#Sand cat is my muse. The only thing I felt like drawing

[ksksksrahrah]

[pocket-luv101]

Summary: Mahiru is an artist and he goes to the beach for inspiration. While he’s distracted drawing, he becomes trapped by the tide. (KuroMahi, Human AU)

Mahiru walked along the beach with a sketchbook in one hand and a flashlight in the other. He was a professional artist and he wanted to make a collection of paintings with a summer theme. Beaches were a common landscape to paint, he hoped he could find something in the night to inspire him. The air was cool around him and the beach was quiet aside from the waves crashing over the sand.

He stared at the sea that held a sense of alluring mystery and strength. The moon reflected in the water kept his attention and its soft colour captured his imagination. The reflection was crystal white at first glance but, the more he stared at it, he saw a pale blue glow against the dark water. Mahiru wondered how the moon’s reflection would appear underwater.

“Maybe I can paint a merman.” He mused out loud to himself. Mahiru flipped open his sketchbook and he made a small note of the idea in the corner of a page. He wanted to think of other possible things he could paint. He returned his sketchbook to his bag and he continued to walk along the beach. A large boulder blocked his view of the moon’s reflection in the distance. He imagined a lonely merman sitting on the rock and staring at the moon.

He slipped off his shoes and he stepped into the sea. The tall boulder was the same height as him and it stood close to the shore. The water pooled around his ankles when he stood at the base. He tilted his head back and he wondered what the view would be from the height. Mahiru climbed up the boulder and he discovered that the top of the boulder was flat and wide. He was able to sit on the boulder comfortably and he looked over the sea.

Mahiru took out his flashlight and he shone it over the area to study the details in the rock for his painting. He leaned over the side and he watched the sea beat against the boulder. The water left an impression on the surface for a few minutes before it faded. He sat back and he felt something rigged against his palm. When he lifted his hand, he discovered a seashell fossilized in the boulder.

He immediately took out his sketchbook to draw the shell. While the seashell wouldn’t fit his summer theme, the design intrigued him and he wanted to sketch it. Whether he could incorporate the shell in a future drawing or have it stay a simple sketch, he didn’t want to miss the chance to capture the image before him. He positioned his flashlight on his bag and pointed it at the shell so he could see it better.

He drew the loose shape of the fossilized shell. Mahiru slowly added more details to the sketch and the image started to take form on the paper. The moon was bright that night but he needed to strain his eyes as he drew. He knew that it would be easier to take a photo on his phone and use it as reference later. However, he was worried he would lose inspiration if he waited to draw the rare fossil.

Mahiru drew the last line of ridges on the seashell and he closed his sketchbook. He swung his legs over the ledge of the boulder to climb down and cold water sent a shiver through him. He immediately pulled his feet out of the water and he hugged his legs for warmth after the initial shock. While he had been sketching, he hadn’t noticed how much time had passed nor how the tides were slowly rising around him.

Now, he was trapped on the boulder and surrounded by water.

He took his flashlight to fully assess the situation. Mahiru measured the height of the water with his eyes. Since the boulder was the same height as him, he could see that the water reached his nose. He knew how to swim but he would risk ruining his sketchbook and artwork in the water. He couldn’t stay on the boulder overnight either. The tide could rise higher and overtake the boulder and the cold night would make him sick.

Mahiru considered calling his friends for help but they were likely asleep and it would take them a while to drive to the beach. He picked up his flashlight and he held it above his head. Hopefully, someone passing the beach would notice the light and help him. He took a deep breath and he screamed as loud as he could, only for it to be drowned out by the ocean. “If only mermaids were real, one could save me.”

A light on the shoreline flickered and hope rose in Mahiru. The waves around him were too loud for them to speak and he moved his flashlight in a circular motion to respond to the person on shore. The light faded and he prayed that the person had understood him. Mahiru squinted his eyes against the darkness and he saw someone wade through the water towards him. Between the darkness and the distance between them, he couldn’t see the person well.

When the man stepped into the moonlit water, Mahiru almost thought he was a merman. He couldn’t help but study his features as an artist. He had sharp features that contrasted his soft lips. His wet hair was the colour of the moon reflected on the sea. Drops of water clung to his smooth skin as he pushed his hair back and out of his red eyes. He was tall because the water only reached his shoulders.

“What are you doing out here at night? Troublesome.” The man said. “Can you swim?”

“Yes, but that’s not the reason I’m stuck on this rock.” Mahiru held up his art bag and explained. “I came here to sketch the landscape. I didn’t notice the tides coming in until it was too late. If I try to swim, everything I drew tonight will be ruined. Can you carry me to shore on your back? Wait, do you think you’re strong enough for me to sit on your shoulders? That way, I’ll be tall enough to keep my bag safe. I’m not that heavy either.”

“I want to help you but the only person who can wrap their legs around my head is someone I’m dating.” His comment made Mahiru blush. He only thought was to keep his art safe from the water and he hadn’t considered how strange the situation would be for the man. He was still kind enough to hold out his hand to him. “How about I just carry your bag for you and you swim back to shore on your own? I promise, I won’t drop it and your things will stay dry.”

“Thank you— I don’t know your name. Mine is Mahiru Shirota.” He introduced himself and handed him his bag.

“Kuro Sleepy Ash Servamp.” He lifted the bag over his bag. With his other hand, Kuro helped him climb down from the rock.

Mahiru was careful not to move quickly and not cause a splash. His feet touched the sand and he realized that he would have to walk to his hotel without his shoes. He had left his shoes near the water and the tide likely pulled them into the sea while he was drawing. He told himself that he could buy his shoes but it was impossible to regain the time and love he put into his art.

They walked through the sea towards the shore. Kuro had lived in the small beach town for years but he didn’t recognize Mahiru. While he didn’t have many close friends, he was certain he would remember someone with brown eyes as beautiful as his. The colour was common but it shimmered like velvet. He assumed that Mahiru was a tourist.

“I’m lucky that you were passing by and you saw me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t come to my rescue.” Mahiru said as they stepped out of the water. He lifted the hem of his white shirt and twisted the fabric to wring out as much water as he could. His wet clothes made the breeze colder and he shivered. “My hotel is across the street so I can dry up quickly. What about you?”

“I was driving home when I saw your flashlight. My jeans are going to feel like ice the entire drive home. Can’t deal.” He groaned to himself. Kuro searched the darkness for his shoes and jacket that he had discarded before he jumped into the water. He pulled out his car keys from his jacket pocket and he started to walk away. “See you.”

“Don’t go yet.” Mahiru jumped forward and he grabbed Kuro’s arm to stop him from leaving. “You’re going to get sick if you stay in those wet clothes. I don’t want that to happen after you saved my sketchbook. Thinking simply, you should come with me to my hotel room. You can use one of the hotel towels. It’ll be my way to thank you.”

Kuro debated if he should go with Mahiru. It would often take a while for him to become comfortable and trust a person. Mahiru didn’t appear to be dangerous and his voice only held concern for him. His brown eyes silently pleaded with him to accept and he was tempted to take Mahiru’s hand. Then, another cool breeze passed them and he saw him shiver. He took his dry jacket and he draped it over his shoulders. “Let��s go before we both catch a cold.”

Mahiru dried himself in the room while Kuro used the bathroom. He had changed into clean clothes and sat on the bed with his sketchbook. He wanted to take a shower after swimming in salt water but he decided it was best to wait until Kuro left to do so. While he believed he was a good person after he saved him, he knew he had to be cautious of leaving a stranger alone with his things.

“What are you drawing?” Mahiru jumped in surprise at the sound of Kuro’s voice because he hadn’t heard him leave the bathroom. He stood in the doorway wearing a hotel robe and his hair was a little damp from his shower. He thought of how he first saw Kuro standing in the water. The hotel room was better lit and Mahiru could see him better.

“You’re as quiet as a cat. You almost gave me a heart attack.” Mahiru said with a warm laugh. He nodded towards Kuro’s jeans hanging over the suite’s fireplace. “I hope you don’t mind that I stole your jeans while you were in the shower. They’ll dry quicker with the heat. I told Misono he didn’t need to book me such a fancy hotel room but now I’m grateful.”

“Is Misono your boyfriend? I should run away before he returns and assume the worst when he sees me.” Kuro said as a joke but he felt a hint of disappointment. Between Mahiru’s warm personality and how attractive he was, he would easily have a boyfriend.

“Misono and I aren’t dating. We’re just friends. He’s also my manager so he helped me plan this trip where I could do research for my next art collection.” Mahiru flipped over his sketchbook so Kuro could see the landscape he was working on. “What about your girlfriend? Earlier, you said you would only let the person you’re dating wrap their legs around you.”

“I’m not dating anyone either.” Kuro sat in front of him and he couldn’t take his eyes off the stunning balcony he had drawn. The balcony overlooked the sea and a merman was partially hidden in the shadow of the building. At first glance, the scene was simple but Kuro could see the small details he had drawn into the structure. The drawing was made with charcoal yet he was able to portray a spectrum of shades. He didn’t know much about art yet it was easy to see that Mahiru was talented. “This is great.”

“Thank you, Kuro.” His compliment made Mahiru beam with happiness. Mahiru doubted he could tell Kuro that he was the one who inspired the artwork. “My next collection has a summer theme so I came to this beach town for inspiration. My manager will yell at me for getting distracted and making something outside of that theme.”

“I grew up here so I know a lot of secret places that might inspire you. I can write down directions to them.” Kuro offered. “Do you have a pen?”

“Exploring the city more is a great idea but I think I’ll need a tour guide so I don’t get lost. Are you free tomorrow?” Mahiru asked with a light blush. “I’ll pay you for your time with dinner.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow at the boulder where we met.”

[ofstormythoughts]

What Happens at the Toy Box Part 1 with @OneCheekyGal

Raine

••I wasn't quite sure what to make of my non-grand-opening Grand Opening, but Birdie's had done surprisingly well in the first few months, even considering the challenges that came with 2020. I had sorely lacked in marketing myself but it seemed I had garnered enough local fanfare by word of mouth, I’d even sold out of some of what I had on offer. I felt greedy in my happiness despite all the effort it took to realize this dream that spanned more than my own lifetime. The only way in which I had announced my arrival into the scene was via introduction to the surrounding business owners and shop managers. There was a sole location that had evaded me.  The Toy Box had managed to both pique my interest and stoke a sadness when I tried to stop by. Clearly it was not a store for children as the name would imply by a glance from afar. Thankfully it was in my nature to cast a deeper line into the sea of curiosities. I wondered the story behind its extended closure and during some lulls in my own foot traffic, I was prone to imagining its caretaker had been swept up into a torrid love affair and was sailing around the world with an incomparable lover. The wind held the secrets of The Toy Box at bay, sadly, so I was left to my own musings. It had become a habit to glance across the way before I opened and I held a silent yearning to see the sign switched from “Closed” to whatever elusive welcome alerted the passer by the store was open for business.

