#shadows and a touch of magic

[samwellwinchesterthebrave]

Are you looking for a spooky read? Do you like urban fantasy or monster stories? Do you like stories about queer ladies dealing with monsters and getting into (and out of) shenanigans? Check out Shadows and a Touch of Magic.

From shadows that can be savior or destroyer to the creation of the first mermaids, Shadows and a Touch of Magic is a collection of monster stories and urban legends featuring women who love women full of fear, of love, of the strange, and of the whimsical.

Read on for a snippet from each short story 💜

"As she moved to the center of the room, trying to imagine her furniture here and herself living here, a cold breeze ghosted across the back of her neck. It raised the small hairs on the back of her neck and goosebumps down her arms." - Widow's Walk

"They were there again. The shadows that seemed to dip, sway and follow after her. Nijah Khoury glanced back as the edge of one shadow seemed to reach out towards her." - Shadowdancers

"“So, you want to be healed,” Amrita said after another sip of the wine. “What will you offer in return?”

“Anything,” Machi begged. “Anything I have. Please.”

“I heal you, you give me your first child. Fair’s fair, right?”" - Promises, Promises

"Thrilled that she was still alive, Cecily twisted in the water to study herself. Her tail was longer than her legs had been. She could feel power coiled in the muscles and ached to stretch her new body out." - To Become The Sea

"It called to her, stretched out lovely fingers and tempted her in. A small smile tugged at Haley’s lips as she listened. It sounded like the melody was coming from the opposite way of the lake again." - Feast of Sorrowed Breath

"She could clearly remember the last time she’d been swimming, the sun shining down on the blue water like it was today. That was years ago, however. No matter how many times she came to this pier, she never dared the water." - Trapped

"Have you ever heard of the smile maidens? I’d never heard of them before my travels and, at the beginning, I’d scoffed at the idea of them. It seemed such a silly name for a supernatural force that killed people or stole their souls." - The Smile Maidens

[whumpypepsigal]

Shadow and Bone s02e08: “He's putting up a good fight… Like something's holding him on the other side.”

[cloaksandcapes]

Shadow-touched Plate

Armor (plate), very rare

“This plate mail was suffused with magic from the Shadowfell. It exudes a dark mist that eats away at the light and shrouds objects it surrounds in darkness.”

The magical nature of this heavy armor removes any noise that it makes while moving, you do not suffer disadvantage on stealth checks. In addition, you have advantage on Dexterity (Stealth) checks made to hide in dim light or darkness, and Wisdom (Perception) checks made to spot you while in darkness are done at disadvantage.

Touch of Darkness. If you are hit by an attack and bloodied, you may use your reaction to cast the darkness spell. Once you use this property you cannot use it again until you finish a long rest. Mastercraft Armor. You gain a bonus to your AC score equal to half of your proficiency bonus (rounded down.)

If you enjoy our content, please support our team of four on Patreon. Get access to over 700+ Magic Items, monsters, tokens, subclasses and more.

[offrozenmemoirs]

Thinking about Makoto's desire for intimacy being pushed down by his feelings of not deserving to be loved, how he's slowly coming around to being cared for and learning how to take his pain and sorrow to focus it on protecting others. Thinking about how he sometimes softly touches his party members and catches himself staring at them.

Love thinking about Makoto being a giant cat and affectionately wrapping himself around Maisie or Orchidus or putting his wings and tail around them.

[acourtofquestions]

credit: Alice Maria Power

[drowningkeyborad]

Working on my old Bianca Di Angelo pjo fanfic and accidentally made her & Alabaster the perfect couple??

[antaripirate]

spent a lot of time climbing paleo-glaciers today but i also made this :)

[dragongodryss]

Queve

Re-Vamping my whump story

Common Content for him: Non-human Whumpee, Conditioned Whumpee, Magical Whump, Exhaustion Whump, Injury Whump, Touch starved Whumpee,

Queve is a younger drow from the Braeryn, the most neglected part of Menzoberranzan.

