#i got 2 charm samples !

[swamp-teeth]

celestial kisses

[piknim]

Hehehehe

[mssorceressupreme]

Working Late | F.W

———

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: you got a new job at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, and you’ve developed a strong attraction to one of your new bosses.

Warnings: boss/employee, age gap (ish), making out, shy reader (not a warning lol but yk). Actually it's kind of a sweet fluffy-ish one, might make a pt 2. with more smut tho idk

———

It all started with butterbeer. Ginny Weasley and you had decided to meet at The Three Broomsticks for a long-overdue catch-up. The amber liquid foamed in your mugs as you laughed about school, gossiped about classmates, and vented about our worries. But your laughter faltered as you stirred my butterbeer idly.

"I just don’t know what I’m going to do after Hogwarts," You confessed, keeping your gaze fixed on the swirling foam. "Everyone seems to have their plans lined up, and I’m… stuck. No job, no prospects, nothing meaningful."

Ginny cocked her head, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "You know, my brothers could use some extra help at their shop. You’ve heard of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, right?"

Your heart skipped. Of course, you’d heard of it. And of Fred.

"I don’t know your brothers that well," You mumbled, cheeks warming. Ginny waved you off, grinning.

"Doesn’t matter. I reckon they’ll like you, and I’ll put in a good word."

Unbeknownst to her, the mention of Fred sent your heart into overdrive. He was everything you weren’t—loud, confident, and irresistibly charming, well you had your own charms but his was just effortless. Not to mention your stupid infatuation with him.

You barely spoke to the twins at school, your shyness building a wall you were too scared to scale. Besides it kept you safe, from unwanted conversations, judgement and meaningless social interactions.

Still, Ginny’s determination left you little room to argue.

“Uh sure, thanks Gin.” You forced a smile, unsure of whether seeing Fred, let alone being in the same compound as him would help with your infatuation. This forced proximity might be the end for you.

It’s time to let go of him and move on, you mentally slapped yourself. Besides, he was a couple of years older than you, no way he’d go for you right?

———

The following week, you stood outside the shop at 8 a.m., shivering slightly despite the warmth of the sun.

To your surprise you actually got the job, Ginny managed to secure you a position. And after a quick interview with George last week, you found yourself rewarded the position of becoming an official employee of the store.

Great, you had misread the opening time—Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes didn’t open until 9. Just as you debated whether to leave and return later, a deep, groggy voice startled you.

"You’re early."

You spun around to find Fred Weasley standing behind you. He was taller than you remembered, his fiery hair slightly tousled, his jaw more defined. His eyes, sharp and glinting with curiosity, locked onto yours, and your stomach flipped.

"I, uh, thought you opened at eight," You stammered, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

Fred smirked, his voice still husky from sleep. "Well, early bird gets the worms. Come on in, I can give you a quick tour."

He unlocked the door, holding it open for me. "Ladies first."

———

Inside, Fred gave you a whirlwind tour, his tone surprisingly serious as he explained the tasks. Stocking shelves, organising merchandise, assisting customers—it all seemed simple enough until we began working side by side.

"Here, let me show you," Fred said, reaching over your to grab a box from the top shelf. His arm brushed yours, sending a wave of excitement through your body.

The proximity was electrifying, and you found focus wavering. “These are our latest addition, love potions. We have yet to stock them on the display there,” He leaned in closer to you, pointing to the pink display near the entrance, “See that one, the pink stand there.”

“Do we get to sample one of the potions?” You teased, wanting to ease the tension.

He paused, turning to you, “Have someone on your mind for these eh?”

Your eyes grew wide, “Oh no no, no one at all, just wondering.” You forced a smile, mentally face palming yourself.

He smirked, then continued explaining to which you nodded slowly, listening attentively to everything he instructed.

“George was supposed to help bring these boxes up to my office but since he’s not here yet, ‘spose you could help bring them up.” Fred gestured to some boxes by the door, newly delivered packages.

“Yes sir.” You replied hastily, making your way to the boxes.

“Fred.” He chuckled softly, “Just Fred would do.”

One by one, you carried what seemed like never ending inventory into his office upstairs for him to stock check them, making sure the quality was up to par.

Finally, it was the last box’s turn to be brought up, as you were carefully walking up the stairs, the entrance swung open and George ran in, "Oi Fred, Ginny said Y/N would be starting today, have you showed her-"

Upon hearing your name, you whipped your head around, missing a step in the process, and tripping right outside Fred's office. The box fell on the ground, and out spewed the items, clinking and clanking on the floor. It was some mini metal boxes with assorted treats inside of them. "Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry!"

The items scattered across the floor, and you crouched down hastily, picking them up one by one. Fred was in his office, rushing to your aid as soon as he heard the noise.

"Accidents happen all the time, don’t worry about it," Fred said, kneeling to help. Upon picking the items up, your hands touched, grazing each other softly and you froze.

His eyes locked onto yours, intense and searching. The air thickened with something unspoken, something undeniable, before a loud voice interrupted you. "Oh hey guys, sorry I was late, was caught finding the keys to me' office." George apologised, he saw the two of you kneeling on the ground, giving Fred a quick glance before darting towards you.

"Y/N! We meet again, I trust Freddie has shown you around. Come on down when you're done yeah, the shop's opening soon." George instructed before heading downstairs.

As the day wore on, you noticed whispers among some customers—girls your age, glaring enviously.

"She only got the job because she’s Ginny’s friend," one of them muttered.

"Why is she the only employee? If I had known, I would've applied too...obviously for George." The other one giggled.

"Whatever, she's not even that pretty, they probably hired her out of pity."

Fred happened to overhear their conversations, and his eyes shot daggers at the girls, but forced himself to remain calm, they were after all his customers. "Actually," he interjected smoothly, "she’s here because she’s a hard worker and great at what she does."

His words left you stunned. Had he been paying that much attention to you? You pretended to be busy with another task, acting as though you hadn't heard a word they said.

A few hours passed and boy, you were already tired, legs exhuasted from standing all day and arms from all the reaching, stocking, grabbing and the likes. How on earth did the twins manage to do this everyday, you wondered.

While restocking on a ladder, a mischievous kid aimed a Decoy Detonator at you, hoping to get trial some pranks with the samples provided.

The explosion erupted in your face, colourful sparkling fireworks crackling around you, causing you to loose your balance, "Merlin!" You panicked as you slipped, falling off the ladder. Before you could hit the ground, you felt a strong pair of arms wrapped around your waist.

His familiar scent filled you, it was him. Fred.

You gasped, gripping his forearms. He pulled you upright, his hold lingering for a moment too long.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice low, his breath warm against your ear.

You nodded, but your pounding heart felt like it would bust right out of you at the rate it was beating.

Once he made sure you were alright, you carried on. Though the rest of the day was a bit dull as Fred was in his office doing paperwork, whilst George stayed downstairs entertaining the customers.

You could't help but think back to the situation moments before, the way he held you, his scent, his voice, Merlin this was not helping your crush at all. And it did not help that he looked so handsome in that all black suit he was wearing, ugh your mind began to wonder, but that did not hold you back from delivering great customer service.

"Thanks Y/N, have a good day!" A kid waved at you before leaving, and you waved back grinning.

"Enjoy your new gizmo!" You smiled with awe, among the devils, there were also the sweetest most angel-like children you came across in the store.

The next few days flew by, you quickly adjusted to working at the shop, your kind demeanour welcomed guests and made them feel right at home.

You barely saw Fred as he was buried in work, constantly in his office, but you learnt to live with it. After all, you were here to gain experience, not date your boss.

One particular night, you stayed back in the stockroom as there had been a surplus of inventory, and since you had no plans, you decided to help out as much as you could, sorting out new arrivals for the next week.

"Working late?" a familiar voice asked, leaning casually against the doorframe.

You shrugged, smiling. "Just wanted to get ahead."

He frowned slightly, feeling guilty that you had been overworking yourself. "How bout a reward then, say, dinner?"

"Dinner?" Your heart soared, but his next words tempered it.

"Just a casual, y'know thank you dinner."

Still, you agreed. ___

You walked to The Three Broomsticks together, you felt a bit upset that he kept a good distance from you, though he thought it was respectful, a part of you wished he stood closer.

At the restaurant, he pulled out your chair, playfully grinning, "M'lady." He teased.

"And what would the lovely couple like to have for dinner tonight?" The waiter asked and, as you were about to deny that you were a couple, Fred played it off and went with it.

"I'll have the steak and chips, and she'll have the fish and chips."

"Amazing, it'll take 10-15 minutes, have a lovely evening guys. What a beautiful couple you two make." The waiter complimented, before taking our menu's off us.

"You did not." You chuckled with disbelief.

"Did what?" Fred defended himself, raising his hands.

"Why didn't you say we weren't a couple." You laughed, shaking your head.

"And embarrass the poor lad? Not a chance, besides, what's wrong with that." He shrugged nonchalantly at the last bit, and you bit back a smile.

After dinner, Fred insisted he walk you home for safety reasons, "Can't have my best employee not getting home safely." He insisted.

"I'm your only employee." You retort, laughing softly.

"And the best one at that." He added.

The moment you reached home, he paused outside your door. For a moment, his gaze dipped to your lips, and you held your breath. Could this be it, the moment you waited for.

But he stepped back, murmuring, "Goodnight." Flashing a small smile before he headed home once you were inside.

---

The next day, you wore a skirt to work, wanting to feel more free, plus it was way too hot to be wearing jeans or pants. But of course, there was the underlying reason of wanting to catch a certain someone's attention.

As you arrive, George greeted you, his playful cheerful self did not go unnoticed. Fred however was quieter, sterner, and noticeably distracted. He brushed past you more often, his touches lingering but you shrugged it off, thinking you were imagining things.

"Hey Y/N, Fred's asking for you, he's up in his office." George informed you, while you were rearranging one of the messy shelves, you nodded and made your way to Fred.

You found him alone in his office, staring out the window.

"Fred?" You knocked softly.

He turned, his eyes dark and unreadable. "Shut the door."

You obeyed, suddenly nervous.

"Why are you wearing a skirt?"

"I thought it would be appropriate, given how incredibly scorching today's weather is." You replied, truthfully.

"Merlin, you don't know what you've been doing to me as of late." Fred sat on one of the leather couches in his office, rubbing his temples as he did so.

"I'm sorry, I can go change if you want-"

"No. It looks good on you, come here." He ordered, and you slowly made your way towards the couch where he sat, standing in front of him. "Bloody hell, you don't know do ya?" He eyed you up and down, his gaze exploring your figure.

"I’ve been trying to ignore this," he continued, "But I can’t..."

"Ignore what?" You whispered, your pulse racing.

"You."

His confession hung in the air, heavy and intoxicating.

"Fred, you have no idea how long I've been waiting for you." You finally confessed. "Ever since Hogwarts...I just...figured I wasn't your type."

"You think I haven't noticed you before? Everytime you came to the Burrow, seeing you in the halls, always hanging with my sister. The wrong Weasley, dare I say. You have no idea how much I wanted to come in and sweep you off your feet. But you know, you, always into your books, always in your own world, I just-...and now seeing you again, Merlin, it's like you've got me wrapped around your finger again."

You responded by closing the distance, sitting on his lap, straddling him which earned a groan from him. Immediately, his lips captured yours in a kiss that was fiery, desperate, and everything you'd dreamed of.

You melted into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as his hands gripped your waist. His arousal was growing beneath you and you could feel yourself getting soaked just from this, all that pent up tension was getting released.

"I’ve wanted this for so long," You admitted breathlessly.

He smiled, his forehead resting against yours. "Me too love."

For the first time, the tension between you broke, replaced by something infinitely sweeter. ___ A/N: Might do a part 2, with more smut? Or how it's like at WWW now that they've established they like each other? Not sure yet hehe

(Update: check out Pt 2 here!! 🥰 )

[snowysosturn]

Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Finale

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: MDNI, angst, bickering, mention of toxic relationship, aftermath of a toxic relationship that contains violent conduct (not toward a person), arguments, tension

Warehouse 79 had a raw, unfinished charm, white lighting, concrete floors, and currently, the faint echo of basketballs bouncing in the background.

I sat cross legged on a stack of unopened boxes, my laptop balanced precariously on my knee as I scrolled through mood boards and concept sketches. Chris sat nearby, flipping through sample swatches with one hand and sipping a can of pepsi with the other. His energy was infectious, even after years of working together.

“What about one last round of varsity hoodies?” Chris asked, pulling out a bright crimson swatch and holding it against a navy blue. “It’s been one of our best drops, and people keep asking for more.”

I nodded, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear as I considered his idea. “It’s a safe bet, but if this is supposed to be the final varsity drop, it has to be more than just hoodies. You know, make it memorable.”

Chris raised an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue.

“Think beyond hoodies” I said, gesturing toward his phone. “What if we added jackets? Maybe patches people can customize or swap out. Make it more interactive, more personal.”

Chris leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs like he always did. “Patches, huh? That could actually work. Retro but fresh.”

“That’s what I was thinking” I said, feeling a small surge of pride. Brainstorming with Chris always felt like a challenge, but in a good way. He was quick to shoot down bad ideas, but when he liked something, you knew it was solid.

He nodded, his fingers tapping on the table now as he started building on the concept. “We could package it as a set, hoodies, jackets, and patches. Maybe even limited edition duffle bags to tie it all together.”

Before I could respond, the rhythmic thud of a basketball hitting concrete interrupted us. My eyes flicked toward the far end of the warehouse, where Matt was casually shooting hoops at the makeshift hoop Chris had set up years ago for "creative breaks."

Matt had tagged along because, apparently, Chris wasn’t confident enough to drive alone yet. He hadn’t said a word since we got here, content to stay in his own world, his airpods in as he aimed for shot after shot. Until now, he broke his solitude, turning toward us. 

“Have you gotten any further yet?” Matt asks us, like it's an inconvenience to him.

“Yeah, we’re thinking varsity hoodies and jackets for a final time” Chris replied. “Y/n came up with the idea to add patches.”

Matt raised an eyebrow, his tone clipped. “Patches? That’s..different.”

I rolled my eyes, the easy energy in the room immediately shifted. “It’s called creativity, Matt. You should try it sometime.”

He smirked, finally glancing at me. “Right, because nothing says groundbreaking like varsity hoodies.”

His tone was light, but it still set me on edge. There was something about Matt that always managed to push my buttons.

“Do you not have anywhere else to be?” I shot back, keeping my tone as even as possible.

Matt caught the basketball mid dribble and leaned casually against the wall, his smirk annoyingly perfect. "Nope. But if you two could stop dragging this since I’m starving. Unless you’re planning to serve snacks with those hoodie ideas?"

"Funny" I shot back, stuffing my laptop into my bag.

Chris didn’t even look up from his phone. "We’re nearly done. Chill out, Matt. We’ll grab food on the way home."

Matt let the basketball roll across the floor and spread his arms. "No rush, right? It’s not like I have a life or anything."

I opened my mouth to fire back, but Chris cut me off. "Y/n, have you heard from Nick today? We should see if he wants food, too."

I sighed, redirecting my focus to Chris. "I’m meeting him when we're finished here actually. I’ve got my six month landlord inspection going on now, so he’s coming over to help me redecorate after."

Chris raised a brow. "Redecorate? Didn’t you just move stuff around last month?"

"Yeah" I admitted, my voice tightening, "but now that I have the apartment to myself, it feels like a good time to start fresh."

Matt raised a brow, his interest clearly piqued. "Apartment to yourself? What, you finally realized living with your boyfriend wasn’t working?"

Chris groaned. "Matt."

"What?" Matt said innocently, shrugging. "I’m just curious. Everyone knew Ethan was a walking red flag. Figured it was only a matter of time."

"Thanks for the unsolicited commentary" I snapped, glaring at him.

"Anytime" he replied with a mock salute, his smirk widening.

“How did he take it? You breaking up with him?” Chris questions.

I let out a small sigh. “I mean he didn’t take it well it went better than I expected. He was angry, saying I was making a mistake and I’ll regret it.” I paused, shrugging. “But he agreed to have his stuff out before the inspection, so that’s a relief.”

Chris, oblivious to the tension, nodded. "Good for you, though. Ethan always gave me bad vibes. Nick’s probably thrilled to help you out now."

"He was practically bouncing off the walls when I told him" I said, trying to ignore the heat rising in my cheeks. "He’s probably more excited about display pillows than I am."

"Sounds like Nick" Chris said with a laugh.

Matt leaned against the wall, crossing his arms as his smirk turned wicked. "Let me guess, Nick’s going to pick some pastel theme, and you’re going to act like you love it because you’re too polite to say no."

I glared at him. "Unlike you, I actually appreciate someone’s help when they offer it."

He raised a brow. "Politeness isn’t going to make your apartment look less boring."

"Neither will your input." I snapped.

"Touche" he said, almost sick I caught him with that one.

Chris shook his head, "Alright, we’re done here” grabbing his keys from the counter, jingling them in his hand as he turned to me. "I’ll drive you back to your apartment, text Nick to see if he wants any food."

"Thanks" I muttered, barely masking my annoyance as I walked toward the door.

Before we headed out, I pulled out my phone, quickly texting Nick. Hey, I’m on my way back to the apartment if you want to make your way there. You want us to pick up anything for food on the way?

I hit send and slipped my phone back into my pocket, following Chris and Matt out into the parking lot.

"Nick will probably want sushi or something" I said casually, climbing into the passenger seat of Chris’s car. "You know how he gets about food."

Chris grinned as he started the car. "Yeah, he’s got that obsession with sushi, huh? Can’t blame him, though. I’m all about the ramen."

I laughed lightly, glad for the brief distraction. "He’ll probably text me back in a second, i'll let you know."

We drove in comfortable silence, I thought about what Chris had said earlier, about Ethan always giving him bad vibes. Chris wasn’t wrong. Ethan had been controlling, manipulative, and honestly, just a drain on my energy. Still, hearing Chris talk about it made me realize how little I’d talked to him about my relationship with Ethan.

As we pulled into traffic, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I glanced down and saw Nick’s name flashing on the screen, wanting to FaceTime.

"Hey" I said casually, looking at his face show up on screen.

The line was silent for a beat before I heard his voice, shaky and urgent. "Y/n, where are you right now?"

I blinked, a knot forming in my stomach. "Uh, I’m on the way back to my place with Chris and your other triplet. Why, what’s going on?"

There was a pause, then Nick’s voice came through, thick with disbelief. "There’s an eviction notice on your apartment door."

My heart dropped. "What? No, that can’t be-"

"I’m looking at it right now. It’s taped right on the door. You need to get down here."

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. I could feel the sudden heat rising in my face as panic started to set in. "This.. this doesn’t make sense. Everything was ready for the inspection, what’s going on?"

"Wait, what?" Chris pulled over to the side of the road, his face clouded with concern. "You’ve been on top of your rent, right?"

"I.. I have" I said, voice trembling.

Nick cut in, his tone soft but insistent. "Y/n, you need to come down here right now. It’s serious. I’m gonna try to reach the landlord, but you need to be here to figure out what’s going on."

"Okay. Okay, I’ll be there in a few minutes."

I hung up the phone, the weight of everything sinking in.

Chris turned to me, looking torn between wanting to comfort me and knowing there wasn’t much he could say. "What do you want to do?"

I rubbed my temples, trying to clear my mind. "I don’t know. I’m just.. I can’t believe this is happening. Everything was fine yesterday."

Matt’s voice came from the passenger seat, snide as usual. "Well, sounds like your ‘perfect’ little life is falling apart, huh?"

I whipped around, eyes narrowing. "Really? Now?"

Matt raised his hands in mock surrender. "Just saying. Seems like you might need to start planning your next move. Maybe get a new place.. or a new boyfriend this time?"

"Matt" Chris warned, but it was too late.

I glared at him. "You don’t know anything about my situation, so don’t even start."

"Hey, I’m just here for the entertainment" he shrugged, his grin as infuriating as ever.

I wanted to say something back, but the lump in my throat made it hard to speak. I didn’t want to deal with Matt’s sarcasm right now, not when everything was crashing down around me.

Chris glanced at me again, his voice soft. "Let’s just get to your place first. We’ll figure it out, okay?"

"Yeah" I said, swallowing hard. "Let’s just get there."

But as we pulled back into traffic, my mind raced, trying to figure out how I could possibly fix this. The car ride felt like it took forever, and my nerves only grew worse the closer we got to my apartment. Nick’s voice replayed in my head: There’s an eviction notice on your apartment door. I could barely focus on the road ahead, my grip tightening on the seat as Chris drove.

When we finally pulled into the parking lot, I didn’t wait for Chris to park properly before hopping out of the car. My heart pounded in my chest as I rushed toward the building, Chris and Matt followed closely behind.

As I reached the hallway outside my apartment, I spotted Nick standing by the door, his arms crossed, his expression tense. The sight of him didn’t calm me, it only made the situation feel more real. Nick looked up when he saw me approach, his face showing concern.

