT - Hold Me Till The End (Unplugged Mix Lounge Edit) 20:17 LERRY MULLER, ANETTA GRANT - Dreaming (Original) 20:14 KYLIE MINOGUE - Wonderful Life (Acoustic Version) 20:11 ASSMONKEYS, LYCK - Embrace My Heart (Bassmonkeys & Jenna Donnelly Moonlight Mix) 20:07 EL SEGUNDO - Blue Marlin (Juan Padilla Serve Chilled Remix) 20:03 NURKO, AUTREY - So Far Gone 20:00 LEMON ICE - Hello 19:56 TYDI, AUDREY GALLAGHER - World's Apart (Album Mix) 19:53 TYDI, TANIA ZYGAR - The Moment It Breaks (Original Mix) 19:47 ATB - Let U Go (Schiller Remix) 19:43 LEO ROJAS - Flying Heart 19:38 D-PULSE - Velocity Of Love (Original) 19:35 RUTH ANN - Beautiful 19:31 KRONO, CIMO FRANKEL - Sweet Goodbye 19:27 SWEET EUPHONY - After We Close Our Eyes (Chillout Version) 19:22 BLANK & JONES, CATHY BATTISTESSA - Miracle Man (Afterlife Remix) 19:18 PIANOCHOCOLATE - Les Souvenirs (Original Mix) 19:14 ZETANDEL, TIFF LACEY - Cosmos (Original Mix) 19:09 IT'S DIFFERENT - Tell Me 19:06 AREA CODE 51 - Chillout In Paris 19:01 MARIE THERESE - Gin And Tonic (Pier-o Bossa Chill Mix) 18:55 SIMON LE GREC, DENISE GUTTENBACH - Touch Me (Original Mix) 18:51 LIZ KAY - Castles In The Sky (Kenny Hayes Nitelite Mix) 18:47 AHY O - Shine On 18:43 SYLVERING - Strangelove 18:40 LOWLAND - Seven Cities 18:36 EMMA HEWITT - These Days Are Ours (Zetandel Chill Out Mix) 18:31 THE PROJECT PARADISE - We Love You Moscow (D.A.W. Remix) 18:27 DAN BALAN - Chica Bomb (DJ Dan Karim Chill Mix) 18:22 GOLD LOUNGE - She's Arriving 18:17 TRIANGLE SUN - White Song 18:13 ANDAIN - Much Too Much (Zetandel Chill Remix) 18:07 SHERRIE LEA - No Ordinary Love (Arnold T Chill Mix) 18:03 ZAZA, JORGE NAVA - Broken (Chill Mix) 17:59 SOLID SESSIONS - Janeiro (Chiller Twist Blue Line Remix) 17:56 ZARA, SNATT & VIX - No Angel (Zetandel Chill Out Mix) 17:52 PELARI, COLLIN WEX, DOMINIQUE FRICOT - Oasis (CollinWex Chill Mix) 17:48 ALY & FILA, JWAYDAN - We Control The Sunlight (Chill Out Mix) 17:39 EUPHONIC TRAVELLER - Crescent Bay (Original Mix) 17:35 THOMAS ANDERS - You're My Heart, You're My Soul (Acoustic Version) 17:29 YIRUMA - River Flows In You (N-Drew Fate Remix) 17:26 DJ PAULBASS, DJ GORODNEV & P.KOLVINKOVSKY - Call Me (Lounge Mix) 17:22 DJ SHAH, ADRINA THORPE - Who Will Find Me (Acoustic Version) 17:17 MATT DAREY FEAT. TIFF LACEY - Always 17:13 DJ A - Let Me Love You (Andreas Agiannitopoulos Remix) 17:08 LEMONGRASS - Pacific 17:04 LEO ROJAS - The last ot the Mohicans 17:00 METAHARMONIKS - Star 16:56 BK JACKSON - Wait For You 16:52 DREW DAVIDSEN - Sweet Spot (feat. Eric Marienthal) 16:47 DEAN JAMES - When I See You Smile 16:43 JEANETTE HARRIS - Angels We Have Heard On High 16:39 DEE BROWN - Tie The Knot (feat. Lin Rountree) 16:35 STEVE OLIVER - Up Front 16:29 BRIAN LENAIR - What Child Is This 16:25 MARION MEADOWS - Pandora 16:20 EUGE GROOVE - Faithful Central 16:16 VINCENT INGALA - What Does It Take (Vinnie's Take) 16:12 DARREN MOTAMEDY - Ascension 16:08 JUSTIN YOUNG - Silent Night 16:04 ZOLBERT - One 16:00 ROCCO VENTRELLA - Swagger 15:56 GREGG KARUKAS - My Favorite Season 15:51 ROBERTO RESTUCCIA - With Every Turn 15:46 ELAN TROTMAN - Brighter Days Ahead (feat. Adam Hawley) 15:43 DAVE KOZ - Eight Candles 15:39 PAOLO RUSTICHELLI - Romamor (Smooth mix) 15:35 MARCUS ANDERSON - Let's Groove 15:30 DR. SAXLOVE - Greensleeves 15:25 TERRENCE RICHBURG - Treasures 15:21 NICK COLIONNE - Still Connected 15:17 U-NAM - Groove Paradise 15:12 PETER WHITE - Bullseye 15:07 BRADLEY LEIGHTON - Little Drummer Boy 15:03 JAMES LLOYD - Here We Go 15:00 JAZMIN GHENT - Amends 14:56 BRAD ALEXANDER - It's About Time (feat. Dee Lucas) 14:51 KIM WATERS - Stay Together 14:47 KONSTANTIN KLASHTORNI - Just Feels Right 14:44 MICHAEL MCDONALD - This Christmas 14:39 RYAN LA VALETTE - No Limits 14:36 ED CALLE - What You Won't Do for Love 14:31 AARON BING - Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas 14:27 ERIC DARIUS - That's My Jam 14:23 DAN ALAN LEVINE - Our Kind Of Love (feat. Kim Scott & Jeanette Harris) 14:19 TONY SAUNDERS - Best Part 14:13 TOM BRAXTON - How Do I Live 14:09 TONY CRADDOCK JR. - God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen 14:04 CINDY BRADLEY - Wind Chill Factor 14:00 SHAWN RAIFORD - I Like It 13:56 VINCENT INGALA - Nasty 13:52 DONALD HAYES - Front Ground 13:48 RONNY SMITH - Smooth 13:44 LARRY CARLTON, PAUL BROWN - Soul Searchin' 13:41 HERB ALPERT - Let It Snow - Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer 13:36 DARREN MOTAMEDY - All About Love 13:28 RONNY JORDAN - Silent Night 13:24 WAKANA - Saxcess Story (feat. Greg Manning) 13:19 AL DEGREGORIS - The Other Night 13:15 ALEXANDER ZONJIC - Rolling in the Deep 13:11 KAYLA WATERS - Apogee 13:08 SHARMOND SMITH - Hark The Herald Angels Sing 13:05 SAM BASSMAN JENKINS - After Hours 13:00 GREGG KARUKAS - Barracude Bob 12:56 AL DEGREGORIS - JD's Groove 12:52 NICK COLIONNE - Nico's Ride 12:47 MARION MEADOWS - Mother Earth 12:43 NILS - Above the Clouds 12:40 SHIN GIWON CHRISTMAS CAROL COLLECTION - Winter Wonderland 12:36 MARCUS ANDERSON - Vanilla Mocha 12:32 ROD TATE - Dinner and a Movie 12:28 JOYCE COOLING - Christmas, Christmas 12:24 NORMAN BROWN - Just Groovin' 12:20 ROCCO VENTRELLA - Love 12:16 BRAD ALEXANDER - Because of Who You Are 12:11 KIM WATERS - This Is It 12:08 ART MORRIS - White Christmas 12:04 KONSTANTIN KLASHTORNI - Lovely Day 12:00 VANN BURCHFIELD - That's the Way Love Goes 11:56 ED CALLE - River of Dreams 11:53 JAREZ - Lil Jazzy 11:48 ERIC DARIUS - Nu Trane Of Thought 11:42 SAM LEVINE - Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas 11:38 ANDY SNITZER - Only With You 11:33 NELSON RANGELL - Like No Tomorrow 11:29 FANTASIA - This Christmas 11:25 ROB TARDIK - Bounce 11:21 DR. DAVE, THE HOUSECALL BAND - Cecil's Groove 11:16 LOWELL HOPPER - You've Got to Get It (feat. G. Vernon Burrell, Jr.) 11:11 TERENCE YOUNG - Island Love 11:07 SHAKATAK - Jingle Bells 11:04 NICHOLAS COLE - Whodat 11:00 DEMETRIUS NABORS - Shine (feat. Randy Scott) 10:56 DARREN RAHN - Sonic Boom (feat. Jonathan Fritzen) 10:52 RICK HABANA - Smooth It Out (feat. Paul Brown) 10:47 PAUL BROWN - Let Me Love You 10:43 DAVE KOZ - It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas (Feat. Jonathan Butler) 10:39 GINO ROSARIA - Pool Party 10:35 DANNY LERMAN - Gotcha! 10:31 DR. SAXLOVE - Silent Night 10:27 PATRICK BRADLEY - Sip' n the Breeze 10:22 MARCIN NOWAKOWSKI - Wake up! 10:18 3RD FORCE - Compassion Passion 10:13 MARCUS ANDERSON - For Your Glory 10:07 MARION MEADOWS - God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen 10:04 NILS - Tangie 10:00 NICK COLIONNE - Just Being Me 09:56 JODY MAYFIELD - Epiphany 09:52 PETER WHITE - Pedro Blanco 09:48 NORMAN BROWN - I Miss Your Groove 09:43 REZA KHAN - December 09:39 AL GOMEZ - Paragon 09:35 KIM WATERS - Morning Star 09:31 HERB ALPERT - White Christmas 09:26 KONSTANTIN KLASHTORNI - One Call Away 09:22 NATE HARASIM - Iridescence (feat. Cindy Bradley) 09:17 GERALD ALBRIGHT - Split Decision 09:13 TONY SAUNDERS - All About Love 09:08 DANIEL D. - Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas 09:03 NOTEWORTHY BAND - Surf to Smooth 09:00 PAUL TUVMAN - Here Comes the Sun 08:56 JEFF RYAN - Versace on the Floor 08:52 PETER HEROLD - Better One 08:48 JACKIEM JOYNER - Kineen 08:43 LOWELL HOPPER - Unconditional 08:40 SYLVIA BENNETT - Winter Wonderland 08:36 ZOLBERT - Ocean Breeze 08:31 NICHOLAS COLE - Let's Play 08:28 DAMIEN ESCOBAR - Do You Hear What I Hear 08:25 PATRICK YANDALL - The Beat Generation 08:21 NAJEE - Bottom To The Top 08:16 KEN NAVARRO - Wake Up Call 08:13 CHRIS BIG DOG DAVIS - It's All Love 08:09 MARIEA ANTOINETTE - My Favorite Things 08:04 HIROSHIMA - Daydreamer 08:00 ROB SABADO - Spice Of Life 07:56 PAUL BROWN, EUGE GROOVE - From the Ground Up 07:51 JEREMY HECTOR - Spray Bay 07:47 BONEY JAMES - Drumline 07:44 DR. SAXLOVE - O Come All Ye Faithful 07:40 PETER WHITE - In The Rain 07:36 MARCUS ANDERSON - 2.0 07:32 CASTELLA - Sleigh Ride 07:27 NILS - Georgy Porgy 07:22 CHIELI MINUCCI - Come As You Are 07:18 ROB MALETICK - In My Arms 07:14 MICHAEL SILVERMAN, ERIC MARIENTHAL - Clearwater 07:09 STEVE OLIVER - The Christmas Song 07:05 ERIC MARIENTHAL - I Believe In You 07:00 CRAIG SHARMAT - Nite Moves 06:57 ACOUSTIC ALCHEMY - Stealing Hearts 06:53 JOHN NOVELLO - Give You My World 06:48 KONSTANTIN KLASHTORNI - Drive Me Home 06:43 LISA ADDEO - Touch Me In The Night 06:40 THE JT PROJECT - This Christmas 06:36 JEFF RYAN - Dusk To Dawn 06:32 JEFF LORBER FUSION - Curiosity 06:28 K.VIO, TIM TONIC - The First Noel 06:25 TOM BRAXTON - The J Factor 06:20 KENNEY POLSON - Innocence 06:16 MARCUS JOHNSON - Holding Back The Years 06:12 DEE BROWN - Surrender 06:09 VINCENT INGALA - Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas 06:04 DIRK K - It's On 06:00 DARREN RAHN - D-Luxe 05:55 DOMINIC CAMARDELLA - Shine 05:51 JIM ADKINS - Thinking out Loud 05:47 TIM BOWMAN - Tan Hermosa (So Beautiful) 05:43 SHAKATAK - Christmas Eve 05:39 ALTHEA RENE - Seven Years of Good Luck 05:35 RICHARD ELLIOT - Slam 05:30 BRIAN LENAIR - My Favorite Things 05:26 JODY MAYFIELD - Summer Rain (feat. Michael Tarpley) 05:21 JOYCE COOLING - Little Five Points 05:16 DARREN MOTAMEDY - Candleglow 05:12 ANDRE CAVOR - Without a Doubt 05:09 DAVE KOZ - Last Christmas 05:04 JULIAN VAUGHN - A Feeling 05:00 HIROSHIMA - Always Tomorrow 04:56 MARCUS JOHNSON - The Journey 04:52 BRIAN SIMPSON - Daybreak 04:48 MICHAEL BROENING - Summer In Blue 04:44 MICHAEL SILVERMAN, ERIC MARIENTHAL - Clearwater 04:39 DRIVETIME - Christmas Time Is Here 04:35 PETER WHITE - Play Your Guitar For Me 04:32 STEVE OLIVER - Watching the World 04:28 BEN TANKARD - Christmas Love 04:24 RAGAN WHITESIDE - In Love 04:20 KIM WATERS - Secret Romance 04:16 JOHN NOVELLO - I Can't Stop My Heart 04:12 KONSTANTIN KLASHTORNI - You Look Good 04:08 GERALD ALBRIGHT - O Little Town Of Bethlehem 04:04 LISA ADDEO - She Closed Her Eyes In Paris 04:00 ERIC MARIENTHAL - Just Around The Corner 03:56 JEFF LORBER FUSION - Day One 03:53 KEITH ANDREW - Little Sierra 03:49 ROD TATE - Kool 03:45 MARQUEAL JORDAN - What Key 03:40 SMOOTH SOUL HOLIDAY - Angel's Serenade 03:36 MARC ANTOINE - Groovy Sunday 03:33 JACKIEM JOYNER - This Time Around 03:29 ANDRE DELANO - O Come All Ye Faithful 03:25 JAREZ - Its Over 03:21 VINCENT INGALA - Love On Hold 03:17 NICHOLAS COLE - Please Don't Say No (feat. Tim Bowman) 03:13 DARRIUS JAMAR - Heaven 03:09 AARON BING - Silver Bells 03:05 NORTH 2UNES WOODALL - I Want Her 03:00 JAZZ FUNK SOUL - You'll Know When You Know 02:56 RICHARD ELLIOT - Secrets 02:52 DOMINIC CAMARDELLA - Life Goes On 02:48 JODY MAYFIELD - Manhattan Cafe 02:44 MARCIN NOWAKOWSKI - Give And Take 02:42 ART MORRIS - Let It Snow 02:37 GREGG KARUKAS - Isabella 02:33 NICK COLIONNE - Circles 02:30 JOYCE COOLING - It's Feeling Like Christmas 02:25 JULIAN VAUGHN - All to Myself 02:21 ZOLBERT - Free 02:17 MARCUS ANDERSON - He Lives 02:12 QUINTIN GERARD W. - He Loves to Play for Yahweh (Bonus Track) 02:09 DAVE KOZ - Beneath The Moonlit Sky 02:05 BLAKE AARON - Sunday Strut (feat. Najee) 02:00 OLI SILK - Take Me Away 01:56 STEVE OLIVER - Global Kiss 01:52 JEFF GOLUB - Here Comes Santa Claus 01:48 ZOLBERT - On My Way 01:43 KIM WATERS - Bring It 01:39 KONSTANTIN KLASHTORNI - Forever In Love 01:34 RJC (Rhythm & Jazz Coalition) - Best Part 01:29 GERALD ALBRIGHT - O Holy Night 01:24 SPECIAL EFX - Another Day, Another Smile 01:19 JOE MCBRIDE, THE TEXAS RHYTHM CLUB - Lakewood 01:15 J. WHITE - Reborn 01:11 ROBERTO VALLY - Just Say Yes 01:08 SYLVIA BENNETT - Wrap You Up For Christmas 01:04 MARCIA MIGET - Moonbeams 01:00 MARION MEADOWS - Magic Men 00:55 SERGIO SALVATORE - (There's No Place Like) Home For The Holidays 00:51 TONY SAUNDERS - Theme for Ellen 00:47 JACKIEM JOYNER - That Good Thing 00:43 ADAM HAWLEY - I Don't Mind (Feat. Euge Groove) 00:38 JEFF KASHIWA - Free Flyer 00:34 ROBERT HARRIS - Standing by a Friend 00:29 AARON BING - The Christmas Song 00:25 KENNY PORE - The Road Chosen 00:20 KOOL&KLEAN - Begin Again 00:17 NICHOLAS COLE - Secrets of the Heart 00:12 JODY MAYFIELD - Doing The Do (feat. Jacques Lesure) 00:08 ANDRE DELANO - It Came Upon a Midnight Clear 00:04 DOCTOR X - Magneto 00:00 BLAIR BRYANT - Footsteps in the Dark