As the son of a disgraced drow priestess and an escaped moon elf slave, Queve lives with the constant fear that his parentage will be revealed. His father fled as soon as he could, leaving his mother in the Braeryn alone. She believes that Queve and his father ruined her life. As such, she constantly reminded Queve that he is an abomination against Lolth, the goddess of the drow, as well as being physically abusive until her death when he was about 11. With her dying breath, she cursed him to have his very heart turn against him. It took effect immediately, the magic in the air being set off by his grief, anger and pain and causing an explosion that almost killed him.

He was found by a cursed drow named Istyl, who nursed him back to health while trying to teach him to manage his curse. He is weirdly insistent on having Queve leave as soon as possible. Queve tries to join a low-ranking house as a servant, but is kicked out after his magic starts to manifest when he is beaten. He moves in and out of Istyl's shack while he tries to find jobs and housing. Eventually, Istyl kicks him out once and for all.

That's when he manages to find work at the Zurkhwood Shadow.

Queve is a people-pleaser of nervous disposition. He is used to suppressing his emotions to prevent his magic from acting up. He believes he deserves nothing good due to being half moon elf. Despite that, he does his utmost to keep his secret.

Name: Quev (charmed, docile, friend) + e (servant, slave, vassal)

Real name: Quev (see above) + yraen (heretic, reel, riot, void)

Avoids using his real name for obvious reasons.

Age: 39 (Actual), 44 (Physical), Early/Mid-Twenties (Appearance)

Height: 152cm (5'0)

Sorcerer (Cursed): Level 4

[blujayonthewing]

Gimmiiiieee secret for one of those funky gnomes?

secret: What's one secret your OC never wants anyone to know about them?

After her friend and mentor, the circus' escape artist, died in a suspicious water escape accident, Idri's had an intense fear of deep water and of drowning. She doesn't want anyone to know about it partly because she finds it embarrassing, and partly just because it's connected to something painful that she's trying to 'cope with' by just simply Never Thinking About It Ever. She ALSO, more recently, has a more serious but less personal secret, which is that it turns out said mentor was not actually killed in that incident, but that his death was faked by a friend who knew he was being targeted for murder, and secretly took his place... he still has enemies, and fears that if word gets out that he's not actually dead, it might put more of his friends and colleagues in danger. Idri takes his trusting her with this information very seriously, and is determined to never tell a soul.

Melliwyk honestly fucking hates secrets at this point in the adventure, lmao. No more secrets! No fucking secrets forever!! They only ever cause problems she's so sick of things being kept secret for ~good reasons~ that always just make everything worse for no reason!! I mean she probably has some personal things that are private or embarrassing that she wouldn't want people to know about, obviously, who doesn't, but even a lot of those things are either widely known even if not necessarily by her friends (the incident with her former roommate), or things she's told them by now (the fact that her 'hood' is a novelty nightcap enchanted to give the wearer pleasant dreams, and she wears it all the time because she's nightmare-prone, especially when she unexpectedly falls asleep)

Felix went missing for awhile. He has no idea what happened during most of that time, but the last thing he remembers was witnessing a caravan camped just off the road being attacked by.... something. Huge, looming humanoid shapes of pure darkness, seemingly draining the life essence of the people in the caravan. He was spotted before he had a chance to do anything, and a creature grabbed his arm, but a voice called for it to leave him alone... After he woke up, he found his skin had turned completely grey where the creature touched him; it doesn't hurt or feel different in any way, and the mark hasn't spread, although the hand was so big that its print takes up most of his arm. He's been trying to learn literally anything about what he saw and what happened to him, but he hasn't told anybody, and he keeps his arm covered at all times.