My eyes briefly flicked to the eviction notice on my door. It was there, right in the center of the door frame, almost mocking me. The bold black letters stared back at me, and a wave of dizziness washed over me.

"Thanks for calling me" I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper as I fumbled with my keys.

I inserted the key into the lock, the sound of the metal grating in the keyhole too loud in the silence. The door creaked as I pushed it open.

The instant the door swung wide, I froze.

The apartment was trashed.

Paper scattered everywhere. Broken glass from what must have been the coffee table lay in shards on the floor. It was as if someone had gone on a rampage, tearing through every inch of the space. The once cosy apartment that I had been proud of was now completely unrecognizable.

“What the..” I whispered, my voice trembling as I took it all in.

It wasn’t just messy, it was deliberate. The TV was shattered, clothes thrown across the floor like a hurricane had ripped through my wardrobe, couch cushions were slashed open, foam spilling out like guts, and my framed pictures lay in pieces. My chest tightened as I moved further inside, carefully stepping around the shards of glass and debris.

Ethan.

It had to be him.

I felt my chest tighten as I took in the sight, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. It was like I was in a nightmare, but I couldn’t wake up.

My stomach twisted as I stepped inside, the mess spilling out into every corner of the room. Ethan had done it, trashed everything. It was too good to think he'd leave peacefully. I could almost hear his angry, self righteous voice in my head, laughing at how easy it was to tear everything down in one final fit of rage.

I should’ve known.

I heard Nick’s muffled curse from behind me. I could feel his anger building up, the tension in the air almost as thick as mine. "That piece of shit" he growled under his breath. "He did this."

I nodded, trying to process what I was seeing. The eviction notice on the door made sense now, it wasn’t just an arbitrary decision, the landlord had clearly seen the destruction, and now there was no turning back. I was out of my apartment.

I tried to breathe, to stay calm, but the sight before me, everything I had worked for, everything I thought I had built, slipped away.

Nick walked deeper into the apartment, kicking aside a broken chair leg. His voice was quiet but full of venom. "I’m gonna fucking kill that motherfucker. I can’t believe he did this to you."

Chris, still standing in the doorway, said nothing for a moment before speaking with a quiet tone. "Did the landlord know about this?"

I felt a stab of humiliation, and nodded. "Yeah, makes sense why I got the eviction notice now. He clearly walked into this when he came to inspect the place."

Nick turned to face me, his eyes full of concern. "You have to come stay with us."

Matt, who had been standing off to the side, his usual smirk nowhere to be found, finally spoke up, his tone laced with disbelief "Wait. Are you seriously offering for her to stay with us?" He looked between me and Nick with a disbelieving frown. "That’s.. insane. No offense, but we don’t have space for an extra person."

Nick shot Matt an exasperated look. "Come on, Matt. It’s not like she has anywhere else to go."

I glanced at Matt, feeling the tension between us rise instantly. I could almost see the wheels turning in his mind, he didn’t want me there, I could tell.

I looked at him, shaking my head. "I can’t, Nick. That wouldn’t be fair to you guys."

Matt folded his arms and leaned against the doorway, his face set in a grim expression. "Yeah this is a terrible idea."

I chewed on my bottom lip, torn.

Chris stepped in then, his voice steady but full of concern. "Y/n, listen to him. I know it’s not ideal, but you need somewhere safe to stay. We’re just trying to help."

Nick focused solely on me. "Y/n, you don’t have a choice. You can stay as long as you need to. We have space, Matt’s just being stubborn. We can make it work. The podcast room is clear now, there’s room for a bed, it’s literally the perfect spot for you to stay, and it’s right next to my room."

I glanced back at Nick, feeling torn. The idea of moving into their place, especially having to live with Matt, wasn’t exactly ideal, but I didn’t have many options.

Matt raised an eyebrow, his arms still crossed tightly over his chest. "A ‘perfect spot’? Nick, it’s a tiny room with no door."

Nick turned to Matt, his tone firm. "We can pretend it’s a cute little loft."

Matt was visibly uncomfortable. "Yeah, but our place is a little cramped for four grown ass people, don’t you think?"

Nick didn’t miss a beat. "It’s not forever, Matt. Just until Y/n figures things out."

I felt all eyes on me, the weight of their stares almost too much. I hated this. I hated feeling like I had no other options, no choice but to accept their offer, but I was also too exhausted to argue. Too emotionally drained from everything that had happened.

Finally, I nodded, the decision feeling like it was being made for me. "Okay, fine. But just until I can figure something else out."

Nick smiled, relieved. "Good. It’s settled, then."

I sighed, trying to push down the swelling feeling in my chest. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t how I envisioned spending my time, living with Matt, of all people, but it was a place to stay, and for now, that was all that mattered.

Matt, still grumbling, shot a look at me. "Just don’t start stealing my snacks or leaving your crap everywhere. I’m not your maid."

I raised an eyebrow, giving him a sharp look. "I’m not the one who trashed a fucking apartment, Matt."

He rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, yeah. Just don’t make it weird."

"Not planning on it" I shot back, my voice flat but with just enough bite to make him pause.

For the moment, the tension between us felt like it could snap at any second, I was already starting to brace myself for the weeks ahead. I wasn’t sure how I was going to navigate living under the same roof as Matt, but right now, I didn’t have much of a choice.

a/n: eeeeek new series!!! im v excited for whats in store for this one! also theres 100 tags on this already and its only part one??? i love yous so much omfg

taglist : @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel  @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @chrisstxrnsaxe @sophand4n4 @vickytaa @marrykisskilled @bxtchboy69 @yourfavsturniologirl @julisturn @sydneyylainn @sophia-77n @trevorsgodmother @sturnslutz @yourmother29 @girl24cherry @astronea @pinkdyit

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

twst multi-charms, art book, bday lottery, oh my!

***Please note:*** Sharing merch images + news is not intended to encourage and/or to pressure anyone into making purchases. It is up to the individual consumer to be informed and to choose how they spend their money.

More collaboration items with MAYLA! These look like hair accessories, but actually they're charms. Each dorm's charm features their emblem and a key in the associated dorm's color. There's also a different bow style and patterns for each dorm!

There are now sample images out for the 4th edition of the Twisted Wonderland Official Visual Book series. This volume will feature the high res. artwork of later event cards, including Sam's New Year Sale, Harveston Sledathon, A Firelit Sky, Vargas Camp, and Glorious Masquerade.

A bunch of birthday themed items will be featured in a Sega lottery (yes, more gacha unfortunately). Some things you could pull are:

Stickers

Pop-up birthday cards

Acrylic standees

Card sleeves…? (I believe that’s what they’re called??)

Rings (each has a character's name in the design) we literally just got rings as merch a few days ago and now MORE?? 😭

Cloth tapestries

Vol. 1 features characters from Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, and Pomefiore. Vol. 2 features characters from Octavinelle, Scarabia, Ignihyde, and Diasomnia.

And finally!! Idia's 1/8 scale figure will be on display at an exhibition. We had previously already seen the design. Now Yana and team are working on designing the Malleus 1/8 scale figure. More details to come at a later date!

[loveanddeephistory]

A Bouquet for Bitter Ends

A Bouquet for Bitter Ends: Trowels and Scales Chapter 2

On Ao3

About: Petunias for anger and resentment, Datura for deceitful charms, Tansy for hostility, Thistle for misanthropy, Wormwood for bitterness.

Flowers for a wedding, flowers for a funeral. Flowers for hatred, flowers for love.

You manage to find stability in the chaotic aftermath of the botched Lemurian excavation, but the mystery continues.

Contains spoilers for: Just about all of Raf's lore lmao

Word Count: 19k

A/N: I did not expect this to be as well received as it was! This will be an ongoing fic, though chapters will likely be spread out. I never envisioned myself being one of those fic writers to have dramatic life updates between chapters, but here I am with a chapter that took over a month because my dad had a heart attack -_-' He's okay!!! I am literally growing grey hairs though lmao

Divider credit: @thecutestgrotto

Summer slipped away like the sands of an hourglass. Each day brought something new, be it in information, relationships, or work. The temperatures continued to rise, until the peak of summer came and went. With summer came more pierside carnivals and games at sunset, swimming at the pool or in the ocean. And while you were both busy people, you finally managed to find time for an official first date with the infamous artist.

Jobs came and went. Finding stability after the events of the Lemurian excavation was... difficult even on your best days. Rafayel's confirmation that Ever was behind it all only made you more determined. You needed to get to the bottom of this, to find them, to help them. If they were still even alive, that is. The concern consumed many of your days. When you weren't working, you were researching. Digging. Trying to find anything and everything you could on Ever and its past. You didn't find much. Hardly surprising, given its shady involvement with a lot of things. You qualms were more focused on ethics and the environment, but you knew there was more under the surface.

You got lucky to secure another contract with the same museum you had been working with the past couple months, this time a grant to focus on research of the maritime artifacts in its collection. A surprisingly large collection had been donated a few decades prior by an eccentric man, boldly proposing they were Lemurian artifacts. Weapons, remnants of clothing, from thousands of years ago. As your eyes scanned over the documents in front of you, it was hardly a surprise to find the museum director at the time discounted most of the man's assumptions. But with the rediscovery of Lemuria, the museum wanted to take a second look. 

You put down the file, looking over the series of artifacts laid before you. From your years of experience, at first glance they certainly did look Lemurian to you. They also resembled the artifacts recovered from the very first part of the excavation, which showed Lemuria existed in the first place. But just because they looked like Lemurian artifacts that didn't mean they were. You needed to verify. You put on your goggles and set the documents to the side. With all the preparations necessary, you began to take samples of the different items to send to a lab. Check the composition and compare them to the other confirmed artifacts. Radiocarbon dating was an option to check the dates on these, but you'd need carbon matter to do so. Something that had once been alive. But even then to have a suitable sample size that could harm the integrity of the artifact, so you'd need to discuss options with the current museum director.

You assembled the baggies of what you needed for lab testing, turning back to the list of items the old man had donated. Weapons, some scraps of clothes all listed out one by one... Your eyes fell upon the last item on the list. A shiver ripped up your spine, almost making you physically jump. Bone.

It wasn't specified what kind. You turned back to the table, looking over all the artifacts again. You hadn't noticed a piece of bone on the table, so you gave everything an even closer look. Your eyes trailed over every artifact, getting as close as you safely could. While your eyes were focused, your mind wandered. Over tea, on a rainy day, Rafayel told you about Raymond. The obnoxious man who begged Rafayel to sell that painting to him. 

Blood in the water.

You were hardly at liberty to name Rafayel's artwork, but you had already given it a name in your own mind.  All those images had been woven together. The painting. The skeleton of a Lemurian. The skeletal hand in your nightmare. Rafayel said people didn't know if Raymond's 'art piece' was truly that, or if it was a real skeleton. Knowing what you know now? You had a feeling you knew which one it was. Your eyes finally fell on it. A small bone. A metacarpal. You carefully picked it up, even more grateful you had your proper gloves on. Even touching it felt wrong, but as you carefully turned it over in your hands, you found some marks on it. It wasn't like an animal had nibbled on it. The cuts were clean. Like a well aimed strike of a weapon.

You carefully returned the bone to its place, hurriedly writing some notes. You'd need to report to the museum director, but as you checked the time you were surprised it was close to closing. You needed to clean up and lock up. The room the museum had given you to analyze the findings had a locked door, so you could safely leave all the artifacts in the room, albeit you would feel better returning them to their proper homes anyway. You carefully began to put the artifacts back in whatever archival storage had been used for it. It was slow work, making sure you used two hands, moved slowly... it was always jarring how different the museum world and the excavation world were. But both had their reasons to exist the way they did. As you finished putting away the last piece, you peeled off your gloves right as a familiar song began to fill the air. Enya's Caribbean Blue. The ring tone you set for Rafayel filled the air with melodic singing, as well as a light buzz from your phone vibrating. You scurried to the counter where your personal objects rested, answering the phone.

"Hey cutie, did you forget? I'm outside!" Rafayel's voice filtered through the phone, a welcome warmth to end the day.

"No! No, I didn't forget. I was just packing up the artifacts they had me looking at."

"I thought that contract ended?"

"They renewed it with another grant, they have me looking at some potentially Lemurian artifacts."

"You don't say! Why not just sneak me back there and I can gave you a yes or no, huh?" You could practically hear the grin in his voice.

"Rafayel, no, I can't do that." You shot him down. You grabbed your bag and headed out, locking the door behind you. "Buuut, I could ask the museum director if it would be okay. I don't think she'd mind having the master artist Rafayel look over some stuff."

"Yeah, yeah." You held your phone to your ear as you made your way through the halls. You dropped off a copy of your end of the day notes for the director to read in the morning, as well as organizing the baggies of samples in the right place. They would be transported to a lab as well. The work day was over, so it was time for your official first date with Rafayel. Your schedules made it nearly impossible to find a good time, so up until now it had been some calls and texts back and forth. "But what were your thoughts? On the artifacts?"

"Oh they certainly look Lemurian to me. I did some swabs for chemical analysis so we can get a better idea of what they were made of, and we might have a chance to do carbon 14 dating."

"... cutie, less science."

"We can do some testing to see roughly how old they are." You chuckled as you clarified. "Carbon is organic matter."

"I knew that one."

"But it breaks down over time. By testing the amount of carbon, knowing how many years it takes to break down, we can do the math to figure out roughly when the living thing died, and thus roughly what time the living thing came from. Be it animal, plant-"

"Person?"

"And person." You pushed the front door open, finding the familiar mop of purple hair not far away. You went ahead and hung up. He immediately lifted his head, briefly looking irritated, until you called out to him. "Raf! Over here!" He turned his head to face you. His expression lightened, and walked quickly to join you. Summer's evenings were steadily becoming cooler, so he was in a crisp white shirt with a cream, red, and blue cardigan hanging off his shoulder. The setting sun made him look even more ethereal than usual. You picked up the pace, hurriedly joining him as he wrapped his arm around you for a brief hug. He hadn't been as nearly as touchy as he was on ebb day, though you figured it was for the best to take things slow. "How was your day? Thomas still on your back?"

"Always." He chuckled, beginning to guide you down the sidewalk. "When isn't he? He's trying to talk me into hosting another gallery exhibition day in a few weeks, I've got another collection he thinks that would do well. Timing isn't right, though." You cocked your head, falling in step with him.

"How so?"

"Ah- I have a familial obligation. My aunt's getting married. She'd understand if I couldn't make it, she knows how crazy things have been." Rafayel said it casually, as if a wedding in the family was no big deal. You grabbed the sleeve of his cardigan, lightly tugging on it. 

"No way! Congratulations to her. You totally should go! It isn't every day a relative gets married. Are you two close?"

"I guess you could say that." He hummed, looking forward. "Yeah, we're kinda close. She's the one who got me into singing, but I decided painting's more my style."

"Still, I think you should go. It'll be nice. I'm sure Thomas would understand, a familial obligation absolutely comes first. A gallery exhibition can be rescheduled, a wedding is a bit harder to move around." His arm slowly slid off your shoulders, instead held outstretched between the two of you. You lift your hand and intertwine your fingers, your calluses rubbing on his. The calluses of a hand holding a paintbrush, and the calluses of a hand wielding a trowel. But calluses nonetheless. As you both walk through Linkon, you could hear the distant laughter of children playing in the green spaces. Young couples flirting and playing games. It was the perfect time for some summer games.

"I'm still not sure, but I'll see if I can go." Rafayel was trying to play it cool, but you had learned enough about him to see through a part of that mask. You nudged his rib with your elbow, offering him a smile when he looked down at you.

"Do it. I don't think you'll regret it." 

Once you two approached the ongoing festivities, the first thing to catch your eye was a tank full of fish. You made a beeline for it, dragging Rafayel along with you even as he loudly complained. Unlike the day you first encountered Rafayel on your old college campus, the fish in the tank were all red flammula. You grin, tugging him closer by his hand. "Rafayel! I think I ran into this same stand walking home after I saw you in the college cafe. There was a little blue fish here- but now I'm only seeing red..." The owner of the stall looked over, appearing confused.

"Oh? Perhaps you are misremembering. I have never had blue fish here."

You furrowed your eyebrows. "Really?" You lifted your free hand to your mouth. "I distinctly remember it being blue..."

"I see you have the memory of a fish." Rafayel exchanged something with the owner of the stall, getting a little paddle. He offered it to you, his lips slowly curling up in that boyish grin. "Maybe you just were thinking about that book of legends too much." You carefully unwove your fingers from his, taking the paddle. You peered over the edge of the tank, spotting multiple fish curiously darting around near the surface. You looked back at the small paddle. You were used to maneuvering equipment underwater, but that didn't necessitate catching fish. "You've got five shots. Let me know if you want the help of a professional, my little archaeologist."

You scoffed a laugh. Challenge? Accepted.

"Little archaeologist? That's a mouthful." You teased, accepting the paddle from him. He didn't respond. He just cocked his head, watching with his characteristic smirk.

Attempt one. You waited, still as a statue, until the fish seemed to calm down. One was swimming near the top, so with a single, quick flip of your wrist you tried to capture it. Only for it to dart out of the way at the last millisecond. That's fine! Not every move will be a winner. Attempt two. You switched tactics. You held perfectly still, the paddle already in the water. The fish took a minute to settle themselves, but eventually did. One fish curiously approached the paddle, and the second it hovered over it you tried to scoop it up. It panicked and flopped off. You looked at the stall owner, who shook his head. Didn't count, it didn't stay on the paddle.

Rafayel clicked his tongue, leaning in over your shoulder. "Why don't you let me have a turn? I might have better luck."

"Gimme one more try, and the stage is yours." You repositioned the paddle, still using the second method. Except this time, not a single fish would approach the paddle. You stood still as a statue. Seconds painstakingly crawled past, until you finally gave up. You groaned. "Okaaaay, stage is yours." You offer him the paddle. He took it between his fingers, deftly twirling it until the base hovered over the water. He tapped it, causing ripples to spread across the water. One little red fish darted around, and with a simple scoop, Rafayel caught it in one try. He extended it to you, the fish wriggling but not seeming to panic. You lit up, grinning as he showed off his prize. You clapped your hands as the stall owner gathered the supplies to package the fish up to take home.

"Soooo, whadya think of my skills, cutie?" He leaned in, obviously fishing for praise. You put a finger to your lips, mock humming in thought.

"Hmm... Overall? Decent technique and skill, nice flick of the wrist. Well done!" Rafayel beamed as he handed the fish to the man, who gently put the little fish in a bag with some of the water. "But... what are we gonna do with this little guy?" The stall owner handed the bag to Rafayel, who took it gently. He held it up to eye level, making you peer up into it. The fish seemed right at home, calm between the two of you. "I travel too much, though I guess I could ask a neighbor to take care of him."

"I could take him home. Fish and fish care are right up my alley." You shifted your gaze to his face, giving him an expression that screamed really? "I am!" He defended himself, the tips of his ears a touch pink in the early evening glow. 

"You travel a lot, too. It might be easier for me to get someone to take care of him in my apartment building. I'm friendly with my neighbors."

"Nope, he's gonna come home with me." He held the bag higher so you could no longer peer into it with such ease. "We can coparent."

"Woah, I'm too young to be a parent!" You teasingly protested, gently nudging one of his ribs again. He stuck out that bottom lip, rubbing his assaulted rib with one hand while the other still held the bag. "And besides, isn't that a little forward? Adopting a child on our first date? What're we even gonna name him?"

"It's fiiiine, he's a fish. He'll feel right at home with me. And you'll have a reason to come to Whitesand Bay more often." He lowered the bag again, allowing you both to get a good look at him. The little red fish flicked one way and then another, curiously watching the two of you as you puzzled over a name.

"Flame?"

"Ew, too basic. Gloriosa? For the flame lily? Still has flame in it."

"Too extravagant. Something simple but not basic."

"We could do something from Lemurian folklore."

"Nah, that's too try hard. How about..." Rafayel hummed in thought, before snapping his fingers. "Reddie."

"Reddie?" You looked between Rafayel and the fish. You wanted to complain. But the longer you looked at the fish, the more you liked it. You cocked your head. "Okay. Reddie. Hi, Reddie." You bent over to look into the bag, without getting too close. "You don't think I'm crazy for seeing a little blue fish in that tank, do you, Reddie?"

"He doesn't." Rafayel confirmed. He extended his hand, that playful, boyish grin on his face. "Let's pick up some pet supplies for Reddie here, we can go back to my place to set something up for him. Get a proper tank going, the right nutrients he needs... Maybe grab some takeout for dinner together?"

"So long as it isn't sushi. Don't need our son here wondering if he's next." You grin at the bag again, before your eyes cut up to Rafayel. "But... the wedding. Won't someone need to look after him if you do decide to go?" Rafayel slipped his free hand into yours all over again, beginning to gently guide you down the familiar area, slowly making his way towards the parking lot where he had left his car. That same, beautiful car you two had hidden in after being followed on campus. You still couldn't believe the tax bracket difference.

