#something about grief and missing their mother. she used to call them starlight because of their forehead scar

[jamscandraw]

✨star light, star bright✨

[assaily]

More writing scraps!

I once tried to write something for mermay but i never got much out of it. Here are the only two scenes i ever managed to write. For context, no one in the entire world can remember anything from about a month before, and no one is particularly bothered by that fact. Also the moon is missing and that may or may not have something to do with the collective memory loss. The kids are all selkies, Five and Lila have had their skins taken by the Handler, who is a pirate and makes them call her Mother.

-

“Why do you hide, Moonlight?”

This was a dream Viktor had had a thousand times. Drawn down to the ocean on legs that weren’t quite his, through a town he never remembered coming to and didn’t know how to leave. “I’m not hiding,” he told the glinting starlight eyes staring at him from the water.

“Then why has the night become so dark?”

“The night has always been dark.”

It always felt odd to say the truth knowing it was a lie.

“You swallowed the Moon,” the creature said woefully, a webbed hand reaching from the water for Viktor’s throat. “Give it back.”

“I don’t have it.” He took a step away from the water, the ocean churning around the creature as it reached for the smooth-worn sides of the wharf, heaving its pale body onto the paved stone.

“Give it back,” it howled.

It didn’t speak in anger, but with a grief so deep and chilling it made Viktor’s body burn with shame. 

“Give him back!”

He woke safe in his bed, from dream to consciousness like seconds passing on a clock, quietly and without fanfare. Morning sunlight replaced the milky twilight, sea birds and distant seals louder now than the crash of waves in his dream. Warm, sleepy movement beside him pulled Viktor back to the moment, turning his head against the pillow as Sissy rolled over to face him.

She blinked the sleep from her eyes, smiling warmly in greeting. “Mornin’.”

“Good morning,” he replied softly, for a moment enchanted by her, seeming to glow gold in the morning light. They smiled at each other like fools in love for a long moment before a clatter started up in the courtyard downstairs.

“Sounds like Hazel’s home with breakfast,” Sissy said, rolling onto her back and stretching like a cat. 

A few minutes later had them dressed and downstairs to help chop vegetables and clean the morning’s fish catch. Agnes, Hazel’s wife, puttered in and out of their kitchen and the courtyard, bringing out her trays of bread that would be sold this afternoon alongside the fish at the market.

-

“Why do you call yourself Five?”

“Because I was the fifth.”

After a long silence filled with the crunching of fishbones between their teeth, “That tells me nothing,” Lila complained stiffly.

“Everything I tell you, you tell Mother.”

“Nuh-uh.”

He refused to lower himself to her immaturity, despite how strong the urge was to answer in the same petulant tone. Instead, he reached down into the pool and snatched another fish out. 

“What’s so secretive about your chosen name?”

“Where did you come from before Mother found you?”

She scowled at him. “I don’t remember,” she deadpanned like he was stupid.

He gave her a cheeky grin around a mouthful of fish. “There’s your answer, then.”

“But Mum only found you recently, and you remember you’re the fifth or whatever.” She discarded the bone she’d been using to pick her teeth and rolled over onto her back so the sun would catch her tail properly, warming the turquoise scales. She dyed the tips of her tail red in a show of loyalty to her master, something Five found oddly repulsive.

She batted her eyelashes cutely, knowing how pretty she must look rolling in the pale sand. Five just smirked at her, “you know that doesn’t work on me.”

“I know, it’s weird, you should be horny as hell.”

It was a confusing thing for him, to not remember much past the last few months. His body looked young but did not feel it. He felt like he’d already lived a lifetime, and he couldn’t explain why. He didn’t dare tell Lila that, but she could sense his repulsion all the while, somehow managing to read him like a book.

“Come oooon,” she whined. “Please tell me, I want to know.”

“Why?”

She huffed, eyes rolling up toward the sky for a moment. She rolled over again, sitting up on her elbow and looking at him more seriously. “You’re the only other– whatever we are, I’ve met in my entire life.” Her brow furrowed. “I think. That feels true.”

“That’s sad,” Five said genuinely. “You don’t remember your family?”

“No. Do you?”