Indigo would hate if the truth got out about what happened to their eye, where they now have an obviously false golden one. It's not, like, actually a big deal, but they give a different answer every time anyone asks, so if people knew the truth it would ruin the bit. Indigo lies recreationally so there are a lot of things about their personal life and backstory that they keep dead secret for no other particular reason than that it's fun for them. The only thing cooler than having been mentored by an ancient dragon is casually never ever mentioning it, you know?

ask about my characters! :3c

[katierosefun]

ugh i love you stories about people who aren’t entirely sure whether something is real or not i love you stories about people who slip through the cracks and aren’t entirely sure how they got there ugh i love you stories about people who think that they’re pretty normal outside of that one interesting quirk they have and then they realize that they’re all abuzz in this strange new world where nothing makes sense but everything suddenly makes sense i love you stories that are about magic but also about real life i love you stories about the creepy-crawly things that tell you not to turn around for some reason, you know that feeling you get when you’re told you shouldn’t turn around, close the closet door, don’t open your bedroom door, don’t you dare turn around you know that feeling you get when you feel as though you’ve been somewhere before you know that feeling you get when you aren’t sure if you’re sleepwalking or not but your head feels detached from the rest of your body i love you stories that try to explain that specific feeling i love you stories about how the world is so much crazier and scarier and more beautiful than you could ever imagine but also more horrifying than you could ever imagine i love you stories where the ultimate conclusion is that the world is horrific and beautiful and you belong right into its disastrous, nonsensical fold

[samwellwinchesterthebrave]

Corvus Quill Press has unfortunately closed. Because of this, I have re-published Shadows and a Touch of Magic myself. It’s available in both ebook and paperback formats. Check it out here 😊💜

amazon . com/dp/B07JMHGQWQ

[aesthetic-solar-space]

The Umbra King by Jamie Applegate Hunter, 385pages, published September 20th 2022 - 🌟🌟🌟🌟 This book caused me a solid reading slump after I finished it, I was so invested and wanted nothing more that to read more. I went into the book thinking book one and two were out thanks to Kindle and how it was formatted, so I was even more disappointed when I finished and found out the second one was in fact not ready to read. All of that said I want to make it very clear that I recommend this book a thousand times over and think anyone who needs another morally gray female in their lives should devour this book ASAP (especially seeing as it is available on Kindle Unlimited). Below is some of what you can expect to find if you read this amazing book by @jah.hdj.books -enemies to lovers -dark fantasy -shadow manipulation 😉 -alphahole king with a painful past -touch her and you die -who did this to you? -revenge plot found family -female serial killer -fated lovers/mates -beauty and the beast

With all of that said I can't wait for y'all to read this book so we can both be obsessed with Caius and Aurora (Rory).

[orcelito]

minor illusion is honestly the best cantrip for someone who enjoys flavor-text (aka me). spicing up this side rp with some minor illusion work to portray what im talking about more visually. honestly it's a godsend for Fang, who's not the best at words. he can just create some lil illusions to help illustrate what he's saying. and of COURSE im gonna use this plenty. of Course.

[groveofsouls]

tag dump six ft. general charas part one !!

[florencemtrash]

He Feels Safe With You — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel's sleeping habits begin to worry you, but after a conversation with Cassian, you realize you've misinterpreted the entire situation.

Warnings: Major fluff. Like tooth-rotting sweetness. Sleepy Az.

Author's note: I should be sleeping because I have work tomorrow but instead I've chosen to write this oneshot and I have no regrets.

It was starting to become a problem now. 

You cocked your head to the side, cradling a cup of tea in your hands and watching Azriel as he continued to sleep soundly in your bed. You had the windows cracked open and the early Autumn breeze swirled indoors with the scent of lavender, bergamot, and the strawberry jam you’d slathered over your toast. You checked the time once again on the glossy marble clock face. The arrow-shaped hour hand clicked ever closer to 11am, the minute hand close to overtaking its competitor. 

10:55am and Azriel was still asleep. 