[187days]

Day Seventy-Eight

WE DID IT! WE’RE DONE! WOOHOO!!!!

It was a fun day, though. 

It started with a faculty breakfast instead of the usual Thursday morning PLC meeting. Chef B’s culinary students came in early to make eggs, french toast, bacon, sausage, muffins, fruit salad, etc, etc... (plus assorted beverages- most importantly coffee). Our administrators served the food and bused the tables. And it was so nice. It’s also ugly sweater day, so we were all commenting on each other’s style.

My World students heard my final points about the lessons we just did: that they actually can understand difficult material, that it’s important to understand, and that even though I was teaching about something grim I was also teaching about courage and compassion (teachers reeducating kids who’d been taken by ISIS, soldiers fighting to drive them out of the territory they’d taken, the Greek coast guard pulling refugees out of the water, the Polish women getting aid to the people trapped at the border, etc, etc...) My morning classes responded really well to that summation; my Block 4 class was ready to go home, but, y’know, they mostly listened. And after I was done talking, we played a wild round of Kahoot that was half vocab review and half holiday trivia. It was hilarious. I ended class by reading “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus,” which is something of a tradition of mine.

At one point during Block 2, the band came caroling through the hallways. That was a surprise. All of a sudden we just heard, “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing.” I thought it was a movie being shown in another class, at first, but I went into the hall to investigate, saw the band, and motioned for my students to join me. We were treated to a mini-concert, which was totally delightful!

My GOV students and I started class by discussing the current events write-ups they’d done, then went on a huge tangent about party realignment, which was all good with me. The student who’d started us off on that tangent apologized because it took up so much time. One of the others said it was fine because the discussion was more interesting than anything he’d planned to say, so then his classmates demanded a dramatic reading of the opening lines of his write-up, which sent everyone- including me- into a fit of giggles. What else could I do at that point but put on The West Wing? We watched “Lord John Marbury” because it’s the next episode in order, and it’s a good natsec one. 

I spent most of my prep time cleaning my room: washing my boards, wiping down door handles and shelves, sweeping crushed candy cane bits off the floor. We’re still down a couple custodians, so we’re all trying to help out if we can. The Principal came by to say Merry Christmas, as did some of my colleagues, so it was also a fairly social hour.

And, at 3:00, that was that! Mr. F and I went downstairs, got Mrs. T, and we all headed out into a bright and cold afternoon. 

We made it. It’s vacation!

[emy-loves-you]

Wrong Numbers and Useless Gays Chapter 9

Merry Christmas!

Chapter 8 | Masterlist | Chapter 10

Warnings: Crying, Virgil getting teased for basically being a sugar daddy, Logan attempting to deny his ever-growing chocolate addiction

P- (10:00 AM) Happy First Day of Christmas!

R- (10:01 AM) On the First Day of Christmas my true love gave to me

R- (10:01 AM) A Partridge in a Pear Tree

V- (10:02 AM) Okay first of all the 12 days of Christmas are December 25th to January 5th. The partridge is supposed to represent Jesus, whose birthday marks the 1st day.

V- (10:02 AM) Second of all, why isn’t Logan pointing out that Christmas is in 24 days, like he did with me for Halloween?

L- (10:03 AM) No comment.

R- (10:03 AM) Didn’t strike you for the religious type, storm cloud. And Logan won’t say anything because he gets a homemade chocolate Christmas calendar.

V- (10:04 AM) I had a very religious English teacher. And seriously, Lo? I gave you chocolate weekly and you STILL reprimanded my “Days of Halloween” until the chocolate bouquet. How much chocolate are they giving you?

L- (10:04 AM) No. Comment.

P- (10:05 AM) [*Photo attachment*]

[The photo is of a giant wooden calendar leading up to December 25th. It’s painted white with red doors covering the days. It’s obviously been used for many years. The 1st day is open, and there is a gallon-sized container of truffles next to the calendar. The container is half-empty]

V- (10:06 AM) L, please tell me you didn’t just eat half that container of truffles in 5 minutes.

L- (10:06 AM) NO. COMMENT.

R- (10:06 AM) He did it in 3.

L- (10:06 AM) TRAITOR!

V- (10:07 AM) IF YOU’RE THAT ADDICTED TO CHOCOLATE WHY WERE YOU MAD ABOUT THE BOUQUETS?!?!

L- (10:07 AM) BECAUSE I’M PRETTY SURE YOU SPENT $150 ON THEM!

V- (10:07 AM) IT WAS $118!

P- (10:08 AM) Kiddo, you don’t have to spend that much money on us!

V- (10:08 AM) I know, but it makes me really happy to spoil you guys!

V- (10:08 AM) Speaking of which, what do you guys want for Christmas?

R- (10:09 AM) Give us a moment

R- (10:09 AM) Last time you asked this I jokingly said “Katana” and you actually BOUGHT ONE

R- (10:09 AM) Now we actually have to think about what we want.

Virgil snorted, pocketing his phone. He didn’t have anything planned for today, so he went about sketching. He decided to do some elaborate snowflakes, each with their own unique design. He felt his phone go off several times in a row, so he quickly picked it up and scrolled through Princey’s rant.

R- (10:15 AM) We have made our decisions

R- (10:15 AM) Patton would like one of your more elaborate sketches. Something that makes you smile. If you need to buy him something, he would greatly appreciate some new cooking supplies or some stuffed animals.

R- (10:15 AM) Logan would like a new telescope. His original one broke a few days ago and he hasn’t found the time to get a new one. Some chocolate would also be appreciated.

R- (10:15 AM) And I would like a new set of headphones and anything Disney related.

R- (10:16 AM) But if you are going to buy anything for us, please let us return the favor. I understand your desire to not meet, but the thought of you giving us gifts with nothing in return is pure torture.

Virgil bit his lip, a habit he’d quickly developed after he met these guys. He’s already known them for over 6 months, and they’ve shown no signs of recognizing him or trying to use him. In fact, they’ve done the exact opposite. They respect his want to remain faceless; and while they do like the gifts that he gives them, they discourage him from spending more than he’s comfortable with (what they don’t realize is that he’d try and buy them the world if they asked for it). Virgil sighed (another habit that he's started partaking in more and more) and sent a quick response.

V- (10:17 AM) If I send you my address, do you promise to not try and come over while I’m home?

R- (10:17 AM) We swear on our honor that we will only visit when you are not home, and even then it will be to deliver gifts.

Before Virgil could second-guess himself, he already had his address in the group chat.

P- (10:18 AM) I didn’t realize you lived so close to us, Kiddo!

L- (10:18 AM) Indeed. I have also yet to meet anyone in this city named Virgil.

V- (10:19 AM) Yeah, I don’t really get out much and even then I don’t share my name.

R- (10:19 AM) Well, now that we have a place to send gifts, here comes the question: what would you like for Christmas, JDelightful?

V- (10:21 AM) I mean, new art supplies would be nice. If it helps, I love Nightmare Before Christmas and my favorite colors are black and purple

R- (10:21 AM) Alright, Storm Cloud. We’ll let you know when we’re ready to deliver your gifts!

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

(December 18th)

“Remus, Darling, what is that monstrosity in your hands?”

Virgil looked up from his map. They were currently in Aventura Mall, the largest shopping mall in Florida. They liked to come here every year for Christmas shopping, and they had a small set of stores that they went to each time. But Virgil had a longer list this year, so he needed a map to tell him where the other stores were. In front of him stood Janus and Remus. Remus appeared to be holding a pile of condiments. “It’s a hotdog,” he said. He took a bite out of the top, clearly missing the hotdog. Virgil noticed that the inside of the condiment pile was white, and he couldn’t tell if it was mayonnaise, marshmallow fluff, sour cream, or whipped cream. Knowing Remus, it could be any of them, or even a combination of the four. Virgil suddenly wasn’t curious anymore, or hungry.

“Come on, the first store’s just up ahead.” They made their way to the first store, which had one of Virgil’s gifts for Patton.

“Virgil, why are we stopping here? It’s not like we have a very specific set of stores we visit every year.”

Virgil’s eyes were suddenly glued to the sale in front of him, his cheeks bright red. “I just have a few more items on my list this year, that’s all.”

“Oh? May we see?” Virgil nodded, covering the section for Janus and Remus’ gifts before showing them his list.

They stared at the list for a while before Remus burst into giggles. “You really are their Sugar Daddy, aren’t ya?”

Virgil’s face grew even redder, if possible. He quickly turned back to the sale, grabbing what he wanted before making a beeline to the next aisle. “Shut up, Remus. I just like buying stuff for them, that’s all.”

“Right, and that’s definitely not the literal definition of a Sugar Daddy.” Janus replied, picking up one of the items in fake interest. Virgil was going to respond, he really was, but he got a text and he’d rather talk to his crushes than try and explain himself to these knuckleheads.

P- (2:36 PM) Hey, Kiddo! Are you home right now?

V- (2:37 PM) No, I’m at the mall right now. Probably won’t be home until around 8.

P- (2:37 PM) Alright, just wondering! Have a nice time!

Virgil fondly rolled his eyes, going back to the items on his list. The list wasn’t long enough for 5 hours worth of shopping, but Janus will probably want him to come over after their trip. Speaking of Janus, Virgil tuned out the giggling idiots behind him. He’d try and dissuade them from making “Sugar Daddy” comments later; right now, he needed to compare these prices.

Just as Virgil expected, they finished shopping at around 5 and Janus insisted that Virgil stay over for a while. Virgil tried to be as dramatic as possible, summoning his inner Princey as he ‘begrudgingly’ agreed to come over. They hung out for a few more hours, making snarky comments and discussing Virgil’s new “Sugar Daddy” title. Time flew by and before Virgil knew it, he was getting a text from Patton.

P- (7:34 PM) Hey, Kiddo! I just dropped off a box on your back porch. It has wrapped presents from the three of us and my homemade chicken n’ dumplings! I hope you enjoy them (we’re eating them on Christmas Eve) and don’t open your presents until Christmas morning! Hope you like them!

V- (7:35 PM) I’m sure I will, Patton. Thank you

P- (7:35 PM) No problem, Kiddo!