This was why when I stepped out to tend the garden and saw the door open that hadn't been since my arrival, excitement quickened my pulse. It was silly, really, but I wouldn't feel my induction into the local scene had been completed until I met this last neighborhood retailer.

My next appointment wasn’t scheduled for an afternoon and I could use a technology break. Setting up the online store was not on my list of favorite things to do. Locking up Birdie's temporarily, I sprung into action, lest I miss my chance and face that closed sign. I nearly skipped across the street before happily crossing the threshold that had been to date a gatekeeper to my curiosity. A bright but genuine smile curved my lips as I approached the petite and pretty girl behind the register, sure to keep a proper distance since I wasn’t wearing a mask.  Maybe it had been my daydreaming of her whereabouts, but on sight of her alone, I found my interest in her story piqued even more than all the wares for sale. I tried to keep my gaze from wandering and my eyes from widening at all the things, some which I wasn’t completely naive to, others that had me clueless about their potential use.••

Camille:

*The decision to temporarily close my shop so I could take a vacation had given me heaps of anxiety and a weight of worry on my shoulders that felt heavier than the Costco sized bag of cat food I liked to buy for Betty. I had considered hiring someone temporarily while I was away, but the efforts of training them for such a short period of time seemed like more of a hassle than losing the week’s worth of sales. 

What had started out as being closed for a short holiday had unexpectedly turned into something much longer. I had been out of the country enjoying the sand and sun when the travel restrictions and the COVID pandemic had been declared, and upon my return home, a mandatory quarantine had been instituted which meant the shop doors would unfortunately be staying closed.

Fortunately, my online shop was already well established and after an emailed Newsletter to my customer list indicating orders could still be placed during the brick and mortar closure, the lull that my vacation created gradually picked back up. My rainy day savings had helped during the months where in store purchases were entirely obsolete. In my time away and then the subsequent closure, the small cluster of businesses in the area surrounding mine seemed to stay fairly stagnant, with the exception of a new shop that I had completely missed opening, I could only assume it happened while I was away. I hadn't planned to make the time to introduce myself. New businesses tended to avoid mine. God forbid someone admitted to knowing the owner of a sex shop...not that it phased me anyways. The day I had been phased to re-open the shop, I used a wedge of wood to prop the door open to help get rid of the stale air while I dusted for the first few hours. I didn't expect a rush of customers even though I had made a re-opening announcement on the shop’s website with the new hours, and had sent out a discount code to my email list in the hopes of drumming up some more sales and maybe even some foot traffic. It felt good to get back to my old routine of keeping busy and taking pride in what I had built up over the years. It was while I was in the middle of organizing a new countertop display of novelty single condoms that someone walked through the open door. My smile, the one that was reserved just for customers came back to my lips easily, just like old times and as I angled the stand next to the cash register just so, I greeted the lovely looking redhead and tried to guess in my mind what she might be here for...a game I sometimes liked to play with myself just for fun.* Hello, how can I help you today?

Raine

•• I was immediately disarmed by the friendly body language of the girl that I was meeting at long last. My eyes betrayed me by stealing glances at the various displays which were successful in drawing the attention of a complete sexual novice, hoping the color of my cheeks was not as evident as the warmth I felt there. I could only imagine that someone with more experience would be quick to spend their savings based on the appealing presentations alone. I felt oddly at ease and out of place all at once, perhaps the impressive and colorful water wall behind the shop’s mistress was at work. I couldn’t help but appreciate that her store had its own water feature befitting its personality just like my own at Birdie’s.••  First, apologies for my barging in without paying mind to whether or not you were actually open. I saw from across the street that you were no longer shuttered and I was too excited for any patience. I’m Raine and I just opened up across the way. •• As I smiled, I caught a glance of a beautiful and fluffy white cat circling her legs, wrapping its tail around her, perhaps to state “She is mine.”•• I have been eagerly awaiting your return, there was a void because you’ve been nowhere to be found. Maybe the universe wanted me to save the best for last.

Camille

 *The way the girl looked around with wide eyed curiosity as she approached had me titling my head and feeling momentarily stunted when it came to a guess of what she might possibly wish to purchase. She had the look of uncertainty until she spoke and then surprise took hold of my features before I could school them back into place.* Oh! You don't have to apologize. *As I peered through the window in the direction of where she indicated, I mumbled to myself how I hoped the welcoming committee had been nicer to her than they had been to me before I turned back to her and extended my hand to shake hers out of habit before I could stop myself, I laughed awkwardly and pulled my hand away, remembering to keep my distance.* It's very nice to meet you, Raine. I'm Camille and this here is Betty. *I bent down to pick up my cat and lifted her up into proper view.* Usually she hides away in the back but since today is the first day back after closing, she hasn't left my side. *As Betty nuzzled against me, I smiled for the comfort she brought then sat her back down and made my way around to the other side of the counter.* It's very sweet of you to want to introduce yourself...so did you open pretty recently, then? I was closed briefly for a holiday before the pandemic started and had to stay closed.  

Raine

•• Nodding in immediate reaction as not to interrupt Camille before she was done speaking.••

Yes, three months ago, but we must have just missed each other for your sabbatical because I have been here for about five renovating. If you need any help settling back in, I’d be happy to volunteer. I haven’t made too many acquaintances and I am just getting my bearings, really so there are no social distractions to be had.•• I hoped I hadn’t been too forward. I had never much been desperate for human contact, but there was a smidge of isolation seeping in on the year anniversary of losing my Birdie. I tried to concentrate on the sweet of the bittersweet at my opening, but of course had been confronted with pangs of my loss. Daring another peek around, smiling as another blush warmed my cheeks. •• Not that I think you and Betty don’t have it handled. Do you mind if I take a look around? •• I was a mermaid out of water but that didn’t mean my curiosity was not at a healthy level. The range of items in my immediate view offered plenty of options for my perusal without my naivety making me completely foolish in front of my new kitty-corner shop neighbor.••

Camille: 

*I couldn't help the smile that took hold of my lips when Raine offered to help me settle back in...and it clicked in my mind that I should have been the one to make that offer given how long the shop had been opened. I was starting to feel like I didn't deserve her kindness for how oblivious I had been to the renovations across the way. Thankfully her question brought me out of my mind and the pondering of what else I might have missed while my toes and head were in the sand.* Please, take your time and browse as much as you’d like. *Not wanting to make her feel like I was hovering or being one of those nosy shop owners, I moved back around to the other side of the counter to continue with the display I had been working on, speaking loud enough for her to hear without being intrusive.* I don't have much to do in the way of settling back into things, but I’d love to take a look around your place when you're not too busy. *As I waited for Raine to reply, the sound of a vehicle pulling up outside the shop demanded my attention, and an old familiar feeling of what it was like to be busy returned along with a pang of guilt for being away so long. That feeling slowly faded and was quickly replaced with interest as I watched the gentleman exit his truck and begin to walk across the parking lot, headed straight for the shop Raine had pointed out as hers. Turning back to see if she noticed, I called out to warn her.* Hey, um...Raine...I think you might have a customer…

Raine: 

••My reaction of a sigh to the call to duty was uncharacteristic, but spoke to the fact I instinctually would like to get to know Camille and the setting of her shop was too perfect to urge me out of my hermit comfort zone. With the slightest reluctance I turned towards the door. I also knew whoever it was hadn’t made an appointment. While I was still allowing walk-ins, I had to limit the number of people in Birdie’s to three.••

You’re welcome to come across the way with me, if you’d like? I am not done exploring your shop, so either way, I will be back. 

••With a little more quickening in my steps, I exited, hoping Camille might follow. I passed the man as casually as possible, but was greeted with thoughts that made my nose crinkle, as it was plain he was looking at my ass with graphic intentions of what he’d like to do to it. I flushed again, this time in embarrassment and anger, and not at all out of flattery. My eyes pinched closed just before I unlocked my door, the sanctuary and water feature running through the floor calmed my wild emotions and allowed me to form a smile that though unauthentic, would fool the man when he caught sight. He didn’t hesitate to return the smile, though his was dripping with sleaze. “Just back from lunch? Maybe next time I’ll get here earlier so you won’t have to eat alone.” I gagged at the back of my throat and wished to shove politeness aside, but with a little more cleverness than the man deserved.•• Too bad my lunch table is reserved for one and booked months in advance. 

••I focused on the blessed sound of the water while he honed in on my chest with beady eyes, I turned out of view when he pestered me with more intrusive questions. “Boyfriend? Husband?” His pause was not long enough before he added, “Girlfriend? I’m more than willing to share.” I ignored his utterly insulting insinuations, refusing to satisfy any of his base curiosity, instead I fetched a bottle of Camphor essential oil, known to be used by monks to suppress sexual urges, smiling as I took his hand, dotting the top between middle and ring fingers with the oil.•• This is on special today. ••winking, though I felt like I must immediately return home to scrub myself clean for providing him any kind of returns to his advances•• Just for you. 

••I made a show of using my own, house made blend of hand sanitizer as his smile somehow got creepier. It seemed like at least an hour had passed since I left the Toy Box, though I knew for certain it has been a short few minutes. “Oh, I didn’t come here to make a purchase. I’ve been watching you come and go and… decided today was the day I’d let my fiery little redhead crush in on the secret.” My eyes flared wide and the creepy crawlies multiplied from head to toe. Stupefied and appalled, I shook my head vehemently.••  I suggest you leave, go home and clean those binoculars you’ve been using, that way the next time you look you’ll see I’m not interested. 

••”I wasn’t using binoculars --” Pointing out the door, my lips in a set in a stern line, frustrated with myself for entertaining any of this stupidity.•• 

Camille: 

*I nodded at Raine when she excused herself with haste for her customer. I understood completely. New businesses were hard to turn a profit the first handful of years and each sale was important toward ensuring one’s livelihood. Not wanting to encroach on her sale, I took my time gathering my keys to lock the door but before I could, Betty snuck her fluffy white self out, circling my feet and curling her tail around my leg. With a smile, I scooped her into my arms and locked up my own shop, not at all concerned about missing out on a customer. There hadn't been any all day while I had been cleaning anyways.