He remembered faces. He remembered their voices, barely. Flashes of moments, a feeling of panic in his chest, anger made of starlight and madness reaching up to consume the Moon.

He blinked away the images behind his eyes, realizing he’d stared off into space and Lila was watching him intently. “Not really,” he answered finally.

She huffed sharply out her nose. “Course not.” She heaved herself up and pushed herself into the pool, cleaning off the sand and scattering the fish near the surface. She disappeared into the depths for a time, leaving Five in peace to finish his second fish before she returned. She dropped a handful of mussels onto the flat rock Five was perched on.

“Fifth of what?” she asked insistently.

“I don’t remember.”

She looked up at him to catch his expression. “Really?”

He shook his head; it was the truth. He was the fifth of something but like hell he could remember. “Why does she want to know so badly?”

Lila looked away, sinking a little into the water before shrugging. “You know how she is.”

He hummed in affirmation. “Anything she can use to control us.”

“She’s not that bad.”

Five snorted and gave her an incredulous look. “You can’t be that deluded.”

“She loves us.”

“She loves what we can do for her.”

“Same thing.”

“It’s really not.”

She scoffed harshly. “Says the one we found clinging to an anchor in the Dark Deep. What do you know about love?”

“Apparently more than you.”

“You’re just a child,” she hissed. 

When she dove away, she made sure to splash him with her tail, washing his mussels into the sand. He frowned down at them before deciding he didn’t care to eat them anyway. He layed back on his sun-warmed rock and picked them out of the sand, flinging them into the pool at his tail. The longer he stayed, the further of a swim he would have to catch up with Lila and the ship, but this little jungle clearing was peaceful, and the sun was warm.

He would take every second of peace he could before returning in dread to the ship his master called home.

[super-hero-confessions]

I've seen some discussion on Homelander's character duality and have been doing a lot of thinking about it lately. I find some of it strange and some intriguing, and I just wanted to share some thoughts on it.

There's some ideas that Homelander is who the character wants to be or is proud of being currently, but I think it goes much deeper than that.

There's an implication in the Diabolical series with Homelander's debut and first mission as well as the episode with 'Mirrorlander', and of course they don't cover everything. But I do think they tell quite the story.

The other thing is the often missed duality in Homelander's character, not to say that people don't notice he has more than one side to him, but more like they don't realize just how divided he is from the inside out.

He used to be a boy named John Gillman. Which Vought then tortured, never allowed to grow up, and convinced to be their chosen god puppet and 'perfect creation'. The Homelander.

But I think what people forget is that becoming Homelander was never really a choice for him. It was the path they set before him and told him he was going to be, while creating an image he not just wasn't prepared for, but couldn't possibly meet the standard of with the upbringing they gave him.

And this might be controversial, but I don't think Homelander is the real him.

I don't think John Gillman is the real him either.

I think they're both vital parts of him we see in the episode where he speaks to himself in the mirror. I think John Gillman is the little boy forced to be in a body far too powerful for even himself, that was able to admit that he wanted to be loved and does, more than anything. And I think Homelander is the part of him created by what Vought forced him to be that was yelling at him from the mirror, and is angry at the world for his circumstances and wants to take that feeling Vought stole, of having power and control back, through fear.

I think the real him is caught somewhere in a limbo between these two parts of him as there were a couple things that really struck me when I took a second look.

Annie January, or Starlight has a conversation with her mother at the end of the first season where she screams out, "No wonder I don't know who the fuck I'm supposed to be!".

The conversation is about Compound V and how her mother controlled every tiny little aspect of her life, down to her daughter never getting a real choice on what she wanted, based on a lie she was told.

Obviously, this isn't to say that Starlight went through anything close to what Homelander did, but the parallels of the situations can be seen, if much less severe, and there is still validity in the grief she has.

And that's the thing. I think Homelander doesn't know who the fuck he's really supposed to be. He wouldn't admit it, but I don't really think it's reasonable to think that with how badly Vought fucked him up, that he would somehow be certain of who and what he wants to be. And that just makes it worse.

When we see him in Diabolical during his debut, he is bewildered and in absolute awe. So far, only seeing the adoration from people. Something he's never had before in any capacity most likely. And those people understand him to be The Homelander, to be a new superhero that is there to save them.