Virgil asked Janus to give him a ride home and sure enough, a large box stood on his back porch. Inside were three wrapped gifts and a closed Tupperware container. Virgil quickly brought the box inside, putting the container in the fridge and the presents under the tree. The three presents were the same size, with red, blue or silver wrapping paper. It was quite obvious who each gift was from, and they were probably all in the same standard boxes. Virgil smiled, going to wrap presents for his crushes.

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

(December 25th)

Virgil woke up to his alarm going off at 10 AM. Which was weird, since he almost always woke up before his alarm went off. His mind went back to last night, with the heavenly taste of chicken n’ dumplings and enough Christmas puns to send Virgil back into a giggle-fest. He slowly got up, meandering his way out to the living room. He quickly sent a text to the group chat.

V- (10:02 AM) Merry Christmas, guys

P- (10:02 AM) MERRY CHRISTMAS, KIDDO!

R- (10:02 AM) MERRY CHRISTMAS, STORM CLOUD!

L- (10:03 AM) Merry Christmas, Virgil.

R- (10:03 AM) Now that you’re up, we can open our presents!

V- (10:03 AM) How long have you guys been up?

L- (10:04 AM) They both woke up at 6 AM. I convinced them to wait for you to wake naturally before opening presents, since most of these gifts were from you.

V- (10:04 AM) Alright, then. Let’s get to opening these gifts.

Virgil decided to wait until the others opened their gifts before opening his. He already knew what he got them, but he had no idea what they got from each other.

R- (10:10 AM) [*Photo Attachment*]

[The photo is of a wrapping paper massacre. In the center of the massacre are a set of gifts. The first one is a red pillow with the name ROMAN embroidered in gold letters, probably from Patton. The next gift is a book about the history of musicals, most likely from Logan. Virgil had gotten him a sleek set of headphones and a stack of Disney t-shirts. The headphones were red with gold stars on the ears and the word PRINCEY written in silver.]

P- (10:11 AM) [*Photo Attachment*]

[The photo is also of a wrapping paper massacre with several presents. There were two Winnie the Pooh posters from Roman and a new cookbook from Logan. From Virgil, there was a set of stainless steel cookware, a light blue stuffed dog, and 4 of Virgil's snowflake sketches. Each snowflake had small details that pertained to a specific person, such as crowns, hearts, stars, and storm clouds.]

L- (10:12 AM) [*Photo Attachment*]

[The photo has all of the wrapping paper neatly set off to the side. There was a navy blue pillow with Logan's name embroidered in silver from Patton. There were several posters of different galaxies from Roman. Virgil had gotten him a large metal telescope and several boxes of chocolate. The telescope was navy blue with silver accents.]

P- (10:12 AM) I LOVE THESE! THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH!

R- (10:12 AM) THESE ARE FANTASTIC! YOU ALL HAVE MY DEEPEST GRATITUDE.

L- (10:13 AM) I also appreciate the gifts, but VIRGIL HOW MUCH DID YOU SPEND?

V- (10:13 AM) No comment ;)

P- (10:14 AM) Did you open your presents, Kiddo?

Virgil turned back to the three boxes, an anxious pit in his stomach. What did they get him? He carefully unwrapped each present. Like he suspected, each present was a standard cardboard box that was taped shut. He turned to Logan's present first. The box contained a new set of art supplies and a sketch pad with a dark purple cover. The first page had a note that read:

"I sincerely enjoy your drawings. The one of the night skies was particularly pleasing. I look forward to seeing more of your art in the future. - Logan"

Virgil blushed at the compliment, turning to Roman's gift. Inside were several Nightmare Before Christmas posters and plushies, with a note explaining that he had bought the posters back in August because "they reminded me of you, storm cloud."

Blushing even more, Virgil turned to Patton's present. When he first opened the box, it looked like a pile of fabric. When he picked it up, however, he was shocked. It was a black hoodie with hand-sewn purple patches. The name “Virgil” was embroidered into one of the patches. Virgil immediately put it on. It was loose and slightly baggy, different from the tight black jacket that he wore as Anxiety. He loved it. Virgil went to text a response when he saw something sticking out of the hoodie pocket. He grabbed the note and felt tears forming in his eyes. It was actually a card, the front saying UR FAM. The inside had a giant heart with the letters ILY. Virgil knew that it was just a pun on family, that this wasn’t actually a confession of love, but a tiny part of him hoped that this meant what he thought it meant.

But he would never tell them that. No, the last thing he wanted was to ruin their friendship. He shakily grabbed his phone and blindly pressed send photo, wanting to send a picture of the gifts like they did. As he angled the camera to show off all of the gifts, he started muttering to himself. “God, these are perfect. It’s all perfect. Goddammit, Virgil, stop crying.” He quickly took the photo and hit send, still misty-eyed from the gifts. Sure, he had gotten gifts from Janus and Remus, but they had never sent such personal gifts, much less heartfelt notes! He quickly wiped his eyes when he felt his phone buzz. He went to check the messages when he felt his heart stop. “Oh Shit.”

V- (10:19 AM) [*Video Sent*]

P- (10:20 AM) Virgil, sweety, why are you crying?

L- (10:20 AM) I believe that Virgil is feeling “emotional.”

R- (10:21 AM) That’s alright, Storm Cloud. There’s nothing wrong with crying when you’re happy! You are happy, right?

Virgil had sent a video. Where he bawled his eyes out and muttered nonsense to the camera. God, Virgil had never wanted to stop existing more than he did now.

V- (10:21 AM) I’m happy, Princey. Embarrassed, but definitely happy.

R- (10:22 AM) No need to feel embarrassed, my Raven. After all, you’ve given us so much over the past few months. Knowing that our gifts made you THAT happy is… quite nice. We care about you, Virgil. It’s nice to be able to show you in ways beyond words.

V- (10:23 AM) Thanks, guys. It means a lot to me.

L- (10:23 AM) It was no issue, Virgil. Now, weren’t you planning on going to your friend’s house today?

V- (10:24 AM) Yeah, I should be going soon. Thanks guys, and Merry Christmas

L- (10:24 AM) Merry Christmas, Virgil.

P- (10:24 AM) Merry Christmas, Kiddo!

R- (10:24 AM) Merry Christmas, Storm Cloud!

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

Taglist: @bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess @itawalrus @arodynamic-enby @sanderssides-angst

[aliciameade]

Santa's Little Helper - Merry Pitchmas 2019

Merry Pitchmas to @brandneweyesx! 

Summary: Beca needs to earn some extra cash so Chloe hooks her up with a job at the mall. And maybe her motives aren't totally innocent.

Rated: T

(Also on AO3)

“Just cover me one more time; you know I’m good for it,” Beca says, giving her best big doe-eyes that she knows will win over Chloe. She doesn’t take advantage of the known weakness that often, but it’s useful when she does.

She watches Chloe sigh yet nod in agreement. “Okay. You know, if you’re so broke, I could try to put in a good word at a few of the stores in the mall. They all staff up for the holidays.”

Beca’s instinct is to reject it; she’s busy enough as it is with figuring out how the Bellas will defend their national title and repeat as champions. Oh, and attending class. She does that most days, too. She’s also flat broke as a result of her packed schedule and Chloe’s paid Beca’s share of the Bella house bills for the last three months.

“Fine,” Beca says, resigned. “But nothing lame like Cinnabon or hocking hand lotions at a kiosk. Get me in at Journeys or Sunglass Hut. Somewhere I can get a discount on stuff I actually want to buy.”

She smiles into Chloe’s shoulder when she gets tackled by a wholly unnecessary and welcome hug. “I’ll do my best. I can’t believe we’re going to work together!”

“Do not get me a job at Victoria’s Secret.”

“What—too tempting to look at all the pretty girls?”

“Shut up,” Beca huffs while pushing Chloe off her. She schools her face into a strong pout with a hefty glare that earns her a giggly kiss to her cheek.

“Don’t worry,” Chloe says, voice dropping to a whisper, “your secret’s safe with me.”

Beca’s pout turns into a furious blush. She’s still getting used to the whole someone-knows-she’s-gay thing. Chloe was the first—and remains the only—person she’s come out to. It’s been kind of nice getting to talk about it, even if it feels a lot like learning to ride a bike without training wheels.

It’s helped that Chloe had made no secret about her own bisexuality, and her current favorite hobby is quietly pointing out (or texting pictures of) girls she thinks Beca might find attractive and prodding her for an opinion. It’s also often accompanied with, “I can talk to her for you if you want.”

Beca’s been dismissive of the options, begrudgingly admitting that, “Yes, that girl is pretty,” but, “No, please don’t talk to her for me.”

“I don’t think I’m ready for that,” is the reason she provides when Chloe asks why not.

“What if we went on a date instead?” is the answer she wishes she could give,” but, “No, please don’t talk to her for me.”

“I don’t think I’m ready for that,” is the reason she provides when Chloe asks why not.

“What if we went on a date instead?” is the answer she wishes she was brave enough to give instead.

“Okay, no lingerie stores,” Chloe laughs, interrupting Beca’s thoughts. “Let me see what I can rustle up for you.”

~-~-~-~-~-~-~

When Beca shows up at the mall the following Thursday afternoon, she’s there via what seems like one step away from an illegal hustle based on the lack of information provided by the man who had called her.

“Southeast entrance. 4:00. Ask for Randall.”

Turns out the southeast entrance isn’t where she’s going; a man identified as Randall leads her through a service entrance and into a network of nondescript, neutral-colored hallways. She’s considering texting Chloe and asking what exactly she’s about to walk into or if she needs to have her family prepare ransom money when Randall pushes open a door into an employee locker room.

Her apprehension eases considerably at the normalcy that comes with it. Just walls of blue lockers, a few benches, and a vending machine.

“163,” he says, pointing vaguely.

“They’re assigned? What is this, high school?” she asks with a laugh, only he doesn’t laugh back and she sobers, apprehension immediately returning. She follows his orders though, glad to put some distance between them, and pops the latch on locker 163.

“What is this?” she asks, pointing at its contents as she turns around, but Randall is already leaving and has offered no further instruction or clarity. “Cool, cool, cool,” she says with a nod as she turns back to face her reality.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~

“We need to talk,” she texts Chloe, accompanied by a photo of the atrocious red and green outfit hanging in her locker before stuffing her phone into the pocket of her green skirt (at least it has pockets). The candy cane-striped leggings are itchy, the corsetted top is, in her opinion, too racy for Christmas, and honestly, don’t even get her started on the hat.

At least she can wear her own boots.

Unsure where to go, she stomps out the same exit Randall had gone and nearly runs into the man waiting on the other side of the door.

“Let’s go,” he says before dialing a number on a weirdly out-of-date flip phone.

“So, are you going to tell me what’s going on? I mean, I have a pretty good idea but it’d be nice to know—“

She stops mid-sentence when a door opens and she’s pushed (not led) right into the open floor of the shopping center just meters away from what is clearly the back of the mall’s installation of Santa’s Workshop, a noisy, bright monstrosity designed as a cash-grab for parents who need Instagram content. She’s avoided it like the plague every season while shopping, and now it seems the avoidance has ricocheted back upon her ten-fold.

She turns around looking for Randall but he’s gone and the door she was booted through is closed and the only thing left for her to do is to explore the obvious: she approaches the back door of the workshop and knocks while considering ding-dong-ditching.

The door swings open and a man that looks to be about her age, maybe a bit younger, sticks his head out. He’s dressed similarly but has a noticeable amount of rouge on his cheeks and he’s definitely wearing body glitter. “Beca?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Just in time; I need a damn break. Get in here.”

She’s half-pulled into the structure which is much less magical inside than its exterior, save for a few deliberately placed decorations that can be seen if one looks in from the front windows. There are a couple of overstuffed chairs, a Christmas tree, a fake fireplace,  and a plain table and chairs that sit in the back out of sight for employees. “Um, I don’t really know what I’m doing here. Literally and figuratively,” she adds hoping for at least a smile but instead, she gets a blank stare.

“You’re an elf. Go be an elf.” With that, her new, nameless coworker disappears out the back as if such an explanation is suitable for someone’s first day on a job, as basic as it might seem.

“And a Merry Christmas to you,” she says with a sarcastic bow in his direction. She checks her phone expecting a response form Chloe but she hasn’t replied so she does the only thing she can do.

She puts her phone away and opens the front door of Santa’s Workshop to the cheers (and screams) of children and a loud, “Ho, ho, ho! Here’s another of my little helpers!” from an unimpressive mall Santa who looks at her with what should be a criminal level of disdain. Or pity. “Well, let’s not keep the good girls and boys waiting!” He gestures at the line that has no end in sight and Beca figures there’s only one thing to do.

“Okay, little guy,” she says, reaching out to take the hand of the next child in line, “let’s visit Santa!”

She’s going to have some very strong words for Chloe when she sees her tonight.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~

“Dude, you said you were going on a break! It’s been at least two hours,” she whispers harshly under her breath when the elf she replaced returns. All he offers is a shrug and takes up a position at the front of the line to pass off the children to Beca.

At least she doesn’t have to walk back and forth trying to control the kids anymore. If they make it as far as her, most of them are agreeable to her lifting them on to Santa’s lap without too much of a fuss.

Her back is aching by the time someone tells her that she can take a dinner break and her hands are so uncomfortably sticky that she knows she’s destined to wake up puking tomorrow thanks to some illness she’s acquired. She pushes through the front door of the workshop and makes a beeline for the giant pump bottle of hand sanitizer, briefly considering bathing with it but settles on slathering it only on her hands and arms.

A check of her phone reveals to her her worst nightmare.

A photo, sent from Chloe, of Beca standing on the porch of Santa’s Workshop looking less than impressed by her situation, staring off into the distance contemplating her existence.

Only the photo was sent to the Bellas’ group chat, not just Beca, and there are at least fifty texts of varying levels of amusement and threats of blackmail that follow it.

She’s typing out a message intended just for Chloe to convey her irritation as she exits through the back door only to find the would-be recipient of her words waiting for her wearing exactly the smile Beca imagined her sporting when she sent her evil, evil photo to the girls.