As I approached Raine’s store front, I could see her speaking with the man then pointing toward the door with a look on her face that was unmistakable. It was an expression I had used more than a few times, I had perfected it, really. Generally it was used on under-agers, and despite my petite size, worked very well. I was no pushover. But this guy was old enough to know better and to know he wasn’t welcomed.* Oh man, Betty. I wonder if our new friend needs some reinforcements. *Squaring my shoulders, I pushed the door open and painted on my brightest smile.* Hey, Raine. *I took my time looking around while holding Betty, her purrs from being in my arms and having her head scratched slowly began to fade with each step I took closer to the man who still couldn’t take the hint.* 

I just adore the water feature you have here, it’s so lovely. *Satisfied with being close enough to my new friend, I picked up a jar on a nearby table, pretending to look at the label as he spoke again. My nose scrunched at his blatant disrespect and I waited to hear how she would handle herself. Betty, ever the excellent judge in character, hissed in warning from my arms, and I caught Raine’s gaze briefly, winking as I quietly let my guard cat jump down from my hold. It seemed she had very quickly taken offence on Raine’s behalf and moved to circle around her legs as she always did with me. From my spot out of the guy’s view, I mouthed at Raine to pick Betty up, if he got any closer, I knew the claws would come out.*

Raine

••I knew we’d only just met, but Camille and Betty were both quickly becoming essential to my survival. Their audience reinforced my backbone, especially when I witnessed Betty hissing. Animals were the best judge of character and I caught Camille’s wink and easily read her lips.•• I’m afraid you will have to go now. I have a private consultation. ••I wasn’t prone to lie, but I also wasn’t an idiot. I needed to ensure this man got the message the first time lest he think there was any question in my denial. The encounter was new to me, I hadn’t ever really been in this position, but I was in a new locale and I was certain it wouldn’t be the last time.•• I’m so sorry, Camille, he was just leaving… 

•• “Before I go, can I set up a private… consultation?” My stomach absolutely turned over, most especially for the way he rolled over the words private and consultation.•• Consultations are for customers intending to make a minimum purchase of five hundred dollars. You can call to set it up when you decide you are interested in my inventory. Now please leave.

••I watched as Betty sauntered closer to me, stopping right by my feet. I was flattered by my newfound feline friend’s quick warming up to me. When she nudged my calf with her nose, I dipped down, gingerly picking her up and surprised when I was greeted with a purr of her approval before she turned her head to the man and let loose a low growl. I watched as the sleaze put his hands up in relent and started backing towards the door. “I’ll see you soon, beautiful.” Disgusted, once he left I let out a sigh of exasperation.•• Please tell me they aren’t all like that here? And thank you, complete lifesaver. You too, Betty. 

Camille

*As I waited for the jerk to get the hint Raine was trying to send his way, I found myself biting my tongue. She was being too kind, in my opinion. And if this guy was in my shop acting like this, I wouldn’t hesitate to tell him off and kick him out. Then again, I could recall when my shop was new, years ago and I had to have a few similar experiences in order to find my grit. Raine would find hers, too, I was certain of it. 

Setting the jar I had picked up back down, I slowly made my way closer to Raine, just in case dickwad decided to do something dickwad-ish. Fortunately, Betty had done exactly what I had hoped, and helped reinforce Raine’s request that he leave. As he moved past me on his way to the door, I smirked when he made eye contact, which probably wasn’t the greatest idea as we were left with his promise to return. 

Ew. Gross. 

I really hoped not. Moving toward the door, I smiled over my shoulder at Raine as I twisted the deadbolt...just in case and watched as he climbed into an older truck and slowly left the parking lot. I’d make sure to keep an eye out for him over the next week or so. Something about him felt...off.

Raine’s voice brought me back from my thoughts and I laughed lightly at her question, giving a small shake of my head.* Not all of them. Usually I get the creeps at my store given what I sell... and even then, it’s not very often. *Moving closer to Raine, I reached out to scratch behind Betty’s ears* A casual mention of knowing how to use a whip is enough to get them to leave pretty quick. Want me to show you how in case he returns? *My offer was mostly a joke...mostly.*  

Raine

••I laughed at the offer while simultaneously blushing. I liked Camille, a lot, but to say I wasn’t intimidated by all her wares would be complete fabrication. Still, my world was fairly lonely and my desire to branch out and make friends well outweighed any embarrassment over my naivety. For truth, Camille was the first person I’d felt comfortable with and conversation was coming too easy. It had always been Birdie and me and I’d never had true friends, only passing acquaintances. I couldn’t live a cloistered life anymore, and though it made me nervous to open up, I had already made the first steps with Camille, I could only hope she wasn’t just being polite.••  Do you offer beginner courses or something that comes before beginner? 

••Laughing again, I sat Betty down on the counter top and turned to reach for a bottle of a special elixir that I didn’t typically share with someone I’d just met, it was more reserved for requests of a special nature. I couldn’t help but recall that I’d blushed, too, when Birdie had first brought up the idea of concocting this particular blend of extracts, mostly for the reason behind it.  She had gently encouraged me, in a way only she could get away with, to come out of the nunnery and embrace my sexuality. She’d imparted her blunt wisdom, insisting I didn’t need a partner to learn what I liked myself. I probably didn’t quite crack the mold of my prudishness in a way she had hoped I would, but I dared to believe that my entry into a sex shop and making an acquaintance of its proprietor would have both made her laugh and proud. 

I snapped out of my happy reverie back to the present before turning to face Camille with the bottle in hand.•• Since you so kindly served as my protector and have additionally offered me whip training, perhaps you will indulge me in sharing something of mine with you?

Camille: 

Pre-beginner course? Hmm. Let me think...maybe a paddle or a soft flogger to start with before we get you yielding a whip then. *My laughter joined hers and it left me feeling good despite the lingering creepiness that she wasn’t afraid or too intimidated to joke around with me. Sure I had a handful of friends, but it had been a long while since I could claim anyone as a close friend or a best friend for that matter. And after the encounter with the disgusting guy, I felt a bond of sorts with her, and had already decided she was someone I wanted to be around. Her humour, while it skirted the edges of an obvious innocence gave me the impression she already appreciated my brand of unapologetic crass. It wouldn’t take long before I would help break her free of that shell, and I was confident it would be without much effort, too. 

When she put Betty down on the counter, I reached out to run my hand over her arching back, scratching through her white fur all the way down along her tail, letting it twist around my fingers the way I always did as I watched Raine grab a small bottle. My head tilted in curiosity at what the contents might be. A smile grew easily at her offer and I nodded without hesitation, not caring in the least what it was.* 

You know you don’t have to pay me back for doing what any friend would do. That guy was gross on so many levels! *laughing with a shudder, I shook my head continuing on so she didn’t  think I was being rude.*  But that doesn’t mean I’m going to say no. What is it? 

Raine

••Laughing openly at the softened suggestions, I continued to be at ease in Camille’s company. It had been too long since I’d laughed in such an organic way, the feeling rising with a genuine rush. Even if I had no use for anything at all in her shop, I was interested in what more I could discover from her expertise. Though I was verging on a comfort level that had me wanting to leave the mask down, I pulled it up out of respect for her and in order to share a more intimate distance. Leaning across the counter, circling my fingers around her wrists and turning her palms upward, I smiled behind the silk of my mask.••  This is called… Awakening. Think of it as a bridge from my world to yours. ••My brow lifted to communicate the intrigue I hoped was translating. I twisted the top of the bottle off, the scent of lavender and ylang ylang blooming in the air.  Retrieving a dropper from my sanitized tray and filling it with the oil. I dabbed each of Camille’s wrists and then circled my thumbs over each drop, gently massaging it into her skin before another application to my own fingers. Leaning slightly closer, I brought my fingertips up and behind her ears to dab just behind them before the last application to either of her temples. There were other pressure points for full effect but asking even her permission to do that would not be appropriate and would involve removing clothing.••

The effect will be subtle but this blend should allow you to clear out stale energies while refreshing you and opening you up to new and arousing potential. ••I could feel my cheeks warm again as I struggled to find the words to basically say what it was without blurting that it was basically like opening up a dam for energy that could block a libido. I wasn’t being presumptuous about her circumstance, my intention was to have fun.••  It will leave you attracting complimentary energies to your own. ••Betty meowed and butted her head against Camille’s arm, drawing another laugh.•• Looks as though Betty approves, unless I am reading her wrong. ••Lowers my voice though we are alone in the store.•• You can use it in other erogenous zones… the dimples on your back, the sternum, the inner part of your knee… 

Camille: 

*I found myself slightly surprised when Raine pulled her mask back on and leaned closer. Seemed I was getting an up close and personal demonstration of whatever this “Awakening” stuff was. My grin grew as she spoke and began to massage the small drops of oil into my skin. It smelled lovely and light, which was nice. 

As soon as she moved her hands to my ears I couldn’t help the soft laugh which was immediately followed up with an apology and explanation of being ticklish there. My laugher was short lived however because the gentle circling of her fingers at my temples earned her a sigh for how nice it felt. I was so focused on the beginning of what felt like a slight warming tingle on my skin that I nearly missed when she explained what the oil was meant to do. 

Now. I wasn’t normally someone who lived any kind of holistic lifestyle but damn if Raine didn’t have me rethinking that with the way she spoke and the way the oil felt as she applied it to my skin. I wanted it to do exactly what she said it would. I needed a complete and thorough cleansing of all stale energies. The whole world needed it really, but I didn’t think she had that many bottles of her oil.* 

Complementary energies? Hmm. 

*I was considering just how that could ever be possible given the whole social distance pandemic thing, but Raine’s laughter at Betty’s usual demand for affections drew me from my thoughts and I laughed with her as I gave my cat a scratch beneath her chin and returned my full attention back to Raine. Her lowered voice despite the fact that we were the only people in her shop had it dawning on me. Suddenly the warm tingling sensations on my skin and her mention of erogenous zones had me laughing. Loudly.* 

Oh, Raine. You are quite the surprise. I just clued into what you’re trying to say this stuff is. *laughing some more and giving my head a shake, I lift my wrist to my nose to give the oil a proper smell.* You just put arousal oil on me. How forward for you. *winking with a teasing grin so she knows I’m not bothered at all, I point at the bottle* I hope it works with the whole complementary energies. And if not, I do enjoy the way it feels. 