There's even an immediate reaction of jealousy when the attention is switched to Black Noir because up until that point, Homelander has never had those feelings from people. Just fear and disgust.

Already, he's preconditioned to think extremely lowly of himself due to what Vought has done to the boy named John Gillman. And he doesn't realize he is a victim and that John never deserved those things, which works perfectly to manipulate him into being enamoured with this new persona that Vought created for him. Because it's new. It's different. And so far, it's not painful.

Understandably, his first mission goes terribly wrong. Especially when he is called a 'monster' as 'The Homelander'. Suddenly reliving his memories as the feelings against what he never chose to be come boiling up to the surface. He completely loses himself and kills every single person he is supposed to save, despite having initially tried to help. So we know that he wanted to be good, he wanted to be the hero, and he wanted to be loved. Even before being The Homelander, it was John Gillman who wanted all of those things.

But what happens instead? He is manipulated, first by Madelyn Stillwell into fighting Noir when he knows he's messed up and believes Noir will terminate him, and then Noir turns it around and makes him realize he can and will be loved by everyone as long as they never know he's imperfect.

And The Homelander is supposed to be 'perfect'.

So he latches on to that image and 'god' created by Vought while simultaneously using it to protect the and bury the boy he used to be.

And it continues like this. Eventually he begins to embrace the 'monster' that he can keep veiled while he takes power back through fear, and he can be loved so long as people never know about that 'monster'. Solidifying his path and duality of who he is from that very first mission. If he can get away with anything, why wouldn't he? Vought never taught him different.

The internal conflict won't simply disappear, but his comfort is having his cake, and eating it too. Even if he knows it will never be real...

[scientist-of-light]

3:12 am

Sand ground under his feet, as Golan slowly ascended the staris of the Shirogane ward. It was the only sound in this warm night. Even the cicadas slept at this time. As he passed gates to other estates he wondered how long it has been. Weeks? Months?  He did not know.  The days of him traveling alone had merged together. Mind you, he could have easily checked for the date he left. But it mattered not to him. ‘Or maybe, you’re afraid of it’, some other part of him thought.

Finally the free companys house came in sight, sleeping like the rest of the world. The smell of chocobos from the stables gave the old inhabitant a warm welcome. At least some things did not change. Still, he hesitated as he aproached the door. He had been away for so long. How could he be so bold to assume he had the right to just enter? Shacking his head he whisked away his doubt. He was still part of the free company. And besides that, he was only here to get something from his old room. The interior was even more dark than the outside. Dim moonlight falling through the shutters made the shadows contort into strange shapes in the moment before Golans eyes had adjusted. Had they remodeled the room again? Or was it just his memory that tricked him? Since he had the procedure, some memories seemed more hazy than before. And he had never felt quiet at home in the new house. Not since the free company had moved from the lavender beds. Back there he could have been sure to hear pencis scratch over parchment, even at this time. Lady Scarlet would work until the hours of morning if you did not stop her. She was