“You!” she growls, her stride changing to stalk toward her co-captain. “You knew about this!”

“You asked me to get you a job, Bec!” Chloe says, voice so high and eyes so bright with mirth that it’s impossible for Beca to maintain any level of ill-will toward her. “So I got you a job.”

Beca pokes her squarely in the chest. “This wasn’t what I had in mind.”

“No?”

“I specifically said nothing lame.”

“It’s not lame,” Chloe grins. “I love Christmas!”

“Right. You love Christmas.”

Her correction goes unnoticed (or ignored) by Chloe. “I knew you’d make a good elf.”

Beca crosses her arms. “And why is that? Choose your words carefully.”

“Because I knew you’d look adorable in the costume.” Her eyes roam Beca in what feels like a slightly invasive manner. “And I was right.”

Beca blushes despite herself. “I look like an idiot.”

“But an adorable idiot. Are you on break?”

Beca lets her comment slide. “Yeah.”

“Awes. Me, too. Let’s go to the food court.”

~-~-~-~-~-~-~

Beca should have known that going to the food court in full elf attire would garner attention, especially from children. They flocked to her asking about Santa like pigeons to tossed breadcrumbs and if not for the stupidly cute way Chloe watched her while it happened, she would have probably done something to get herself fired on her first day, like yelling that Santa isn’t even real and to get the fuck away from her.

“You know you owe me. Big time,” she says as Chloe walks her back to the workshop.

“If I’m not mistaken, you actually owe me. That’s why you’re here.”

“Right,” Beca grumbles.

“But seeing you dressed up like this is definitely worth more than the money you owe me. Let’s call it even.”

“What? Dude, no,” Beca says, feeling immensely guilty that Chloe’s offering to forgive the nearly $100 she owes. “I’ll pay you back.”

She feels Chloe grab her hand once they’re behind the workshop and sidle up alongside her to whisper conspiratorially. “Tell you what: give me a private tour of Santa’s Workshop after you close. Then we’ll call it even.”

Beca’s stomach flip-flops, maybe from the mall sushi she just ate or maybe from Chloe being so close and sounding so suggestive. “I don’t think I’m supposed to do that.”

Chloe clicks her tongue and the fact that it happens so close to Beca’s ear makes her shiver. “Everyone knows Santa’s Workshop after-hours is the place to be. You just have to know someone to get in. And now I know you.”

Beca can’t help but smirk a little. “You make it sound like it’s the hottest new club.”

“Well, maybe not quite,” Chloe says with a shrug and puts a bit of space between them once again. “But I do want to see it.”

“It’s just a big empty box.”

“Then who cares if I see it?” Damn Chloe and her logic.

“Fine. What time does this thing close? I don’t even know who my supervisor is. Or when my shift ends.”

“Mall closes at 9:00. Santa at 8:30.”

Beca checks her very non-elf-like watch and groans that it’s only 6:30. “Then meet me here at 8:30.”

Chloe gives her one of her excited squeals and a kiss on her cheek before scampering away back toward her much less lame job at Aeropostale with a wave.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~

She spots Chloe spying on her in the open plaza of the mall when she’s helping the other elf close up the workshop (which involves little more than placing a sign in front of the door that reads Santa’s checking his lists - come back tomorrow!) and she throws a glare or two her way.

Chloe laughs at them and when Beca disappears into the workshop house to exit through the back, she sees Chloe all but skipping around it to meet her. Beca lets her fellow elf depart first who stops when he almost bumps into Chloe waiting at the back door. Beca’s immediate reaction is to panic that she’s in trouble but instead, he turns around smiling and says, “Nice one, honey. And on your first day.”

She doesn’t have a chance to ask what he means because he’s out the door and Chloe’s stepping in, closing it behind her.

“Why did he look at me that way?” Beca asks, trying to catch sight of him through a side window as he departs.

“I don’t know,” Chloe says airly. “This is cool!”

“Uh, sure,” Beca says as she steps aside so Chloe can explore what little there is to the place. She watches her try out both chairs, wondering aloud which one is Santa’s and which one is Mrs. Claus’s while taking more than one selfie.

“Come sit on my lap,” Chloe says and it makes Beca wonder if she heard correctly.

“What?”

“Come on,” she repeats, patting it. “Don’t think I’m not getting a picture with Santa’s cutest elf in his workshop.”

“Oh, my God, stop,” Beca says with a roll of her eyes. “I’ll do it, but only if I get photo approval.”

“Deal,” Chloe grins, holding out her arms expectantly.

As if it’s really some big chore for Beca.

She perches cautiously on Chloe’s knee only to get pulled back until Chloe’s arm is around her waist, the other poised in the air with her phone at the ready.

“Say, ‘Have a holly jolly Christmas!’”

“Not saying that,” Beca says but she smiles for the photos anyway.

A few minutes and many photos (and one photo approval) later, Chloe has a new Instagram post and Beca has days of ridicule lying ahead. She’s also still basically on Chloe’s lap, the two of them shifting to share the chair, though Beca’s legs have to drape awkwardly over Chloe’s to fit.

“You know,” Chloe starts as she wiggles to get her phone into her pocket, “I’ve worked at this mall for three Christmases and I’ve never been invited to the workshop.”

“Should I know why that’s significant?”

“Well,” she says as she settles again, her free hand now taking up Beca’s to start playing with her fingers absentmindedly, “this is totes the make-out spot in the mall.”

Beca nearly chokes. “What?”

“I told you: it’s VIP. You have to be invited. It’s like, the law of the mall.”

“And you thought making me an elf would get you in? Dude, I’m not going to be a lookout while you hook up with someone in here.”

“No, silly,” Chloe laughs. “I didn’t mean that. I wanted you to invite me.”

Beca feels like her ears are on fire. “What?”

“You wanna make out?”

Beca’s sure she’s now entirely engulfed in flames, and Chloe’s hand resting on her hip isn’t helping matters. “Dude, what?”

“We don’t have to,” Chloe quickly follows with. “Unless...unless you want to? Maybe? I’m not trying to make anything weird, I just thought, you know, I like you, and now that I know you like girls, too, I just thought maybe...”

Beca’s brain tunes out after that because Chloe’s turned from a giggly, cuddly friend to a rambling ball of nerves; she can even feel how tense Chloe is beneath her. She tunes out because Chloe’s asking Beca if she wants to kiss. Each other. And something about Chloe having thought about it?

“Okay.” She doesn’t know where the word comes from but her brain spits it out and it cuts off Chloe.

“...Okay?” Chloe repeats slowly, as though unsure she heard what she thinks she heard.

Beca feels seconds from full-on panic so she just nods.

“Oh. Cool,” Chloe says, the uncertainty and tension starting to ease. “So…”

“So…” Beca repeats and finds herself adjusting her position next to Chloe so they’re less cheek-to-cheek and more face-to-face.

Or lips-to-lips, as it were. Not that she’s thinking of such things. Mostly her heart os pounding in her ears and her stomach is tingling because there’s no doubt that Chloe’s staring at Beca’s mouth with intent and there’s getting to be less and less distance between them.

Beca holds her breath when they’re so close she can feel Chloe’s. But then Chloe stops.

“Are you sure?” she asks and Beca almost laughs.

“Chloe.” She hears herself and is embarrassed by how whiney it sounds but it makes Chloe’s soft lips split into a grin.

“I just wanted to hear you beg,” she whispers before erasing the last inch between them to press her lips to Beca’s.

Beca’s still reeling from the fact that Chloe is kissing her when her sassy and startingly sexy words register with Beca. She starts to pull away with a grunt of protest, not of the kiss but of Chloe’s cockiness, but Chloe laughs against her lips and slides the arm that’s been around Beca’s waist higher up her back so she can’t get far.

Beca doesn’t really want to get away from Chloe anyway. Or stop what’s currently happening. Because Chloe’s lips feel amazing touching hers and just when Beca starts to sink into it, Chloe changes things up and tilts her head in a way that makes them fit even better.

The sound Beca makes at the touch of Chloe’s tongue to her lips is just as embarrassing as whining about Chloe teasing her but the sound Chloe makes in response is the sexiest thing Beca’s ever heard.

It fuels her. Emboldens her to press a bit forward, to part her lips and let Chloe in to meet her tongue with her own.

That’s all it takes for them to be making out in the darkened Santa’s Workshop. A rambly suggestion and Beca nodding like a bobblehead. If she had known it would be that easy, maybe they could have done this a long time ago.

Not that she has any regrets. Not when Chloe’s tongue is playing with hers in a way that makes Beca think she might be showing off. Or maybe Chloe’s just an amazing kisser.

(She’s pretty sure it’s the latter.)

She doesn’t know how much time passes but eventually Chloe is the one to pull back with a satisfied-sounding groan. “God, that was really good,” she says before leaning in to kiss Beca again, a hard, fast, wet kiss that turns Beca on more in those three seconds than everything prior.

“Yeah,” Beca replies and she can hear in her own voice how breathless she sounds.

“And you look...smokin’ hot dressed up like this.”

Beca almost finds enough snark left inside her to turn that into a comment about Chloe having a weird Christmas kink, except as soon as she thinks about Chloe having kinks of any kind, her mind shuts down again and she’s the one suddenly kissing Chloe, hard, fast, and wet.

Chloe groans again when Beca pulls back and it’s all she can do to not lean right in for more. It feels too good and knowing it’s affecting Chloe like it’s affecting Beca is even better. She manages to refrain, though, because she’s noticing how dark it’s gotten. “Dude, they turned off all the lights.”

“Mall’s closed,” Chloe says, voice sounding as dreamy as she looks.

“And it’s okay for us to still be here?”

“Security will let us out. Do you want to do this again?” Chloe’s question follows her comment about security with no warning and it catches Beca off-guard.

“Uh, I mean…” she stumbles over what she should say; she doesn’t want to sound like the horny college student she is, and she doesn’t want to sound like she’s rejecting Chloe’s offer (?), but she definitely wants to do this again. “Amy’s crashing at Bumper’s tonight,” is how she answers it and it’s not until Chloe’s eyes go wide with surprise that she realizes how that sounded.

“I just meant...oh, my God,” she rushes, trying to figure out how to explain that she didn’t mean it ‘that way’ except she kind of did, just not all-the-way that way. Except despite tonight being their first kiss, she’s pretty sure she would sleep with Chloe tonight if things went that direction.

It’s not like she’s never thought about it.

“I just meant we can hang out in my room and be alone and see what happens.”

Chloe’s smiling at her struggle to answer and it only grows. “‘See what happens’? What if what happens is more of that?”

Beca thinks it’s a dumb question. Dumb dumb dumb. “Then that would be fine,” she says with a nod.

“Then let’s go home,” Chloe whispers before pulling Beca into one more kiss, all of it leaving Beca’s legs unsteady when she finally rights herself so they can leave the workshop.

“I can’t get over this,” Chloe says with a tug to Beca’s skirt before standing up as well. “Can you keep it on when we get home?”

“In your dreams.”

Chloe hums thoughtfully as she takes Beca’s hand to lead her out of the workshop and through the hidden hallways of the mall to the exit. “Oh, it will be.”

Beca has a lot of questions about that: what exactly she means, what exactly she’d be dreaming of, what exactly what’s happening means for them as friends, and if it means something more.

Instead of asking about any of that, however, she says, “I didn’t forget what you did. You’re not off the hook for this elf thing.”

The look Chloe tosses her over her shoulder makes her breath catch. “Guess I’ll have to make it up to you.”

The End

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, miss-shiva-adler!

For @miss-shiva-adler. Darling! This is my way of wishing you a Merry Christmas! I am equally happy and disappointed because this story was not what I had in mind for you, but no matter how much I tried to write the one I wanted, I just couldn't. On the other hand... I'd like to believe I brought my A game out with this story. I'd also like to apologize in advance if this isn't your cup of tea after all. I genuinely feel like I was testing limits here and bending rules there and all I can hope at this stage is that I didn't end up crossing the line I've been tiptoeing in the next 7,000 (or so) words. Once again, I wish you Merry Christmas!

Hello people! First of all, thank you for even considering giving this story a chance! <3 I would like to warn everyone, that this fic is DARK. The tags are not there for the crack, please don't take them lightly. Also, I’m not sure how this happened. This is not how this was supposed to go, in all honesty.. I have no idea what just happened. But it did. All in all, this fic is bloody brilliant in my humble opinion, so if the tags and my warning was still not enough to scare you away... then be my guest!

Read On AO3

*****

The Last of Us

”If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course, on where you stop your story.”

- Orson Welles, The Big Brass Ring

He stood rooted to the spot, eyes wide in fear as he stared at the man in front of him.

He felt his heart beating in his throat, a fast, erratic thumping as fear clutched at his heart, squeezing the air out of him in a shaky breath.

He looked into the familiar golden amber eyes and knew that it was over.

His eyes moved to the gun pointed at him, cold and deadly as the man moved his finger, resting it on the trigger.

28 days ago…

He woke up with a dull headache, a thumping behind his eyelids, growing stronger and stronger with each blink. He groaned as he sat up, eyes taking in his surrounding but seeing nothing familiar.

The small room he was in, was rather simple. The walls were painted in white, bare around him, lacking any personal touch, not even a picture or a photograph. The bed was comfortable, a very simple single bed with white sheets and covers and a lone pillow. He glanced down at the bedside table and picked up the clock placed on top. The analogue digits showed that it was exactly 07:00 am. His eyes landed on a sink right next to a door before he spotted a small round mirror above it.

He frowned as he pushed himself off the bed, walking slowly towards the mirror, almost afraid of what he would see. He blinked once, twice, gazing at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes took in every detail, the way his black hair flopped to the side, soft strands falling onto his forehead. He stared into his own eyes in the mirror glass, trying to identify the exact colours of them. They were a mixture of amber and brown with gold flecks. He looked at his small nose, then down onto his cupid’s bow... his thin lips. His tongue darted out to lick his dry lips in a nervous gesture. He lifted his hand, touching his cheek, fingers running along his jaw line.