Raine

••I beam for the compliment of being a surprise, while I twist the dropper into the bottle, sliding it Camille's way•• I insist you indulge in the rest of the bottle. Maybe not all at once. ••laughs again, finding the atmosphere having lightened considerably from just earlier.•• 

Dare I suggest you try it somewhere I didn't? ••bats my lashes in acknowledgement of my less than innocent rhetorical•• 

If you're open to it, I think you may find it delivers on its promise with time and in its own way. Match.com it is not. ••a laugh bubbles up for how silly I feel talking this way and about things I've never conversed about.••

I only ask your honest feedback. ••biting my lip behind my mask before I pull it back down for a reprieve•• And maybe we could get together socially some time? I would be grateful for your company in the expanse of my wide open calendar. 

Camille: 

*Giving Raine a bright smile, I take the bottle and laugh with an understanding nod.* I promise not to dump the whole thing on my nipples in one go. *My snort is loud as I laugh again, entirely unable to keep a straight face at the idea.* 

I also promise to give you any and all honest feedback and I would be happy to be your guinea pig for anything else in the future. Unless it’s meant to dry me up like a prune in which case, no thank you! *While still holding the bottle in one hand, I reach for Betty, holding her in my arms as I consider Raine’s question to hang out.* I can do you one better than just getting together some time. Which, let's be honest here...people only say that to be polite and never actually plan to follow through. So, there’s a food truck that usually parks about a half block away, it’s amazing! Let me buy you lunch for this? 

*Giving the bottle a little wiggle, I let Betty down next to my feet and nodded firmly, not leaving her an opportunity to decline.* There are even a few scattered tables we can eat at. I will just take Betty back to my shop, lock up, and meet you out in the parking lot in a few. And then you can tell me all about the other kinds of concoctions you have made.

*Moving to the door, I twisted open the deadbolt I had locked earlier and opened it for Betty to walk through first.* See you in a few! *Giving a quick wave as I let the door close behind me, I grinned when I saw Raine nodding back at me, not that I had given her any choice to object.* Look at us making a new friend, Betty. And on the first day back at the shop.

[rose-petals-and-pine-needles]

The Boy Who Saw Flowers

Yeah, it’s true. It doesn’t make me sad anymore, but I still don’t look back happily at it. Enjoy a small window into a prominent memory of mine.

Every person has a parent inside their heart. A responsible side, a loving, caring, gentle side. This doesn’t mean you’d be a great parent, of course, but I’d like to believe that at some point you get to see that side of yourself, and of someone else.

As an overly empathetic person, I see this side of myself often. Sometimes it’s more memorable than others. But until last December, I’d never truly experienced how that felt. See, before then, I’d only ever felt motherly toward people my age, as I don’t usually associate with kids. Why would I, I’m almost 17, and I don’t babysit? But, being thrown from that environment, and into one completely new was… I guess I could say enlightening? I still wouldn’t recommend it.

It started with me. You see, I’m the perfect combination of a horrible disposition on life, a habit of over connecting to others, and a long, long, long extensive history of depression and suicidality. Sometimes I tell others a bit too much, and I receive a Baker Act. (An order issued by a social worker, officer, or jail, that forces someone to be hospitalized, in order to see a psychiatrist and doctor within 72 hours). So, I guess it really started with my third Baker Act. Due to financial reasons, I was forced into the same hospital I’d been to twice prior, and I’d rather it stay unnamed. This place had disappointed me twice already, so I wasn’t expecting anything good this time either. Indifferent staff, rude and generally violent patients, and cold, dirty living conditions welcomed me back.

The funny thing about being admitted, is that you know your place immediately. You know who the violent kids are, you can tell the depressed kids from the ones who got too much attention. And you can see the younger kids. The ones admitted mostly because their families aren’t the greatest of places for them. They’re the ones who get the least from this place. Don’t get me wrong, nobody really gets much from that place, except maybe a med change and someone to relate to, but the little ones, they’re just easy targets. Little punching bags. Especially the boys. They group us by age in rooms, so that those conflicts don’t occur as much, but when the hospital fills up like it did, they had no choice.

I was ‘welcomed’ into the filthy hallway by a nurse, a new one, with gauges and an eyebrow piercing. She was surprisingly kind, but definitely a ‘no bullshit’ kind of woman. I sat in one of three chairs in the hallway and waited for an admissions counselor to accept my baker act and discuss a treatment plan. Not five minutes went by before there was shouting coming from the day room. Two nurses ran in and left promptly after, one with a tall blonde boy in tow, one with acne scars and a broken wrist; and the other with a small brunette boy. He was crying, but silently, and his tears fell onto spots of blood, flowing from his nose. His nurse said some kind words, and went to get first aid supplies to clean up his nose and determine if it was broken or not. She put him in a the leftmost chair, leaving an empty chair between us. He held his face with his tiny hands, and pulled his knees up to his chest. This left him like a little ball on the chair.

Instantly, I was angry. Who would do this to such a small boy and why? But anger would get me nowhere good, that was certain. Then there was empathy. There had been from the moment I first saw him. I wasn’t really sure if it’d be right to do anything, but I’d rather be ignored or spat at than leave him alone to cry. That was an all too familiar feeling. After mustering a great deal of courage, I asked him if he was okay. He looked up, small bits of the blood dried down to his face, and his eyelashes glued together by tears. He nodded very softly, then looked at me expectantly. I introduced myself, telling him my first name instead of my middle, because the staff were certain to all call me by my first. Then I told him if he needed anything while the boys’ and girls’ wards were merged, to just ask. He didn’t smile or uncurl himself, I wasn’t expecting him to, but he lifted his head a little more and thanked me, then told me his name. Peter. It suited him well.

It wasn’t very long after that I was pulled into a different room, and finally seen by the admissions counselor, a man who would become a family friend soon after I was released. When I left, Peter was back in the day room, with tissues in hand, covering his nose. I pulled up a chair next to his (which was difficult because the chairs are filled with sand so that patients can’t throw them at each other). A movie was playing on the TV (which sat behind protective glass) but no one really paid any attention to it. There were markers and papers, so some people drew, and there were uno cards, which are a big hit until your third day, when you become sick and tired of the stupid game. Peter, however, simply looked around the room, studying the walls, the tables, chairs, and floor. He stared out of the window from time to time as well. Although I can’t really say he stared out of it, more like at it. The windows were covered with beige plastic, leaving only a small gap of the outside at the top. It was enough to let sunlight in, but nothing more.

I didn’t talk to him or ask him what got him in here, I just sat a good foot away from him and looked up at the movie. It was hard to hear because of the other patients’ uno game. They shouted at each other every time a wild draw four was placed down. There were profanities and threats thrown back and forth. Nothing I’d want any child to have to listen to. Frankly, no one should have to listen to a vivid description of slitting someone’s throat and disposing of the body. At least, not when it doesn’t sound like a joke. But we couldn’t leave the day room unless we needed the bathroom. So that’s where we stayed all day. Doing nothing productive, learning nothing from uno games and screaming, and getting glared at by staff. At some point, the movie ended, but I’d already stopped paying attention. Shortly after, dinner was passed out in styrofoam trays. Basically mush, but everyone pushed and shoved past each other regardless. Food is food. Some of the boys pushed Peter’s head as they went past. Others just glared. Most of the girls ignored Peter, but most is not all. I stood up and glared at the rest of the people who passed him. No one else bothered him, because no one knew why I was there yet. All they knew was that the police brought me in. So they were all cautious. Resting bitch face is an asset, no matter what you think.

Peter and I were the last in line. He quietly made a joke about how disgusting the food was, and whispered his laugh. This made me smile, quite a bit. I was ecstatic that he’d said something to me, and that the something was a joke. But, he was so quiet, trembling and keeping a good distance away from the rest of the line.

Dinner was uneventful. After scaring a couple patients, the news spread around, and no one came near us. I threw away both my tray and Peter’s, and on the way back to our table, snagged a small stack of paper and two markers, orange and red. I sat down again, and asked if he liked to draw. He nodded very enthusiastically. He asked if I did too. I told him I enjoy drawing, but I’m no good. My art is all stick figures. I held out both markers and he took the orange one. We both started drawing. I drew a cat, a pine tree, and a coffee cup; nothing impressive. When I’d finished all those, I looked to see what Peter had done. He was in the middle of a very realistic flower. He’d pause every few seconds, and look off into space, before continuing to draw. I told him it was really pretty and asked what kind of flower it was. He shrugged at me. He told me he didn’t know, it was just pretty. I agreed and watched him finish it. It took up nearly half the paper, and bloomed right off the page. He capped his marker and put it down. ‘Want it?’ he asked. Of course I did. He paused and we were both quiet for a couple minutes.

“I see that one all the time.” He said suddenly.

“The flower?”

He confirmed with a nod.

“Why are you here? You’re really nice.” He looked up at me.

“I’ve been having a rough time recently. I’m just… really sad.” I explained.

“Depressed? My mom’s depressed. She’s really sad all the time too.” He told me.

“Yeah, I’m depressed.” I smiled sadly at him.

We were quiet again. I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by asking why he was here. I felt it was a touchy subject.

“Who’s in your room?” I asked.

“Adrian,” another younger kid. “and Holden,” The blonde. “There’s no space for me to move rooms.” He explained before I could suggest that he should move rooms.

“Well, try your best to stay out of his way, alright?” I suggested instead.

Peter nodded. He looked noticeably happier than before, and that was a win. I was transferred into the girls side of the hallway soon after, and given a room with only one other girl in it. Mary. Because I had two functioning ears, she began telling me everything she knew, as if I cared about why the others were here. She asked why I was admitted, and I told the truth. I was tempted to tell her I got in a fight, but if the nurses heard that I’d only stay longer. She bragged about how close she sat to Holden during morning group that morning, and mused about how hot he was. Maybe he would’ve been a little cute if he look care of his skin… and didn’t act like a dick. After she finished, there was only one other patient she hadn’t mentioned. I didn’t have to ask either.

“You know that kid has schizophrenia, right? Doesn’t he creep you out?” She asked, but it sounded more like an accusation.

I told her I knew. I didn’t, at least, not until she told me, but it didn’t really matter to me anyway. Peter was kind, his smile warm and his eyes bright. The roommate told me I was weird for hanging around an insane kid. I rolled over in bed (in cot?) and ignored her.

Breakfast flew past us the next morning, and they assembled all the kids for a group session. There were two of these a day. The girls got to the day room first, so I grabbed a seat with an empty one next to it and waited for Peter. He came in last, behind Holden. Holden looked exhausted, his blonde hair disheveled, and his steps long and clumsy. He sat down with great effort, and a wince. Peter trotted over to me and took the seat I saved. We said our good mornings and before group started, he told me about his night. Holden tried attacking Peter again, and this time, Adrian got a nurse. The nurse sedated him and he spent the night restrained. Holden was telling his adaptation of the story too. One where Peter was the instigator. Any way he told it wasn’t very credible, however; he ended up sedated, Peter did not. Either way, Peter looked happier, almost confident, and that was truly heartwarming.