The sheets clustered loose and low around his waist, mimicking the curling of his shadows up and down the ridges of his spine and across the delicate membrane of his wings. His wings hung loose and relaxed, stretching off the edges of your bed and caressing the floor with a lover’s touch. You blushed at the sight. When you and Azriel had first started courting each other three years ago, you’d thought through the mechanics of housing an Illyrian warrior in your bed — should you buy a new bed frame and mattress? Did you even have space for it in your apartment? The answer had been no to both, and yet Azriel loved when your daytime activities ended here instead of at the townhouse. If he cared about having to walk sideways to avoid the bookshelves in the halls or having to crouch to avoid the overhang above the staircase, he didn’t mention it. 

Three hours ago you’d woken up beneath the gentle weight of his wings, untangled yourself from Azriel’s greedy limbs, and crept down the stairs to your kitchen, bleary eyed but well rested. But that was three hours ago! Since then you’d brushed your teeth, washed your face, and eaten breakfast, and still the Shadowsinger hadn’t stirred. You were beginning to question whether he truly was the Spymaster of the Night Court as you sat in your velvet chair and admired your lover. You traced all the subtle movements of his body as he muddled through dreams you could only wonder at — the creasing of his brow, the slack line of his lips as he breathed, the twitching of his fingertips as he reached for some phantom object. 

The clock struck eleven and you sighed, gathering your plates but leaving Azriel’s pile of toast, butter, and honey alone. You also left the teapot and its mismatched cup, blowing magic over its lid in a silent command to keep its contents hot until Azriel awoke. 

“I’ll be down in the shop,” you whispered to his shadows, trusting that they would relay the message when their master finally decided to grace the daytime with his presence. 

One by one, shadows slipped off Azriel’s skin, curling around your ankles and wrists in a silent plea to stay. You shook them off like one might a needy child, promising you’d only be two floors down. 

The artists’ corner in Velaris was an eclectic array of compact townhouses, each outwardly dressed in their unique, dazzling finery. Your townhouse was squished between a painting studio and a luthier’s. The painting studio’s owner seemed intent on changing the color of the wooden sidings every other day and the drawings scribbled over the windows every other week. Today it was periwinkle blue to match the hydrangeas overflowing from the window boxes. 

You nodded in approval as you flipped the apothecary sign over from “Much apologies, please try another time” to “You’ve caught us! We’re open!” The blue would match your tulip yellow sidings and the clean white accents of the luthier’s. Last week it had been red and that had looked gods-awful. 

You busied yourself in the shop, crushing up lavender and herbs and boiling mugwort in fire-stained glassware in between flurries of customers until the medicinal stench in the air grew thick and strong. You were used to it by now. It smelled clean. Like home. 

You were finishing tying up a bundle of teabags when Cassian came in carrying a sturdy wooden box under one arm like it weighed five pounds instead of fifty. You snapped out the wrinkles of a cloth bag, dropping the teabags and five vials of sleep serum for the nightingale-winged nymph in front of you. 

“Four feathers and three strands of hair, as we bargained for,” you said, sliding the bag across the counter. 

The nymph nodded in approval, extending out a wing and shoving her fingers into the pillowy softness. She tested for loose feathers ready to pull.

“You’re a godsend, Y/n, has anyone ever told you that?” She pulled out three feathers, closed her wing, and started testing the feathers on the other side. “Finnigan’s was asking me for ten. Ten! Can you believe that? If I hadn’t found you in time I’d have been reduced to a plucked chicken.” She was much less precious about her mousey brown hair and yanked out three strands at random. “Oops, you get an extra strand today,” she sang, dropping the feathers and hair into the jars you held out. 

“Well it’s a good thing you found me then, Moricka.” 

“Honestly! I understand he’s got a large studio space he’s renting in the thick of the Palace, and even I will admit the ambiance is rather professional—” 

Cassian raised his brow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his scarred lips as he continued to stand motionless in the doorway. It was true your space was more… homey than Finnigan’s, but your expertise shined in intimate spaces. You liked the control and the familiarity that came from running a smaller business and you wouldn’t give it up for the world. 