“Who the hell am I?” His voice came out a hoarse whisper, but whether it was due to not using it for a long time or due to the fact he had only woke up now, he didn’t know.

He looked down at his body, he was wearing a simple white trouser and t-shirt with a number 9 printed on the left side of the chest along with a pair of white shoes that somehow reminded him of those cheap, canvas shoes that prisoners would wear.

His eyes widened, shoes and clothes forgotten as a dreadful thought occurred to him. Was he a prisoner?

8

He spent 28 days, stuck in the building with no windows, no doors that would open. Alone.

He wished he could tell where he was, why he was there, but the only thing he ever managed to remember was his own name and even that, took him several days to recall.

The first time it happened, he wasn’t sure if it was a dream or a hallucination. It felt like a memory, familiar and personal. Almost like a glimpse from the past or perhaps a vision, created by his mind, he wasn’t sure.

“I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Magnus.” He felt his lips tugging into a smirk as he held a hand out to the other man.

He watched with a little flutter in his heart as suddenly, a bright smile spread across the other’s face, lighting up his hazel eyes before grabbing his hand.

“I’m Alec.”

He wasn’t sure who Alec was, but from that day, he stopped thinking about himself as a number in some kind of system and instead he thought of himself as Magnus.

There were days between the first time and the next and it left him once again with more questions than answers.

He walked slowly up to the wall, phone in his hand as he scrolled through his contacts, stopping on a certain Pretty Boy . He bit his lip before pressing the call button, painted nails shining in the light.

“Hello. Who is this?” He heard a deep voice coming through from the other end and he smiled to himself before answering.

“Alexander, hi. It’s Magnus. We met the other day,”

“Uh, yeah. What’s up?”

“I was just thinking, it was very nice getting to know you.” He said as he walked around in circles, trying to play it smooth. “You seemed…sympathetic.” He blurted before closing his eyes in embarrassment. That was as far from smooth as possible. He picked up a book he was reading the night before, flipping it in his hand as a nervous tick. “Would you like to go out for a drink sometime?” He added, thinking that if his previous words didn’t scare the man away, he might as well go for it.

“That sounds fun.” Came the reply and Magnus stopped fidgeting with the book in his hand, smiling happily.

He still didn’t know who Alec was and couldn’t recall how he got his number, but the fact he liked the other man became very obvious. He spent night after night lying in bed, thinking about him. Was he out there? Was he... missing him? Did he realize he disappeared? Maybe they never managed to go on that date and they never spoke after.

He spent his days in loneliness, walking the endless corridors, looking into room after room, hoping desperately to find anything that could give him answers.

He started to doubt more and more that he was in prison. A prisoner? Maybe. But not in the common sense. There were no guards, no other inmates. He frowned, trying to remember how he knew what a prison was like, but all he managed to achieve was a throbbing headache and some nausea.

He sat in the small, kitchen like room, eating anything he could find and deemed suitable for human consumption. There was enough food in the cupboard for month by the look of it. He wondered when and who put them there, he even stayed awake for two nights, hoping to catch someone coming in, but it turned out to be pointless. No one was coming.

The next time he remembered something about Alec, it became clear that they have had gone on the date and it turned out rather successful.

He felt pump limps pressing against his own, eager and so ready to please. He felt the lips against his, opening slowly, letting his tongue in, meeting it halfway. It made him press his body closer to the other, hands moving to cup his face as they got lost in the kiss.

He kept replaying the memory in his head, occasionally touching his lips with his fingertips.

There were moments when he wondered if Alec was perhaps no more than a trick of his mind, someone created solely to make him feel less lonely. It was a bitter thought. One that sent him to heave above the toilet, stomach turning, throat burning.

They were standing in front of each other and he could see the small signs shoving just how nervous his boyfriend was.

“I was thinking... maybe we could move in. Together.” Alec said in one breath and it took him almost an embarrassingly long time to reply.

“Only if I can have a walk-in closet.” He said seriously but he felt the beginning of a grin tugging at his lips.

“You mean that?” Alec asked with a wide smile, full of happiness, before stepping closer to him.

He was angry. Whoever Alec was... they lived together. So, where was he? He counted the days, and he was there for almost a month, surely, he would realize something was missing in that time. He felt his stomach turning with nausea and his head spinning with all the questions he had with no one to answer them.

He wondered what he could’ve done, making the other man give up on him, forgetting about him.

He systematically explored every inch of the building, pulling everything apart, turning the entire place upside down. He knew well enough that there was nothing to find but it made the anger and fear subdue even if only for a short period of time.

He watched his boyfriend leaning over the pool table with a cocky smirk while he stood motionless, cue in hand as he raised a single eyebrow.

“It’s all about the angles.” His boyfriend explained before pulling the cue back slowly and with a forceful, punctual move, he sent the first ball into the hole. “Like archery.” He added with a smile, turning towards Magnus, motioning for him to go next.

He tried to hide his smile as his boyfriend turned away, taking a quick sip at his drink and he quickly leaned forward, pushing two balls in with ease.

He straightened up, finding his boyfriend staring at him with wide eyes that instantly ripped a laugh out of him.

“Oh darling, did no one ever tell you, that if you can’t find the one being hassled at a pool table, it’s probably you?” He asked.

“Oh, you’re on.” His boyfriend laughed with a shake of his head.”

Magnus was desperate to get out. He went from room to room, wall to wall, pounding and kicking the locked doors until he was out of breath, until his hands were bruised.

Whoever locked him up, made sure that there was no way he could ever get out of this hell hole. There wasn’t a single clue anywhere about what this place was. He hated it. He hated the white walls, the white floor, the tiny number nine on his t-shirt. He hated it all.

He sank down along the wall, back tilted against the cold tiles and took a deep breath. He felt his throat closing up, making it harder and harder to breathe.

Then he heard it. A door opening.

He was on his feet in seconds, the rapid movement giving him a whiplash as he swayed on the spot.

He felt his heart almost beating out of his chest, scared and hopeful at the same time.

He tried to listen to any noise, but he could barely hear anything apart from the buzzing in his ears.

Before he could make his mind up whether to hide or to go and see who was there with him a figure turned at the corner, coming to a halt as he spotted Magnus pressed to the wall.

It took him a minute until he could speak, his eyes strained on the man in front of him as he whispered.

“Alec?”

It seemed to pull out the other from whatever shock he was in, making him blink rapidly as he took a step closer to Magnus.

“Magnus.” He breathed, not a question but a statement. Before Magnus had a chance to do a much as blink, Alec was standing a few feet away from him, hands in the air between them a clear invitation.

“Are you really here?” The man asked with tears in his hazel eyes, making Magnus unable to do anything but nod.

He didn’t know who moved first, but the next moment he found himself between strong arms, his own grasping the man’s t-shirt, holding onto him with everything he had.

7

”You are beautiful.” Alec whispered in the dim light of his bedroom before cupping his face gently, kissing him with love and care. He felt his skin tingling where his fingertips touched, leaving goosebumps in their tracks. They spent hours and hours discovering each other, tangled together in the sheets, breathing and moaning, whispering “I love you”s into the dark.”

Magnus spent the whole day subtly avoiding any eye contact with Alec.

It’s been over a week since they met, and they never left the side of the other ever since.

At the start it was both awkward yet familiar to be around the other man. He felt like he knew him and deep down he knew he did, but having a glimpse of memories of him here and there, didn’t feel enough.

First Magnus hoped that Alec would have more knowledge of their situation, but it turned out that he had even less than what Magnus had. He told him about a few memories he had with him, a dinner night, some walk in the city were they placed a lock on the wall but apart from that, Alec had as much idea about the place or their reason for being there as Magnus.

They spent the next couple of days coming up with possible options from prison to hospital, but it didn’t bring them any closer to find answers.

“Neither of those add up. Not even with the numbers.” He said as he gestured towards the small 9 on Magnus’ t-shirt before he glanced down into his number 4 before continuing with a sigh. “Say we are prisoners, where are the guards? And other inmates? I mean, even if we did something absolutely horrific and were deemed to be the most dangerous criminals of all time, it doesn’t explain the lack of prison system. There aren’t even cameras.” Alec explained. Magnus suddenly remembered a tv-show about two brothers and prison. He couldn’t name it, nor any of the people in it, but from what he knew, Alec was right.

“Yeah, we are definitely not in a hospital either. There are no nurses, no doctors, no other patients. Although the white walls and sterile feeling is definitely there.” Magnus said, getting a nod from Alec.

“Plus, if we were, I’m sure our family would have visited by now.” Alec said quietly.

“You… you remember them?” Magnus heard the words slipping out before having the chance to stop them.

Alec shook his head with a humorless chuckle.

“I wish.” He said and looked at Magnus with an odd look.

“What is it?”

“It’s just, strange. I remember things. But I don’t know how. I know things but I can’t remember when or how I learnt about them. The only thing I seem to remember clearly is… well, you.”

“I remember you too.” Magnus said with a smile, before gently touching Alec’s hand.

6

On the good side of things, it helped Magnus to get to know Alec a bit better and to learn about him; like how he woke up super early, how he would spend hours to do push-ups and god knows what each day, that rolling his eyes seemed to be his default reaction to anything and everything, that his whole face lit up when he smiled, that his voice was always a few octaves deeper in the mornings, he also blushed on cue and stuttered when he was embarrassed, but was still charismatic, even authoritative on occasions which somehow always made Magnus’ knees weak.

Alec has been there for a lot longer than Magnus. He wasn’t sure in days, he lost track of the days after he reached one hundred and Magnus tried his absolute best not to dwell on that information or try to guess at which point will he lose the track of days.

The man was blunt and honest but not in a rude way. He also made jokes that were a tad bit too sarcastic but with no heat behind them. He was also caring and paid attention to everything that Magnus said and to the things he didn’t. He seemed to sense when Magnus wanted to be alone, leaving him to himself without trying to engage him in a conversation. He also spotted where Magnus felt unable to stay still and then they went for a walk, observing the place where Alec was staying until now. The part of the building Alec was in, seemed a lot bigger than his own. Maybe even three times of its size. It turned out that the door separating the two parts of the building could be only opened from Alec’s side and since Alec has spent majority of his days in the opposite corner, the furthest from where Magnus was, he never heard any noise. Not until that one day, when the sound of someone shouting and beating the walls echoed in the entire wing.

Despite the significantly spacious environment on the other side of the door, it seemed to be providing no information about their situation.

In fear of being separated again, or in Magnus’ case, waking up to loneliness realizing that Alec was nothing more than a dream, a hallucination, a mirage he never truly had and could never reach, they spent the nights together, two beds pushed next to each other.

They slept together, but save for the occasional hugs and comforting touches, they never got closer.

So, waking up one morning with an erection after having erotic dreams about the other, Magnus had no idea what to do.

It was obvious that they were once a couple. They lived together. For all he knew, they might have been married, but Alec never made a move and neither did Magnus.

Hence, Magnus stood in front of the sink, trying to splash some water on his face.

“Are you okay?” Alec asked, voice raspy in the morning as he squinted at Magnus.

“Yeah.” He breathed as he blinked at the man, smiling at the sight of his bed head.

Alec looked exactly like the version in his memories, saved for the slightly longer hair and beard.

They had a shower with cold water and soap, but there was nothing to shave.

The clear lack of anything that could be used to harm others, or even themselves, was both surprising and expected.

Magnus blinked a few times, only realizing that he must have spent this whole time staring at Alec.

Alec gave him a look that he couldn’t exactly decipher. He was frowning but there was no sign of annoyance. It almost seemed as if he was thinking about something, really hard.

He opened his mouth to ask him about it, but before he could do so, Alec jumped out of bed, stopping in front of Magnus with barely a few inches separating them.

The close proximity of the other man brought all the memories of his dream back with a renewed force, vivid pictures of the man, all naked and sweaty flushed before his eyes.

His eyes met a pair of hazel ones, full of hope, want and love and before he knew it, they were kissing.

It was nothing like their first kiss, nor like the one they shared in his memories from last night.

This kiss was like a moment of freedom, a freedom he didn’t know he was desperately yearning for, like a gulp of fresh air after being confined between four walls for so long.

He felt a hand gently touching his face, while the other pulled him closer by his waist and despite the absurdity of their situation, he would not be anywhere else in that moment.

They parted slowly after a handful of minutes, resting their foreheads together as both of them tried their best to catch their breath.

5

A few hours later, Magnus walked slowly, giggling as he raised his hands, trying to feel anything in front of him.

“I’m not gonna walk you into a wall.” He heard Alec’s voice coming from right behind him, his lips almost touching his ear and it sent shivers down his spine.

“I know.” Magnus said with a smile and he meant it. He trusted Alec with his life.

“Okay. I’m gonna move my hands now, but please keep your eyes closed.” Alec instructed before doing as he said, stepping away from Magnus.

He had no idea what Alec was up to, but he disappeared in the kitchen thirty minutes ago or so, and Magnus wasn’t allowed to follow him. Until now.

“Ready? You can look now.” Alec said and Magnus raised an eyebrow at the sudden change of his tone, all of a sudden, he sounded nervous and it only intrigued Magnus’ curiosity.

He opened his eyes, and he felt his mouth parting in surprise.

On the table was a dinner. Probably the most pathetic dinner he ever had, yet the most touching one.

“I know it’s not much; I mean...” Alec gestured with his hand, oblivious to the tears of happiness in Magnus’ eyes.

He shook his head and opened his mouth to explain that it was perfect. That Alec was perfect, but the next moment he felt his breath hitching in his throat and he fell to his knees, his hands grabbing his hair as he groaned in pain.

“Magnus!” Alec shouted and he saw him move towards him as his world shifted, the image blurring in front of his eyes before it changed completely.

He walked onto a balcony and he found the most beautiful candle lit dinner table he’s ever seen. Red rose petals were covering some of the tables as well as the ground. It was dark, starts peppered across the sky, the only light coming from the dozens of candles placed around the balcony, illuminating the small circular table.