Group was boring and noneducational as usual, and left us all in the day room with our paper, markers, and uno. I ripped a couple papers into squares and taught Peter some origami. He was actually very good at it, his folds were precise and his fingers were small enough to make the intricate steps easier. He was quiet and focused on a crane when he finally spoke up.

“Can I tell you something?” He asked, not looking away from his paper.

“Yeah, of course, hon.” I smiled and looked at him.

“Promise not to hate me?” He put the unfinished bird on the table and looked at me this time.

“Promise.” I held out my pinky finger.

Pinky promises are the most serious of promises. You can’t break them. Children seem to understand that the best. He wrapped his pinky around mine, then we both get go.

“I see things...  that aren’t really there. I’m crazy.” He frowned with earnest eyes.

I couldn’t say anything yet. What was the right thing to say? An eight year old shouldn’t think they’re insane, and the world shouldn’t tell him that he is. It was hard not to cry when i finally responded.

“I have a friend at home that does too. That doesn’t make him crazy; he’s actually really sweet. That doesn’t make you crazy either. That makes you stronger than anyone else.” I reassured him.

I hoped my words would reach him, but I didn’t know him well enough to know exactly what to say.

“What does he see?” Peter asked.

I could tell he was happy that I didn’t turn on him like all the others.

“I don’t know. I’ve never asked him.” I replied.

“Is he strong?” Peter asked.

“And smart.” I smiled.

He is strong. One of the strongest people I know. He has his lows and highs, but most importantly, he survives. He overcomes, and he can still smile.

“But, I like my schizophrenia. That’s why I’m crazy.” He tripped over the word schizophrenia, and got quieter as he spoke.

“That’s okay. If you like it, it’s not a problem.” I reasoned.

“When I’m sad, I see flowers.” He looked away from me.

I looked down at my lap too. What do I say? That’s neat? Take your meds anyway? Nothing sounded right.

We didn’t really talk much after that. We had some conversation, and it wasn’t like he was mad or uncomfortable, I simply didn’t know what I could do to help. He didn’t seem to want to bring it up again either. So we left it.

Lunch passed, then dinner, and we were separated. The next day, he was released around lunch.

They sent him to collect his things. He did so, and went to the day room to say goodbye. He came up only to me, as he had no reason to speak to anyone else. He stood in front of my chair, and our eyes became level.

“Don’t come back here, okay?” I said quietly.

He nodded, then wrapped his skinny arms around me. I hugged him back. I was crying when he let go, and so was he.

“Hold onto your flowers.” I smiled at him.

“Okay. Try to be happy.” He smiled too.

And then he left. During the rest of the stay, I ended up scolding Holden (successfully) and befriending him. I’d come to regret that later, but that’s a different story. I haven’t seen Peter since. I don’t expect to see him ever again. He’ll be in my mind for a while though. I honestly can’t believe it took this long to write something about him. If anyone else told me to ‘be happy’, I’d brush it off. I’m depressed, I can’t just ‘be happy’ whenever I feel like it. But from Peter. From an eight year old, the words sounded simple and wise, in an odd, innocent way. I’m thankful that I met him, and that I was able to help for a little while. I hope neither of us return; because I’m trying my best to make things better, and somewhere, a boy is keeping his flowers close by. I wish him the best.

[killthebxy-archive]

          PLEASE NOTE, before anything else, that this verse is based on my knowledge of the movies + my independent research only. i never read the books and possibly won’t any time soon, therefore, if you would like to discuss anything with me before (or during, or after) we start writing, so that we’re more on a same level, please feel free to --- i am always more than glad to learn more and improve my own ideas. this verse is also heavily influenced by headcanons and by my talks with @wildmoored & @ofherage (bless you both precious souls), and contains some lines of inspiration derived from the Life Is Strange video game. i purposefully leave the default timeline of this verse as vague, so it can easily fit any setting: golden trio era, Marauders era, Tom Riddle era, etc.

          with that said, in this verse, the Starks are an ancient pure-blood family in the wizarding world, well known for the same characteristics they have in the ASOIAF canon: brave and noble hearts, quick temper, honorable and ever ready both to help & for a good fight. despite their nature, though, they aren’t anywhere close to wealthy, and are known to struggle with money every now and then, especially now that their family includes six children. Jon himself was adopted, around the same time Robb was born to Ned and Cat, when they found a newborn baby abandoned nearby their home. they decided to adopt and raise him as their own, and, while Jon is aware of this, he has a very close and positive relationship with his parents and his siblings, no matter the lack of real blood ties. to some surprise, this adopted child eventually proved to be a wizard as well, but Ned and Cat treated it naturally and prepared Jon to attend education at Hogwarts, much as they did with Robb. the two of them joined during the same year, for being practically of the same age save for a few months.

          Jon was sorted into Gryffindor, as tends to happen for most Starks, based on traits such as courage, chivalry, and bravery of heart. he retains most character traits from the ASOIAF canon, still an introvert and relatively shy and very observant, though to a much lesser tragic scale --- aka not having to deal with half his family being murdered, being murdered himself, the end of the world, etc etc. for the most part, he’s as common as any other boy his age, and, while not the top student, still a fairly good one and one always motivated to learn more and improve. and, while he’s far from being a social butterfly and much rather prefers to do his own thing, he still has a few good close friends. on the other hand, and despite having a loving family and having had a very positive upbringing, Jon has quite low self-confidence and self-esteem, and falls easily to both bullying and manipulation --- for motives to be better explored in the next paragraphs.

          having grown up with magic, and with Robb as his rival and best friend, Jon has a natural liking for spell casting. he may not be the most powerful caster, but his spells are usually very precise and he can perform them with relative ease --- as well, just like canon!Jon with Longclaw in hand, he is rather graceful in the casting of his spells. because he’s also naturally curious, with an interest in learning and improving his own performance, it’s not rare to find him (even on his own) trying to master more difficult spells. he’s also decent at brewing potions, though it’s not too big of a deal for him --- more like something he doesn’t mind doing for class, sometimes for fun, but definitely nothing like a goal he’d truly invest in.

          where Jon’s talent truly shines, however, is in the art of Divination, for motives that dwell much farther into his story --- because, in this verse, Jon has a very close connection with the deathly hallows --- namely, with the Second Brother in The Tale Of The Three Brothers. please note that what i am going to state next is my personal headcanon, and slight deviation from the real tale as we know it.

          Meanwhile, the second brother journeyed to his own home, where he lived alone. Here he took out the stone that had the power to recall the dead, and turned it thrice in his hand. To his amazement and his delight, the figure of the girl he had once hoped to marry before her untimely death appeared at once before him. Yet she was silent and cold, separated from him as though by a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered. Finally, the second brother, driven mad with hopeless longing, killed himself so as truly to join her. And so Death took the second brother for his own.

          before this happened, however, before the Second Brother killed himself, some events took place. being driven mad with grief for his lost lover, as mentioned, he made a final attempt to reunite with her, even if in a different life, and, for this purpose, mastered the art of separating his soul into parts to be guarded within objects and entities --- creating a few horcruxes as one last, desperate hope to be able to continue existing and, this way, be able to reunite with the woman he loved yet again. throughout the sands of time, these horcruxes were either lost or destroyed; all except one --- a newborn baby abandoned in an alleyway. the same baby Ned and Catelyn Stark adopted as their own, making Jon the final recipient containing the soul of the Second Brother.

          Jon is unaware of this, as are all who live/contact with him (note: this is adaptable to thread), though some quirks in him easily raise suspicion that something is not completely regular about him. from a very young age, he would be plagued with dreams about times past that he could not entirely recognize, but that felt familiar in an unexplained way, and, occasionally, would have actual visions of events yet to happen. despite being an overall healthy child (and then teen and young adult), due to this connection to the Second Brother, he suffers from almost constant headaches and, whenever one of these episodes is more intense (particularly, the visions of the future), he will break down in a fever that lasts for a few good hours and has no bodily explanation, otherwise. these visions are cryptic and symbolic almost always, similar to Melisandre’s visions in the flames, and it takes Jon quite some effort to be able to precisely predict an event.

          another clear manifestation of the Second Brother’s essence in Jon is his deep longing for a girl he doesn’t know about and never met or saw before in his life --- the constant feeling that he is incomplete and aching to reunite with his other half, without the awareness of why this happens or where it comes from. the only clue he has about this mystery girl is the image of a long mane of fire-kissed hair. note: as default for this verse, this girl, who’s also the Second Brother’s lover, is represented by Ygritte --- however, i am open to discuss this and adapt it to different thread ideas. Jon tends to be rather secretive about this story, mainly because he can hardly understand it himself, but it is an overarching theme in his daily life. for example, he’s got a liking for drawing and painting, and the bulk of his spontaneous creations are related to this girl.

          yet another manifestation has to do with the manipulation of time-space. again, this is something that i am headcanoning out of my own musings, because (as far as i know) we do not have information about any sort of spells or anything else able to alter the time-space dimension, save for the time turner device. because the Second Brother was able to project his obsessive will throughout the centuries, however, creating a horcrux in the form of a baby in modern days, Jon retains a little bit of this gift. he cannot do it at will at all and it is a very consuming process, but, whenever his emotions are in strong disarray (e.g., very angry, very sad, very anxious), at times it provokes minor mishaps in the time-space --- such as rewinding a few minutes in time without meaning to, or accidentally warping objects or even to make them disappear.

          on the other hand, Jon’s biggest flaw as a wizard comes from a rather mundane fact: that he has severe phobia of heights. logically, this greatly hinders his skill to ride a broom, which is something he avoids as much as possible. during his first year at Hogwarts, he actually scored a very brilliant last place in Madam Hooch’s flying class and was only able to push through it by means of exceptional willpower and determination --- but make no mistake, he’s the worst broom rider ever and will cling to you for dear life & squish your ribs flat if you make him fly anything else at all with you --- this, if he actually doesn’t slip off it altogether and smacks himself down on the ground below.

          as far as his faithful companion goes, and no surprises here, in Jon’s case it is Ghost. wolves (a regular wolf, not a direwolf, in this verse) are usually not a welcome presence on the school grounds, but, thanks to the good relationships between the Starks and Rubeus Hagrid, and once the animals proved to be well trained and no threat to the students, they were allowed to live in the Forbidden Forest and to visit the castle’s outside areas, though not the castle itself.

a sum-up of general details:

default verse age: varies between 11 and 18, depending on the school year;

in post-school year threads, Jon is a professor at Hogwarts and responsible for the Divination class;

bisexual and biromantic (note: because of his longing for the mysterious girl, building up a romantic relationship with him will take time and effort, though i am not opposed to it if chemistry is present. for this same motive, unless otherwise plotted beforehand, the default, no matter Jon’s age, is that he never had a relationship before, at both sexual and romantic levels);

social drinker, more for the fun of it than anything else, and doesn’t smoke;

no tattoos and no piercings, because he personally doesn’t see the appeal in it;

is quite short-sighted and wears glasses;

sucks at winking because he cannot blink only one eye at a time.

wizarding world details:

Jon’s wand is fir wood with a unicorn hair core, twelve inches, and rigid flexibility. 