“But I do think the success is getting to his head. You both studied under Lady Madja so I don’t see why—” 

You nodded absentmindedly. It was always like this with Moricka. The songbird in her made it difficult for her to stop talking, but at least her voice was pleasant. 

She threw her hands up in the air before finally catching wind of another presence in the room. Cassian waved at her with a wink and an orange blush creeped onto her full cheeks. He tended to have that effect on fae with his towering size and the wild beauty of his chiseled jaw and smattering of scars over his cheeks and brow. 

“Oh… oh dear, I didn’t realize you had another customer. Oh my goodness I’ve been talking your ear off all this time and you’ve been too kind to say anything. You’re a godsend, Y/n. A godsend! I don’t know what I would do without you, although I should really be letting you go now.” She grabbed her things and sidestepped the range of Cassian’s wings, trying and failing now to gawk. “I’ll see you soon enough again I’m sure.” 

“I’ll be here.” You sighed in relief when the doorbell rang behind her petite frame, the inoffensive smile you offered all your customers sliding off your face like oil on water. Cassian chuckled, dropping the box onto the countertop with a dull thud. 

“Long day?” 

You pulled out a stepstool and began rummaging around through the box, pulling out jars of squid ink, bark trimmings, buttons, and one particularly nasty jar containing a large eye suspended in yellow goo. “It’s not even three.” 

“Did I stutter?”

You tapped the glass and the eye swiveled around to look at you, pupil enlarging and constricting with a stutter. “Yes, yes very good,” you muttered your praise and Cassian fought hard not to shiver. He had a stomach for a great many things, but some of the specimens you handled tested his resilience.

“Thank you for bringing all of this. You’ve saved me a great deal of trouble.” 

“Perhaps you could do the same for me and tell me where my brother is? I’ve been looking for him all day.” Cassian leaned forward on the counter, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Are you holding him hostage, Y/n? Are you using your feminine powers to bring the poor male to his knees? I must admit, I didn’t imagine you as the kind capable of kidnapping. Or shadow-napping, shall we say?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m hardly holding him hostage.” You gestured down the hallway past the bookshelves and the cases of empty glassware where the light from the staircase glowed like an iron eye. “He’s upstairs sleeping.” 

Cassian furrowed his brows, stepping around and past you. He kept his wings tucked closer to his shoulder blades, careful not to upset the cramped organization you maintained in your shop. 

He smirked. “Still? Are you sure you didn't work your feminine powers last night?” 

You glanced out the store window. A few fae lingered outside the coffee shop across the street clutching takeaway boxes against their chest as they chatted and sipped their drinks. The street was otherwise empty. For now, you wouldn’t have to deal with any customers. 

You looked back at Cassian. “I actually wanted to ask you about that.”

His brows furrowed. “About feminine powers?” He'd meant that as a joke.

“Gods, Cassian let that go.” You wrung your hands. “I wanted to ask if Azriel was alright? Has he seemed… normal to you?”

“I don’t know, has he?” Cassian lowered his voice, sinking into one of the stools by the clear glass medicine cabinet. “From what I can tell he seems well. Happy.” 

Although happy was an understatement. Ever since you’d stumbled into their lives with Madja’s accolades and your wry humor, Azriel had been a goner. You’d pulled emotions from him as deftly as a spinster with a pile of wool, reduced him to a reverential, lovesick mess, and imbued his existence with a color not even Feyre could mix up. Which made it all the more confusing why you looked so nervous.

“You’ve seen more of him than I have, Y/n.” Cassian said. He braced his elbows against his knees, turning serious. The faint bags under his hazel eyes hinted at sleepless nights spent fussing over Neera. It was their fault really, any daughter of Nesta and Cassian was destined to be restless and particular.

“He just… he’s been sleeping more. Falling into bed early, but waking up late. Sometimes we’ll be reading together or just existing side by side and when I turn to face him, he’s dead asleep on the couch.” 

Cassian’s lips twitched, slowly stretching into a smile. You plucked a hemp bag off one of the wall shelves at random, tossing its contents into a mortar and beginning to grind just so you could have something to do with your hands. 