“Magnus. Magnus!” He came back to Alec hoovering above him, white as a sheet, concern and worry plastered across his face.

Magnus sat up with a groan, the pain was gone as suddenly as it appeared.

“Oh my-.“ Alec choked before hugging him tightly.

He hugged him back, felt his body trembling under his touch.

“Just a flashback.” Magnus explained with a wave of his hand as he let Alec to pull him to his feet.

“Was it because of the dinner?” He asked with so much guilt in his voice that Magnus shook his head, trying to ignore how he blatantly lied to the other man.

“Of course not.” He said with a smile before pressing a kiss to Alec’s lips, pulling him to the table.

After their ‘date’, the rest of the day passed in a blur as they laid in bed, kissing and smiling at each other and for the first time since Magnus could remember, he felt happy.

Truly happy as Alec pulled him close, his head resting on the man’s chest, his heartbeat steady and calming as they drifted in and out of sleep.

When he woke up, he found the bed next to him empty and his heart skipped a beat.

Alec was gone.

He sat up, head spinning, vision blurring as he fought against the panic crawling up his throat.

“ALEC!” He shouted, panic and fear laced in his voice as he willed his body to move forward.

He felt his legs shaking as he took a step closer to his door, but before he could reach it, it opened with a loud bang, revealing a panting Alec, eyes wide as he scanned Magnus, looking for any sign of injury.

“F…F-Fuck...” Magnus breathed, legs giving out from under him as he collapsed against the bed, hands moving up to cover his face.

“Magnus. What happened? Are you okay?” Alec kneeled in front of him, his hands moving to his, peeling them away softly from his face.

“I woke up and you were gone.” Magnus whispered softly as he looked away from Alec, feeling awfully vulnerable all of a sudden.

“I was... oh Magnus, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think you w-. I didn’t think. I’m so sorry.” Alec breathed as he pulled Magnus into a hug, one hand caressing his back while the other cupped the back of his neck, allowing Magnus to bury his head in the crook of his neck.

“I can’t lose you. I can’t. You are all I have.” Magnus muttered into Alec’s neck.

“You won’t. I promise. I… I love you Magnus.” Alec said quietly before moving away just enough to look into Magnus’ eyes.

“I love you too, Alec.” Magnus said before pulling him back, hugging him tightly.

“I... found something.” Alec said after a few minutes and Magnus sat up suddenly.

“What?” Magnus asked, trying not to get his hopes up too much, but it was hard considering that after all this time, they finally found something.

Alec walked him to the other end of building, before stopping in front of a door.

Magnus raised an eyebrow, glancing at Alec, not entirely understanding what Alec’s discovery was.

The door was there before too, steel double doors, shut closed at the middle.

They spent half a day previously, trying to get it open with no luck.

Alec glanced as his boyfriend, before removing what turned out to be a panel at the left side, revealing a small pin panel and a handprint scan.

“Oh my god.” He was stunned as he stepped closer, hardly believing to his eyes.

“I haven’t touched it. Not sure what it would do. I wanted to talk to you first.” Alec explained.

“I’m sure it’s like any other PIN pad, and something would definitely happen after three trial, but if it is like one, it also means that it resets after 24 hours.” Magnus explained with a frown, wondering how was he sure about that information being right.

“Okay, let’s say you are right. Still. It’s a four-digit pin. That means 10,000 variations. If we try three each 24 hours, that means we would be here for nine years trying out all of them and that is if it doesn’t block the entire system. Or worse.”

Magnus blinked at Alec for a moment or two.

“Let’s try the scan.” He said with a shrug, before reaching out, just to have Alec catch him by the wrist before he could touch it.

“We have no idea what happens if the scan fails.” Alec said, eyes wide with fear. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I can’t think of anything worse than spending nine years here.” Magnus said, looking into Alec’s eyes, hoping that the other would understand. They had to try.

After what felt like hours of silently staring at each other, Alec closed his eyes.

“Okay.” Alec said with a sigh. “But let me go first?” He asked and Magnus had to bite his tongue to refrain himself from saying no. After all, it was his idea and he couldn’t back down now, so instead he grabbed Alec’s other hand, intervening their fingers before giving him a firm nod.

He watched as Alec let out a shaky breath before placing his hand on top of the scan.

The screen quickly flashed red. “Access denied.” Before turning black again.

They stood there, unmoving for a long few second, waiting for any kind of consequence.

“Well, no apocalypse.” Magnus said with a grin, trying to lighten the mood.

He raised his hand, but once again, Alec caught it.

“What if that’s why we are here?”

“What?”

“What if we are the last ones alive?” He asked and Magnus wasn’t sure if Alec was joking or serious for a moment.

“One way to find out.” Magnus said before pressing his hand onto the cold surface of the scanner.

He felt his heart jumping up to his throat as the screen fleshed green with the two words he never truly expected to see. “Access granted.”

4

They simultaneously took a step back, holding onto each other’s hand as the doors opened slowly, revealing another room.

Contrast to the rest of the building, it was rather dark, all steel surfaces.

They looked at each other and he found that everything he could say to the man was already reflecting in hazel eyes.

With a deep breath, they walked in.

Magnus wasn’t sure how, but he knew the purpose of the room as soon as his eyes scanned the room.

They were in some kind of laboratory.

He glanced at Alec and with a nod they parted ways, never losing sight of the other as they explored around. He walked towards with two computers on top, but his eyes were already on the sea of papers, haphazardly scattered across the desk, some of them lying on the floor. Magnus’ eyes widened as he looked at the notes.

There were numerous files on the computer as well as lying around in a mess.

He frowned as he picked up a notebook and his eyes ran over the seemingly random dates and what seemed like symptoms.

06/06/2025 – slurred speech, clear indication of hallucinations, depression 12/07/2025 – weight loss, inability to speak, memory loss – advanced symptoms of CJD 01/09/2025 – entered final stage 28/09/2025 – death

He turned the page and found a continued list of symptoms, all of them assigned to different dates.

He turned to the front and found the first note dated back to 2018. The last one was dated three months ago. He looked at the computer and his eyes caught a series of files, each numbered from 0-9. His eyes landed on nine. He felt his heart beating faster as he moved the cursor over it and tapped it twice to open it.

“What the hell?” The words left his lips in a whisper.

On the screen… was him. His name in big capital letters: MAGNUS BANE. But that was not what shocked him… no… it was the footnote under the name.

Subject number: Nine. Trial: same as subject Four Status: initial stage Information on his blood pressure, blood sugar level along with many more he couldn’t focus on.

He wasn’t speaking loud enough for Magnus to make out the words, but it was audible enough to allow him to pick up on the tenseness in his voice, the nervous tone to his words. Without thinking, he turned away from the computer and rushed to him.

There was someone else with them.

“Alec?” He called out as he stepped into the room and he felt his world shifting, the ground almost slipping from under his foot as his eyes landed on the other man in the room, standing opposite to Alec.

Magnus knew him. His hair was longer, he looked older… but everything else was the same. The small nose, the thin lips, the amber eyes… Magnus looked at himself… but this time not in a mirror... but across from him in the room.

“Hello, Nine. I’m Magnus. Magnus Bane. The real one.” The man said calmly, almost matter-of-factly as he locked eyes with Magnus.

“What do you mean the real one?” Alec asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he looked between the two men.

“I mean what I said. I am the original Magnus Bane.” The man explained and he raised a hand towards Magnus as he spoke “He is the ninth one.”

“I... I don’t... I can’t...” Magnus stuttered as he took a step back, something nagging at the back of his mind, something that was becoming clearer and clearer since he found those notes, but he couldn’t put a name to it.

“It’s alright. Calm down. There is no need to panic.” The other Magnus said, hands raised in a defensive move as he took a step forward, now standing closer to Alec than Magnus was.

“I don’t understand. Any of this.” Alec said, his eyes flicking between them.

“Oh, Alexander. You have no idea how happy I am to see you.” The older man said as he smiled gently at Alec, lovingly even. “I thought you were dead.”

“What?” Alec whispered as he took a step back away from the older man, towards Magnus and it took Magnus everything he had in him to stop himself from reaching out to his lover.

“I mean... you were meant to be dead. A long time ago. The fact that you are here… it’s a miracle... it’s proof that it worked.” The older Magnus smiled happily, tears welling in his eyes as he looked at Alec with such intensity that Magnus almost believed his words.

“What worked?”

“The treatment. I found the cure.”

“The cure for what?” Alec asked once again, and it was becoming clear in his voice that he was close to losing his patience.

“For the disease that killed my husband. My Alexander.”

“What?” Magnus blurted, but now the confusion came a certain kind of dread that settled in his chest, growing bigger and bigger with each passing second.

“I met Alexander when we were both young, in our early twenties. In 2012.” He said with a deep breath and a barely-there smile as he looked at Alec. “We fell in love, fast and hard. One could say that neither of us saw it coming, by the time we realized what he had we were both in too deep. Our love for one another was like no other love out there. We were invincible. Or so we thought. Until Alexander got sick. It started with depression... and for a long time, we thought it was only that. But then... other symptoms came. The dizziness, the headaches, the anxiety, the difficulty to focus… to speak. By the time we realized what the problem was… he was almost at the end of the initial stage. I will never forget the day when we sat in the hospital and the doctor came in to inform us that he had Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease.

There is nothing worse than being told that the man you love more than life itself has a condition that is incurable. That from now on.. they aren’t focusing on treating him and trying to save his life... but instead now we wait… for the inevitable end. I think a part of us died on that day. The part of us full of plans and hopes for the future. We were just told that we won’t grow old together... that we won’t be here next year... that in a few months... death will do us part. I tried everything. I tried treatment when other doctors refused to treat him. I spent days and nights trying to find a way to save the man I loved. And I failed. I watched him grow weaker and weaker each day... until one autumn morning... he stopped fighting.” Magnus remembered the first notes from 2018 and he felt his breath hitching in his throat as realization slowly settled in.

“The day before he died... I promised him that I will find a way. And I spent the last decade or so, working on keeping my promise. After years of research… I found a way to clone people. I used his DNA I had from previous tests… and I created him. The man I loved. And I couldn’t have been happier. I had Alexander back. But then it started again... the depression... the balance and coordination problems... and less than a year after... I lost him again. To the same disease. The DNA I had from him was after he got sick... so the new Alexander also received the disease… So, I created a new one. He lived for even shorter than the previous one. I realized that this way... I can find a cure. I have someone with the disease... I can do tests and trial treatments… But losing you, over and over again... it killed me. It broke my heart and no matter how many times I watched you leave me... it never got easier... so I decided to create a clone of myself... infect it with the disease... and try to find a cure. The disease in my case was even more peracute. The second one died less than half a month after exposing him to the illness.

I created the last clone of Alexander... over a year ago. When I saw the first signs of the advanced stage... I decided that I can’t watch him die again in my arms... you were meant to die within months. No one with Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease lived longer than a year after the initial symptoms appeared. But you are still here... and you speak...and...”

“You… you cloned me? Us?” Alec asked, voice laced with shock and utter disbelief.

“I had to. It was the only way to be with you again.” The older Magnus said with such softness in his voice that it almost made Magnus believe that it was regret woven into his words.

“How many... clones did you make?” Alec asked and Magnus felt his stomach dropping.

“Nine.” He whispered, his eyes moving down onto the number etched into his t-shirt.

“Yes.” The other man nodded as he looked at Magnus before quickly turning away from both of them. He walked away slowly to the desk. “You see... the first three Alexanders I created passed away quickly... it was after I created you, number four – he said before pointing at Alec’s t-shirt – that I realized I can’t lose you again. So, I created Magnus one, which if we want to be precise was number five. Ninth here was the last one.” He said still not looking at them, only nodding towards Magnus’ direction vaguely before turning around.

“But now... I have the cure. I have you. I don’t need him anymore.” He said as he pointed a gun at Magnus.

He stood rooted to the spot, eyes wide in fear as he stared at the man in front of him. He felt his heart beating in his throat, a fast, erratic thumping as fear clutched at his heart, squeezing the air out of him in a shaky breath. He looked into the familiar golden amber eyes and knew that it was over. His eyes moved to the gun pointed at him, cold and deadly as the man moved his finger, resting it on the trigger.

He felt tears in his eyes, mourning for himself and all the others. The thought of all of them... having thoughts and feelings and memories... they were real. They were real, living and breathing people.

All created in a lab by a man who couldn’t let go of his love.

As he stood there, eyes not leaving the other’s face.. he mourned for him a bit too. As twisted as it sounded... he felt sad for the older man. To imagine a love so strong... that it was enough to wash away any morals or ethics the man once must have held as a doctor, just to be reunited with his lover.

He remembered vividly all the memories he had with Alec and realized that they weren’t his memories but memories of the man in front of him. It broke his heart.

He knew, he felt the love the real Magnus felt for Alec. The respect, the admiration he felt for the other man. He wondered what his Alexander would have said if he saw the man he loved, once kind, caring and so considerate of everyone around him to turn into someone so lonely and hurt by the cruelty of life. That the man he loved was willing to play God, to break rules and overstep boundaries so easily just to be with him again.

He closed his eyes, allowing a single tear to roll down his cheek. He wanted to live. He desperately wanted to experience the world, all the moments he thought he once had, but turned out to be nothing but someone else's memories. He selfishly wanted that happiness to be his. Even if he knew that they were never his to start with.

He prepared for the end and for a fleeing moment, he wondered if this was what Alexander felt like at the end of his condition. This gut-wrenching fear and helplessness knowing that no matter what he did, the end was coming, and he had no way of stopping it.

He mourned for him too.

He heard the sound of the gunshot and he squeezed his eyes shut so hard it was almost painful, but apart from the self-inflicted pain, he didn’t feel anything.

He opened his eyes and found the the older Magnus lying on the floor, Alec on top of him.

“Alex-.”