          Gerbold Octavius Ollivander always called wands made of fir ‘the survivor’s wand’, for having sold it to three wizards who subsequently passed through mortal peril unscathed. this wood, coming as it does from the most resilient of trees, produces wands that demand staying power and strength of purpose in their true owners, and they are poor tools in the hands of the changeable and indecisive. fir wands favor owners of focused, strong-minded and, occasionally, intimidating demeanor. unicorn hair generally produces the most consistent magic, and is least subject to fluctuations and blockages. wands with unicorn cores are generally the most difficult to turn to the Dark Arts. they are the most faithful of all wands, and usually remain strongly attached to their first owner. minor disadvantages of unicorn hair are that they do not make the most powerful wands (although the wand wood may compensate) and that they are prone to melancholy if seriously mishandled, meaning that the hair may 'die' and need replacing.

          if, in any situation, Jon was to face a Boggart, it would shift into the shape of a broom --- more concretely, one actually poking at him and trying to get him to ride it. this is the symbol of his deep fear of flying and, ultimately, his deep fear of heights. to counter it, his Riddikulus spell would change the broom into a cute dancing one, worthy of any Disney movie.

          Jon’s class record goes as follows, with little fluctuation during the different years (Arithmancy was a third option allowed exceptionally to him when picking the classes to add to the core ones, based on his great talent and liking for the subject):

Arithmancy:  (O)utstanding

Astronomy: (E)xceeds Expectations

Care of Magical Creatures: (E)xceeds Expectations

Charms: (E)xceeds Expectations

Defense Against the Dark Arts: (E)xceeds Expectations

Divination: (O)utstanding

Flying: (D)readful

Herbology: (A)cceptable

History of Magic: (A)cceptable

Potions: (A)cceptable

Transfiguration: (E)xceeds Expectations

          finally, Jon’s Patronus charm takes the form of a Thestral --- more information HERE. Jon is also able to see real Thestrals, for having witnessed death before --- not in his current life, but in his past one. this fact brings confusion both to him and to those he tells about it, exactly because, in his current life, he’s never witnessed a death. it is yet another remnant of his existence as the Second Brother, and the tragic loss of his lover.

[acqviesce]

✩ - Ama & Isao

Send ‘✩’ for the following: ((STILL ACCEPTING))1 of 3.

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice?: /;quietly stares into the void/ Have either of them ever raised their voice at each other? I don’t think so, unless its out of excitement or such.Isao is very calm, relaxed, and I think he’d be less likely. So Ama would be more likely. Probably if Isao gets hurt because of something stupid, and that would just be him being worried.Who threatens to leave but never actually does?: Again, I don’t think either one. I don’t even think they would leave the room when angry. They’ve been friends long enough that they know how to handle each other, and thus know how to work through things. But, if it ever does happen, I’m going to say Ama again, but it would be only to his room to paint, draw, something like that.Who actually keeps their word and leaves?; Ama again. But just to his room or something.Who trashes the house?: Um... Neither? That’s... I don’t think either would let the other get to that point. Do either of them get physical? Ama would after a certain point, but not toward Isao. It would more likely be toward himself than anything, something to get the emotions out and just breathe.How often do they argue/disagree? Not often. As said before, Isao is chill and that can rub off on Ama, but I’m sure there will be times where they’ll argue. Probably over food. There might be a food fight then, and everything is fine afterwords. /;shrugs/Who is the first to apologise? Both. Ama would want to apologize first, but I’m sure Isao would beat him to it a few times. 

Sex:

Who is on top? + Who is on the bottom? (doing this together because why ask both when one answers both??) It switches. Ama has been on top, and so has Isao. In the same night. They just go with what is being felt at that moment.Who has the strangest desires? I’m going to say Ama, because yeaaaaaaah. /;eyes the vampire/ He probably needs to be doused in holy water with some of the things he wants. And that goes for--Any kinks? This question as well. But, ama is quite a bit older than Isao, so its only to be expected that Ama’s tastes are more expansive, and he’s had the time to explore them all.Who’s dominant in bed? Isao, for the moment. There will be a time when this answer will be “they switch”.Is head ever in the equation? Of course! Its one of Ama’s favorite things to do, so its not going to be left out.If so, who is better at performing it? So far I can only say Ama. But there is no doubt that Isao is good too.Ever had sex in public? Give it time. It hasn’t happened yet, but Ama loves to tease, especially when its most inconvenient. Watching them squirm is always so satisfying, and so is getting pushed to the nearest place that offers the most privacy (sometimes..) just because they couldn’t wait.Who moans the most? Ama is very vocal. Curses, moans, purrs. Isao is as well though, but I don’t think quite so much as Ama.Who leaves the most marks? Isao leaves the most visible��marks. Ama tries to, occasionally, be a little more considerate considering Isao’s work. But when Isao doesn’t work? Ama leaves as many visible ones as possible.Who screams the loudest? /;whispers/ Neither?? maybe ama. Since I think he’s a little more vocal.Who is the more experienced of the two? /;thinks about this for thirty thousand years/ Um..... I... I’m gonna go with Ama, just because muscle memory from being so much older than Isao.Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? Both. Definitely both because both is needed.Rough or soft? More rough. Bites, scratches, tugging on hair.. How long do they usually last? Ask after Ama goes into heat. Is protection used? No. Ama can’t give or get an std, nor pregnant (as far as he knows)Does it ever get boring? God no..Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? Currently, no where strange... It was almost at the beach. That would have been interesting because sand hurts.

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children? It hasn’t been brought up, simply because well, they just started dating, so anything that major is waaaaaaaay in the future.If so, how many children do your muses want/have? N/AWho is the favorite parent? Isao would be. I feel like Ama would be the more disciplining parent, and Isao would sneak them off for ice cream like half an hour before food was ready.Who is the authoritative parent? /;points to above question./Who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school? That is a toss up between the two. I think both know how important it is to not have to go to school sometimes, and it would probably be an unspoken thing that the kid(s) could just play hooky every now and then.Who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around? Isao by far. And he would be the one saying “nah, your dad’ll be fine with it” when he knows better.Who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children? Oh please, they’d both be there unless something just couldn’t get out (which would be sooooo very rare) Both know the importance of things like thatWho goes to parent teacher interviews? Again, it would be both, but Ama would be the one that the teachers would be less happy to see, because he would be the one to threaten if they said something wrong about their child. (”Oh my kid is too disruptive? Weren’t you just as disrupted in class? I just happened to find that you got suspended for very similar behavior,” “How did you--” “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you treat them how you wanted to be treated then. Don’t be a dick about it.”)Who changes the diapers? Isao. I don’t know if Ama could handle the smell of baby poop because vampire/cat sense of smell. That would be fucking terrible...Who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby? Ama, just because he’s probably already up.Who spends the most time with the children? They would try to spend as much time with them, probably planning a lot of outings together. Picnics would become a staple for the family.Who packs their lunch boxes?Isao would start, and then Ama would come through and replace things. (”Isao. They can’t have four candy bars in one school day.” “But what if they get hungry!” /;hands over apple slices/)Who gives their children ‘the talk’? Um... i think it would be a joint thing, but just that image is hilarious. It would definitely be both.Who cleans up after the kids? Ama. He cleans when he’s not stressed enough to put it into art, but too stressed to stay still.Who worries the most? Ama. By far. Just because he worries so much on a normal basis. His children? God help them.Who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from? either is possible. But I feel like Ama cusses more, and if they heard him while he was painting or drawing or something similar, they’ll hear a lot them.

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle? Both. They cuddle quite a bit actually. Who is the little spoon? Ama usually.. But he likes being the big spoon too.Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? Ama. Though I’m sure Isao will easily go along with it and make Ama regret every single fucking second of it. I fee like this relationship will be a lot of revenge teasing to get back at the other for that last time.Who struggles to keep their hands to themself?  ....Both? I mean.. both are rather touchy.How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable?  Ama: /;horrified whisper to Isao/ you can get uncomfortable while cuddling??Who gives the most kisses? This is something else that’s a lot of give and take. Both give lots of kisses, but I think maybe Ama would be, just because when he’s happy, he’ll kiss their face a million times before he’s satisfied. And then another million times just to make extra sure.What is their favourite non-sexual activity? Reminding Isao he can’t pick the movies anymore. Ever. In all seriousness though, they usually do a lot of things together. They run, Isao shares his dances with Ama, which Ama loves, and Ama is always pulling Isao off to somewhere-- the beach, galleries, things like that. So can I just say.. being around each other is their favorite?Where is their favourite place to cuddle? The couch, because usually its while they’re watching a movie.Who is more likely to playfully grope the other?  Isao. Just because Ama is so reactive, he’d do it for a laugh.How often do they get time to themselves? Enough. Isao has work, and dance practice, and Ama has school and art on his own terms. So they can escape to their own world when they need to.