“At first I brushed it off, but it’s gotten to a point where I’ll be talking to him — mindless things, but regardless — and I’ll catch him dozing off. He’s always very apologetic after but I…” The mortar and pestle clattered to a stop. “I worry that he’s growing bored of me. Or that he’s sick in a way I can’t help.” 

“Y/n.” There was a smile in Cassian’s voice, and indeed when you looked at him, his teeth were glistening in the soft afternoon haze. His eyes shined knowingly, as if the answer were obvious.

You paused. “Yes?”

“He feels safe with you.” 

You blinked once. Twice. 

“Pardon?” 

Cassian tipped back in his seat, knocking his head against the cabinet with a rattle of jars and glass as he laughed. “He’s sleeping so much because he feels safe with you. It’s probably why he prefers to spend time here instead of at the townhouse and why he’s still dead asleep while we’re sitting here gossiping about him. Three years ago you couldn’t even whisper his name in a crowded room without him appearing from the shadows as if summoned.” 

You felt heat rise in your cheeks. “Oh... I see.” 

Cassian was grinning. “Y/n, I promise you he’s not bored of you. Azriel sleeping is a good thing. The gods know he could use more rest. I think he might be the worst of us when it comes to taking care of ourselves.” 

Something about Cassian’s words had a crack splintering in your chest. You knew about his past. You knew of the horrors burned into the ruined skin of his hands and the weight his duties deposited on his shoulders.

And here you’d been worried over him sleeping past noon. 

Shadows slipped down the stairs, pooling around your feet in a neat circle and kissing the exposed skin of your ankles. Azriel followed closely behind, still wearing his rumpled hair and pants and a shirt he’d hastily shoved his neck and arms into. He hadn’t even buttoned up the slits below his wings, opting to let the fabric swing free and loose and expose flashes of skin as he walked. 

He jutted his chin out in acknowledgement of Cassian and then folded himself over your back, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and dropping his face into the crook of your neck where he breathed in the scent of lemon and lavender and medicine. 

“You weren’t there when I woke up,” he said, frowning. There was a slur to his words.

“It’s past three, brother.” 

Azriel snapped his head up in surprise, squinting at the window and the afternoon sunlight streaking in. The pale cobblestones shone like they’d been drenched in honey. 

“What?” 

Cassian rolled his eyes, patting Azriel’s back fondly and mussing up your hair before walking towards the door. He flipped the sign from “You’ve caught us! We’re open!” to “Much apologies, please try another time.” 

“Goodnight, you two!" He called from over his back. "Remember we’re meeting at Rhys’s for dinner tonight.” He turned, bracing his arms against the top of the doorway and leaning forward like he meant to share a secret. “8pm sharp. Don’t be too late or we’ll get the wrong idea about what you two are up to.” He winked, then whistled down the street, letting the door close on its own behind him. 

Azriel sighed, going back to nuzzling his face in your neck. He peppered the sensitive skin there with kisses. 

“Will you be coming back upstairs then?” He murmured hopefully. "Now that you're finished with work?"

You bit your lip and decided rather quickly that the world would not end because you closed a few hours early. 

You led him up the stairs, past the kitchen and living room on the second floor, and then up to the third floor — your bedroom. The window was still open, the hustle and bustle of the city and the smell of coffee from across the street wafting in. Steam no longer poured from the lip of the teapot, so you knew Azriel had had something to drink, and where you’d left toast on his plate this morning lay only crumbs. 

Azriel dropped to his knees, untying your laces and helping you out of your boots. Then he straightened and tugged at the belt loops of your trousers, silently asking for permission before unbuttoning them and sliding them off your legs. Your shirt, then his shirt, and then his trousers joined the pile of crumpled clothing on the floor.

He gently pushed you back onto the bed, falling face first after you with a sigh. This was his favorite position to sleep in — you comfortable on your back and him laying with his hips slotted in between your legs and his head resting over your heart. 