“Stop.” Alec grunted; hand curled around the man’s wrist that was holding the gun.

He watched as Alec forced the gun out of his hands before turning it around, pointing at the older man under him.

“What are you doing?” Magnus panted, eyes wide in shock as he was pinned to the floor. Magnus watched the two of them, unable to move.

“I... I…” Alec stuttered and even though he couldn’t see his face, his back was turned towards Magnus where he stood, he could hear the pain in his voice, tears choking him as he tried to speak.

“I have all his memories... I remember everything. The first time you met, your first date, your first kiss… the first time you made love to him. I know how much he loved you, how he adored you. This isn't what he would have wanted, Magnus.” And this.. this isn’t how I want to remember you Magnus. And I know he wouldn’t want to either.” He said, shoulders shaking with silent cries.

“Alexander...”

“You killed... so many of us. Over and over again. That is not something the man I fell in love would ever do. I died Magnus. I wish... I wish you would’ve had the chance to grow old together. To have a family. But life... life doesn’t always give us what we want. Alexander isn’t the only one who died that day. You did too. A part of you never moved on. I think... I think you should... be with him.”

“We can be. We can be.” Magnus chanted eagerly, voice hoping yet desperate.

“And we will be. I will be waiting for you at the Brooklyn-bridge. I promise.” Alec whispered as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to the man’s forehead before a gunshot rang through the air again.

He never thought he would ever have this. Now, here they were, standing on a roof top surrounded by the blue and white lights of the never sleeping city. The sight of the Brooklyn bridge, bright like a beacon of hope in the darkness of the night. He felt the warmth of a body pressing up to his back before arms sneaked around his waist, hugging him gently. He smiled as he tilted his head back against his lover’s chest, finding comfort in the small puffs or air hitting his neck and the familiar scent of Alexander’s cologne.

[fitanddangerous]

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[varldsormr]

It feels... nice, the slowly rythmic motions of Thorne combing through the seawashed coils and curls of his mane, warm fingers smoothing strangely calming lines between locks and the curve of his scalp. He wonders that he should be so receptive to it. It was such a little thing, after all, this modicrum of care the devil has offered him, and yet - Jormun isn't sure when his eyes close to the touch or when his chin tips ever so slightly up - head, back - to accomodate the tieflings tips, incapable of fully restraining himself from absently leaning into it. From submitting himself to a moments indulgence, however long it lasts. It was innocent enough, wasn't it?

This much, he can have.

They both get a little lost, perhaps, if the pauses between their intermittent exchange growing ever so briskly more outdrawn was to be any indication, the other man's ignited presence flickering behind him for the second - third - time in however many minutes since he arrived, apparently drawn as by magnetic force. The taller of the two has half a hunch he would attach himself permanently, if permitted. A though which brings as many parts amusement as an entierly different sensation. With the wind at both their backs, a lightly poignant floral scent settles on his tongue, and he holds his suspicion from whence it originates, clocking some manner of oil, or perfume, curiously less intrusive than he would've anticipated. A pleasant fragrance.

-- He is, for his part, beckoned loosely back with a querying hum to the sound of Thorne's clearning throat, a twitch to his expression and mind both belatedly catching on that that last ghost of pressure against his nape had may have been more than just the breeze, though he's not to question it before his companion brushes on. Or, well, back.

Plaits. Yes.

"Celtic. Along the sides? If you believe I can... 'pull it off'?" He queries, attempting to glance back without disturbing his friend's planning, allowing Thorne to continue his exploratative mappings whilst occupying himself with the absent correction of his newly dorn jacket's sleeves, left hand idling with the folded edges of his right. He shifts his sights down soon enough, unable to see much more than peripheral movement behind, and huffing in pace to the lanker man's noted commentary. If he is feeling risky, he owes the verysame other more than part that influence. To this he is not ignorant. "You have a way of bringing it out in me."

Switching in his ministrations, he moves to adjust his opposing sleeve once some part of him becomes satisfied with the first, (by what criteria he could not claim to know) and then - he sighs, an almost wistful exhale.

"I... appreciate this, Thorne. Thank you."

"I sure have. Still blows my mind that you're that guy's fruit." Seemed to him a clear evidence of some karmic bond, both of them so different from each other yet eternally linked, something they both needed to iron out in this... interminable lifetime. Thorne won't linger on this thought anyway, distracted by the manner in which the sea spirit scrutinises his evening jacket in the clench of his rough fist. Alright, perhaps getting their outfits to match had been a little too on the nose. The tiefling merely watches, anxiously chewing on the corner of his thumb, waiting to see what his friend would eventually decide– ah, yes, ever the kind giant, the jacket's sleeves are pulled along a set of muscular arms and Thorne's vision is complete. That oceanic creature that had just slipped from the water's embrace moments ago now stood cutting a figure that could be on the cover of Men's Health, blowing sales numbers off the charts. What a stunner.

"It does?" He's still giggling to himself, Jormun's attempt to explain only triggering another fit of mild hysteria through the jester. There was something incredibly hilarious about hearing the old snake use those terms, as well as the reluctance in his voice as he did so. Catch him sitting with the kids at dinner; he'd fit right in. "I forgot what we were talking about." Funny fumes and yearning vapours frying his brain as Thorne takes smaller sections of ink black hair and twists them into ropes around his finger, dreamy and spaced out as he does. He falls face-first into a slip of weakness by sighing and on the emptying of the lungs pressing his lips to his companion's nape, the stretch of skin just below his lower hairline, above the fold of his knit jumper. He does it so absentmindedly he doesn't notice he's done it until Jormun is humming his way into producing a response for him.

Wait, what was his question?

Thorne blinks his way out of his daydream, promptly clearing his throat and straightening his spine once more. He was close enough to smell the salt on the serpent's skin, to breathe it in like a new day high, the breaking dawn of the universe. Such things – his rich, pelagic smell, the earth-deep bass of his timbre – grounded the rogue demon like no house ever could.

"Plaits, plural? Like double dutch?" He has to get on his toes to peep the top of his mate's head, raking his digits from the very top of Jormun's forehead over the curve of his skull, already drawing invisible lines as he does so. "So you are feeling risky." Ready to break a few hearts too, by the looks of it.

[fitanddangerous]

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[varldsormr]

"You've met my father. There's a difference." He counters with a huff of air at his own mention, disinclined to linger on any lasting comparison between his present companion and would be kin. Certainly no favorable revelations could come of it. Nor does he last on the image of Thorne jingling in any particular way-- he is bejewled and distracting enough as is, already, Jormun's focus split between getting ready and attentively following the rustles and shifts of the tiefling moving in the sands behind him, trailing the sound of his voice whilst the seaspirit's thumb hooks briefly under the rim of his belted trousers, evaluating the tightness. It would do.

Unhooking the jacket from where it'd rested in the nest of his elbow - socks and shoes placed aside, awaiting - he holds it in a fist to regard the splash of burgundy which was to complete his dress, smooth wine for how it is easy to drink on figures beyond his own. The pad of fingers stroke idly over its softly coarse texture whilst he ponders an implication of their matching palette, though whatever he reads does not deter him from shortly enough threading his arms one at a time through the jacket sleeves and adjusting it over his shoulders - ears piqueing as he does to a sudden melod of laughter in response to the serpent's turn of phrase, and holding to that, instead;

Thorne's amusement ripples despite the awkwardness of their subject, seeming to wash at least some of the latent tension away, and for this, it is welcome. Their talk is far from over, the matter like to linger on each of their minds through the night, but he would not expect to resolve anything here, and he is glad for any part he plays in returning a befitting ease to Thorne's bearing, his friend all too bare without it. Even if it does mean that it's his turn to puzzle.

"It refers to 'getting down with it' does it not? Being--" He waves a hand loosely, motioning vaguely away as to dismiss the semantics, "Festive." Human modernity in language was never his strong suit with how little time he spends amongst those who speak it, but he believes he gets the gist of the phrase, as... out of place as it may sound, coming from him. At least the tiefling finds some humour in it, entertained sufficiently to leave him be for a minute, growing almost suspiciously quiet until a gasp and a breath follows the question of his hair. Upon the sound of approach, the serpent starts to turn, though he makes it only perhaps a quarter before slender digits slip fluidly into the thick of his mane, smoothing through it.

How does he feel?

He tilts at the question returned his way, considering it whilst Thorne's hands thread through his locks, evidently enjoying himself. A night of risk? He had taken some already, hadn't he, letting Thorne choose and relinquishing himself to being dressed, or 'dolled up' as the tiefling were like to describe it. He's not certain how adventurous he truly constitues in this one instance considering all other manner of hazard and exploration they and their other been through over the years, though it is a change. Making an effort at all for his decoration a rare lavishness. But maybe it is a night for something new. He hums to the touch, absently soothed by Thorne's ministrations.

"... Mh. Plaits?"

"Same thing, innit? Wave your dollar and I'll jingle for you." Not that Jormun needed to flash any cash for him to become his private dancer, but it gets the message across. The tiefling's ears perk up at the welcoming sound of his friend's humoured snort, which was akin to a standing ovation coming from the latter, in his book. It keeps him smiling, it really does, despite the dampening subject of him and Euan's frayed relationship still floating around in the air. With stubborn, petulant force, Thorne clings to his gratitude for Jorm's appearance at the event as his preferred sentiment right now, leaving the bitterness of everything else for later, on a full stomach and three wines down.

"Nah, for once I don't wanna be the Hellbringer." But then– "Wait, what do you know about 'throwing it back'?" Laughter erupts with rekindled ease from the demon's chest, surprised to hear that expression come out of the serpent's mouth in this specific context. He shifts about on the coarse sand, offering his mate some likely wanted space for him to finish putting on his clothes without the jester constantly hanging on his shoulder like a live gargoyle. The advice on 'risk' that follows is thus digested with care, wondering if the seafarer knew just how close he had been to being reckless with his gestures lately, driven to a metaphorical edge with volcanic frustration over not being able to properly convey, let alone inhabit his owns feelings.

Thinking some things could stand to burn.

Time would mend them sooner or later, anyway.

At last unhinging his maws to speak again, Thorne lightly smacks his lips and casts a golden glance at that striking profile peering at him from over a brawny shoulder, muted intent and mischief mingling as he approaches once more. God, the urge to just drape himself all over– "Me? Oh, no." He breathily confirms in a longing whisper, sliding spidery hands back out of his pockets to plunge them back into that ocean of black waves with the fervent devotion of a pilgrim on the road to a Holy Place.

"How do you feel about a little risk tonight?" Half up, half down? Hmmm, Thorne could plait it, or pin it up in a bun, or both. Jormun's thick strands slide seamlessly between bejewelled fingers, curling around them in gorgeous coils as they decide what look they should go for.

[varldsormr]

He snorts.

"Always thought of you as more of a jester, really." Jormun huffs with a light air of humour flowing forth in kind, combing one hand through his gently damp, slowly curling locks. He starts to pull them free from their new threaded confines before he feels his ever helpful companion slot himself back home against his rear, the tiefling's clever digits coming in with further assist on this matter. Without protest - and less suspicion than he ought, given what had come to pass only moments prior - he tips his head vaguely aside to accomodate Thorne's leaning forth atop his shoulder, seeing the belt plucked as his self-elected right takes initiative to slide it through the hoops around his waist, bidding to secure him - briskly dismissing an image to its opposite. Rather, his expression knits following the dip of cadance, even as they linger like this. Each of their thoughts gone elsewhere. The matter of their third man.

-- He does not pretend to know the extent of what's passed between them, beyond what has been sparingly indulged or gleaned from keen observance. Can only guess as to the source of their rift from the way they seem to walk in circles around each other, strafing just shy of their collision, looped in endless cycle. He wonders how they once had held so well together, then set suddenly adrift; These days he stands between them where at time they would've stood next, an ocean to bridge, and it may be that they believe he doesn't notice how one always falls a little quieter when an earthen voice booms loud in a burst of warm laughter, or how another stills upon the brush of a fleeting hand against their arm, lingering only half as long as it wants to. But he does. He cannot help but.

He'd seen the way they looked at each other before. He sees how they look at each other now. What is broken, he cannot mend - but he is loathe to see the tears grow.

"You greatly underestimate our party's commitment to 'throw it back', come hell or high water." The serpent scoffs, the bridge of his nose wrinkling slightly by the lack of familiar luster from Thorne's tone, the way he withdraws just as soon to renewed distance, between them and the conversation. Making his disinterest to speak further on the subject clear, if it were not already abundant. Jormun feels him fade, something faintly saddened lost on his face as they turn to different ways, yet at the last does not hinder him from taking what space he so requires. It is not the snake's intent to steal this night away from him, merely to offer what advice he is able. The council of a friend, for what such is worth;

"Nontheless..." His voice comes, picking words. "...some things are worth a little risk."

He leaves it at that.

-- and incidentally misses the former of Thorne's hasty proceed amidst a straying sombre, picking up the question at the end with a querying hum.

"I meant to pull it back." Simple and out of the way with minimal thought over convenience, as ever; The great cost of keeping hair long was always its insistence to fall astray. Sensing the bearing of an opinion, however, Jormun glances across his shoulder while he finishes buckling the clasp of his belt, briefly considering the uncharacteristically inconspicuous figure hovering behind. "You have another preference?"

He loses a little bit of footing there, to be honest, having to hold up the act while the great serpent watches him spin like some dressed up rotisserie chicken, showing off his tailored garb so neatly put together for the night ahead. How long until he got an answer? Did Jormun have to think about it? He starts to worry a little, he does, and settles for the conclusion that his friend won't say anything at all when– oh. Surprise smarts him across the face, limbs held frozen in mid-air. Then a blink, then the corners of his mouth twist downwards as though to express that he is ultimately impressed and happy to be proven wrong.