Sleeping:

Who snores? Neither, though Ama talks in his sleep, and Isao probably dances in his sleep.If both do, who snores the loudest? n/aDo they share a bed or sleep separately?They don’t share a bed exactly, but are known to fall asleep together on the couch. Otherwise, Ama is in his bed, and Isao is.... probably at work.If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? Both. Ama will easily cuddle up to Isao, but they probably aren’t always together, physically. There’s no need, and Ama worries about making Isao cold.Who talks in their sleep? Answered~What do they wear to bed? Aaah.. depends.Sometimes its nothing, sometimes its just pajama pants, or a really big shirt for Ama.Are either of your muses insomniacs? Not exactly insomniacs, but sleep doesn’t always come easily, which I’m sure is normal. Ama worries so much and it comes to him when he’s about to sleep, and Isao goes over dances, making mental revisions to a routine he’s working on, or trying to remember the name of that song he really liked, and he can’t and it is driving him insane!Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? No. They don’t effect Ama, and Isao normally can sleep well enough, since he’s always so busy.Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? Ama is usually pressed against Isao, who holds onto them. Ama is small enough to curl up and almost disappear against the other.Who wakes up with bed hair? Is there a way to avoid bed hair??Who wakes up first? Occasionally Ama, because early classes, or vice versa, but since Ama stays up late more often than not, he will sleep in naturally, and Isao likes to run in the morning (he has persuaded Ama to go on occasion, when the sun isn’t really up, or behind clouds).Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? Isao does for Ama, because otherwise Ama would serving cereal. But Ama would try. Finding someting he could fix for his boyfriend.What is their favourite sleeping position? Usually Ama curled up on Isao. Who hogs the sheets? Neither, though Ama will sometimes cover Isao, because, once again, worried he makes the other cold.Do they set an alarm each night? ......Maybe? Probably just a reoccurring alarm because Isao comes home, takes a shower/already had a shower, and just goes to bed.Can a television be found in their bedroom? Nope. Because of situations, things like that are in the living room where everyone can be comfortable.Who has nightmares? Ama. Usually memories that he doesn’t remember, but are occasionally leaked out. And sometimes its precognitive dreams.Who has ridiculous dreams? Mm.. I think Isao would have the more naturally occurring ridiculous dreams.Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? Ama by far. Such a small thing and takes up the entire fucking bed. Every time.Who makes the bed? Ama. Though its definitely not done every day.What time is bed time? Um.... people actually have specific times they go to bed??Any routines/rituals before bed? Brushing teeth, washing face, making sure everyone is okay (for Ama), usually kisses distributed for a good ten, fifteen minutes.Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? Ama. Because of the fucking sun that seems intent on rising every morning.

Work:

Who is the busiest? Um...Both are pretty busy. School and work for both of them, but I would say that Isao is busier, since he has actual hours he has to work, whereas Ama can choose to stop working for the day/night.Who rakes in the highest income? Oh god.. I’m not sure. I know Ama currently has the most money, but Isao spends all of his on school, where Ama doesn’t need to/has the money for it and it doesn’t bother him. And this really all depends on how many paintings Ama sells in a set period of time. Are any of your muses unemployed? Nope.Who takes the most sick days? Ama doesn’t really get sick, other than headaches from his dreams, and from not feeding enough, so I would say Isao. Cause well.. Isao is human. for the moment.Who is more likely to turn up late to work? This is a bit of an unfair question, considering the nature of Ama’s work, but Isao wouldn’t either because he ‘needs’ that job. So.. yeah.Who sucks up to their boss? Um... Neither??What are their jobs? Oh now you ask. Tsk. Ama is an artist/painter, and Isao is a stripper.Who stresses the most? Ama by far.Do your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? Both enjoy their jobs. Are your muses financially stable? ama is, and so that means Isao is.

Home:

Who does the washing? Ama. Once again, cleans a lot when a little more stressed.Who takes out the trash? Whoever puts the last bit of trash in the can. That’s just.. fair? I guess.Who does the ironing? Isao would have to, because of Ama’s need to avoid heat. But most of the time, clothing is ironed.Who does the cooking? Isao. Again, heat+ama= very bad.Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? Neither? Though Isao has admitted to not being the best cook (Ramen, a college student’s staple.)Who is messier? Isao. Just because Ama tries to keep things clean. ish.Who leaves the toilet roll empty? Probably Isao, just because. Tired and doesn’t think about it.Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? Ama is probably more guilty of this, because I can see Isao being careful with his clothes since it wasn’t easy for him to wash clothes.Who forgets to flush the toilet? Neither. Ama would hurt someone for that. Remember, vampire and cat sense of smell. Ew.Who is the prankster around the house? Isao. By far. Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? Well, Isao doesn’t drive, and Ama’s car starts without keys so... this is irrelevant.Who mows the lawn? Apartment. No need to mow something that doesn’t exist.Who answers the telephone?  ... They answer their own phones? I don’t think its gotten to the point where they answer each others phone. It wouldn’t exactly be a “why the fuck would you answer my phone??” thing, but more of.. Isao has things that Ama can’t answer (like that audition) and the same for Ama (people wanting to buy paintings, commissions, etc).Who does the vacuuming? Ama. Who does the groceries? They go together as often as they can, since Ama is picky, and Isao can’t really cook.Who takes the longest to shower? Ama. Even though he’s a cat and doesn’t like water that much, he’s much more comfortable in a bath or shower and takes advantage of it.Who spends the most time in the bathroom? Ama. He puts more on, especially when he wants to dress up. Isao doesn’t need to do much, he’s great as is.

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem? Not really. Ama is well off, and if Isao needs anything, Ama won’t hesitate.How many cars do they own? .....Isao: 0. Ama: 5 including a motorcycle? I think....Do they own their home or do they rent? Technically Ama owns the apartment? But he moves quite a bit as well, so there’s no need to own it.Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside?  Is there anywhere in South Korea that can be considered deep in the countryside? But they live near the coast, cause Seoul.Do they live in the city or in the country? ...This should have been included in the above question, seriously.Do they enjoy their surroundings? Yes. Its noisy but theres so much to do and really just.. overall pleasant. What’s their song? Um.. hahahahaaa Gasoline by Halsey.What do they do when they’re away from each other? Normal things? Ama paints, spends time with others, Isao works, practices, makes the gods envy him.Where did they first meet? School. They had a class together and just gravitated toward each other. Ama was Isao’s entertainment to stay awake during the class.How did they first meet? I mean.. School. Class. Oh hey, this guy’s pretty cute, lets sit beside him.Who spends the most money when out shopping? Ama, definitely. He likes to buy things for people.Who’s more likely to flash their assets? Isao. Just to fuck with Ama and tease him. Ama doesn’t exactly flash anything unless he’s at home. And then its on. You know when he wants attention.Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? Both. As long as the other is okay. Though I’m sure they’re laughing as they ask if the other is okay.Any mental issues? Some, yes, but that’s to be expected, right?Who’s terrified of bugs? Neither. Ama doesn’t like spiders, but he’ll still pick them up and take them outside, and then shudder once they crawl off of him because  FUCKING LEGSWho kills the spiders around the house? Neither. There is no reason to kill them. At all.Their favourite place? The apartment, where they can cuddle and just be the dorks they are.Who pays the bills? Ama. Isao has other things to worry about.Do they have any fears for their future? Dear god... Ama always worries, especially with the fact that he’s already experienced Isao dying once. He worries about it happening again, and if he can bring him back again without repercussions, and just.. don’t get him started, please.Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? Both. Isao is good with it, and Ama likes to kind of spoil Isao so.. Who uses up all of the hot water?  Isao. Ama barely uses hot water. Besides, the hot water helps to relax Isao’s muscles after a hard practice, or a long shift.Who’s the tallest? AMA!!!! Okay no, Isao is. By a lot.Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? Ama probably. Massage Isao’s... back, since he can’t really reach their shoulders that easily.Who wanders around in their underwear? Ama will wander around in a really big shirt without underwear. Does that count?Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? It probably starts as one singing and the other joining in, and then they dance. What do they tease each other about? Isao loves to tease Ama about his height. And probably getting fur all over everything. Ama will tease the other about glittery thongs forever.Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? When are glittery thongs not something to cringe at?Do they have mutual friends? ...Yes? One specifically, though can he really be considered a friend to Isao? Probably not. Who crushed first?  Ama probably, just because ama catches feelings easily.Any alcohol or substance related problems? Problems? No not really. Ama drinks, but it doesn’t effect him. Isao drinks at work, but its not always excessive.Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? Isao. Work. People buy drinks for the strippers, and they get free/discounted liquor Who swears the most? Ama. He will cuss at anything, and everything. Always.

[verdelet]

Promises

Characters/Relationship: Dazai Osamu, Oda Sakunosuke / Odazai Genre: Fluff, kind-of proposal Word Count: 1572 Excerpt: Oda blinked at the question, letting it roll around in his head. Marriage was not something he had considered in his life, not at this point in time. Not with the hands that looked as they always did, stained as they were, calloused from the grips of his guns. Not when he still didn't understand. He looked away, to the graffiti sprayed onto one wall, smudges of ink surrounded by shadows. He looked to Dazai, the young man's grin coy and mischievous. It was a little endearing, actually. "Well?" Dazai prompted.

( Inspired by this.)

Of all the places to hide drugs, an abandoned church wasn't exactly what Oda would expect. Then again, he supposed the unexpected made for good hiding places. They were near the slums, the structure built on the edge of a beach, the smell of salt carrying in through cracked windows and unseen places. In the dark, it was easier to watch the glint of waves crashing against the shore without getting distracted by the trash and waste littering the sand.

Dazai’s men took care of everything. The drugs were located under loose floorboards and taped under seemingly random pews, the flashlights they used glinting off gold-painted crosses. Intelligence had reported that the dealers themselves would arrive some time close to dawn, and Dazai opted to stay instead of wasting the time and effort of transport to the base and back.

Half the team returned to base with the haul, while the other half scurried off under Dazai's command, seeking an appropriate location close and convenient enough to hole up for the night. Thinking back, Oda mused that he had no idea why Dazai had elected to drag him along for the mission. It wasn't like Dazai was lacking hands, after all. He also wondered what it meant, that Dazai had assured him the job would be non-lethal.

"The boss wants to make an example of those who steal from us. Luckily for you, that means we won't be killing them today Odasaku!"

"I don't think the culprits would agree."

Dazai had laughed at his response, and Oda had agreed to come along even before he'd realized he'd decided to.

Now, it was just the two of them in the church. Dazai fussed around the base of the cross behind the altar, poking and prodding like a curious child told not to touch. The hour was late, just past midnight, but the broken windows allowed moonlight to filter through unhindered, turning the threadbare carpet under Oda's feet a darker shade of what used to be red.

"Do you believe in God, Odasaku?" Dazai's voice was sudden -- quiet, though not out of respect of their current location. The question curled at the edges, amusement slinking through each syllable like a cat twining about his ankles.

"No." He'd never learned a faith other than the one he had in his ability to harm others. "Do you?"

Dazai didn’t answer immediately. "I wonder." He spun around, smile painted across pale lips. In the washed-out light of the moon, Dazai's bandages almost glowed. His skin seemed even paler than usual, his hair and clothes an inky darkness threatening to swallow him whole. His shoes made no sound as he abandoned the cross, treading lightly down the stairs to where Oda stood, just past the first row of pews.