not one to refuse a cup of tea, though, and so he had learned  how to prepare it so it would lure her to sleep instead of waking her even more. He noticed how much he missed the smile of the little Lalafell, who had become Lady Lotus by now. And thus the smile he had cherished so long ago belonged to another one, and they both had moved on. She now resided most of her time with her husband in Limsa and sometimes in Ul’dah, as far as Golan was aware. He took a deep breath, for along with those good memories of the time after they first met came greif and regrett. Grief for their friendship, that had long drifted apart, and regrett for not being able to help her when she needed it, because he had lost her trust. Luckily, Sang had been there for her. He (or she, sometimes) had been as long as Golan had known the two. Was Sang in love with her back then? It’s hard to tell. The Mi’qote had always been one thing: Loyal. And sometimes both are the same thing. Golan had never found any common interest with him, but the time the four of them spend together had made them somewhat friends nevertheless. He smiled as he remembered the time the two of them accidentally swapped bodys. Somehow, they always worked well together. The whole party of four did. Wickid was the only member of said party that would be most likely still here tonight. The big man was the kindest heart Golan knew. And he was always fond of caring for the chocobos. Golan picked up some paper and quill from the counter to leave a note. Even if he was spending the night with his wife, he would find it tomorrow. And yet, while Wickid had been Golans closest friend for a long time, he hesitated. Guild overcame him. Guild for not being here, for leaving his best friend with all this work, all by himself. He had just left, after all. Without any word of warning. Slighly shaking he put back paper and quill. Go to his room, get the things he needed, get out. that was the plan. No one needed to know he even was here. Not, that a lot of people would have recognised him. As he walked down the corridor to the private rooms he saw a lot of names unfamiliar to him. People that had joined the free company after his departure, or not long before it. And some of the rooms had changed owners. Luzius room was empty now. The Au’Ra had been one of the few other people Golan had some common interests with. Another one he had called friend without hesitation. And he was gone now, too. Someone else now occupied the room that used to belong to the clumsy hyur Niyu. Vividly Golan remembered his first impression of her, when she fell down the stairs during the starlight festivities. And his last meeting with her, not that long ago. His shoulder still ached. Maybe he had hoped to run into her that early as he used to, but she had moved on. As had her adoptive mother and Wickids wife, Azura. She propeably had decided to dedicate all her time to her orphanage. The elezen lady had the quirk of adopting everyone she came across. A mother through and through. Finally he reached the door to his room, still locked as he had left it. A coating of dust covered every bit laying open. He realy had not thought it through or he had covered everything with blancets before leaving. Did he ever intend to leave for so long? He could not have guessed that something like this would happen, though. His hand went to his neck, the fingers tracing the line between metal and skin. The things he was here for were gathered quickly enough. Some needed a bit of dusting of. They had been intended for very different purposes, but things had changed. He had changed. The free company had changed. The people he used to know had changed. Maybe... maybe it was time to move on.