"I think I know a thing or two more about flammula than you." He teased, opening the passenger side door for you to get in. You weren't as hesitant to just hop in as you were the first time. At least, dressed for the museum rather than using old field boots, you weren't as concerned about dirtying up the interior. "I'll set up a way for him to get the food he needs even when I'm out of town for long periods of time. Reddie will be fine. If you're really all that worried, you know my door is open, you can just swing by."

"You really need to stop doing that. I know your fire evol makes you pretty powerful, but still." You buckled in as he went to the driver's side, carefully handing you Reddie so you could hold him for the ride to his new home. "What if someone breaks in to hurt you? Clearly you and I have both had our fair share of not so admirable secret admirers." 

"Eh, it’s fine, no one's given me trouble yet." The engine purred to life again as he pulled out. He looked effortlessly ethereal and beautiful doing anything. Including driving. You reached under your shirt, pulling out the necklace he had given you. For the sake of the artifacts you kept it under your shirt so there was no way it could bump into anything by accident. As it rested against the top of your shirt, it caught Rafayel's eye, making him glance over. His lips turned up, and he caught that familiar glimmer. "You're wearing it." 

You looked down, admiring the pearl pendant and the fishtail clasp attaching it to the chain. You ran your thumb over the tail, that old habit prevailing even with the new necklace. "I always wear it. The old one reminded me why I do this, why I should keep going. This one?" You lifted the pendant up with your thumb, bringing it to your lips to kiss. "It reminds me of a new reason. Of our agreement." Rafayel's eyes returned to the road, but even his side profile showed off that dazzling, sincere smile. "Speaking of... so... this aunt of yours. She's a Lemurian too, isn't she?" The sincere smile dropped. Like a stone in the ocean. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, stiffening for a moment. But the light caught on the pearl again. His muscles relaxed the moment it did.

"Yeah." He confirmed. "She is. My Aunt Talia." You smiled reassuringly, nodding your head.

"All the more reason you should go, you know. I know I'm preaching to the choir, but keeping these kinds of ties is important. Especially with everything going on."

"Yeah, yeah." He grumbled. "No need to preach."

"Then I won't. But I think you should go. Not like you have to stay if you don't want to. Go get her some pretty flowers, stay for the ceremony, then head out." It was left as a simple suggestion. A comfortable silence fell over the car as Rafayel mulled it over. He seemed conflicted, going back and forth over the whole ordeal. But his heavy, grumbled sigh told you everything you needed to know.

"Fiiiiiine. I'll have to tell my aunt if I say or do something wrong to blame you."

"I can be your scapegoat, I'm not worried about it." Off in the distance, you saw a familiar little pet store. Likely your first destination before heading home to set up Reddie's new home. "But don't forget flowers. They hold more meaning than some people realize."

A Bouquet for Bitter Ends

Petunias, for anger and resentment

Rafayel had packed his bags as soon as the two of you were done setting up Reddie's new home. He knew a florist, so he'd be discussing flower options with him to surprise his aunt. You sat on the edge of his bed as he debated between suits, while you pointed out something more simple would fit an outdoor wedding. Something light and loose since it was still summer, something easy to dance in. He packed two extra suits anyway, alongside the outfit you had suggested. It was a casual night in with takeout, but a perfect first date nonetheless.

Albeit, much too short. The very next day was back to work, back to life as usual. Rafayel didn't disclose where the wedding was going to be, nor was it really any of your business, but you figured it must be out of town since he didn't text you as much in the coming days. So it was back to life as usual, the occasional phone call and text to check in on each other and share information where necessary. The museum director had given her explicit consent for you to use the bone for radiocarbon testing. But as you gingerly held the metacarpal in your hand, gently turning it over, your lips pressed into a thin line.

As Dr. C liked to say, archaeology was a non-renewable resource. And a destructive science, as well. While advancements had been made it would still take a few milligrams of bone matter in order to date it. Whatever part of it you used would be destroyed. You let the bone rest in the palm of your hand, looking it over. It hadn't been treated with any chemicals, and this museum had always been good about keeping all resources in safe, archival storage. It was a good contender for testing. But it just didn't sit right with you. You gingerly put the bone down, letting it rest. You pulled off your safety gear, grabbing your phone and stepping out.

Lemuria has been found. Now, it is your responsibility to help protect it.

You didn't know the first thing about burial rites, or beliefs around death, or how to properly treat remains in Lemurian culture. So the right thing to do would be to ask a member of the community. You stepped outside, the warm sun beating down on you as you pressed on Rafayel's contact picture. A new picture of him and Reddie. You held your phone to your ear, leaning against the wall outside the museum in a private area. It was the middle of the workday, not many people were out and about. Good. The phone rang a few times, and for a moment you prepared yourself to leave a voicemail. But finally, his voice entered the call, groggy from sleep.

"Huh...? Hey cutie."

You couldn't help but smile. "Hey, Rafayel. Did I wake you?"

"Nuh uh, no..." A yawn interrupted him. You just laughed. For someone who calls you cutie, he was adorable himself. 

"If you say so. I had a few questions based on some things I'm finding at the museum." He hummed to acknowledge what you said, so you continued. "There's a piece of bone. Metacarpal, finger bone. I got the all clear from the museum director to do carbon 14 dating on it. But... that would destroy the part of the sample I send in. It would only be around 20 to 50 milligrams, probably on the lower end of the scale, but then that part of the bone will be destroyed." You could hear the slight hitch in his breath, then rapid rustling, as if he was sitting up quickly. "I don't know..." You looked around. "I don't know about Lemurian burial practices or how the dead are supposed to be treated. I don't know for a fact that its Lemurian, but I have a hunch. What... what should I do? What do you want me to do?"

A silence hung in the air. You kept your phone close to your ear, glancing around to ensure no one was hanging around or eavesdropping on your conversation. Finally, a heavy sigh came from the other end of the phone.

"Don't do the testing." His voice was firm. He was clearly awake now. "Don't mess with it. Put the bone back where it came from. And leave it alone."

"I can do that." Your voice softened. "I won't do anything to it. I'll tell the director there was new carbon matter on too much of it and it wasn't as good a candidate for testing as I thought."

"Make whatever excuse you need to. Just leave it alone."

"I will, I promise." You gently assured him.

"Swear on the sea." His sharper tone caught you off guard. "Human promises mean little to me. They aren't known for keeping their promises. Swear on the sea you'll leave it alone."

"I swear on the sea and on our agreement to leave the metacarpal alone." You confirmed. Your free hand thumbed the chain to the necklace again, the charm hidden under your shirt. You had agreed to help him, promised it to him. And you would hold yourself to that. If Lemurian culture would not allow the radiocarbon dating of a piece of bone, then you wouldn't do it. It'd save the museum the money anyway, it wasn't a cheap test. Win win, in your eyes. "That's why I wanted to ask you, first." There was a long, heavy sigh on his end of the phone. Followed by a brief silence.

"Thanks, cutie." His tone was one of genuine appreciation, but mild hesitance. You cracked a smile, glancing at the picture on your screen. The goofy face he made at Reddie immortalized. "Maybe I owe you a Lemurian culture lesson when I get back. That way we're on the same page."

"That sounds great. You still owe me some more amendments to the Lemurian Legends book anyway."

"Forget that book. I'll just tell you the real versions of the stories. At some point." 

"I'd love that. We'll make it a date." A notification popped up on your phone. Something about breaking news. You didn't look at it, mindlessly dismissing it. But as you did so you glanced at the time. "I'll go ahead and let you go. Thanks for the help, Rafayel. I'll leave the bone alone and report to the director with my excuse. Sorry to wake you."

"Don't mention it, cutie." His tone took on that familiar teasing lilt. You could already see the smirk on his face. "You did the right thing, y'know."

"Calling you? Yeah. I know." You confirmed, your smile widening. "I've got your back. I gotta go back to work now. Hope you enjoy the wedding, and feel free to use me as your scapegoat."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. See ya, cutie."

Your playful farewells finalized the call, so you hung up. Once you did so the same breaking news notification popped up. You briefly skimmed over it, before the name caught your eye.

Raymond.

You pulled the notification back and opened the link.

Breaking News; Former Scientist Found Dead in Home

You sat up a little straighter, scrolling down to skim through the article. It was short. Only the facts were listed, and at the bottom it said the Hunter's Association was suspecting foul play. The man was only 39 years old, found dead in his bathtub with a delirious smile on his face. He had been suffering from hallucinations, both visual and auditory. He had met with his primary care physician multiple times, the renowned Dr. Zayne. But even he couldn't pinpoint the cause of his newfound hallucinations. Any and all information on potential suspects were to be reported to the Hunter's Association. You leaned back against the wall.

That bastard from the art gallery was dead. You figured you should be somewhat grateful. Rafayel was right, his hubris got him in the end, one way or another. You shivered, remembering the way he spoke to Rafayel, the way he made demands and touched him so casually. And the mental image of a Lemurian skeleton flashed before you. Wait. You stood up fully. The skeleton Raymond had. Rafayel mentioned it. You did a quick search on your phone, though no one had any pictures of it. Made sense, Raymond likely wouldn't allow photography, and his family likely wouldn't either. Rafayel said people didn't know if it was real or just a piece of art. But he said that before you knew he, too, was Lemurian. 

There was a very real chance the skeleton itself was once a Lemurian. The shudder ripped through you, from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes. Every cell of blood ran cold. You started to scroll through suggested reports, though most said the same thing. The facts were the facts, and the Hunter's Association would be handling it. That, admittedly, surprised you. Why would the Hunter's Association be involved? Wouldn't it be the police? Unless Wanderers or Metaflux were involved, that is. But as you scrolled, you found a comment expressing your same exact concerns. The official Hunter's Association social media account responded to the comment.

"We are currently investigating the death of Raymond due to the metaflux fluctuations consistently occurring in his home. It is unclear whether a Wanderer or person may have been involved. However, Raymond's home will be closed to both family and the public until the metaflux fluctuations have been brought under control. Please report any suspicious sightings of either human or Wanderer to either law enforcement or the Hunter's Association."

Metaflux. You'd been lucky to have never been exposed to large quantities of the stuff. Work kept you on the move, so you weren't in Linkon for some of the biggest fluctuations or attacks. But you had felt it before. That uncomfortable feeling in the air, the way it would shift. The way your skin would crawl. Much like the way you felt when staring at the blood in the water. Your eyes slowly turned down, back to your phone. You continued to search furiously, and a loose timeline began to form in your mind. It appeared Raymond's odd behavior began shortly after he got the piece of artwork from Rafayel installed in his home.

The blood in the water. The one that had you captured. The one you began to hallucinate from.

The phone nearly slipped from your hands, but you quickly caught it. The sudden chill coursing through you, much stronger than the one before, had you rushing back inside. The inside of the museum was much cooler than the hot late summer sun, but you just needed to move. No. The timeline is too perfect. He wouldn't. That's insane. It had just been a nightmare, and the painting reminded you of it. There's no way. You went ahead and went back to the original news story you read, forwarding it to Rafayel in a text. You didn't caption it. No emojis. No teasing jokes. Just the news report. 

You were left on read. 

You tucked your phone back into your pocket, reentering the museum. The front desk workers side eyed each other as you walked past, drifting to the back room where you had been working. It wasn't uncharacteristic for you to step outside to call and ask someone for a second opinion, or call a lab ahead of time, or whatever else. This was different. You re-entered the room, shutting the door behind you as your eyes became dead set on the bone. You put your phone alongside your personal belongings, then washed your hands thoroughly according to protocol. With the right tools, you tenderly returned the bone to its archival storage. 

"You won't befall the same fate." You murmured to the bone, tucking it in its archival storage away. The skeleton on display in Raymond's home was a clear image in your mind, even if you had never seen it. The skeletal hand of your vivid nightmare plagued your mind, even all this time later. You turned, glancing at your phone and other personal belongings in the corner of the room. Rafayel didn't leave you on read. Ever. Up until now. You wet your lips. Your corkboard all of a sudden had a new component. 

Raymond was more than an obnoxious art aficionado. He had to be.

Datura, for deceitful charms

Finding information on an ongoing case run by the Hunter's Association was difficult to say the least. It took days for the pandamonium to die down, and they certainly wouldn't be releasing any information during the panic. There were murmurs online of the sea monster murders off in Verona, that took place a few years back. The serial killer had vanished without a trace, but it was odd that Raymond died in a way much too similar to the final victim. 

You sighed. Your first day off from the museum in a while, yet you find yourself working and researching all the same. You looked up at your cork board before you. The missing archaeologists. Ever. E.D.A.S., court case 896318. Lemuria. Rafayel. You tilted your head, looking at the post it note of his name you left up there. All of this began when you two met. You took a slow, deep inhale before turning back to your computer. He should be back soon, he promised to text you when he got home. Try to find time for another proper date. You scrolled through more information, feeling like your eyes were going to glaze over when you found an old archival website.

Ever's past employees. You blinked. You specifically were looking into Raymond. There's no reason for him to be here, unless... You clicked the link. Thankful you were using a VPN and a couple layers of protection for all of this. The website loaded, and on an old webpage, there the man was. Standing front and center around a team of fellow Ever researchers. Multiple segments were heavily redacted, with notes from the archive site's admins noting that this information was initially redacted and nothing they could do would reveal it. But it was enough. You ripped off a sticky note, abbreviating some notes.

Raymond. Ever employee. Old projects. 

On another sticky note you added the sea monster murders. Raymond's death appeared all too similar to the last of the murder victims- dying with a smile. But the other person was at an opera show. The opera singer, Mo, had vanished without a trace the very same night. You frowned. Mo. Wasn't that a Lemurian term? Meaning homeland, if you recalled correctly. You grabbed the Lemurian Legends book from its place on your bookshelves. In the margins, in his artistic handwriting, Rafayel had denoted that exact thing. You sigh, putting the book back down as your phone lit up. Once, twice, three times.

You scooted your chair back over to look at the messages, finding Dr. C's contact photo popping up. You opened her texts, finding a link to an announced maritime excavation in Verona itself. You quickly look down at her other messages.

Dr C: This looks cool!!! I can be a reference

You: Sorry doc, I've got a contract with the museum right now. Besides, I've had bad luck with excavations these past few months :(((

Dr. C: All the more reason to break that streak. Good pay, housing provided, stipend for food, and it's just a phase one. Talk to your museum, maybe they'd be willing for you to start researching remotely?

You paused, thinking this over. It might be worth it. The few things you did have to send off to the lab would take a few weeks to get back to you, and you had a copy of all your notes so you could do research on the side. You switched text messages, texting the museum director to ask what she thought. You were lucky enough to get an immediate emphatic yes. The original donator of the supposedly Lemurian collection was from Verona. There'd be plenty of ways to do some additional research while there, plus it meant you could spread out your contracted hours covered by the grant. Perfect. You immediately switched back to Dr. C.

You: Museum director is cool with it, I'll apply today!

Dr. C: Good! Best of luck, I'll send in a reference letter.

You switch from your phone to your computer, pulling up your updated resume. You scanned through the application and everything looked good, it didn't need a cover letter this go around. So you submitted your materials, thankful to see a note on the application that they would ideally get back to applicants in less than a week. With that done, you turned your gaze back up to the corkboard before you. Sans the typical red string seen in movies and shows, it certainly looked the part of a detective's messy board. Pictures, names, context clues. They were slowly forming a web.

One that you found yourself trapped in. 

Raymond. Ever. E.D.A.S. The excavation. Lemuria. The archaeologists. Raymond’s death. The skeleton in his home. The bone in the museum. Rafayel.

Each piece of the puzzle brought more questions than answers, and soon it felt less like you were someone watching the web, but an insect trapped within it. Seeing the signs, but no spider in sight. Not yet. 

Your phone vibrated again, that silly picture of Rafayel with his cheeks puffed up while looking at Reddie popping up on your phone.

Rafayel Qi: Home now! U wanna come over?

The text was accompanied with that same yellow chick, his little wings wide open with a heart between them. You smiled, picking up your phone again.

You: Ofc! Be there soon! 

You: I need to see our son

You: Oh and u 2

Rafayel Qi: how dare u!!!! 

Rafayel Qi: u need 2 see me first 

The text was then accompanied with said yellow chick stomping his feet. You couldn’t help but grin at his antics. With how playful he was being you figured the wedding went well. But then again, sometimes he was hard to read, even more so through text. He had a knack for being able to hide his true feelings from you. A survival tactic, but one you hoped you could show he didn’t need. Not with you. You shut down your computer and grab your things, typing a response back with one hand as you got what you needed.

You: Leaving now!!! See u soon!!

In response came the yellow chick with a heart again. Your boyfriend's favorite emoji set always made you smile. You grab your bag and throw it over your shoulder, leaving your apartment for the bus stop. Off to see your man.

The bus ride was quiet. Only the odd quiet conversation went on around you. Fine by you, you were buzzing with anticipation to see Rafayel again. He did appear to be in a good mood. As the bus came to a shuddering stop in Whitesand Bay, you hop off and beeline to the familiar white house in the distance. The polished marble nearly blinded you. But the familiarity of it at this point meant that could be overlooked. As usual, Rafayel left the gate unlocked. You made your way to the door, which was also unlocked. For sake of manners you knocked as the door opened. As the door swung open you found Rafayel's back to you, facing his large easel in his workspace.

He turned around the second the door creaked, and a warm smile bloomed across his face.

"There you are, cutie. I was waiting for you forever." His exaggeration only made you laugh as you shut the door behind you. You made your way in, taking your shoes off at the door. You joined Rafayel, who immediately reached to ruffle your hair. "And you said you were gonna see Reddie first. Glad I managed to intercept you." He smirked in that quintessential Rafayel way. You could only laugh, thankful to have him back.

"It's good to have you back. How was the wedding?" You turn to walk to the fish tank where Reddie was swimming around. He looked well fed. You could hear Raf's unhurried footsteps behind you. He leaned in over your shoulder, watching the red fish.

"It was fine. Caught up with some old friends, got to see my aunt. Gave them my blessings and called it a night. Thanks for the outfit recommendation, I ended up going with what you suggested. There was more dancing than I thought." He finally planted his chin on your shoulder. You watched his reflection through the glass of Reddie's tank. He seemed more relaxed now that the wedding was over. No more weddings or impending art gallery deadlines meant some more time to hang out. "How's the museum?" 

"Fine." You looked back at Reddie. "Got cleared to look at a different excavation. Here's hoping I'll have better luck with this one, compared to the last two..." You shot him a look. He cleared his throat.

"Yeahhh... sorry about that first one, Ever's a bitch." He rubbed the back of his neck. Though he didn't seem particularly apologetic for his own role. "And the second one, too."

"Eh, oh well. I'm just happy to have lost their interest for now." You turned back to Reddie. He seemed perfectly content. His tank was decorated with seashells and plants, a well curated home. While it wouldn't compare to his natural habitat he was right at home anyway. As you admired the home you two created for the fish your mind drifted back to that phone call with Rafayel before the wedding. About the bone. A fake skull sat in the tank as well, and Reddie darted in and out of the eye sockets.

You took a deep breath.

"Could you tell me about Lemurian burial customs?" The question prompted Rafayel to raise his eyebrows. He looked at you through your reflection, his eyebrows then settling into a furrow.

"Why? That's hardly a welcome home baby I missed you kind of conversation."

"I'm sorry, it's not, but it is a conversation based on our agreement." You lifted the necklace he gave you with your thumb. The mark of your covenant. "I need to know what I should do, if anything." Rafayel took a slow, deep breath of his own. His eyes slowly shut. He took a moment to himself. His chin remained planted on your shoulder, and you didn't try to make him move. He moved on his own a few seconds later. He straightened his back, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Humans aren't typically allowed to know these kinds of things." He began slowly, his voice taking on that deeper octave he used when dead serious. "Are you sure?"

"I need to know what I should do with the bone. Do I wrap it in a specific cloth? Do I not even look at it? I... admittedly don't even know if it's really Lemurian, but I have a hunch." He raised a hand and shook his head.

"No, no. Don't doubt yourself now. I agree." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "We... without divulging too many details, death isn't inherently a bad thing for Lemurians. When the time is right, we return to the sea in its purest form. We become seafoam and be one with the water forever. There's a whole ritual, the Sea Moon ceremony. There shouldn't be any bones left. Nothing." The loss in his voice was a stark contrast to his words. While death was supposed to be neutral, if not positive, his tone filled with anger and remorse. 

He lost someone.

You opened your mouth, wanting to reach out, to comfort him. But his shoulders were tense. He wasn't looking at you anymore. You took a single step towards him. You lift your hand, like you did during Ebb day, and hover it over his cheek. Not too close. Close enough he could feel the warmth of your skin. His nose twitched. Close enough he could smell your skin. Without even looking, he slowly, hesitantly, closed the gap himself. He pressed his cheek into your hand but still didn't look.

"I'm sorry." You murmur. He cracked his eyes open, those blue-pink eyes landing on the necklace that fell between your collar bones. The pearl that caught in the light, the wire fishtail wrapped around it and connecting it to the chain. He lifted a finger, touching the charm before looking up at you.