He looks like a ghost, Oda thought. A particularly corporeal ghost, wanting to leave without a trace, tethered in place by some unknowable force. He stepped forwards just as Dazai took the final step, bringing himself closer to his companion. Close enough that Dazai had to tip back slightly to look up at him. Close enough that he could see the slight, almost absent smile on Dazai's lips.

"Do you want to believe in God?" he asked, watching the slight crinkle at the corner of Dazai's eye as the younger man's smile widened.

"I don't care about God," Dazai answered back, a secret bridging the gap between them. He wasn't lying. He didn't lie to Oda, a fact that Oda wasn't entirely sure how it had come to be. Dazai avoided the question, Dazai answered, but not the question. Dazai gave another question. Dazai did not lie.

Not without reason, anyway, Oda conceded to himself a moment later.

"What do you care about?" There was no bite, only the earnest curiosity he felt towards the darkness of Dazai's mind. His companion huffed a breath. It could have been a laugh or a sigh, but Oda thought it sounded fond all the same.

"I wonder," Dazai said again, watching him with an eye that saw everything. Then, Dazai stepped back, up the first step to the altar so that they were almost eye to eye. "Do you know that people used to get married here?"

"It's a church."

Dazai didn't look perturbed by the redundancy of his own question. "What sort of person would you like to see walking down the aisle towards you, Odasaku?"

Oda blinked at the question, letting it roll around in his head. Marriage was not something he had considered in his life, not at this point in time. Not with the hands that looked as they always did, stained as they were, calloused from the grips of his guns. Not when he still didn't understand. He looked away, to the graffiti sprayed onto one wall, smudges of ink surrounded by shadows. He looked to Dazai, the young man's grin coy and mischievous. It was a little endearing, actually.

"Well?" Dazai prompted.

"Someone like you, I suppose," Oda responded at last, catching the way Dazai's smile flickered at the corners. "Someone who knew..." Someone who knew he was a sinful man. Someone who would give him the chance to become better, whatever better was. Someone who would not balk at the things he'd done. Someone who would...

Oda blinked, letting his gaze trail over Dazai's expression.

Someone who would become better with me.

"... My, Odasaku," Dazai started, grin back in full force, voice catching just a little at the edges. "You're feeling charming today, aren't you?"

"Not particularly." It was the simple truth, though he wondered if that was why it seemed to rattle Dazai. Well, perhaps rattle was a strong word. More like it simply... nudged Dazai. Just enough for Dazai's footing to shift, to accommodate the change, still upright but no longer the same. "Who would you like to see?"

Immediately, the young man's eye lit up. Dazai rocked back and forth, swaying with the prospect of his dream. "A beautiful lady, in a dress of black silk," he practically crooned. "We'd say our vows, and sip poison from our cups together."

"A wedding funeral?" Morbid, but also fitting, he supposed. "Marriage vows extend only until death, Dazai."

Dazai winked. Or perhaps he was simply blinking. It was hard to tell, sometimes. "We'd die in a committed marriage, then."

There was a pause, long enough that Oda started to respond, but Dazai started speaking again, a theatrical sigh spilling from parted lips.

"You know, Odasaku," he commented. "I likely wouldn't mind seeing someone like you walking down the aisle either."

Now that, Oda couldn't help but startle at. "I have children to take care of," he pointed out, instead of bringing up his concern for his friend's tastes. That Dazai enjoyed his company was no secret to him, be it at the bar or in bed, but this... was something else. Somehow.

"We don't have to poison ourselves after the vows." Dazai waved a hand through the air, dismissive and amused all at once. When he looked at Oda, the gaze felt oddly heavy, despite the conversational tone. "Odasaku, would you prefer someone like me? Or me?"

A question he already knew the answer to. Oda considered it nonetheless, then raised a hand, palm up in the space between them until Dazai took it. He folded their fingers together. Dazai's hand was a familiar shape in his own. He knew its taste, the way the slim point of fingers would curl into his tongue should he deign to take them that way. He knew the strength of its grip, when it clung to his own as he pushed them both deeper into the sheets, against the wall, on whatever surface Dazai felt like using. He knew the softness of it, the way those lithe fingers twitched as he traced their shape with his own, finding callouses and pressing his mouth to them one by one.

The knowledge made his lips tingle, tempted to seek out the map of lines across Dazai's palm again. Later, he thought as he spoke.

"Dazai, would you marry me?"

Dazai smiled. A familiar smile, like a plan gone right, like he'd known Oda’s answer. Then it softened, like he hadn't actually expected the question. "Well... Since you asked so nicely, Odasaku."

Outside, there was only solitude. The rustle of leaves, the whistle of wind through cracked glass and wooden doors that couldn’t shut quite right. Darkness lit only by the moon. Shadows whispering and waving, shifting into shapes unrecognizable. Sunrise was hours away. The team would be back soon. But they were not here yet. They did not need to be executive and handyman again. Not yet. Not while the outside stayed where it was.

In here, moonlight caught in Dazai's hair, that chocolate brown turned almost black. In here, it spun a halo around wayward strands, shifting and translucent, finer than lace and chiffon. Like a veil. The thought floated in, a whisper at the back of his mind as he took half a step forwards, as Dazai leaned that fraction of an inch needed to press their lips together. It was a simple kiss. Soft. Gentle. Lips on lips, Dazai's hand free hand sliding up Oda's neck, caressing his jaw. Oda's hand drawing Dazai closer, and closer still. It wasn't their first kiss, and it would be far from their last, but Oda thought it felt different nonetheless.

Like a promise. Like a vow.

Until death do us part.

[eairth]

Ashore

Eventually the sand beneath her feet changed from being under water to under snow. Some of the wood from the wreckage had arrived before her and was already gathering a white blanket. 

“Don’t mind us,” they yawned, “we’re just going to sleep a while.”

The fire no longer blazed behind her. When she turned to look back, there was only the black abyss of the starless sky and the sea. Forward, beyond the sand, weeping pine trees beckoned with low, outstretched arms.

After what seemed like a high number of footsteps she laid down in the snow.

When had she reached this clearing in the forest? When had she been welcomed in by the trees? When had she reached shore? When had she leapt off the ship? When had it caught too much fire?

She pointedly avoided asking herself why any of that had happened. If there was an answer, it probably wouldn’t make her feel better.

“This is fine,” she thought.

A ghost floated through her head, suggesting this was a bit lackluster for a finale, but she was too tired to really bother with anything anymore.

…

The snow crunched softly beneath his feet. The dog stopped weaving wild trails to sniff a quiet, benign lump in the snow. When he reached it, the dog acquiesced and he nudged the lump with the butt of the rifle.

“Hey.” Prod, prod. He nudged the rifle a bit more firmly against her shoulder to turn her over a bit. His eyebrows made room for his widened eyes. He knelt down to check for a pulse.

The dog waited on standby while he hoisted her into his back and held the rifle across the back of her thighs as a seat.

Midway back to the cabin she stirred at the familiar scent and rhythm of the steps.

A few hours later the cracking fire in the hearth called her back for a moment.

Some time after that, a one sided conversation woke her completely. She didn’t know if she was safe but she was definitely warm, dry, and comfortable on the couch. She waited, careful to avoid drawing attention to herself while taking inventory of the surroundings.

The dog noticed her anyway. It huffed and wagged.

He walked to the opposite side of the coffee table next to the couch, set a tray down, and poured two cups of tea from the same pot. “Tea?”

“Thank you.” She sat up and received a cup.

“Are you warm enough?”

“Yes, thank you.” She pulled her feet in under her legs. “I guess… Thank you for a number of things.”

“It’s no trouble.” He sat on the floor where he had been crouching and lifted the other cup with a slight toasting gesture. “I don’t often get visitors out here.”

“I should probably get going.” She pulled the blanket off of her lap but her lean forward was interrupted.

“Where?”

“I’m not sure.” Her posture relaxed.

“Do you have a vessel?”

“No. Not anymore.” Her tea tasted like resentment for a moment. Resentment tasted remarkably like the smell of a burning shipwreck.

“You can borrow mine.”

“That’s… Very generous of you. But I must decline. I probably wouldn’t be able to return it.”

He shrugged and stoked the fire to his left.

“Where is the nearest town?” She watched the embers spark.

“There’s a harbor on the mainland about half a day east of here. The nearest port isn’t for a couple days north of that.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

The fire cracked. The dog sighed.

“I can take you if you want.”

“I’m not sure what choice I have.”

A couple embers died out.

Something had been bothering her since she woke up. She wasn’t sure if it was more rude to ask or to avoid it. When he finished his tea, she decided. That’s when she would go ahead and ask.

He finished his tea and set the cup down on the tray lightly.

She took a deep breath. “By any chance, are you…?”

He looked down, smiling. “Yes.” When he looked back up their eyes met. “You weren’t sure?”

“Well, no. It’s been a while and things are different and I would never have expected to meet you here in a place like this and…” Her gaze had wandered off without her realizing it. She felt foolish. Of course he knew who she was. Even from the moment he saw her in the snow, probably. Who else would be in such a pickle. If she had changed at all in the intervening years, she must have only become even more of an outlandish cartoon. She gripped the blanket. If only it could hide her without compounding her embarrassment.

He just kept smiling wistfully and poured another cup of tea.

“At any rate, you can stay here for as long as you like. It won’t get much warmer any time soon though. So if you’re in a hurry to get back to your crew, you might as well head out when you’re ready.”

“The crew crumbled before the ship.” She muttered darkly, “Forget belly of the whale. For me, this place must be an Ogygia.” She instantly regretted saying something so pompous. The small tea cup was useless as a shield.

“Am I more of a Calypso than a Penelope to you?” He mused.

Her eyes flickered up to his like a cat’s eyes glowing against headlights. She collected herself with a deep breath.

“Sorry. I guess that was a bit dramatic.” She pulled the blanket back over her lap and shifted her weight. “Thank you for your generous hospitality. I might only need a little time to think. Maybe while I build another ship.” She leaned forward to set her cup down. “When I washed ashore, I didn’t think anyone else was around. Least of all, you. I thought my luck had finally run out. Now I need to figure out where to go from here.”

He nodded.

She leaned back.

He lifted his knees and pressed a palm against each one to stand. “Well, like I said, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like. I don’t have anything better to offer than the couch. I hope that’s all right.”

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” 

She watched him take the tray to the kitchen, pat the dog on the head, and blow out the lantern on the wall.

“Good night.”

“Good night.”