"Thank you." Alright. No need to squeeze anything else out of him. Instead, Thorne slithers right back into his improvised footman role, once more helping Jormun with his hair, freeing that gorgeous mane from the grip of his collar and adjusting the fold of the latter so it fell evenly all around the neckline. By gauging the seafarer's relief after the bulk of clothing is on, Thorne likewise feels quite pleased with his choices, having managed to put together an outfit that flattered his mate's striking figure without relinquishing comfort or warmth. An overall win. "You'd have to track down the nearest travelling circus and go adopt another pet clown." He quips with his chin perched contently on the man's burly shoulder, taking this fine opportunity to begin threading a leather belt through Jormun's trousers.

Thorne remains near even as their conversation veers back onto mined land, though he visibly dims every time the topic of their favourite highlander comes up. It isn't like he's enjoying this awkward dance, he just... doesn't know how to fix it. He doesn't believe talking will fix it. Euan would likely brickwall him and that's that. No one in, no one out. "And ruin the festivities? No, thanks." To match Jormun's placid tone, Thorne's voice dips and strips from its usual lilt, a thin sliver of melancholy filtering through. He leaves the big guy to do up his own belt and takes a small step back, pocketing both hands, molten amber eyes trailing the expanse of the imposing silhouette before him with unbridled fondness – a look he is prepared to wipe clean when Jormun turns around once more.

"I didn't think you'd want that, either. Anyway. Are you wearing your hair down?"

[varldsormr]

A single brow quirks up at the sudden change of topic, his returned gaze querying, though not wholly surprised. The devil's lilt and rougish flash makes him anticipate another round of remorseless tease, habitually braced for further mischief, and no doubt this is at least part of Thorne's intention with how he tilts his head to one side and begins to angle himself. A peacock in show, posing his question at the serpent through battered, glittering lashes - but there is more there, too. Halting Jormun's urge to simply roll his eyes at the other's ceaseless antics and bringing him to actually stop and look in earnest. To take in the visage of the man before him;

Whether an answer is expected or not, there is a pause before he gives it, eyes trailing the sight of the tiefling's sleek figure framed within a backdrop of stars, seeming genuine to consider the way the rich suit fits flatteringly to his form, how the catch of midnight light falls upon golden adornments and the glow of the moon lines the sharp angles of his jaw. There's a burn in those eyes he had seen before, yes, but it is coupled now with a certain levity in his air, a percieved bridge of humor in the fashion he flaunts himself which succeeds in inciting a familiar tickle of amusement.

"Yes." He says when at last he says anything at all, a singularly frank, honest admission, because despite everything, despite the tangled mess of what had passed and what remains unspoken between them - he does. Look nice, that is. And it is... nice, to see him. A friend underneath the rubble of everything else that might not be. And while that recognition does not fully seep the firm trenched tension from his shoulders - baked to him as clay in a kiln - it does allow them to slump ever slightly, spurring a snort from what Thorne says next as he collects the rest of his clothes.

"Whatever would I do without you?" The serpent retorts in the midst of pulling the knitted turtleneck over his head, torso briefly stretched and bared until hands pull the bottom edge down to place at his waist, affording him the appreciable relief of no longer being starkly nude in the midst of winter, likeso quietly elated that Thorne's choices appeared to favor warmth at least to some extent. He tugs at the edges of his sleeves to adjust them whilst the other goes on, yet does not miss the way the tiefling's tone shifts upon his mention of the Scot, catching just how those gilded eyes dart elsewhere with a strand of evident evasion. Avoidance.

It is... not unexpected.

"Mh. The night is young. I'm sure there will be ample time to... talk, should you care to." Jormun speaks with an inflection to his voice, something gentle, as much as the deep of his voice ever is, albeit not entierly subtle in the manner it encourages the tiefling towards the path of their mutual acquaint. Towards the threaded seams that had frayed between them, somwhere along the way. Not pushing, exactly, but. "I will not monopolise your time."

Far from oblivious to how the air between them feels electrified as they stand so close, Thorne gladly slots himself on the receiving end of the sea spirit's mountainous intensity. His colossal size, his glimmering, imposing aura; something truly and frighteningly divine about him. He's noticed those black eyes take him in, too, and the gravity pull of the tiefling's own radiant warmth. Despite the scowling and the grunting, yes, the usual... the usual. The things they don't say, gestures that don't follow through, hands that miss one another's. Thorne is just happy to see him – genuinely. He is delighted Jormun could join them and he sincerely hopes his friend has a wonderful time. That much is enough.

"Hmm, good choice. Do I look nice?" Abrupt but necessary change of subject. He dons a coquettish grin, luminous eyes narrowing with feline grace as he takes a second to show off his own three-piece suit, and comb his hair behind a heavily adorned ear, and work his head at practised angle so the moonlight would catch in his eyeshadow and highlight the chiselled planes of his face. He's not fishing for compliments as much as he's prodding the bear again, breaking the surface of the tension between them by deploying his jesting ways. As more clothes leave his arm, Thorne takes a step back to perch his butt against one of the heftier rocks, vaguely inspecting the state of his nail polish while they chat.

"That's a lotta work after a feast." He complains with mock disinterest, swinging right back with yet another quip. "But I'm sure they'll have a spray bottle and I can mist you up." How many more miles is he gonna get out of those jokes? Impossible to tell. He even giggles to himself like a little heathen. His humour, however, is relatively short-lived as the dreaded question makes an appearance and he feels like he's being told off by an adult for not greeting the guests properly as a child. His retort is, predictably, just as petulant.

"I said hello." A straying look paints a clear picture that Thorne would rather avoid this subject if he could, but it was virtually impossible to do so. They were, after all, about to be sat at the same table for the next couple of hours and then some. "The aunties required my assistance in the kitchen – as a tester –" Important clarification. "then I wanted to come pick you up, so I haven't had much time to... mingle."

[varldsormr]

It's ever the same with them. This poke and pull, cat and mouse game running circles around each other. Thorne nipping at his heel like a crow would a wolfs' tail, vying for reaction only to cackle that clear rung song of his laugh and slip away from the bite, tailfeathers pristine. You'd think it'd be a tired repetiore with the time they've known one another, centuries of meeting like this at every coast of the world - yet the devil had only ever seemed to grown more incessant in age, more daring fore the flash of fangs, and though he'd like to claim he ever got wiser, he's never failed to play is part. He should perhaps be embarrassed at how well it still worked, how well the other's mischief still riles him with singular ease, and spurs him to pursuit.

In truth, he is... uncertain, what he'd do if he ever caught him. Some days, he's not sure he's the one giving chase.

"...Hm. Perhaps not." The serpent condedes onto the topic of mer after Thorne's countered question and insinuating glint gives him pause in his ministrations, a string of memory come only belatedly to mind replaying scenes of the past (on the road, by the fire, in an inn--) where his venturous companion had quite detailedly spoken of his off-shore engagements over a bottle of whatever dubious liquid they'd been able to get their hands on. He does not require anything further to recollect the rest. There are many fish at sea, indeed, and he's wont to suspect most of them would recognise the other by name. Him amongst them, as it were.

He meets Thorne's gaze as the man's eyes drift up at him, painted lids to his own half parted, the frames of their respective figures only inches apart. They're close enough again that he can just barely make the fore-offered warmth of the other's bodyheat within range, a promise of hellish blaze contained beneath that sleek burgundy suit; far enough that it feels out of reach, at distance while the air remains cold between them. He sees a question at the tail end of the tiefling's words, an unspoken expectancy, and there's a part of him, somewhere, that waits for him to ask, one more time-- But nothing comes. And Jormun does not answer.

"Not keen on rolling me back into the sea at the end of the night?" He huffs in humor, occupying himself by stepping vaguely aside to dress with the trousers while Thorne recounts the known attendance thus far, brushing away as much of the sand from his legs and feet as he could manage (there is always, inevitably, some). Most of the names get a short grunt of acknowledgement, familiar faces and those slightly more stranger pairing in his mind. Valerie would be welcome, in turn. Sanji, likewise, though the mention of his father recieves a slight scrunch of his nose. He does not comment on the englishman. Reaching for the black knit sweater, however--

"You've spoken with Euan?"

Boy, that was an impeccably timed dodge, huh? One day he's gonna stop doing it. Not the riling the ol' sea master up, but the ducking and slithering out of reach, giggling like a kid who gets away with petty theft. One day he's just gonna stand there and let himself be ensnared in the other's swinging hook, see what comes of it. Not a bad way to go, potentially, and the sad devil has definitely considered it many a time. Dying for a cause is a noble thing, isn't it. It just never fails to amuse him just how worked up Jormun gets over the smallest things, adding kindling to the fire of Thorne's self-imposed torture of imagining a day he's finally allowed through that gate. You'd think someone armed to the teeth like that would need a meat tenderiser to feel something but instead he was so delightfully sensitive to the tiniest, oldest tricks in the book that it was positively endearing to watch.

"Would I?" He enquires regarding the comment on merfolk's persistence, flashing an incriminatory glance through a fan of spidery lashes, the metallic paint smudged across his eyelids glimmering in the opalescent moonlight. Jormun had unwillingly listened to too many stories relaying Thorne's enchanted encounters at sea. He isn't about to bring any of them up, though, as his attention is far more preoccupied noticing how great those shorts fit the serpent's sturdy hips, how... nicely he tucks into them. Is the tiefling a size wizard or what? Years and years of spontaneous shopping before meetings like these had led him to master the entire conversion chart.

It's the suspicion in Jormun's tone that pulls him out of that daze with a barely masked dreamy sigh, pliantly offering his arm up as a clothes' rack. "I am indulging in a different form of sustenance before the main dish is served." They come to stand fairly close, with Thorne peering up at his friend from a deceptively innocent head tilt, observing the tension etched in the other's frown. Yes? He wants to ask, but he knows the answer won't come. At least he hasn't complained about the outfit... yet.

"She's here, of course. Looking forward to seeing you again." Hmm, who else. Thorne looks down at his right hand, using his fingers to count the guests as he lists the ones he remembers seeing. "The Englishman and our favourite shortbread man; Alfred, Sanji, your dad... oh, the women in Luc's family– they are lovely, you'll adore them. Watch your plate, though, or they'll feed you until you can't walk anymore."

[varldsormr]

"You'd be surprised how insistent the mer can be - or how exhaustive their curiosity." He huffs back, the soft-rough texture of the towel dragging down across his chest and gentler still below over the more delicate rim of his gills - Jormun for his part naturally failing to elaborate any further upon his remark in turn to Thorne's jesting, leaving it bare for speculation whether he speaks from experience, truly, or merely indulges his companion on the subject of evident amusement while the two of them work in tandem to make him presentable. It's possible the answer is both. Regardless, the conversation is welcome; Amongst the prickling chill in his skin, the fingertips fleetingly dipped between shoulderblades and the surprisingly tender touches of cloth following the length of his back, he is not oblivious to how his senses are being played on more than one front, the sturdy figure of the sea drake remaining admirably composed whilst his nerves tune attentive of the man behind. Keenly coignisant of his hovering presence.

-- though it still doesn't prepare him to feel the brief wet warmth of a tongue on his shoulder - rather, alert, it snaps the taller man's head with a short, surprised grunt, a slight widen of eyes as he registers the brazenly daring act and turns in a pursuing spin which chases the mischievous tiefling's trail as he ducks expertly out of the way, making full circle in the sands just in time for the pair of briefs to launch in his direction, which then proceeds to be ungracefully fumbled a moment before Jormun catches them with a press to his abdomen. Stopping short, eyes flick quickly down between the rogue article and back up at the offending party, now crouched innocuously by the rocks and as expected deigning not so much a inch of apology to radiate off of him, merely carrying on like nothing under the weight of a lingering stare upon his back.

An incredulous look passes shortly across the serpent's face - bewilderment, a touch of colour - as his mind is left to stall, only catching again with the lick of unobstructed december air along his spine, reminding him of his bare predicament. Somehow still tempting him to miss the fire Thorne took with him.

He huffs as he steps into his shorts.

"And you were..." Returning to the marginal balm of his dignity that is their dialogue, he draws a pause at slipping the waistband up over his pelvis, quirking a gouging brow at the other's turn which reflects in the inflection of his tone. "...not hungry?"

When Thorne twists around the sight that greets him is a recollected image of stoicism, almost perfect if not for how the wall of stone had just wobbled, Jormun stepping forwards in approach to where the tiefling stands ready and waiting for him to dress in whichever manner of his choosing, for better or worse. Towering down, narrowed eyes meets the other spare a second - lingering with something faintly accusing, and something else - before he picks the topmost piece of clothing (a cream set of trousers) from his friend's arm and regards it instead, musing over his note. Realizing he does not actually know who will be there.

"Mh. Valerie?"

"Traffic?" Amusement seeps into the tiefling's voice at the welcoming note of his friend's joke, fingers raking loosely through the onyx ends of Jormun's hair in an effort to detangle it. They could move on to styling decisions once he was at least bundled up in the outfit Thorne had so selfishly lovingly picked out for him, since he suspects his volunteered mobile furnace services might fall flat. "Humpback broke down on the side of the road? Merfolk tailgating you, pressing you for documents?" He's having a tad too much fun, he is, dabbing that soft towel along the wide wingspan of his trapezius, down the rugged valleys of his spine.

Alas, his suspicions are correct.

Brave in the face of that unsubtle shiver, the biting December cold sways not the sea beast's heart in the devil's favour. Make haste, then, no use keeping him waiting. Thorne leans in to roguishly lap at a stray droplet on Jorm's shoulder, sealing his crime with a kiss, then promptly slips away to sort through the clothes from a crouched stance. Underwear first – chucked in a high arch over his back – then trousers, then knitwear. Jacket and footwear last. He only throws the briefs, of course, then spends the rest of the time smoothing out the garments by flapping them briskly in the air and hanging them neatly on his forearm. "You were late to see me because I missed you." Leave the court unattended long enough and you have the clown making up the rules. "The others are eating canapés."

He grants his mate enough time to reclaim decency and then spins around, a wide, buoyant smile on his done up face. "I did bring you some deodorant. That ocean musk is only charming for freaks like me; there will be respectable ladies at the table."