You sank your fingers into his velvety, black hair. His hums of satisfaction flowed through your body, lighting every nerve with a comforting buzz. 

“Azriel?” You asked him, before sleep could finally claim him once more. 

“Hmmm?” 

“Do you feel safe with me?” 

He pressed his face further into the soft flesh of your chest, bringing his arms up and around your waist before allowing his wings to do the same. The thin membranes glowed red as hot coals, blocking out the most offensive rays of light from outside. 

“When I am with you, I forget that I was ever that boy whose hands got burned. When I am with you, the hundreds of years I spent feeling alone and worthless in this world melt away into nothing. When I am with you — when I am in this place that smells and feels so strongly of you — I can imagine a future that is good and pure and perfect.” He sighed deeply, seemingly ignorant to the pounding of your heart and the waves of feeling flooding your system. “So yes, my love — my Y/n — I do feel safe with you.”

“I feel safe with you too,” you murmured. “I love you, Azriel.” 

You kissed the crown of his head, earning one last smile and a slurred, “I love you, Y/n,” before his jaw went slack and the room went silent save for the mixing of your breaths and the stirring of shadows.

[ghostedbunnie]

trouble comes in fours

tf141 x fem!reader reader wants to get rid of her ex and tf141 might have the perfect scare factor

imagine that your ex simply can't take a hint and keeps creeping on your social media so in a desperate attempt to get rid of him the only way you know is gonna work is to scare him off with a new guy. someone he can't even think off challenging.

on a night out with your friends you are venting out your frustrations about it. while you are in the middle of retelling the last time he tried to slide into your DMs the door to the bar open and you can feel the air shift.

the group of 4 guys walk in. most of them have to duck their heads through the doorway. when they settle into a quieter corner that seems to have a great vantage point to overlook the entirety of the bar your friend nudges you. "looks like 4 possible solutions to your problem just walked in."

your eyes go wide and you sputter out that there is no way. the thought of sending a drink to any of them is almost as terrifying as shoving your head into a tank full of piranhas.

the night continues and with every drink, your fear gives into curiousity. what's the worst thing they could do? bring it back? you can just leave before that happens. the alcohol and your friends chip away at you for few minutes before you gather up the courage. you honestly don't even know which one of them you're sending the drink to.

there's a loud pretty boy with a slightly overgrown mohawk wildly gesturing and retelling some story from the looks of it. when the dim light catch his eyes just right they almost glint silver.

another one but great deal calmer sits opposite, he has a killer smile with slight dimples. just the sight of those dimples could make panties drop.

next to him is a possibly older guy around 40s you'd wager, you can't see his face clearly because half of it is hidden underneath a hat and the other under a very impressive beard. but even from the little you can see the rug burn from that beard would definitely be worth it. simply based on the commanding air around him.

in the corner next to the loud-mouth sits a shadow. honestly in your slight drunk daze you almost missed him in his dark hoodie, pants and face mask. you don't see him drink but the drink in front of him does magically disappear anyway. and whenever you turn around from gawking you swear you can feel someone's stare. but as you get the chills you tell yourself it's probably the a/c blaring.

imagine your surprise when the bartender sends 4 drinks to the table and when you look back to asses the situation you have 4 (well 3 as the big boy in the corner doesn't touch the drink but inclines his head at you) miming a clinking motion while sipping on the drinks.

the mortification doesn't end because when your friends abandon you for some more dance time and you turn to get up to the bathroom you walk straight into a hard chest of the pretty boy. he calms your apologies from running into him with a smile. "wanted ta thank you for the drink, bonnie."

heat rushes to your face as you try to somehow talk your way out of this mess because what seemed like a great idea when your head was swimming with 9 drinks is starting to seem a lot worse now that you are slowly sobering up.

"nothing ta worry 'bout. come sit with us. it feels wrong to keep a bonnie lass like yerself all alone."

next up: simon's ver. // others are coming soon