"For what? This isn't your fault."

"I'm sorry this has happened to you and your people. I'm sorry archaeology and anthropology as disciplines have been so cruel to you. I'm sorry I can't do more." You murmur. His eyes narrow. He drops the charm, snaking his arm around your shoulders instead. He pulls you to his chest, and all you can do is put your hands on his biceps to steady yourself. This wasn't a hug trying to comfort you. No, this was for him. How could you deny him that? You wrap your arms around him right back. You lean in, just holding him. "You all deserve better than all of this. I'm sorry, Rafayel."

The room fell quiet. Only the low hum of the motor for Reddie's tank, the distant roar of the ocean, and your breaths filled the space. But the moment was necessary. Overdue. So long overdue. His strong arms, he definitely had the physique of a swimmer, curled around you. Not holding too tight. His touch tentative. As if he, too, was trying to figure this out. You don't make him move. You just keep leaning in. Finally, after a few long moments, he pulls back. He puts a bit of distance between the two of you. His eyes bored into yours. As if he was searching for something. For understanding, for recognition, for memory. 

His lips finally curl into a smile. The veil had lowered once again. He slowly, carefully lifted a hand... before mussing up your hair. You gasp and whine, lifting a hand to swat his away as he breaks out into laughter.

"Okay, okay, that's enough of that." He grinned, watching as you tried to fix your hair. "Stay for dinner? My treat." You finally look back at him once your hair had more or less been smoothed into submission. His teasing grin disarmed you from any real frustration that may have been there. You just sigh, but your lips betray you by widening into a smile.

Of course you would. And he knew you would, too.

Tansy, for hostility

Thus far, this excavation had been the most successful one you had been on in months. No missing archaeologists, no EVER offers, nothing of the sort. Nothing but good work. Thankfully, the dig site wasn't far off, so you and your team could dive yourselves to do the work. The ocean welcomed you back, and it felt like you had finally regained its good graces. Good weather and tame tides kept everything on track. Which meant you could enjoy your days off without guilt.

The scent of seawater mixed with various local goods, and the waft of espresso from a local coffee shop added a sting of acidity to the air. Somewhere in the distance someone must have just finished a cigarette. Your footsteps reverberated on the cobblestone path, an accompaniment to the street performers lining the paths. Laughter, conversation, shouting, singing. The air swirled with it all. A beautiful symphony of sights, sounds, and scents. You approach the doors of the library, letting yourself in with a self indulgent laugh.

“Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,”

You spoke the verse aloud to yourself, smiling at your own reference before another voice chimed in.

“Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life; Whose misadventured piteous overthrows Do with their death bury their parents' strife."

The voice was deeper. Lower. You turn on your heel and find an older man standing near the bookshelves, his back to you. His voice held an edge, the depth of age and experience sharpened with the experience of an actor. He recited the prologue with ease and smoothness, as though he was merely holding conversation. "Romeo and Juliet. Prologue."

"I- yes." You stammer for a moment, taken aback. You take a step forward, tucking your journal under one arm while offering your hand to him. "I'm one of the archaeologists in town, I-"

"Yes, yes." He finally turned. Everything about the man carried both strength and anguish. Deep lines were etched into his forehead, though under his sensible clothes it was clear he had the physique of a fighter. He waved a hand dismissively. "I know you nuisances are in town." 

Ah. 

You get used to less than warm welcomes in this field. You drop your hand, instead rubbing the back of your neck. "I also am here on behalf of a museum in Linkon. A man donated a significant number of supposedly Lemurian relics some years back, and I'm helping them research it. He was originally from Verona. I was hoping to do some research on the history of the area, and check family histories and birth records." The man finally fully turned to you. Despite his age, his eyes were sharp. Full of wit and intelligence. Though there was a deeper fire in them. A black fire. A fire all consuming, all encompassing. Not like Rafayel's, a fire of passion. Not like Rafayel's, a fire of creation.

His fire was that of destruction.

Blood in the water.

A flash of light recaptures your attention. A glint on his metal nametag- Amund. "I was just looking for the section on local history, and wondering how I'd get in touch with the people who run the local archives. Every time I go, it's closed." You explain yourself while sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck. Being unwelcome in town is one thing, being unwelcome in the very library was something else entirely. "I'm just trying to help the museum get to the bottom of it. Radiocarbon dating isn't an option, we don't want to damage anything. And we want to know as much as possible about the donor. He didn't offer his full name, he was just known as K."

Amund tensed. He clicked his tongue, picking up a book to point down an aisle. "Local family histories... I'll let the archives know. We all know K. Why he donated anything in Linkon..." His brow furrowed and he grumbled his words. "Local history down that aisle, on your right. Be careful. The books are old."

"Of course." You confirmed with a polite nod, hurrying down the aisle he pointed to. Anything to escape the awkward and heavy air that had just formed. "Geez." You murmured it in as low a voice as you could, pulling out your journal as you walked to a table. There were only a few scattered around, so you just grabbed the first one you saw. You set yourself up with journal and pen, then began to navigate the library aisles to pull a book or two that looked promising. You weren't sure how much work you'd be able to get done with the mildly hostile librarian. It didn't take a mindreader to know he didn't particularly want you here. You opened your journal, beginning a new entry on your notes as your phone vibrated suddenly from your pocket. You mindlessly fish it out, looking over the names of the books before you, noting the author's name and the title, before turning your eyes to your phone. 

A video from a popular gossip account on social media. Just a typical social media notification. Typically you wouldn't bat an eye at it, but the photo attached caught your eye. You'd know that familiar mop of purple hair anywhere. You tapped on the notification and the social media app loaded, before revealing the video in question. You recognized the scene. Raymond's house. A crowd of people dressed in mourning attire stare as a middle aged woman screams at Rafayel, the only person not dressed for a funeral. He seemed entirely unbothered, his steps measured and calm as he walked away.

You had your phone on mute, you're in a library after all, but the caption clarified what the women said. Raymond's mother, the woman shown, was accusing Rafayel of killing her son. Your eyes widen. You open the comments, finding a slew of commenters ridiculing the woman. A painter, one as well known as Rafayel, killing a scientist? Impossible. Besides, Rafayel was nowhere near the man the day of his death. While news had leaked about the metaflux and Rafayel's painting being connected, the Hunter's Association hadn't pressed further. As far as the legal system was concerned Rafayel was wholly and entirely innocent. You took a screenshot, save it to a hidden file on your phone, then shut your phone off.

Why would Rafayel go to his funeral in the first place? It was clear the two didn't get along. Was it a final 'fuck you' to Raymond? You sit back in your chair, pondering it. Sure, Rafayel was petty enough to pull a stunt like that. But... why? Why would he when he likely knew people were drawing connections between him and the painting? He was far from stupid. So if he went, it was for a reason.

You turn back to the books before you. 

It takes you back to the day you met your now boyfriend. It all began in a library, after all. That fateful day. Honestly, you should thank your lucky stars. Sure, he admitted the first meeting was an accident and everything after was calculated. But there was still something that stirred your heart when you thought about that first interaction. An archaeologist and a Lemurian, what an odd couple. You put these thoughts to bed as you gave your full attention to the books before you. Amund agreed to speak to the archives on your behalf. Hopefully you could get to the bottom of whoever K was. It seemed promising, since Amund himself said "we" all knew K. He and other local elders must have known him personally. So long as you're speaking of the same person.

Book after book, you made your way through the aisle. This was merely a preliminary check, noting books that sounded and looked the most promising based on chapter titles and brief skims. You didn't have all the time in the world so you ought to make the most of it. The windows to the library allowed sunlight to come through, and soon the bright sun's rays went from a clear radiance to the glow of golden hour. Your journal was filled with notes, with the best books underlined and starred. You return the rest of the books exactly where you found them, for fear of the wrath of the librarian, before grabbing your stack and returning to the front. Amund sat there, reading some other book.

"I would like to check these out, please." He cut his eyes up. He slowly closed his book, taking the books on the counter. He grabbed the stamp and marked each of the books. Gods, when was the last time you watched someone do that? In this age of rapidly changing technology every library used some kind of scanner or digital interface. It was incredibly nostalgic. 

"One week, or two weeks?"

"Two, please. I'm not sure I'll be able to complete them and archives research all in one week." Amund turned, lifting a pen to write this information in a register.

"I expect them in perfect condition."

"Of course." You confirm hurriedly, nodding your head. He turned his eyes to you, scanning you over slowly. Before settling on your eyes once more. He slid the books over the counter. That was confirmation enough. You gather the books and safely tuck them in your bag. "Thank you." You express your gratitude before making your way out of the library. If the streets were lively in the afternoon, they were bursting with energy on the verge of night. Street performers danced, sang, whistled, and played their instruments. The streets filled with their symphony. You turn in the direction of your lodging, already heading down the road. In spite of the mild hostility from the librarian you would call that visit a success. And you would have plenty of time to continue these visits. Plus, it was hours to log for your work at the museum. 

As your footfalls joined the general ambiance of the area a woman's voice, as rich and melodic a voice you'd ever heard, came over you. It was coming from the a little cafe you had stopped by a few days ago. It had lovely outdoor seating. A woman sat with another figure, shrouded in shadow. The woman looked familiar, with her perfectly styled purple hair. She wore a rich black and white dress. Likely custom made. Your footsteps caught her attention. She turned to look at you, and an immediate knowing smile came over her.

"Rafy! You should have told me." Rafy? You glanced back over to the man shrouded in shadow. As you got closer he became clearer. And, indeed, it was Rafayel. He was standing still as a statue, a flower in his hand. As your eyes settled on the flower he gently closed his fingers around it and tucked his hand behind his back. The woman stood up, gently smacking at his arm. "Oh, don't be shy now, Rafayel. You know I wanted a proper introduction!" Rafayel winced, though the overexaggerated grimace revealed he was just being dramatic.

"Auntie! I didn't know, either!" He whined.

"Rafayel? What are you doing in Verona?" You cock your head, approaching the duo now that you know Rafayel is there. He turned to you, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I had to leave my aunt's wedding early on in the reception to handle business, so I wanted to come and visit her to extend my final well wishes and blessings." You put two and two together, so you turn to the woman and smile. She didn't look like she was much older than you. But you recalled your conversation with Rafayel in the car. She was a Lemurian, too.

She smiled in return, everything about her radiating composure and grace. She was beautiful. Her groom was one lucky man. "You can call me Aunt Talia, dear." 

"Auntie." Rafayel turned, his voice revealing surprise. His reddening ears revealed embarrassment. "We just started dating-"

"Nonsense." Talia patted his arm. "Your beloved is family. No arguments." The affection in her voice made your own cheeks redden. A far cry from your reception at the library. "Rafayel was just telling me all about you. You know, I was so excited to hear he finally found someone. He speaks highly of you. What are you doing in Verona?"

"I have the same question." Rafayel jutted out his bottom lip, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked away from the scene. You grab your field notes and wiggle the book in the air.

"Got a job off the coast of Verona. The museum cleared me to come and do it, they were just excited for me to come here so I could do some extra research for them on the side." You explained. Rafayel peered at your field notes, before extending his hand. You hand over your field notes without concern. He opened the journal, beginning to skim through the latest editions. "You were so busy with Thomas I didn't want to bother you, I did text you to let you know I'd be out of town. So far it's the most successful excavation I've been on in months."

"Ahhh." Talia hummed sympathetically. Your eyes cut over to her, and her expression alone told you she already knew of the events of the past few months. "My condolences. I imagine it was frightening, hearing about your colleagues." You nod your head, looking back over to Rafayel. He was offering your journal back. Now that he wasn't being sheepish, you could see what he had tried to hide. A flower. Hawthorn, it looked like. Rafayel followed your gaze before shaking his head.

"Aunt Talia wanted me to have a piece of her bouquet." He explained with a nonchalant smile. "Hey, the sun's setting. Aunt Talia needs to go home anyway. Why don't I walk you back to wherever it is you're staying? You can tell me all about this dig."

"With no interference?" You shoot him a teasing smile. His aunt turns to give him a pointed look, but he laughs anyway. 

"No interference. This dig's all yours. Promise." He displayed his palms, only holding the hawthorn with his thumb. He walked over. In lieu of his usual dress clothes, he wore a loose white shirt embroidered with grain on the collar. Loose black pants, and a pair of shoes fitting the warm climate. He hovered an arm over your back, prompting you along as you bid farewell and congratulations to his aunt.

Finally, the two of you begin to walk down the path towards your lodging. You take the moment of quiet to look up. The beauty of the architecture struck you. You tilted your head, admiring the shadows dancing on the buildings in the golden hours' light. Rafayel follows your gaze before cracking a lopsided smile.

"Into architecture too? Nerd."

“No, I just recognize the style. I've seen it in pictures and videos before. This kind of style is unique to this region and has a long history. It was featured in one of the Assassin's Creed games.” Your eyes remained fixed on the beautiful buildings. You fondly recall being handed a controller and jumping and climbing around these kinds of buildings in game.

“I didn’t take you for a gamer.” His brows lifted in a sign of momentary surprise.

“One of my best friends is a gamer. She got all As in history class specifically because of that game series.” 

“Are all your friends nerds?” His surprise faded into light hearted teasing, nudging your rib. "Egg head." You reach out and gently smack his arm. He winced, but his barely restrained grin clued you in that it was all in jest. "No! How could you? That's my painting arm! If I can't work for the next two weeks I'll have to tell Thomas it's all your fault."

"Oh wow, you really are taking my scapegoat offer and running with it." 

"Yeah, you're an archaeologist, you've got dues to pay for all the stuff your kind have put mine through." He huffed, again being overdramatic. Though there was a grain of truth. You walked a little closer to him, nudging his hip with your own as you walked side by side.

"Speaking of your kind..." You drop your voice. A melodic singer accompanies a street band, joining the crash of waves and call of birds. "Verona. Your aunt. All the street musicians. The librarian. He was kind of..." You drift off, trying to find the most polite way to say this. Rafayel's expression twisted into a grimace.

He rubbed his face with one hand. "Okay. Yeah. First off, yes, I know what you're asking. Not everyone, but yes." He looked at you through his fingers. "And Amund was what? Ornery, rude, pissy?"

"I wouldn't say any of that..." You drawl out your words, but Rafayel shakes his head.

"Nope. You might not, but I will. Because he is. All of the above. And more." Rafayel ran his fingers through his hair before sighing. "And yeah, I already confirmed my aunt." He dropped his voice this time. "But some of the others as well. Survivors."

"Amund mentioned that everyone knew K... That was the only identification of the man who left the Lemurian collection with the museum." You prodded him gently. His nostrils flared.

"K. I should've known it was K." He murmured. 

"What do you mean?" You tilt your head. He turns his head towards you, and cracks a smile. He reached over and ruffled your hair. You swat at him, but he just laughs at your halfhearted hits.

"I bet you can guess. We knew him. Me, Aunt Talia, Amund... I didn't know he was the one who donated that stuff. Now I really wanna see that collection you're working on. Small world, huh?" He tilted his own head with that boyish grin. A hint of a teasing smirk taking over it. "Maybe some repatriation is in order?" You reach up to fix your hair after he thoroughly messed it up.

"That's a lot of paperwork, and you'd have to admit that he was Lemurian, and that you're one, too." You clarified. "Plan on outing yourself to the whole academic community?"

"Nah." He shrugged. "Sounded nice, though. Didn't it?"

"Trust me, if it was my call alone I'd gladly let you. But it's not my stuff. And K entrusted it to the museum for a reason. I hope so at least. Now that I know he's confirmed to have been from here and people here knew him, I'm hoping the archives will finally let me look through some records." Rafayel's eyebrows furrowed.

"Were... they not letting you before now?"

"The archive would be closed or just about to close if I stopped by, and there wasn't any way for me to call or contact them to ask for a time to come by. I didn't really get the warmest welcome." You drop your hands. Your lodging was just up ahead. You could see and hear your fellow professionals milling about, cleaning the house, preparing dinner, laughing and talking. "None of us did. But I could tell I wasn't really welcome in the archives or the library." Rafayel didn't respond with words this time, simply humming. You took a few more steps, not breaking the silence that fell. 

"I'll be in town for a few more days." Rafayel was the one who broke the moment of quiet. He was walking you all the way to the door. "Can't promise I'll be able to see you, we'll probably have different schedules. But maybe we can grab something to drink after your work day." You look up at him. He was smiling again, but it felt unnatural. His mind was elsewhere. You cracked a small smile of your own. At the door, after verifying no one was looking out the window, you lean up and press a little kiss to his cheek.

"Please. I'd love that, Rafayel." You lean away again. His eyes widened, and the smile vanished. The tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks bloomed red, and he quickly looked away.

"O-okay, cutie. I guess it's a date." He immediately cursed under his breath at his own stutter. You don't stick around to tease him this time. He was flustered enough as it was, and while it was fun to tease him, you weren't sure how open you were to being teased by your coworkers. Besides. How public did Rafayel want this relationship to be anyway? You open the door, and he must have shared your thoughts. He began to walk away, almost in a slight daze, one hand lifted to touch his cheek.

"It's a date, Rafy."

Thistle, for misanthropy

The following days of the excavation went well. As well as they could, anyway. While you're all professionals that doesn't mean technology won't sometimes mess up, leaving to spend more time taking manual measurements. But if that was the worst thing to happen during this dig then it would be a smashing success. Especially compared to the last two. 

You peel off the layers of your scuba gear, finishing taking some videos and pictures of the excavation for the day. Your fellow crew members were chatting it up, someone mentioning going to the cafe for a pick me up before they closed. Another asked if they could tag along. You weren't really listening all that closely. You dried your hands once you freed them, grabbing your field notes to document some details before they slipped your mind. The scribble of your pen on the waterproof pages became the main sound in your mind. Until a hand appeared before your eyes, snapping once, then twice, to gain your attention. Your eyes dart up and one of your colleagues looks down at you with a smile.

"Hey! We were all gonna go to that cafe in town after we get all the gear put away at the house. We were asking if you wanna come." Jason grinned down at you. A well meaning albeit overbearing supervisor. You shake your head, lifting your journal. You got one specifically for this excavation. Waterproof pages that could be used immediately after work, before you even finished drying off. You'd copy your notes over to your personal journal during some free time.

"Not this time, guys, I need to update my field notes. Some of the pictures weren't matching up with the numbers we had originally so I'm gonna compare them." Jason leaned in over your shoulder, peering at some of your immediate off the top of your head notes. His thick brows were drawn tight.

"Ooh, good catch. You don't have to do that, though. I can stay behind to handle that. I'll catch up with you guys."

"Nah, I'll handle it, I was on photography duty today so I noticed more things." You wove him away. While what you said was true, it wasn't the whole truth. You had a date. You'd handle the official work first, then head off to meet with Rafayel. You weren't embarrassed or trying to hide your relationship. But discretion and tact were the name of the game, especially given the otherworldly details of your relationship and agreement. Best to just be subtle for now. Though it wasn't easy. Rafayel was an internationally famous artist, paparazzi were bound to catch wind eventually. But you both agreed you wanted control over how and when the news gets out. It was time to be subtle.

As everyone made their way back to the house you tucked your journal away for the moment. As one of the divers you only took in the equipment you immediately used while the others brought in the rest of it. You got to strip, shower, and change to begin your official work. You pulled out older pictures from days and the week previous. With everything laid out you got to work puzzling out the discrepancies, adding details and notes to your field notes as you went. The talk and laughter of your teammates faded to background noise as you got in the zone. It took a few minutes, but you successfully located the discrepancy. Underwater markers were always more difficult than on land markers, and one of the rods that had been placed seemed to have been moved. It was a negligible change, but after crunching some numbers you identified it to be the problem. Probably just some loose sediment and underwater currents, or a curious critter, that knocked it about.

You documented your realization just as your phone vibrated. You grabbed it off the corner of the table. You glanced outside, a blur of movement catching your eye. As you came back to the real world mentally you hear the distant laughter of your comrades. They must be heading out. You turn back to your phone.

Rafy <3: Still up for our early-dinner date cutie?

You grin the second you read the text. 

You: Yup!!!!!! So excited!!!! See u in ten?

Rafy <3: c u then cutie ;)

The short exchange was everything you needed. You tuck your phone back away, gathering everything you had laid out to put it back where it belonged. The physical copies of photos put back in the supervisor's room, your field notes safely lodged in your shared room. You change out of the t shirt and shorts into something a bit nicer for a casual date night. You grab your set of keys to the house, locking everything up since you were heading out. You grab your bag with some personal belongings to best carry the keys, your phone, your journal, and your knife.

With everything squared away you lock the door and head out. It was a beautiful day, as usual. You hadn't experienced a bad day yet in Verona. It was almost fairytale like. The architecture, the view, the scent. Everything about it was just beautiful. A part of you had to wonder how much of that was due to its inhabitants. Not everyone. But a few. A few of the people you saw out on the street were Lemurians. Was it the antique shop owner? The street performers? The man leaning against the wall, smoking while giving you passing glances? The woman dancing with a small child, or the baker shaking his head at a squabble outside his shop? Multiple of them? All of them? None of them?