Reminiscing about @heiress-incognito, @a-lotus-in-blossom, @mountain-of-ala-mhigo, @nhaamas-grace, @clumsygirlonadventures, @mistress-of-midgardsormr and @lufiiineorzea in general...

[bekahdoesnerdshit]

one of each for each otp,,,,, for brilliance/sienna: 3, 10 (prose boy...... ), 19, 31! for raini/ecstasy: 1, 14, 23, 26!

YES now my plan to make you care about my paladin you’ve never met can really come to fruition.....it worked for cog it can work for this gay bitch too.....

Super super minor nsfw for 23 and 26 for Raini, and I guess technically 31 for Brilliance but honestly not really. Enjoy!

Brilliance & Sienna

3. If they complimented each other, what would they say? Not to sound like a lesbian, but Brilliance thinks Sienna hung the moon. She’s so beyond smitten with this woman, and if anyone makes the mistake of asking her about her fiancée (which her party would never do because they’re a) hets who b) don’t care about rp) Brilliance would easily be able to spend hours talking about everything that makes Sienna the absolutely amazing woman she is. Brilliance admires Sienna’s patience, her quiet determination to get things done right, and her easy, calming presence. She’s compassionate and honest, and she makes the people around her want to be better than they are without having to say a word. She’s beautiful, inside and out, and Brilliance thanks Sune every day that fate brought them together. And check this out! Sienna loves Brilliance just as much! They’re in love! Sienna admires how willing Brilliance is to take charge in difficult situations, and that her primary concern when taking charge is making sure the people under her are safe. She’s intentional and unwavering in her resolve and devotion to the people she loves. Sienna loves how Brilliance is able to find beauty in just about anything, and how fiercely she’ll fight to protect the light and beauty she sees in the world. She loves her insistence on giving people second chances, even when they may not deserve it. Brilliance embodies the phrase “get behind me”, and while Sienna often wishes Brilliance would let her share that burden, she understands that Brilliance does what she does to show love.  10. Write a ~300 word argument scene for them.  It’s been three days since Conviction’s death. Since they found his body at least; he’d been missing longer than that. It was murder, anyone could see that, but no one has any delusions about it being investigated as one, let alone prosecuted. He shouldn’t have been involved with those rebels, people say. It’s his own fault for stirring up trouble where there didn’t need to be any. There’s been multiple times where Sienna’s quiet touch to Brilliance’s arm has been the only thing to keep her from lashing out at someone who implied that and while she’s grateful for the temperance, part of her can’t help feeling that grief hardened by anger might hurt less.  It’s been three days since they pulled her brother’s body out of the sewers, and Brilliance knows she needs to go home. Her mother is devastated, her father considers his obligation to help fulfilled by paying for the funeral, and as loathe as she is to return to her childhood home Brilliance knows it’s her duty to be there. Sienna comes back to their tiny (Sienna calls it cozy to make Brilliance laugh), dingy (”lived in!” she insists) apartment to find Brilliance packing, and the pity in her gaze makes Brilliance tugs her arm free when Sienna reaches out for her.  “I have to,” Brilliance says, resolutely keeping her focus on the suitcase laid out in front of her. “Sienna, my heart, I have to. My mother--” Sienna reaches out to cup Brilliance’s cheek, to tilt her face toward her. Brilliance, though reluctant, allows it. “Your mother,” Sienna chides gently, “is a grown woman, who is welcome to stay with us. We’ll make room. But starlight, you don’t need to be in that house. Not ever again, and certainly not right now. Stop for a minute, sit down, we can talk about this...” The conversation begins to unravel from there. Sienna is right; her father’s house is the worst place for Brilliance to be to grieve. Brilliance is right; Sienna is an only child, who lost her mother when she was young. She has no context to understand what Brilliance is going through. Neither of them raise their voice, but there’s an edge to their words that normally has no place in their home. Brilliance gets frustrated, feels herself start to get angry, and she makes the decision to walk away and cool down. She comes back to find Sienna asleep or feigning it, back to the door in a way that feels pointed. At that point it’s well after midnight, and Brilliance doesn’t know what to do about the conversation she’d walked out of. Eventually she goes to bed as well, facing the door, sleeping further from Sienna than she has since they moved in together. She knows better than to go to bed angry, but right now Brilliance can’t stomach the thought of reigniting their argument again that night. She closes her eyes, and hopes they can work things out in the morning before Brilliance leaves for home. 19. If they could each write a single line in their marriage vows, what would they be? Brilliance: You are my peace, my joy, my steadfast foundation; my world is better for having you in it, and I will work for the rest of my life to make sure you can always say the same. Sienna: Whatever I did to earn it, thank you, starlight, for trusting me with you heart; it is my privilege and my honor to be for you what you are to so many others. 31. What do they love to do after sex? Probably, like. Kiss a bunch? Ew!!  But like honestly? Yeah! I think they’re a Big fan of soft, sleepy morning sex, especially on days where Brilliance isn’t needed at the church until the evening and Sienna has the day off. Why not indulge on those days when you can doze off again for a little while, with your beloved asleep on your chest? Brilliance is running her fingers through Sienna’s hair and pressing the occasional kiss to the top of her head, Sienna is tracing absentminded shapes against Brilliance’s collarbone, and they’re just enjoying being warm and sleepy and together with no prospect of that changing anytime soon. 