You snap out of it. Truly, it's none of your business. You focus back upon the path before you, your footfalls echoing on the cobblestone. You look up to hunt down the sign of the restaurant Rafayel had asked you to meet him at. Soon enough you find it, right outside an alleyway. It was small. Easy to miss. But as you turn into the alley the scent of local cuisine washed over you. You followed your nose more than the path, the various spices and scents guiding you to a restaurant tucked behind the other buildings. Hidden away from tourists and guests, known only to locals and friends.

Rafayel was already waiting, pouring over a menu with sunglasses perched atop his head. He wore a loose white shirt that hung upon around a black tank top, black pants to match. As your footsteps came closer he finally looked up, grinning as he saw you. "There you are, cutie." He welcomed you, standing up. He pulled out your chair with an overdramatic flourish, before beckoning you to sit down. "My darling."

"Good to see you too, Raf." You laughed your greeting, but his flattery still made your ears turn red. You approach and sit down, letting him tuck your chair in. "Someone's in a gentlemanly mood." 

"Nothing but the best for my cutie." He sat back down, passing his menu to you. "My treat. Catch of the day is usually the best, everything's fresh."

"It smells amazing, Raf, thanks for telling me about this place. It's obviously not for the tourists." You glanced over the options. The chatter around you in two distinct languages. It was tucked away, a 'if you know you know' kind of place. And Rafayel brought you here. Your heart jumped. You decide to go with his recommendation. You put the menu down, and give Rafayel your full attention. He leaned back in his chair, perfectly at ease. "So, how's your visit going? Spending some time with your Aunt Talia?"

"Here and there." He shrugged. "She's perfectly smitten with her husband, they're spending more time together than anything. I'm catching up with some other friends while I'm here."

"Oh, are you from here originally?"

"Not really. But I did live here a few years." He shot you a smile. "My aunt was my vocal coach, but I decided painting was more my thing. Moved to Linkon, and... well. You ought to know the rest. Only a few years later I met you." He winked.

"Not a conventional meet cute, you know." You don't specify, not knowing who exactly was around you. But Rafayel knew exactly what you meant. He laughed.

"No, no, not at all. But distinctly us, don'tcha think?" Rafayel's eyes trailed down your outfit. Settling on the necklace draped across your neck, laying between your collarbones. Just seeing the pearl seemed to make his gaze soften. The elusive Lemurian and an archaeologist, meeting at the library, by pure chance and fate. Distinctly you, indeed. You looked away, but your lips curled into a grin all the same. He doesn't need to hear you confirm it. He had a knowing smile, like he could read you like an open book. 

A waiter approached, immediately greeting Rafayel in a different language. Rafayel took your menu and handed it to him, carrying conversation until he ordered for the both of you. His body language shifted, switching to whatever was appropriate for the regional dialect. His hand gestures became more exaggerated, his eyes even more expressive. The waiter laughed at whatever he said, clapping him on the shoulder before vanishing back into the main restaurant. Watching him speak another language was wildly attractive in its own way. The way his words flowed so smoothly, like velvet. The way his accent shifted effortlessly. How his body shifted to match his words. You watch him with admiration until his eye caught yours. His lips curled up into a smirk, his eyes shining with mirth.

"Hear something you like, cutie?"

"Yeah. You." You wink. "Your voice... you sound beautiful. You absolutely could've made a killing as a singer." He shrugged, but you could see how he was preening at the praise and flirtation.

"Yeah, could've. But painting is my passion."

"How many languages do you speak, anyway?" You tilt your head, perching it in your palm. He leaned back in his chair to think. 

"I can speak just about any romance language. Lemurian, obviously. The language we're speaking in currently. Mandarin and Cantonese." He listed off. "I know some latin." You scoffed a laugh. 

"Okay, now you're just showing off." 

"You asked!" He nudged your ankle with his foot, grinning at you. 

"Yeah, yeah, I asked." You laugh. You were impressed, obviously. "Lemurian. I've heard you talk about it, but I've never heard you really say a word in it." His smile dropped. There was a glimmer in his eye.

"Oh? Do you want to hear something?"

"Sure. Indulge me." You lean forward, curious if he would. He put a hand to his forehead, leaning his head down as if he was thinking hard about what he wanted to say.

"Bulshee'ahgan.1"

Your eyebrows furrowed. It was beautiful. It made your cheeks turn pink and your heart skip a beat. But you weren't sure what was said. "What does that mean? Blushe- blushee-ah,"

Rafayel didn't even bother to hide his grimace as you attempted to recreate the sound. "Don't hurt yourself, cutie." He patted the top of your hand. "I'll tell you later. See if you can find it in that Lemurian language book."

"It's not that advanced, and even then I don't know how what you said would be spelled." You mildly protest, but he just pats your hand again.

"If you can't figure it out or find it, then I'll tell you. I thought your nerdy little brain would love a puzzle." 

You huff softly. "I'm an archaeologist. Not a linguistic anthropologist. Different subsection of anthropology." A waft of cigarette smoke settled over you, and a man walked past to get a table on the opposite side of the patio. "But I'm not opposed to a challenge."

"There you go." Rafayel grinned. It was perfect timing, with that your food came out. The identical plates of fish and vegetables made your mouth water, and as soon as the waiter left you both began to eat. The food was so good, so well seasoned and spiced, the fish flakey and not overbearing. You hummed, caught up in your own little world. You almost didn't catch the way Rafayel was watching you. The way his lips were curling into a real smile. You paused.

"Is there something on my face?"

He hummed, lifting his napkin and wiping a bit of the sauce off the side of your mouth. The sudden touch and proximity caught you off guard. You watched him, big eyed. His eyes were focused on your lips, dabbing away the sauce. As he remained close to you, his eyes drifted to the side. Looking somewhere past you. He then looked back to you. "You're cute all pink, you know that?" You lift a hand to your cheek, feeling the warmth radiating off of it. He chuckled, giving you your personal space back as he put his napkin down. "Consider it payback for the cheek kiss."

"What? Mad it didn't land somewhere else?" You manage to quip back, grabbing your fork again as you tried to calm down. He tilted his head.

"What if I am, hm?"

"Well, tough. We're both eating fish. So no kisses." You point to your plates with your fork, earning another laugh.

"Okay, okay, that's fair. No fish breath." He grinned. 

Dinner continued without a hitch. Between bites you'd discuss work or Rafayel's visit. His Aunt Talia had married a dressmaker. Her black and white dress was designed and sewn specifically for her. He tried to be aloof, but the way his eyes would momentarily brighten or he'd smirk when recalling his aunt's joy and pride gave him away. He was trying to be tough. But he was happy for her. 

As you finish your meal Rafayel excuses himself to go inside and pay. You take the moment to sit back and enjoy the ambiance of the little restaurant. The chatter in different languages, the birds crying overhead. It was just far enough away from the hustle and bustle of the main path, but it didn't lack its charm. You fold your napkin, suddenly overwhelmed by the scent of cigarettes again. You look up and find the same man that had come to the restaurant stealing Rafayel's seat. You sit up straighter. "That seat's taken, I'm waiting for my partner." You speak clearly and firmly, grabbing your bag. The young man leans forward.

"Relax, just wanna talk." His voice alone sounded like nails on a chalkboard. "I know you're one of those archaeologists. I just wanna talk about whatever you've found."

"I, under contract, cannot discuss that." You reiterate.

"Not the one in Verona." He clarified.

You slip your hand into the front pocket of your bag. "Which one, then? Unless it's one I've published research on I likely cannot talk about it, and if I have I'd recommend you read the research rather than ask me now, however many months or years later." He rolled his eyes, leaning in across the table.

"Relax-"

You lean back, grabbing the knife and pulling it out. It wasn't fully open, but you'd had enough experience to do so quickly if necessary. Would this guy be stupid enough to try to pull a stunt here in front of so many people? "No." You were ready to stand up. "You're being weird." The man grumbled something before his hand darted out, reaching for your wrist. You jump up and out of your chair, flicking the knife open. The sudden movement accompanied by the loud scrape of the chair against the ground drew attention to you. You weren't usually this jumpy. But all the events of the past few months had certainly made you more wary. You heard measured footsteps behind you, and a flicker of pink in your periphery clued you in.

"Stop." Rafayel wasn't requesting it. No, he was commanding it. The man before you looked up, clicking his tongue.

"Stay out of this, I just had a few questions." Rafayel kept walking forward, soon standing right by your side. You could feel eyes all around you. An audience of restaurant patrons- and potentially others. 

"No. If you're harassing my cutie you're gonna have to deal with us both. Got questions? Go on. Ask. If you can ask the professional alone you can ask with me here, too." He spoke slowly, easily. The man clicked his tongue.

"Just wanna know what happened to that little expedition to Lemuria. You were supposed to go too, weren't you?" Your blood ran cold. No one outside of the management team, Rafayel, and Dr. C knew that. Rafayel scoffed.

"Last I checked everyone who went on it vanished without a trace." He wrapped an arm around your waist, easily pulling you into his side even though you stood ready with your blade. "And yet, my cutie is right here. Sounds like you're getting people mixed up. I get it, some of them start to run together after a while." You momentarily shoot him a pointed look. "But not my cutie." He quickly clarified. The man huffed.

"Bullshit."

"I don't know what your problem is." Rafayel held you a little closer. "But if you're following my cutie we're gonna have a problem. Leave." You kept a tight hold on your blade, staring the man down. You could handle yourself, but damn you'd always appreciate backup. You slowly tear your eyes from the standoff, eyeing the rest of the patrons. Many of them watched with interest. Some with disgust. Though, for once... it wasn't pointed at you.

It was pointed at the man that smelled like cigarettes.

He held his hands up, beginning to walk away. "Sure, sure. I won't touch your cutie." He drawled it mockingly. "Just had a few questions, no need to get all macho."

You take the moment to take in the man's features. Scrawny. Skinny frame, very wiry. Thin hair. The tips of his fingers yellowed from smoking cigarettes. He didn't look familiar. But you'd burn him into your memory now. As the man backed away you took the moment to make a point, throwing your knife.

It flew through the air and embedded itself in a wooden noticeboard right by his head. The man flinched. You and Rafayel wore matching looks. A simple message conveyed from both of you.

Try me.

He finally buzzed off, turning and jogging off down the alley to enter the area. Rafayel keeps you close, both of you waiting until his footsteps fully receded before relaxing. You sigh, shimmying out of his grip to go and get your knife.

"Good aim." Rafayel's compliment hung in the air. You yanked the blade out of the wood, checking it for any damage. 

"Thanks. And thanks for stepping in."

"Wasn't about to let you handle that creep alone. You're just a magnet for that type, aren't you?"

"Ew, don't make this my fault." You grimace, flipping it shut again before putting it in your front pocket. Easily accessible. You turned back, rejoining him before picking up your bag. Rafayel was looking at the other patrons. He didn't look sheepish or apologetic. Just serious. Everyone else was quiet, trying to figure out how to respond. They didn't get the chance. Rafayel turned on his heel, wrapping his arm around your waist again and pulling you out. You eagerly join him, falling in step with him.

"Fucking humans." Rafayel dropped his voice to a disgusted grumble. 

"So he's not-?"

"Nope. I'd know if he was one of mine." He looked down at you, eyebrows furrowed. "Noticed that he was watching you after he came in. I thought I smelled cigarettes when you first spoke to Talia and me." He shook his head. "Should've known." You run your fingers through your hair, blowing an exasperated raspberry.

"Think..." You hesitate, looking around as you walked to verify no one else was around. "Think he might be with you know who?" Ever. You really couldn't understand why they were so interested in you. The Lemurian excavation, sure. But you didn't go. You didn't see the dumped weapons. As far as Ever knew, you were just an archaeologist that had qualms with the ethics behind their company. Plenty of groups did, you weren't unique in that regard. 

"Maybe." Rafayel grunted. His eyebrows were drawn tight. Gone was the mirth and humor from dinner. Now he was determined. Focused. And absolutely pissed off. His one word answer didn't bring you any comfort. You lift your hand, resting it on the one on your waist. You brush your thumb against his knuckles.

"Hey." You softened your voice. That caught his attention. You pulled him out of his thoughts. When he looked at you, it felt like you were looking at a whole different person. The light in his eyes was gone. Only pure determination there. But as you squeezed his hand his gaze softened for a moment. And as his eyebrows lifted the light returned to them. "He interrupted our date. Let's not let him get the best of us, though. May I ask you about... your people?" You hesitated again, almost drifting off, but steeled your resolve and asked anyway. His lips turned up again.

But it wasn't the same as the smiles from before.

"Go on."

"So... Amund." You start with that. "Grumpy old librarian. But Lemurians are known for looking young for a long time. Just how old is he?" You end up on what you hope is a lighthearted question. Raf's snort confirms it was.

"The answer isn't that simple, cutie." He nudged your hip with his as he walked, but you keep pace with him with ease. "Can your scientific mind even handle the magic of Lemurian blood and reincarnation?"

"Sure. I'll bite." You shrug. Even if he's pulling your leg, it's just nice to spend time with him. He hummed.

"Okay, just stick with me, then." Rafayel peered around, making sure you were both alone. The sun was just about to finish setting, and most shops were closed for the evening. Tourists had gone to whatever other restaurants were open or were heading to their lodging, so the streets were yours and yours alone. "We're kind of at a disadvantage since we're literally fish out of water here. We can handle it and survive, but we'd all be better off back in the ocean. Amund is pretty old. We do exist in a reincarnation cycle. Believe it or not I have some passing memories of mine, and Amund has most of his memories. With that in mind, Amund has witnessed thousands of years. But his body itself isn't that old."

You listen intently, taking all of this information in. You did have a scientific mind, yes. And a part of you wanted to question it. But another part of you strangely resonated with what he said. A feeling washed over you. The warmth, the right-ness that washed over you the first time you read a fairytale that featured Lemuria. It felt like something was here for you. 

"Define thousands of years old. Are we talking two thousand, or are we talking the collapse of the bronze age?"

"Collapse of the bronze age." Rafayel confirmed with a laugh. "Amund's never been fond of humans, but he's been around for a while and knows a thing or two." Your eyes widened. You stop dead in your tracks, making him stop as well.

"Amund witnessed the collapse of the bronze age? Seriously?" You grab both his arms, eyes boring into his. "Tell me. Are. You. Serious?" Your sudden change in tone made his eyes widen, and he held up his hands to placate you.

"Don't hurt me."

"No, I'm serious." You hold him still. "Are. You. Serious? Amund was alive for and witnessed the bronze age collapse?" The intense eye contact held him still. He nodded his head. You let go of him, laughing. "No. No way! Seriously?!" You turn to him again with a giddy grin. He was flabbergasted. But he nodded. "Rafayel, that's one of the biggest mysteries of humanity! Holy shit!"

"Don't get your hopes up, he's never liked humans, he might not even know. And if he did he probably wouldn't tell you." He put his hands on your shoulders but you keep going.

"Rafayel do you know what this means?! Some of your elders know what the first songs sounded like! They may know about the invention of language in regions near the coast. Holy shit. The invention of writing. Of storytelling." You run your fingers through your hair. Rafayel gave you a gentle shake.

"Woahhh, sloooow down." He spoke slowly. "Not everyone has memories of the time. Not everyone has full memories of their past lives. And a lot of Lemurians didn't interact with humans all that often, especially not in the earlier stages of humanity. Calm down. Don't get your hopes up." You do take his advice, taking a deep breath. But the excitement still burned bright within you. Your cheeks hurt from grinning. While Rafayel looked like that shifty eyed monkey meme at the moment, your excitement did rub off on him. He cracked. And he smiled at you. He lifted a hand, ruffling your hair again. "But you're cute when you get all excited. Nerd."

You don't bother to smack his hand away. You just let him touch you however he pleased. "It's not every day I meet someone who could just... know the answers to some of my biggest questions." He finally tugged you along again. It was a welcome break from the tensity the interaction at the restaurant brought.

"I get that much." He agreed. You looked up. He was walking you back to the house again. What a gentleman. You leaned into him while you walked, just enjoying the steadiness of his presence. "You know, I didn't really have the best view of your profession before I met you. And Dr. C, admittedly. It's... kinda neat to know we have someone on our side." He nudged you, and you nudged him right back.

"Of course. I've got your back, fishy, and from what you've done for me ever since we've met I know you've got mine." You smiled up at him. He looked over. The moon reflected in your eyes, the distant sound of waves... He smiled. Warmly. Truly.

A proper, genuine smile.

You lift the pearl around your neck, pressing a kiss to it right in front of him. "I guess this is a mark of our agreement, huh? Our covenant, I guess you could say." Your thumb trailed over the fishtail again. The comfort your old necklace brought amplified tenfold by the meaning and intention behind the new one. His eyes flashed for a moment. In the low light of the night they appeared more blue than pink.

"Yeah... a covenant." He agreed. He reached out, his finger tracing the pearl as well. "I guess that's fitting for us." 

Up ahead you could make out the outline of the house. The lights were on, and you could hear laughter and talking. Rafayel stopped walking. He turned to you, and you to him. He slowly brought the pearl to his lips, pressing a kiss to it just as you had done. He needed to bow his head to do so. When he lifted only his eyes to you once he was done your heart skipped a beat again. 

"We have to stop doing this." You murmur. "Stopping just outside. One day, I want to invite you in."

"But not tonight." He finished the thought for you, his voice low and soft. His eyes trained on yours, still bent down. You lick your lips. You're close. You're both so close. His fingers twitch, sliding up the chain of your necklace, trailing up your neck before settling on your cheek. 

"Not tonight." You agree breathlessly. Each rise and fall of your chest, each heartbeat. He was feeling it. Experiencing it as if his own. "Do you want them to see you?" 

"No." He murmurs. "Not yet." 

You lick your lips again. You understood. You felt the same. So close. You're both so close.

A particularly loud laugh from inside make you both jump. You turn to each other. Waiting. Before quietly, breathlessly laughing. Not tonight. He stands up straight. "Don't be a stranger, okay? We've got a covenant after all." He points to your necklace with a cheeky smile. "I'll be heading back to Linkon soon. Thomas is gonna have my head if I don't start on some paintings soon. Let me know if something happens, okay? I'll get over here quick if a creep comes after you, and send some friends or relatives if I can't get here fast enough."

"I can handle myself." You gesture to your blade. "But I'd appreciate that. Thank you." You clasp your hands in front of you. Even though he was standing upright now, he didn't seem to want to be the first to walk away. You didn't, either. But your phone began to ring in your bag. You quickly fish it out. It's Jason. You didn't tell anyone where you were, a bit of a no no especially given what just happened to you. They were probably worried, wondering where you vanished off to. You didn't tell them you'd be out. You turn back to Rafayel. "Good night, Rafayel."

"Night, cutie." He nodded, bidding his farewell in turn. You answer the call, going up the stairs, telling Jason as much. You look over your shoulder, finding Rafayel doing the same. Each time you paused, he did, too. Until finally you kicked off your shoes and opened the front door. You turn back one last time. You caught Rafayel staring not at you, but at the house you were living in. A faraway look in his eyes. Some deep seated frustration, or anger. But you don't have time to comment. When Rafayel feels you staring, he looks at you. His eyes soften. He smirks, and waves one last time. Before turning and walking away.

Wormwood, for bitterness

A month passed. You and your crew had gathered all the information you could on the site, and your sponsors were pleased. The excavation was a success, and barring the odd encounter while on a date it was a flawless dig. Even with technology malfunctioning, teammates arguing, and mild hostility specifically from the librarian and archives, you couldn't help but feel satisfied. You tug the bag of equipment up and onto the deck of the boat. The company that had contracted all of you was paying for your trip back to Linkon. Most of the equipment came from various universities and scientific institutions in the area, so you and a few of the others were managing the return. 

Jason was one of the others joining the boat trip. He grabs his bandana, wiping his face as the sun beats down on all of you. But after a brief survey, he nods his head. Everything was ready. A thumbs up to the crew on the ground sends the rest of the people who lived closer to Verona off. You take the moment to pull out your personal journal again, reviewing your notes from the archives. Whatever Amund and or  Rafayel said to them worked. They let you in and had some information on K available. It wasn't much. It was just information on when he first moved to Verona, when he left for Linkon City, any family... It was more than what the museum had. You'd need to reach out to any surviving family for permission to use this information in the museum's database. And it was very possible they would say no. But it was worth asking.

"Hey." You nearly drop your journal as Jason suddenly appeared before you. He lifts his hands, smiling sheepishly as he realized he startled you. "Sorry- thought you heard me walk over. I was asking if you were ready to go."

You tuck your journal back in your bag, flashing him a thumbs up. "Yup, I'm ready!" Jason turns and waves to the person driving the boat. With that, final preparations to set off began. You make your way to a seat, sitting down inside near a window. Jason and a few others follow you, joining you in other seats. Finally, other passengers boarded, and the boat was off. You take the time to look over the notes you compiled for the museum. It wasn't much, but it gave you a better picture of who K was. You had texted a picture to the museum director, letting her know you would digitize your notes and share them with her. She hadn't gotten back to you in a few days but she was probably just busy. The bonus of the pay from the excavation and the additional museum hours when you went to the archives would be helpful. Every little bit helped.

The journey back to Linkon was quiet. Other passengers and your crewmates laughed and chatted around you, and you'd join in where you felt so inclined. Memories of the dig, of scuba diving for leisure in other areas, exploring the beautiful Verona... and, of course, your more private memories of a date night with Rafayel. In spite of an intrusion, the date overall went well. You got to enjoy a good dinner and a lovely walk. Not to mention, you learned another new nugget of information about Rafayel and his people.

The internet connection wasn't great on the boat. You spent time talking with people or glancing over notes in your journal. The hours slipped by, and soon Linkon was in sight. The closer you got to the city, the stronger your signal got. The boat docked, and you got to work. You all waited for the other passengers to get off first before helping get the gear on the trucks awaiting you. They would be taken back to the institutions you had gotten them from. It took a good hour, on top of the long boat ride. Your phone was occasionally buzzing in your bag but you just figured it was your phone finally catching up with any messages you got during the trip.

You waved off one of the trucks with Jason as your phone began to constantly buzz. A phone call. you fish your phone out, seeing it was the museum director, and gladly answer. You grin, putting it to your ear.

"Hey! I just finished up here at the dock-!"

"Please tell me you're with someone who can verify your presence at the dig." Her voice was firm. You freeze. You slowly look up at Jason. He raises an eyebrow, and you pull your phone away to put it on speaker.

"I just put you on speaker with one of the supervisors from the dig, Jason Yasuhiro."

"Jason, nice to meet you. Can you verify this person was with you in Verona for the entirety of the excavation, with no possible way to be in Linkon at all during that time?' Jason shared a bewildered look with you.

"Uh... yeah? There's no way anyone could get to Linkon and back in the few times we weren't together. What is this about?"

"Good." She sounded immediately relieved. "There was a break in at the museum. We're still trying to check everything. No footprints, no fingerprints, no alert from the security system, all of our video footage wiped... this was a professional."

You gasp. "Ohmygods- I'm so sorry! Is everyone okay?"

"Everyone is fine, it was a week ago at night. No one hurt. The only thing missing right now is that metacarpal you were working with in the potentially Lemurian collection." She sounded downright exhausted, but also relieved. "I didn't suspect you, but the police might reach out to ask you some questions since so far the only thing missing was from a project you had been working on. You were the last person to see the bone." Jason again looked to you in shock. You put a hand to your head. 

"Do the police-"

"No. And I told them they shouldn't suspect you, you were out of town when this happens. Besides, you have access to things much more valuable. And you have a damn backbone. I know you better than that." She reiterated firmly. "I'm just giving you a heads up. Jason, you may need to speak to the police as well to confirm the alibi. Sorry to scare you just after getting back home."

"No, no... thanks for letting me know." You run your fingers through your hair. A break in. A break in that so far, targeted a bone that had been a part of the donation by K.

You clench your teeth. No. It couldn't be. Rafayel wouldn't. Would he?

You take a sharp breath. "I'm gonna head home, now." You fib, slinging your duffel bag over your shoulder. "I'll see you Monday back at the museum."

"Okay, perfect. Since that's the only thing missing you should be good to resume research. You just won't be able to enter the room you had been using, the evol police still have it taped off." The poor director sounded exhausted. You could only imagine the hell she was going through. Talking to the investors, the police, assuring donators the museum was still a safe place to donate to... What a nightmare. "I'll see you Monday."

With this farewell you hang up. You drop your arm, staring off towards Whitesand Bay. It wasn't far. This dock was just a few miles up the beach from Rafayel's private strip of it. You look up. The sun had already begun to set. Ideally, you should go home. Shower, unpack, do a load of laundry. Flop face first into bed to take a nap. 

You tuck your phone into your bag again.

"Hey..." Jason rubbed the back of his neck. "Do you need a ride? My truck is parked nearby, got permission to leave it here while we were in Verona."

"Sure. Think you can drop me off near Mo Art Studio?"

You were lucky Jason wasn't pressing for details. You didn't feel like outing your relationship at the moment. But you had questions that needed to be answered. Rafayel. Was he the one who did this? Did he take the bone? You didn't want to falsely accuse your own boyfriend. But something was fishy here. You rub your face, staring up at the familiar gallery as Jason drove off back towards Linkon. You push the gate open, taking steady steps towards the door. You pushed it open as you always did. 

"Rafayel?" You call out his name, taking a brief look around. He wasn't painting. And the door to his bedroom was wide open, so he wouldn't be in there. You walk past Reddie's tank, briefly stopping to at least say hi to him and sneak him a little fish food. But you finally find the back door leading to his private strip of the beach. It was wide open. You sigh, placing your bags on the floor near the door. You walk out, following the footprints in the sand. The necklace bounces with each decisive step you take.

You weren't going to accuse him of anything. Just ask if he knew. After all, if he didn't, he ought to be just as concerned as you were. You follow the footsteps, taking you pretty far up the beach. The sun was rapidly setting, replaced by the moon and stars. You don't need to pull out your phone for light. His footsteps guided your feet, leading you straight to him.

When you finally found him, the moon had reached its higher point in the sky. How had that much time passed? You lift your hand to your head. You look down.

His footsteps were gone. How did you get here?

You look up. Silhouetted in the water, Rafayel stands waist deep. He outstretches his hand. A small, off white object glowed in the moonlight.

Bone. A metacarpal. 

Your eyes widen. But you don't say a word. You watch, standing just beyond the waves. Rafayel slowly lowers his hand into the water. The bone fizzes. Before turning into seafoam, slowly drifting out of his hand. He reaches out, as if trying to catch some of it, but it evades him. His arm drops. Splashing in the water.

You wait. You look at the seafoam. You slowly bow your head, your fingers coming to the pearl again. You weren't sure what you were doing. But you knew, somehow, you needed to be quiet for a moment. You hear another splash and look up. Rafayel is closer to land now, but his back was still to you. You give him a few seconds. Before clearing your throat, hoping not to scare him.

He whips his head around with inhuman speed, eyes wide in a furious expression.

Much like the merman of your nightmare.

Blood in the water.

Rafayel's gaze immediately relaxes upon seeing you. He smiles, wading to shore. "Hey, cutie." His voice was soft and melodic. You put a hand to your head again.

"That was the metacarpal." You don't ask. It wasn't a question. It was an observation. His smile doesn't waver. He comes out of the water entirely, wet clothes be damned, and opens his arms. He isn't denying it. But you can't deny him, either, can you? You walk over and lean against his chest, letting him hug you. This wasn't a hug for you. It was a hug for him. "I'm sorry." You murmur. The sea moon ceremony. You suddenly recall your conversation with him about burial rituals, and throw your head back to look at the moon. You turn back to him. Instead of frustration of confusion, you felt sudden understanding. You throw your arms around him. "You laid them to rest."

He stiffens for a moment. Before slowly, steadily, hugging you tighter. "Hope I didn't get you in trouble." He murmured against the top of your head, pressing his nose against your hair. You don't stop him. You just squeeze him.

"I'll be okay. Next time, just... tell me. Let me help you." You lift a hand, tracing his cheek. He flinched.

You drop your hand. 

But before it could fully drop to your side, he catches it. He presses your hand fully against his cheek. This time he nuzzled into it. "This is my responsibility. Not yours."

You remove one hand from his back, lifting your necklace again. He lowered his eyes to it, watching it closely. "No. I'm a part of this now, too." You protest. "You asked me to help you. So let me help." You drop the charm, but his eyes remained glued to it. His eyes only slowly lift, taking you in from bottom to top. His eyes locked on yours. There was no light in them. The moon and the stars couldn't reach them. "Don't shut me out of this. Let me help you."

Rafayel laughed. Not mocking, no. But low. Dry. 

"Sure, cutie." He stood up straight, but you just threw your arms back around him. Hugging him tight. That caught him off guard for a moment. He stood still. You could feel how tense he was. But as he wrapped his arms around you again, he squeezed you tight. "Okay. Okay, I will." You didn't see his eyes as he said this. And a part of you didn't believe him anyway. But you just took a deep breath.

He needed time. 

He slipped a finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

"I got you some welcome home flowers." He murmured. "Flame lilies. They're nice. They're in a vase back at my place. Why don't we head back there?" He slipped his arms around, one around your waist as the other removed your arm around his neck. "And I'll make us dinner. I didn't eat lunch today, so I hope you're hungry." You look up. Light had made its way back into his eyes. And you could see the love in his gaze. It was real. It was true.

You manage to smile. "Flame lilies. Do you know what those represent in the flower language?"

"Yeah, I did some digging after you mentioned it." He winked at his own cheesy archaeology pun. "Flame lilies. Passion, pride, rebirth, honor... and love." He guided you forward his hand on the small of your back. Your footsteps intertwined on the sand, kissed by the waves almost reverently. "I want you to have them. They make me think of you."

1: Touring in Love reference. Not written out in game subtitles, recreated the sound in letters as best I could! 

[shirozora-draws]

I am so late but I am finally done with the first round of merch that I am satisfied with. I am satisfied and we are rolling forward with this set. Now to send off all of my final sample orders so that I know these are absolutely working and are worth posting to a shop site as pre-orders.

Clan of Three lanyards. I recognize that I could easily turn these into washi tapes if I wanted to. We'll see.

Grogu Baby Crimes. Sticker & acrylic shaker charm. Completely revamped after carrying around the old version as an acrylic shaker charm and deciding it was too unwieldy and, more importantly, not cute enough. This will be a sticker option and an acrylic shaker charm option.

Keldabe kiss - Interstellar version. Matte & holographic sticker.

Keldabe kiss - Tatooine version. Matte & holographic sticker.

Live Cheen Reaction. Sticker. For all the fans of Cheen Yofree, the unluckiest third-wheeling Rodian OC.

Need A Hero. Sticker & acrylic charm. The only thing I'm putting forward with Din's face for now. I wanted something cute.

Clan of Two. Sticker. A straightforward general sticker.

The Battle Couple. Sticker (for now). This was actually designed to be an embroidered patch, but I'm not really there yet. The sticker shape is odd so I might present this as a kiss cut sticker.

Luke on Ossus - no scars. Sticker. For people who don't want scars?

Luke on Ossus - scars. Sticker. I just wanted to doodle a thirst trap, thassit.

The Storm. Sticker (for now). I wanted to make more merch for my fics and might use this template for the other fics in the Dangerous Dreams series.

The Clan of Three. Sticker. This motherfucker held me up for MONTHS. I didn't like the previous full-body version especially after getting several sample stickers so I started over... and then got stuck. For months. But here we are. The final piece of the puzzle.

Limited - Tron. Sticker & acrylic charm. I wanted to make a little Tron merch. The acrylic charm will be double-sided with Tron on one side and Rinzler on the other. Thank god this guy is more or less symmetrical.

Limited - Rinzler. Sticker & acrylic charm. For people who like Rinzler. This will be double-sided with Rinzler on one side and Tron on the other side.

I'm sending off a final round of sample sticker and charm orders so that I can get a feel for the revamped and new designs, and once I'm happy I'll get the pop-up shop up and running.

Round 2, I'm looking at small prints, possibly the embroidered patch, and maybe a Tron|Rinzler standee. Also a sticker for The Suns maybe, possibly also The Stars. What if I did a WarGreymon|BlackWarGreymon charm?????

And now.... we write.

[toxictigertonic]

Okay. Here me out. I know I already asked for something and this i can't ask for anything ever again from you but please your magnificents I am but a poor little British boy asking for the crust of your bread:

WHAT IF THEY WERE HOSTING A BAKE SALE. WHAT IF.

Keep asking me things!! I love to yap!! My bread crusts are free, I shall even throw in some butter for them!!

A bake sale hosted by the prime assets for the reagents would be the most hectic, hilarious, and probably dangerous thing you've ever seen, and that's saying a lot. Where did they get the baking materials? Did anyone follow a recipe? Should you eat anything that Franco or Leland had a hand in creating? Who knows!

COYLE

- He cannot bake to save his life.

- It's both underbaked and overbaked at the same time. Outside's burnt to a cinder and the inside is still batter. Turn down the heat on your oven you fool.

- He'd either try to make something really simple, like oatmeal cookies, or he'd think he's a God at baking and try to make some shit like macarons or a soufflé.

- Kinda guy who thinks he can just fuck with the measurements and imgredients in a recipe and still have it come out the same. Also doubles his recipes and forgets to double the baking soda (I'm guilty of that ngl)

- The reagents would buy his baked goods just to use them as throwable items. Bricks are out, Coyle's homemade oatmeal rocks are in.

- Honestly I think he'd be good at making things taste good, he just can't bake them properly.

- As for being at the bake sale, he's immediately jealous of how good Phyllis' desserts look. They've got that homemade charm but still look amazing.

- Takes some comfort in seeing the mess Franco is serving up though.

- Would tell people that if they don't like the way his cookies are baked then they should make them themselves. I payed 2 tickets for these cookies I deserve to complain.

MOTHER GOOSEBERRY

- The QUEEN of the bake sale. Bow down to her.

- She spent an entire month planning and prepping for this bake sale, this has been the only thing on her mind for 4 goddamn weeks.

- Makes at least 5 or 6 different desserts, ranging from mini apple pies, to simple chocolate chip cookies, to actual perfectly made macarons. This woman is magic when it comes to baking.

- She even has cute little packaging for all of her baked goods. This woman went all out and you better appreciate her.

- Will offer you a sample if you don't know what something is, but if you say you don't like it you better be ready to answer to Futterman.

- Futterman is not allowed to advertise the baked goods. Mainly bc anyone who says they aren't interested is chased down. There's no more room underneath the table to hide unfortunate reagents.

- Besides, Phyllis is already amazing at advertising her own baked goods. Her personality makes people want to try her stuff immediately (and the table smells heavenly).

- By the end of the bake sale, her table is empty. Sold through everything and had people begging to order stuff from her. (There might be some angel dust in those cookies but don't tell her I told you that)

- Franco was not allowed to try any of her baked goods. Samples are only for paying customers, little man. He tried to snag one secretly many a time but he's almost gotten a drill to the hand as punishment.

- Coyle and Franco fight over who gets to lick the spoon when she's done mixing batter. Neither of them get it, Futterman gets the spoon.

FRANCO

- I want you to be honest now. Would you really eat anything he made? Would you trust his baking skills?

- Remember how I said he likes his cookies severely underbaked? That's what he's bringing to the bake sale. Just nearly raw cookie dough. And it's not even good cookie dough.

- I love him, you know I do, but he would not change spoons between taste testing the dough.

- Forgot about the bake sale until the day of and just threw something together so Phyllis wouldn't yell at him for not participating.

- The only way I'm trusting anything he makes is if Phyllis is supervising him. They can make thumbprint cookies together :)

- Honestly I'd probably just give him 50 dollars and let him buy things rather than allow him to sell things. Let him buy some cake pops.

- The reagents bully him for his shitty baking skills, and the poor guy had to hand Lupara off to Phyllis at the door. He's just gotta take it, or start a fist fight.

- He'd throw a mini tantrum anytime somebody bought from the other two. How DARE you not buy his cookies, he made them with love! And potentially teeth.

- Spends most of the bake sale trying to steal a single thing from Phyllis bc she won't let him have any samples. Hides under the table and keeps getting his hand slapped by her.

Keep sending in requests, art or headcanons I don't mind! It gives me something to do and I love any chance to draw or think of the sillies.

[bitbybitwrites]

I havent done this in a bit . . so many thanks to the following people who keep tagging me in both this and WIP Wednesdays for the past few weeks!

@onthewaytosomewhere , @porcelainmortal , @firstprincehornyramblings , @forabeatofadrum, @sophie1973 , @iboatedhere, @getmehighonmagic, @caterpills, @blueeyedgrlwrites, @theprinceandagcd 

I appreciate you thinking of me!

Well, lets see . . .

I've finally updated If I Can Make Your Heart My Home (Klaine Reverse Bang 2023) by posting Chapter 29 (cc @datshitrandom)

I've added a bit more to a couple of other WIPs (for both Klaine and First Prince), which I'll list below!

1.) Working on the next installment of Puppy Love (RWRB NYE 2023 exchange) ( cc @omgbarbiegurl )

“Awwwww . . .” Alex turned to find Liam and Spencer staring at him with the sappiest, lovesick expressions on their faces. “Our baby is growing up,” Spencer said, daubing away fake tears with his lab coat. “It was just yesterday he was pulling on your pigtails, “ Liam said to June as he reached over to pinch Alex's cheek. “And he was shoving you off the swings in our back yard, “ she countered back with a smirk and exaggerated flutter of her eyelashes. Alex pouted as he pushed Liam away.  “Shut the fuck up, “ he grumbled, clutching his coffee mug tighter.  “I don’t even know why I let you all work here.” “Because you love us, dipshit.  And we love you too.” Liam said as he shoved Alex back playfully.  “Go and talk to your Prince Charming. Introduce him to your kid.  Everything is gonna work out just fine.”

*****

Alex Hey baby . . you free to talk? Cause I was thinking,  if you’re not  busy this holiday. . .   I know maybe not Christmas. . . you probably have lots of family stuff to do  but actually if you’re free on New Years Eve, I’d  love of you to come meet my family.  My sister’s girlfriend is hosting this party.   My mom, stepdad and dad are all gonna  be flying in and and I know they’d all love to meet you.  Win em over with that English charm of yours. I’ll even talk June into finding some of those  Jabba Cakes you like so much, if that’ll make  the deal sweeter  . . FoxyBaby .............. Alex Hen?  I tried you earlier.  You around  or has Pez got you  running round in circles getting the  shelter ready for the holidays? FoxyBaby .............. Alex Hey . . haven’t heard from you . .  Are you ok? FoxyBaby ............ Alex Hen? Henry?

2.) worked some of my next installment for missed connections (Klaine Secret Santa 2024) (cc @cryscendo . . .and so many thanks to @esilher for helping me out with the French in this upcoming chapter)

The assembled team nodded as soon as they saw Charles’ gesture of approval again.  

“Ce sera tout, Monsieur? (Will that be all, Sir?)” one of the older seamstresses asked.

Charles grunted as he waved off his staff.  “Yes . . yes, Honorée.  We are good for now. Veillez à prendre contact avec Gaston ou Jean d'ici la fin de la semaine pour leur faire part de vos progrès. (See that you check in with Gaston or Jean by the end of the week with your progress.) “

Now dismissed, Worth’s employees bustled about the room, collecting fabric samples and sketches.  Blaine, ever the gentleman, assisted Célestine, the young model, off the ottoman, assisting her into a her a light silk wrap to cover herself with.  She smiled coyly at Blaine as she whispered her thanks.

Worth rolled his eyes as he watched.  “And you all better get your farewells in today,” the designer warned.  “Remember, this is Blaine’s last day with us.  Il retourne dans son pays d'origine demain. (He returns to his homeland tomorrow.)”

A resounding sound of disappointment shuttled through the staff.  Blaine had been a comforting figure to many of them in his 5 year tenure as Worth’s personal assistant and artistic protégé. His energetic and eager attitude had quickly endeared him to many in The House of Worth the minute he stepped through its doors.  

The seamstresses quickly surrounded him, clucking in disapproval as they patted and kissed his cheeks affectionately, like the motherly hens that they were. Even with bolts of fabric in their arms, the clothmakers and their assistants made sure to offer hearty handshakes and claps on his back in farewell as they each left the room.

 Célestine pouted as she stepped forward “Bon retour en Amérique, Blaine. (Have a safe journey back to America, Blaine.)” She extended her neck as she  leaned over,  touching each of her her soft, perfumed cheeks against Blaine’s own.  “Ne soyez pas un étranger.  Revenez nous rendre visite quand vous le pouvez. (Do not be a stranger.  Come back and visit when you can.)” the model said huskily , reaching around Blaine to squeeze his ass as she passed.

Blaine expelled a surprised yelp as it happened, staring at Charles with wide eyes as his employer guffawed loudly at his expense.  “Yes, uh . . . I mean . . Merci Célestine.  Tu vas... euh... tu me manqueras aussi. (Thank you Celestine.  I shall . . . uh. . .miss you too.)” Blaine stuttered out , flustered and red-faced as the door closed behind the model, finally leaving him and Charles alone.

Worth continued laughing at Blaine’s shocked expression. “That woman has been trying to get into your trousers for five years, Blaine.  You can’t be surprised.”

Blaine  smoothed down his waistcoat and shuddered for a moment at the thought.  “Well, I’ve never tried to make her think I had any aspirations for such things . . . she’s certainly not my type.”  He quickly walked over to Charles’ desk and began sorting the piles of drawings the designer had strewn over  it haphazardly.  “Now, do you need me to bring these sketches back to the designers now?”

Tagging to play ( only if you want to - no pressure! )

And of course this applies to the lovely folks who tagged me at the top of this post.

AND BIG open tag if anyone wants to jump in and share:

, @annepi-blog, @myheartalivewrites , @14carrotghoul, @kirakiwiwrites

@wowbright, , @coffeegleek, @theprinceandagcd

@gleefulpoppet , @special-bc-ur-part-of-it , @daisyishedwig @sarkyblueeyes , @hkvoyage

@tinyarmedtrex, @1908jmd , @sparklepocalypse @spaceorphan18, @firstprincehornyramblings

@kirakiwiwrites , @cha-melodius @yadivagirl, @lady-divine-writes, @cryscendo @emeryhall

@rockitmans, @madas-ahatters-world , @little-escapist @thesleepyskipper @caterpills

@nocoastposts, , @thinkof-england , @shame-is-a-wasted-emotion

@blurglesmurfklaine @blueeyedgrlwrites

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

Man, Myth, Legend

You waited and waited and waited some more until Jethro’s voicemail began playing.

“He thinks he’s so clever,” you grumbled to yourself as you sent him a text. Not like he would respond back but at least your two cents was thrown in there.

It was bad enough he made you stay behind with Tony instead of joining him, Ziva and McGee to his HOMETOWN. But now he wants to ignore your calls too? Granted, the calls would have only been you pestering him with all kinds of questions but nevertheless, he should still pick up the phone. What if you were in danger?!

“C’mon Probie. Let’s see if Abby has anything for us,” DiNozzo stated while walking by.

You locked your phone and huffed in annoyance before joining him in the elevator.

“You can stop calling me that Tony. I’ve been working with you guys for like a year now.”

“I know. But I just love how much it bugs you.”

You rolled your eyes at his teasing and followed after him once the doors opened.

Abby gave you two the rundown on the blood analysis before McGee’s face popped up on her screen.

“Gibbs has a father!”

You ran over with Tony while they gave all of you the much needed info on the Gibbses. Jethro had told you he grew up in Stillwater and wasn’t exactly the towns poster child but he never really spoke more than that, let alone about his father.

“I’m coming. I’m leaving,” Tony stuttered.

“Well you’re not going without me,” you added.

“Not unless you’ve found a way that people in town might have thought Ethan LaCombe was alive,” McGee answered right back.”

————

You and Tony sat in the Bullpen, throwing different questions each others way as you wanted for your next orders.

“So do you think he like got ran out of town and that’s why he hasn’t been back?” Tony asked, tapping a pen against his mouth in thought.

“I don’t know but I wouldn’t put it past him if it were true. Do you think his high school girlfriends still live there?”

Tony gave you a puzzled look which you quickly defended.

“I mean I’m just curious since most small town people don’t really move out past their county.”

“I doubt he’s dinner dating with any of his past flings probie. Plus, how is it you don’t know anything about Gibb’s past but you two are together?”

“You know he doesn’t talk much. Especially about his past. It was like pulling teeth when I asked him where he was born!”

As if his ears were burning, your phone began ringing as Jethro’s face popped up on your screen. Making a face for Tony to be quiet, you answered.

“Oh, look at that, you know how to call people all of a sudden.”

“I was busy. Talking with people,” he justified.

“People like your dad? Or the townspeople? McGee said you’re already ruffling feathers.”

“Well McGee needs to stop gossiping. I talked with Chad Winslow and his family. They’re hiding something. I want you and DiNozzo to get a search warrant together for blood samples and financial records.”

“Uh. A please would be nice.”

“Please. Honey,” he charmed, making you smile like a school girl. You’d do anything for him if he added those words afterwards.

“Much better. I’m assuming you won’t be home tonight?”

“No. We’ve got a lot of work to do here and I don’t see anyone being cooperative any time soon.”

You silently pouted but Jethro knew you like the back of his hand.

“Don’t pout. You, Abby and DiNozzo can come tomorrow afternoon. We’ll need help executing those warrants once they’re approved and Abby will need to examine the blood quickly.”

You beamed with excitement, catching Tony’s attention. You both said your goodbyes and Tony came over to give you a high five.

“I’m driving though. You suck at obeying the speed limit,” he established.

“That doesn’t count! Baskin Robbin’s was closing in 10 minutes and you encouraged me!”

————

We pulled up to the scene of the crime as smoke was still slowly coming from the wreckage. Thank God no one was in the car when it exploded. Jethro hasn’t even been in town more than 2 days and people are already trying to blow him up!

You gave McGee and Ziva a greeting before following Tony in the little store. It was stuffy and warm but the place was cute with all the natural lighting and small town vibes.

You and Tony saw an older man standing behind the register whom you could only assume was Jethro’s dad based on the eyes.

Just as Tony went to introduce himself, Jethro came from the back and interrupted. As they both talked, you made your way over to the counter.

“Hi, I’m Y/N.”

“Jackson Gibbs. Leroy told me about you but he left out just how stunning you were,” he flirted as you two shook hands.

“I see where Jethro gets his charm from.” you two chuckled together before Jethro came over looking displeased.

We took the rental to Jackson’s house as he led us to the garage where the most beautiful Dodge Charger sat.

“That’s right. I said we.”

You hopped in the backseat as Jethro peeled out onto the street like a bat out of hell, passing the shocked faces of the team and sporting the biggest grin on his face.

At the Winslow house, Jethro advised you to stay behind with Senior.

“Fine by me. Someone’s got to tell me what the great Leroy Jethro Gibbs was like as a kid,” you jested as he rolled his eyes and shook his head.

You sat on the porch steps with Jackson as he started the conversation first.

“I’m glad Leroy found someone again. You know after Shannon and Kelly, I thought he’d never find love again. But you seem to make him happy.”

“I try. And he makes me happy. It hasn’t been years but I think we’re good for each other.”

“I just don’t understand how you two even came about. Someone like you, so beautiful and elegant should be dating someone similar. Like that DiNozzo guy.”

You laughed at the thought of you and Tony together.

“Jethro is much more sensitive and approachable than people think. And Tony? No, he’s far too..rockstar for me. Jethro just has that personality that grounds you and uplifts you at the same time. I’ve never felt it with anyone before.”

“Spoken like someone truly in love,” he stated with a smile.

You blushed at the thought and you two continued talking until it was time to leave.

Back at the store, McGee and Abby went over their findings as you stood next to Jethro, your hand brushing against his. You saw a small smirk appear on his face as he listened.

It wasn’t long before you guys had enough evidence to arrest Nick Kingston and his 2 accomplices and telling the awkward news of Ethan being Emily’s brother. You all stayed the night at Jackson’s place as he told you all stories of his great adventures before leaving the next morning.

“You’ve got a good one here Leroy. Don’t let her go,” Jackson praised to his son as he looked at you.

“Oh I don’t plan on it.”

You gave Jackson a farewell hug as he gave the Charger keys to Jethro and stuck your tongue out at Tony when you were the chosen passenger.

In the car, you pulled him in for a kiss and smiled. “I like your dad. We should come see him again soon.”

Jethro just shook his head and smiled before driving off.

[thethirdromana]

A definitive and not-at-all subjective rating of all the London airports

I'm at an airport, so I guess this is happening.

Heathrow

Heathrow: a land of contrasts. Heathrow terminals 2 and 5 are lofty, gleaming temples of transport and commerce. Heathrow terminals 3 and 4 are low-ceilinged caves of overcrowded Pret a Mangers, delayed flights, and misery.

I've never flown through terminal 1. I don't know what happens there.

5/10, on average.

Southend

Southend is a teeny-tiny airport that stretches the definition of "London airport" far past its breaking point. But it's cute and it's chill and it's right by the sea. I've only flown into Southend once, because it's not near anything, on account of - as mentioned - not even being remotely in or even arguably near to London. But let's not hold that against it too much.

7/10, if I don't deduct points for location.

Stansted

Stansted makes no pretences. It's there, it's cheap, and it's got a Wetherspoons with the stickiest floor I have ever experienced in a lifetime that's included a decent number of sticky-floored Wetherspoonses. It will get you to your budget airline destination. My expectations of Stansted are never high, but Stansted has never let me down. And it's got a little train, which is always worth an extra point.

8/10, fight me.

Gatwick

When I was flying regularly through Gatwick about 10 years ago, there used to be someone at the bottom of the escalator in one of the terminals who would give out free samples of Baileys, and going back for as much Baileys as a bored airport worker is willing to dispense is about the only thing that can make Gatwick tolerable. It's overcrowded and stuffy, full of piped music and stinky perfume and other assaults on the senses. And they don't even do the Baileys thing any more.

(Yes, Gatwick has a little train too, it can have a point for that.)

3/10, and saved from being bottom only by...

Luton

Luton is as much a home of budget airlines as Stansted, but is a level more run down and grungy. Stansted has a kind of cheap and cheerful charm but no one in Luton is cheerful. Also I had to wait a really long time for a bus there once, it was very cold, and I've not really forgiven it.

2/10, and that's only because there's sometimes a hotdog van outside.

City

Look, London City Airport should not exist. Look it up on a map. It's practically in central London. It's the kind of airport placement that only the 60s could come up with and there are constantly calls to shut it down and put something more sensible in its place, like a lot of houses.

But while it still exists, City is a glorious airport to fly through. You soar over central London. You land in the heart of the city. It's a little tired around the edges now, but travelling through City airport always makes me feel like I might be a Bond girl.

10/10. We should probably still build some houses on it though.

[kittyball23]

apologies if this has already been asked,, HOWEVER - who is your favourite character from each movie - [and if you want] from the tv serieses? id love to know! love your work:)

Hi! This is a good question, I had to take a minute to consider this, but here’s what I think:

Overall out of all three movies, I want to say that Branch prevails as my favorite character. I liked his recluse nature in the first one, wanting to keep to himself and not talk to people if he could help it (a similarity he and I kinda share lmao). I like seeing how he’s been gaining happiness and friends throughout each movie, and it’s needless to say that his relationship with Poppy is so, so sweet 💖

In World Tour, the two I really enjoyed were Tiny Diamond and Hickory. Tiny Diamond I think worked better in part 2 than he did in 3 since because of the limitation of his scenes. Idk, I feel like it worked better in the delivery of his jokes, if that makes some sense.

I like Hickory’s southern charm, and still wish that were a scene where Poppy forgives him (the dude felt pretty bad about what he did to her)

In Trolls Band Together, I liked the bros, but almost wish that they had a little more depth. I get there was only so much you could pack into a 90-minute movie, but I guess the samples of their personalities that we got were good

I also liked the jokes they did for Velvet and Veneer (and admittedly my brain continues to equal them to Sharpay and Ryan aakosdgmaiepnhapoeunh)

I haven’t actually seen either show, so I can’t say my opinion on the characters there, but anyhow, that’s what I think about the films 🙂

[flashphotograph]

Can I Keep It?

@spicycinnabun and I's contribution to steddiebang 2023! ❤️️ | Chapters: 1/12 | Rating: M | Read, kudos or comment on ao3 | We have a playlist. ❤️️ | Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

Chapter 1: Have You Ever Been Arrested?

Robin had the night off. Band practice or some shit. Steve was so bored. It had been dead in Family Video all day until finally, finally someone remotely attractive came into the store: Christina Kelly, a blue-eyed, bright blonde-haired Hawkins High cheerleader. On some girls, the uniform looked frumpy, but on her, the shortness of it skirted nicely over her ass. Steve’s eyes roamed up her mile-long tan legs and settled on it. She was drop-dead gorgeous.   He licked his lips and continued to watch her browse the shelves for a minute. She must’ve come from practice or a game. Steve remembered her instantly. Hard to forget a face and body like that. Damn, sometimes he really missed high school, even if it was just for the eye candy.   Once he got a good, long look, he approached her with a warm smile. He welcomed her to the store and introduced himself. While he remembered her, she didn’t remember him at all. Even after he told her he was on the basketball team, the one she had cheered for all three years they had gone to school together.

Whatever. 

The bell above the door tinkled as Eddie swaggered in. It was 6 P.M., and he was fully prepared for the campaign on Friday night, so he figured he would rent a few flicks to watch while he struggled through his trig homework due tomorrow. You know, be a responsible student. Maybe some entertainment with his studies would deter him from giving up and smoking the superb grass Rick had supplied him earlier that week. Eddie had already sampled more than he was technically allotted. It was just too good to keep his sticky fingers out of.    Nobody was at the front counter to greet him, but Eddie spotted a tuft of styled brown hair bobbing by one of the shelves and a blonde ponytail with a green scrunchie he recognized as belonging to one of the Hawkins High cheerleaders. Steve was thrilled—not only to have someone to talk to, but he was still trying to find the one, and Christina? She could be it. Smoking hot and unsure of what she was looking for, damn if she hadn’t come to the right place. Steve turned the charm up to eleven by taking the liberty of showing her around the store. The sections of the store were clearly labeled, but he still guided her, asking if she liked comedies, romances, or thrillers. Not pegging her as a horror fan. Eddie rolled his eyes with a smirk. He had half a mind to jump in and yell BOO! to interrupt whatever heterosexual mating ritual was happening between the romance and action movies. Instead, he headed towards the horror section one aisle away from the pair, gaze flitting over the titles. When one caught his interest, he picked up the empty case and turned it over to read the premise. 

Night of the Creeps, where alien space slugs turned people into sorority girl-eating zombies? That sounded pretty metal.   For every suggestion Steve made, Christina took a video off the shelf to consider it. That made him think that she was totally into him. By his last suggestion, The Legend of Billie Jean, she had an arm full of tapes. He went into a brief synopsis, explaining it was about a brother and sister on the run from the police, which prompted a sly question. He paired it with his most devilish smile.

“Have you ever been arrested? ‘Cause it’s gotta be illegal to look this good.” 

The voice of none other than Steve Harrington nearly made Eddie choke on his spit. He hastily reshelved the movie. How had he not recognized that famous hair? Eddie’s fingers clamped onto the top of the shelf as he stealthily peeked over it. He felt a giggle bubbling up in his chest at the schmoozy smile plastered on Steve’s face.   The cheerleader backed up a step, expression twisting. “Ew, I have a boyfriend.” She dropped the movies from her arms, shoving past Steve towards the exit. “Creep.” 

Eddie covered his grinning mouth with his hand, rings clacking against each other gently. Steve Harrington had zero skill when it came to the babes. Eddie always figured he tossed his hair, and they flocked to him. What a pleasant surprise.

Christina’s reaction was so bad. There wasn’t even a laugh at the fun cheesiness of it. Of course she had a fucking boyfriend. How many times was Steve going to go barking up the wrong tree? He groaned when the tapes hit the floor, and his smile instantly dropped. His concern was more about damage to the tapes that Keith would take out of his pay if they were broken than his bruised ego from Christina calling him a creep. Which hardly was the truth.   The bell jingled as the door closed. In the ensuing silence, a giggle finally escaped. Eddie quickly ducked out of view when Steve turned in his direction. He poked his head around the corner before coming out, starting a slow clap. “Wow. That was epic, man.” 

Steve was just about to bend down to pick up the tapes when he heard a laugh. The fucking laugh he wanted Christina to laugh. He hissed and flushed briefly with embarrassment, of course, because what was worse than striking out? Having a certified freak witness it. “Yeah, well, I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen a chick on your arm, Eddie. Can’t blame me for trying, man. I’m just not her type.” 

Because she had a fucking boyfriend. Steve was beyond annoyed—he was humiliated, and the tapes were still on the floor. He sighed softly and bent down to scoop them up. 

“You wouldn’t,” Eddie replied, not missing a beat. “My arm is for me only. I keep all my foxy ladies back at my sweet, sweet bachelor pad.” 

From Steve’s bent position over the videotape, a piece of hair had fallen into his eyes as he looked up at Eddie. His brow furrowed, but he didn’t say anything. Just looked completely puzzled by the comment.

He knew Eddie was poor and lived in a trailer at the trailer park, but even he could get chicks to hang out with him there? Or was he keeping some women there against their will? Eddie wouldn’t admit that to him, would he? Even if he was a freak like everybody said. 

Steve shook his head and huffed inaudibly. He wasn’t sure if that was the truth, but still, he didn’t like hearing when other people were successful in their romantic pursuits.

The last time Eddie had a chick on his arm was in nineteen-seventy-eight at a Burger King birthday party when Jeremy Jenkins dared Heather Drew to kiss him. She’d tasted like ketchup and strawberry Lip Smacker. Eddie had spent the entire excruciatingly long three-second kiss staring at the cardboard cutout of the king standing behind her. Eddie’s grin widened when he spotted the red on Steve’s cheeks. He held back from further mocking purely for Dustin and the other kids’ sake. According to his little sheep, Steve might as well have hung the fucking moon, but Eddie still saw him for what he was: a bully. Plain and simple. The guy who would call Eddie names in the hallways along with his dumb jock friends. Eddie's back was well acquainted with bruises from being shoved against lockers, and his face had taken many a beating by the dumpsters. It might never have been Steve’s particular fist in his face, and Eddie had never taken anything lying down (fuck no), but he knew Steve’s kind. And he wasn’t a Harrington groupie. 

“You could help,” Steve griped when he saw one of the tapes had gone as far as three feet, right where Eddie was standing. 

Eddie toed the movie closest to him with his sneaker. Molly Ringwald’s pouty face stared up at him from the cover, which was cracked right down the middle. Eddie crouched on his knees to grab it, his pants pulling uncomfortably tight from the stretch. 

While leather looked punk rock as hell, it wasn't the most forgiving fabric, especially when it was actually cheap pleather. 

Steve stood up with the tapes and set them on the counter while Eddie picked up the last one.

“Yeah, this one is busted,” Eddie said, popping open the case to reveal an identical crack down the tape, one of the inner reels poking through.

Steve winced. That hurt.  “God damn it,” he said softly, coming over to take it from him and looking it over himself.  Yeah, it was broken. 

“Sorry, Molly, but if it's any consolation, your movie was probably shitty anyway.” 

“Actually, it’s a pretty good movie, man. It was really popular, too. We just got it back from being rented for a while. I’m going to get questions about it all week. Who knows when we can get another copy.” Steve walked it over to the trash and threw it away. “I think you might’ve liked it. It isn’t all about her. She’s kinda annoying in it, but there’s a guy, Bender, who kind of has… your fashion sense and disposition.” 

Steve chuckled as he discreetly checked out what Eddie was wearing. Eddie’s leather jacket and jewelry were pretty similar to that character’s. Steve returned to the counter and looked over the rest of the tapes. Luckily, they were fine. 

Eddie rocked back on his heels in surprise, starting a slow walk around the circumference of the counters as he eyeballed Steve. He hadn’t expected the guy to keep talking to him. Still, here he was, going on about Eddie's fashion sense, his disposition?  Was that an insult? Eddie didn’t know what to do with this. Why was previously reigning King Jock giving him the time of day? Why wasn’t he busy admiring his reflection in the window?   God, this job must’ve been boring as hell for him to actually do it. 

“Were you looking for something specific? Seriously doubt you came to witness me striking out with Christina Kelly. You just got lucky.” 

It was kinda funny now. It got Steve smiling and shaking his head at himself. 

The store was still empty, and he was still lonely, so he could at least do his job and help Eddie find a movie since that was his reason for coming to the store.   “Um…” Eddie crossed his arms. Uncrossed them. “Nothing specific. Something to keep me from faceplanting from boredom into my homework.” Or lighting up and spending the rest of the night floating like ash on the wind. 

“Definitely don’t miss homework,” Steve replied while he took the tapes off the counter and started putting them back on the shelves where they belonged. As Eddie continued to walk around, Steve noticed a little jingle from his wallet chain as he paced the store.

“Something spooky, maybe?” Eddie wiggled his fingers with a playful smile to cover his discomfort. This unexpected turn of events piqued his curiosity, so he didn’t mention he had already found a movie.  

“Something spooky, huh?” Steve asked with a playful smirk, though he was turned toward the shelves so Eddie couldn’t see it. 

Of course the freak was into horror. That wasn't a surprise. Family Video had a stellar horror collection. While the last couple of years had been horrific in Hawkins, Steve still enjoyed the fictional movie version sometimes. Most of the horror movies he had seen triggered his memory in a good way when it came to making weapons and fighting off Demogorgons with them winning. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. We’ve got lots of horror here. Although, if you’re a fan… which is safe to assume?” Steve asked Eddie when he turned back to face him, raising his eyebrows.  He knew it was true, so he smiled when Eddie nodded a bit. “Alright, we’ve got Fright Night, Day of the Dead, Return of the Living Dead, A Nightmare on Elm Street two and Friday the 13th, part five.” 

Surely, one of those Eddie hadn’t seen. Eddie met Steve back at the horror section, popping his hip against a shelf as Steve read the newest releases. You’ve come to the right place, Steve said. Had he come to the right place, or was he actually in an alternate reality where a jock didn’t tell him to return to the Hellfire he came from? Why did Harrington keep smiling at him? 

And why did he smell so good? Was that coconut? He should have smelled like old pizza and dirty gym socks like most guys their age. Eddie knew he was rocking cigarette smoke and not much else, himself. It would be very unchill of him to lean in and get a bigger whiff of that coconutty paradise. 

To Steve, horror movies weren’t all that bad. A lot of them were funny and cheesy. Totally entertaining enough that doing homework during them was probably possible. 

Horror movies made him adamant that the group stay together and stay put instead of getting involved, but no one ever listened to him. They wanted to go, get involved and split up, which were the worst horror movie tropes. Their lives had become just like the people in every horror movie he’d ever seen. There was no convincing his babysitting crew of that, though, so he took the lead every time.    “Vampire, zombie, deranged burn victim with knife fingers, murderous goaltender…” Eddie went through the list. “What flavor monster goes best with trigonometry?” Eddie pinched his chin with his fingers as he pondered it. “I wasn’t too thrilled with the first four Fridays. Not much to those plots. Not nearly enough razzle-dazzle." He graced Steve with jazz hands this time instead of spooky fingers. “Elm Street had a lot more going for it. Maybe I’ll take the sequel. Thoughts? Got a favorite?”   If Steve had even watched any of them. Though Eddie was a fan of most things horror - the more outlandish, the better - he didn’t watch them all that often. He didn’t have the patience to sit and focus for a long time without help from his favorite herb. It was good background noise, mostly. 

At least with D&D, he was actively participating. He didn’t have to sit still. He could move around, and he got to use his wickedly colorful ideas, feeding off of other people’s imagination and making a story come alive. 

Some things, like math homework, were so fucking stifling he wanted to shoot himself. 

It was hard for Steve not to notice Eddie’s jazzy hands. His fingers were adorned with a plethora of shiny rings. He was talking animatedly with them about the different movies. The shininess of the rings caught his eye, especially with the extra movements. 

Steve hadn’t been into movies before he got this job. (Robin was the one who really got it for him, talking Keith into it somehow.) Back then, he could only name two movies: Animal House and Fast Times. He’d come a long way since then and had a lot of downtime in the store since they were only busy on evenings and weekends. 

When he and Robin worked together, they always put a movie on or had one going. They’d gone through most of the horror. He’d entertained Robin to no end when he’d talk back to the TV, putting his hands on his hips and yelling, “No. No, don’t go in there! What are you doing? No!”  

Steve looked down at his watch. Still an hour and a half was left of his shift. Also, the closest thing to jewelry he wore was his watch, but Eddie’s rings did seem… dare he say… cool. Maybe he could pull off a ring or two.  

“I agree they should’ve stopped with the first Friday.” He didn’t really have a favorite. “They’re all pretty good for what they are, but I think you should go with the sequel, yeah. You already have an idea of the characters, so you don’t have to pay too close attention and can get your homework done.” 

While Steve was checking his watch and probably wishing for his shift to be over, Eddie was dragging his heels. He was surprised to find he would’ve been okay hearing Steve talk more about movies. He didn’t sound particularly passionate about horror. It made Eddie wonder what he did like. Probably some predictable slapstick with lots of boobs, like Porky’s. 

“Joy,” he replied, thinking of his homework waiting for him and almost letting out a whine. 

Steve grabbed the movie off the shelf and headed towards the counter so he could get Eddie checked out. 

“Guess that’s that,” Eddie added in a mutter Steve couldn’t hear. Eddie followed him, drumming his hands on the countertop as Steve pulled up his account and started typing away.

It was best that Eddie left before he decided to do something like lean in and smell the guy on purpose this time.    While he waited, he sifted through the snack selections, unsettling all the organized displays. He stuck his hand in one of the round glass jars, dislodging the loosest ring from his finger as he rifled through it for a fistful of fizzy candies. The ring fell to the bottom of the jar, unnoticed by Eddie, who slapped the sweets on the counter. He also grabbed a box of Nerds, a bag of Skittles, and a Big Hunk bar on impulse. Steve smiled a bit because usually, it was only bratty kids begging their moms for candy that got it from them. Steve didn’t mind that Eddie was getting more than the movie. When he saw everything he was getting, though, he couldn’t help but judge some of it. Most of it was the real sugary stuff. The Big Hunk bar was the only thing he could get behind. 

“These are addicting,” Steve said about the Big Hunk bar. He could feel his mouth starting to water just looking at it.

Likes Big Hunk bars. Eddie filed that information away in his head without really knowing why. It wasn't like he’d need to use it later. 

“I'm gonna need a bag,” he informed Steve. These pants did not have usable pockets. 

“Of course.” Steve nodded, swallowing his spit as he started bagging everything up.  

He wondered if Eddie was high. All this candy made him think that he had the munchies or was going to later. Most of the kids at school got their weed from him, so it wasn’t a stretch. 

Ah, he could remember the last time he got caught getting high. His dad had accused him of being on drugs. He could remember just saying he wasn’t and that marijuana wasn’t drugs. That hadn’t gone over well. 

Once everything was rung up, Steve told Eddie the amount, took the cash and got him his change. He handed over the bills and coins and pushed the bag of candy and movie toward him. “Enjoy...” 

“Thanks, big boy,” Eddie said, grabbing the bag with a tongue click and a wink.

He left the store, mouthing big boy? to himself in a split second of internal embarrassment before he shrugged it off and hopped in his van, taking off down the road towards the trailer park.  

Steve’s eyebrows rose and then furrowed. A shiver ran through his body like an electric shock, unsure what that was about or what caused that reaction in him. 

Slowly, he realized. Maybe there was a reason he’d never seen a girl on Eddie’s arm.

Steve stood there for a few minutes, perplexed by what had happened, until he snapped out of it and started straightening up the store. There probably wouldn’t be any more customers tonight. While Steve was re-organizing the candy Eddie had disheveled, he saw that one of the jars was low, nearing empty. He grabbed some candy to refill it when something shiny caught his eye. 

He reached in and pulled out a large skull ring. Eddie must’ve left it behind by accident.

Only when Eddie was settled in for the night with his homework open, the movie on, and his candy pile rapidly dwindling did he notice one of his rings missing. 

“Shit,” he swore, looking at his naked finger where a fanged skull used to be. That one had been his favorite. 

He looked around inside the trailer and outside of it with his uncle’s flashlight, but nothing shiny turned up in the beam.

Steve thought about calling Eddie up and letting him know he could come get his ring, but then he put it on and looked it over, smiling. He could totally pull off a ring like this. 

He’d try it out for a day or two, then give it to Dustin to give it back to Eddie when he saw him next. They were good friends now, to Steve's dismay. He wasn't jealous of anything. 

Eddie didn't seem too bad... for a freak.  

[forthegothicheroine]

Let's make a Henchwoman!

At last, I have the rules of Henchwoman RPG, a hack of Maid RPG about playing villainous Henchwomen, worked out enough to make a sample character! Shall we do so?

First, for the whole group, roll D66 to find a Theme.

We rolled 3 and 6, which gives us...Space! That's a pretty cool theme, I think! Let's go on and personalize one of our space age Henchwomen!

Next up, we roll stats, each one being 2D6/3, rounded down. This lady's starting stats are thus Athletics (fighting or other physical activity) 1, Charm (forming bonds with other characters) 3, Skill (being good at actual henching) 3, Cunning (deception and trickery) 1, Luck (just plain luck) 3, Will (determination under duress) 2. But wait, we have to modify those stats!

What Type of Henchwoman is she?

We rolled 2D6, and rolled 3 and 4, giving us Sweet and Cold. An interesting combination! It looks like this woman is chilly and professional on the outside, but with a heart of gold! Her Skill is now 4, and her Cunning is now 0!

Now, what does she look like? Or at least, what's her Color pallet?

Rolling 3D66, we got 5 and 6 for Metallic eyes, 1 and 6 for Vermillion hair, and 2 and 4 for a Sky Blue uniform. Looking good!

But there's still a lot more to go!

Let's personalize this sweet, cold, shiny space minion and give her some Special Qualities!

We roll 2D66 for this. First we get 2 and 6, giving us Greedy (can we really blame her?) and 6 and 3, Shapeshifter. But what can she shapeshift into? Let's look at a supplementary table to find that out!

We rolled 6, meaning she can turn into a snake. Yikes!

But what's a nice snake girl like this doing in a place like that- what are her Roots?

We rolled 1D66 and got 1 and 4, which makes her an Intern. Her space college must have a field work term.

What happens if things get too stressful for her to handle? What's her Stress Explosion?

We rolled 1D66 to get 5 and 5, meaning she blows off steam playing Video Games until she feels better. We've all been there!

That stress may have come from fighting- she is a Henchwoman, after all. What's her Weapon?

We rolled 1D6 and got a 6, giving her Magic and/or Minor Superpowers! Let's say she can spit venom, as befits her snake form. Unorthodox but effective!

Does she have any other Powers? For this, we look back at her stats. Her highest stat is Skill, so we roll on that supplementary table to find out what she's good at.

We rolled 1D6 and got 2, giving her Cold Read. If you look into those beautiful metallic eyes, beware, for they're looking right back at you!

Finally, her starting Favor (how much the Villain likes her performance, and the object of the game) is her Charm times 2, which is 6. Don't worry, she can go up and down in actual gameplay! Her Spirit, which keeps her going under pressure, is Will times 10, which is 20.

So here we have a Henchwoman I'll call Ophiucha, after an esoteric snake constellation. Her eyes are metallic, her hair is vermillion, and her uniform is sky blue. She's is sweet but cold, a little bit greedy, and can turn into a snake. She's here on an internship, and blows off stress playing video games. She fights by spitting venom, and she can read your face like a book.

Seems pretty cool to me!

Next, I'll be working on tables to make the Villain. Stay tuned!

[elementofdawn]

tumblr won't let me edit my old oc profile post anymore, so this is a remaster i guess

picrew 1 picrew 2 picrew 3

dedicated character tag

Crow Melusine Kos (that’s two first names, always used together) (...their children call them 'Sine) former Pursued Con-Artist, Star-Struck Scholar, current Reticent Laboratory Director or Doting Naturalist light fingers/main they/them birthday: December 19

frequently wearing a mask that covers the upper half of their face; often plain colored with some painted details, such as vines, eyes or abstract lines. they paint their own designs - they doodle a lot while taking breaks.

faint lattice of scarring on top of head in memory of being buried alive. otherwise no scars of note.

underneath the mask, looks perpetually tired, with dark circles that never go away. typically very low affect in both expression and voice, speaks with a sort of soft, unwavering drone. not charming in personality, but used to sell ponzi schemes on the surface on the strength of their dead-pan manner making them sound completely and unshakably confident in whatever they’re saying.

casual interest in false-stars, especially a certain one of unusual brightness that was first sighted a few years ago. primarily studies Neathy animals and monsters. a bit scatter-minded and out of it as a professor, but students who thrive on hands-on, low-oversight learning rate them a solid “alright”. no longer spends much time teaching since taking a job as Director of one of Mr Fires' newest laboratories.

considers themself a parent to the moon-miser hybrid, and misses it greatly. may or may not be making preparations to grow a new monster baby in their lab. <3 now parent to a fluffy orange and cosmogone baby bat the size of a toddler of "mysterious" origins.

allergic to smoke and very much almost died when Mr Fires took them into an underground library and set it on fire with them still in it. incidentally has a “rivalry” with Mr Fires that consists of them metaphorically hitting each other with brooms. nowadays, is deeper entwined with Mr Fires than ever before, but don’t worry about it.

ESes that are canon for them: The Deadly Dapperlings, There is the Richest Juice in Poison-Flowers, The Tempest, Stripes of Wrath

picrew

Carver The Hushed Crowner bag a legend/alt they/them

once student worker in Crow Melusine’s lab. asked by Crow Melusine to bring them the Vake, and no one was merciful enough to tell them the Professor expresses wanting a new monster to study literally every week and they could just ignore it.

child of a Khaganian mother and a Londoner father; grew up in London. used to work in one of Mr Fires’ factories as a crowner’s assistant, which mostly involved patching up injuries and “investigating” worker deaths/accidents and determining that the factory was not at fault and would not be compensating the family in any way. bit soul crushed about it.

“poached” by Crow Melusine, who helped them get into Benthic on the strength of their knowledge of anatomy and basic medical care mostly to tweak Mr Fires’ wires. Carver feels indebted anyway, because literally anything is better than the factory.

sought the Vake to gather samples for Crow Melusine’s research, but found themself captivated by it after coming briefly face to face with it. eventually got their sample, but gained permanent mobility issues from their wounds and was forced to give up the hunt.

now runs a small clinic in Spite, with an attached morgue for the temporarily dead--for safe storage until their recovery, or, for an extra fee, a guarantee that the deceased will stay dead an extra day or two. also does tattoos on the side. the clinic is guarded by three puppy-sized spiders, which they vehemently deny doting on like pets.

has never forgotten the Vake.

conscientious. arms like tree trunks. periodically non-verbal. nerve damage down left side of body from taking a claw to the shoulder. cane user. missing something. has something strange and bittersweet going on with Ada.

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Ada Durand tbd bag a legend/alt she/her, occasionally it/its in private

has to be the most fuckable person at the Singing Mandrake at all times.

child of a well-to-do industrialist father. never fit in with her peers. left home to become a monster hunter on a whim, but found that the hunt suited her. hedonistic and a bit thoughtless, loves jewelry and cares about her appearance. smug and smirking and sharp of tooth, but never really lets anyone see her innermost self.

the last Vake-hunter. killed the Vake and made it a part of herself.

still, an emptiness is left behind.

met Carver while looking to have an injury treated, and recognized something in their ever-unfulfilled longing for the Vake. can be found coming and going around their clinic at all hours ever since. hates that Carver lets the giant spiders sleep on the bed.

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Broken Tree of Ephemera, Mr Silk heart’s desire/alt they/it/she, depending on the identity they’re using

a Sorrow-Spider council that failed to reach consensus and split apart. many of their members died or scatted, but a core cohort remains, refusing to accept the pain of being apart, even when other sorrow-spiders dismissed the idea of wasting time and resources on trying to fix a failed union.

they co-inhabit a human-like silk puppet, with which they’ve infiltrated the human population of London in pursuit of a way to re-meld. thus, they came into contact with the marvellous.

have they been touched by the lives they came into contact with in the game and in their interactions with humanity? difficult to tell. though lifelike, their blank-faced doll body expresses little.

nevertheless, they won their hearts’ desire. the Masters, however, were none too keen to upset the Neath‘s already strained balance of power by handing the sorrow-spiders a brand new, red science-improved spider-council, and the Tree of Ephemera was obliged to agree to a transformation that might be more... easily controlled, and the duties and title of Mr ____ ...well, it’s a work in progress. the Tree is well aware that the Masters have no intention of ceding any real power to them, so they see little point in arbitrarily choosing an area of trade, despite their new colleagues’ repeated attempts to explain the necessity to their new nature. the only thing that matters is that the change will make them whole again: one body, a joined mind.

so far, to their so-called colleagues’ chagrin, their changes have not been wholly curatorial in nature. their puppet is growing as many flecks of shiny carapace as patches of fur, and has recently grown a glittering array of additional eyes.

less pleasing, they have begun to develop a distracting interest in weaving, silk, and other fabrics. Mr Veils watches them with increasing anticipation of an excuse to swat a gnat.

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Penelope Howard, “Penny”/”Ash” nemesis/alt she/he

when her brother Ashley’s lover was tragically murdered, he left his home and family and ventured to the Neath alone in search of her killer. there, he was killed (permanently), leaving his revenge unfulfilled.

as Ashley’s twin, Penelope has spent her life in his shadow. kind, thoughtful, intelligent, and naturally talented with every paintbrush, instrument or weapon placed in his hands, Ashley was loved by everyone. the ideal son. in contrast, Penny was just... Penny. after her twin’s death, it seemed only natural that she should take on his burden, following him to the Neath and taking on his identity to continue his pursuit. after all, he was the best thing about her.

is "Ash” avenging his brother, or the lover that he hardly knew? does it really matter?

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Woebegone the Captain Sunless Skies captain they/them

former London urchin. older than they appear. carries traces of Storm. sold their reflection to a fingerking. treasured. a doting parent and spouse.

FL ES canon for them: Homecoming

[ppeonppeonhan]

Songs That Remind Me of BL Characters & Couples

@zimmbzon kindly tagged me in their post, prompting me to share the first ten songs in my On Repeat playlist. Highly recommend checking theirs out, because mine is...rather basic. And becauuuuse it's basic, I'm gonna add another layer to this and tell you which BL character or couple perfectly matches the vibe of each song.

1 | "imperfect for you" by Ariana Grande: This one's off her new "please feel sad for me because even though I'm messy when it comes to love I still have feelings" album. I may have listened to this one "on repeat," because it's just cathartic to two-step to these lyrics: "I'm fucked up / anxious / too much / but I'll love you / like you need me to / imperfect for you." What's that? Self-awareness? Respect. I just know Ming from My Stand-In would have the audacity to sing this to body-swapped Joe.

2 | "Acid Dreams" by MAX and Felly: Could not tell you who either of these people are but this song is a snap-worthy bop that got me feeling myself every time it comes on -- probably because it opens with: "You look so good in a night gown girl / freckles on your face / lemme kiss each one." This was clearly meant for my generation, because there is not a single human under 30 in possession of a night gown. But Khem from Deep Night would 1,000% use this song to charm the pants off of someone.

3 | "Toco Toco To" by Dixson Waz: I'm Dominican. And even though I understand Spanish, I cannot for the life of me tell you what this man is saying, but I can assure you it is inappropriate. Rated NC-17 without a doubt. And for that reason, I'd pair this song with the entire cast of Playboyy -- just casually playing this in the background of one of their random, impromptu, midday sex parties.

4 | "Lie to Me" by Meghan Trainor: Obsessed. Not with her. With her music. She has so many non-butt-related songs that are worth a listen. I truly feel like she's underrated -- on par with Ed Sheeran -- and she doesn't get enough credit for it. In this track, she sings: "I don't want the truth / I want you." That sounds exactly like our lovesick boy Nick in Only Friends, thirsting after anti-monogamy Boston like he didn't know better.

5 | "Jealous" by Chris Brown, Lil Wayne, & Big Sean: While it is true that every single person on this track is problematic, including producer DJ Khaled, the swagger is immaculate. Every time it comes on, I, sincerely, close my eyes and just picture BTS's rap line to cleanse the beat. Not gonna miss out on a banger because men are the worst. Anywayyyy, the most jealous character I can think of is Way from Pit Babe, who tried to r-word his "bestie" because he chose a random nerd over him. He fits in well with these clowns.

6 | "Bounce Back" by Little Mix: The only British pop girl group I've ever intentionally streamed is Spice Girls, but the algorithm clearly thought it meant I'd like this group, and the track that hooked me was one that sampled the iconic Soul II Soul's "Back to Life." Instant replay. Someone I think lives and breathes the mantra "You can have me however you want me / however you need me" is the Sultan of Simp, Karan from Cherry Magic (Thailand). Achi could've asked for a kidney, and he would've delivered. But coming in a close second is obviously Rain from Love in the Air. Payu had to practically beat him off with a stick -- no pun intended.

7 | "Body" by Loud Luxury and Brando: It's the buildup to the chorus for me -- come to find out many listens later that it's about a guy who is begging a girl to sleep with him because he's been "waiting too long." 🙄 This one very obviously goes to Yuan from Unknown, who damn near disintegrated Qian's clothes the minute he saw even the glimmer of a green light. Talk about a slow build.

8 | "Into You" by Fabolous feat. Tamia: Back in 2003, rappers used to drop an R&B hit every now and then to remind women that they were romantics. The gaslight kings of the aughts. So in this track, this duo talks about an inexplicable-but-undeniable connection, which only makes me think of Vegas and Pete from KinnPorsche. Those two needed a PowerPoint presentation to explain to their friends and family how they went from hostage situation to star-crossed lovers. But we got nothing -- just good vibes and patricide.

9 | "i wonder..." by j-hope feat. Jung Kook: Do I miss them? Yes. Will I listen to any BTS track that's easy to Namjoon to? Yes. Now that we got that out of the way: This song is about enjoying the moment and not wasting the good times by dreading the future. And that just screams Be My Favorite to me. Kawi just kept trying to time-travel his way to a hetero fantasy, not realizing his queer happily ever after was standing right in front of him the whole time in the gorgeous form of the eternally patient Pisaeng.

10 | "MY HOUSE" by Beyoncé: Not to bring up BTS again, but 👀...j-hope would body any choreography set to this song. Without breaking a sweat. And mother would be proud. On this track, the Queen B speaks of once dreaming of the wealth, fame, and stability she has now, and making sure to only keep positive people around her, because love heals. Sailom from Dangerous Romance would certainly relate to having similar dreams and beliefs, and effortlessly exudes equally feisty bad bitch energy. I still can't get over how he disarmed his bully (and future love interest), Kanghan, by basically saying, "You clearly like me. Shut up." And saying it with tongue.

That was fun. 🤸🏿‍♂️