Raini & Ecstasy

1. What are things they both find funny? I’m gonna take a shot in the dark and say. Shitty people’s misfortune? Not necessarily objectively shitty people, just people they’ve decided they don’t like. Ecstasy telling a story about the dumbass fantasy customs agent she “tricked” (because tricked is a strong word, really. It wasn’t all that hard, and that’s what makes it So funny) into marking her ship with its cargo full of stolen goods and also probably like fantasy weed as “clean” to enter some city? Hilarious. Raini talking about casting Mage Hand under the table at some stuffy negotiations and pulling just hard enough on the chair leg of the asshole who’s already leaning back further than he should be and sending him crashing out of his chair? Fucking hysterical. They’re assholes, but they’re assholes together. And, at the end of the day, that’s what matters! 14. What would be a dealbreaker? At risk of sounding too predictable, for Raini it would have to be something along the lines of finding out that Ecstasy is and has been seeing someone else seriously while they’ve been together together. It’s one thing to sleep around a little when you’re still just a booty call, or even to meet someone pretty and check with your partner that they’re okay with you having a one night stand. If you’re communicating, and everyone involved is okay with it, that’s fine! However, it’s another thing entirely to find out that you’ve been playing second fiddle in terms of your long term girlfriend’s affection for god knows how long. Honestly, I’m not sure Ecstasy would survive an argument started by Raini finding something like that out. I won’t speak too much on Ecstasy’s dealbreaker so I don’t overstep or guess Wrong, but I feel like if we hadn’t gotten our memories back things would have eventually fallen apart. I don’t know if I think there would have been some big climactic fight to end things so much as a sort of just... fading away? A heartbreaking parallel to how slowly they’d entangled themselves in each other’s lives before, and really? Who could blame Ecstasy for pulling away from a situation like that. And without the memories and the context to know why it hurts so much now that things are different, I don’t know if Raini would have gone chasing after her.  23. Write a ~300 scene between them with no dialogue, only body language. They’re supposed to be keeping an eye out for some diplomat, Raini thinks. It’s some trouble about wanting to make sure he hadn’t been intimidated into feeding information or supplies to some foreign power, potentially by doing some intimidating themselves. It seemed important at the time, when they made plans to secure invitations to a ball they’d knew he’d be attending. It had seemed important when she’d stayed up the night before sewing hidden pockets into the folds of the dress she’d be wearing so that she would have some way of smuggling spell components in with her. In fact, it had seemed important up until Raini looked up toward the source of commotion across the ballroom and found herself staring at a tiefling who had absolutely no right to be here. She’s wearing a starch pressed naval uniform -admiral, at least, and almost certainly stolen- that looks like it was made for her, golden buttons and unearned medals gleaming in the candlelight, boots that hug her calves like it’s their damn job, head thrown back as she laughs at something she said-- Raini’s eyes widen then narrow, shocked then indignant that this criminal had the gall to show her face here. They make eye contact seconds later and Raini scoffs at the way the pirate’s eyebrows shoot up at the sight of her. And then she has the audacity to wave? A lazy, two fingered acknowledgement that has Raini glaring daggers in return and setting aside the champagne she’d picked up so that she can stalk across the room to give the pirate a piece of her mind. The pirate seems to have the same thought, and excuses herself from the conversation she’d been having to intercept Raini halfway.  Her cocksure grin has only widened by the time their paths collide, and she effortless cuts off the scathing diatribe Raini had at the ready by extending her hand as an invitation to dance, and raising an eyebrow as a challenge to refuse. Raini, at a loss for words for one of the first times in her life, huffs and crosses her arms, turning up her nose in disdain. The audacity! The gall! The sheer impudence, it’s- It’s staggering. ...still. Raini’s eyes cut back to the fit of the pirate’s stolen uniform, to the shine of its gilding and her buffed leather boots, to the way she holds herself with the confidence that she has every right to be here and every expectation Raini will agree to dance. It’s absolutely infuriating; it’s the hottest thing Raini’s ever seen in her life.  The pirate’s hand is warm when Raini takes it, and the hand that settles low on her waist is even more so. The hand that slips around to the small of her back when the song finishes, turning her toward the open glass doors that lead out to a well-manicured, dimly lit garden sets a similar heat burning across her cheeks, and the hands that lay her out in a dark corner of the garden and creep up her thighs under the hem of her dress are a searing, white hot. 26. What are their favorite parts about physical affection/sex? Raini enjoys the chase! The flirting, the banter, the circling around one another and drawing each other in inch by inch until one of you caves and makes the first move. She loves feeling eyes on her back even though she acts like she doesn’t notice, loves feeling her own pulse begin to race and knowing that across from her Ecstasy’s is doing the same. She loves watching the edges of Ecstasy’s grin go sharp, watching her tail lash against the floor, while all the while she’s carrying on their conversation like nothing has changed. She loves the way her robes start to feel too hot, too heavy, and the way Ecstasy’s gaze tracks her movements as she reaches up to pull the collar open just a bit wider. The brush of a hand on her waist when the tension becomes too much, a silent order to follow to somewhere more private so you can both make good on everything your flirting promised. The sex is good, without question. But the build up? The anticipation? The Showmanship? That’s how you get repeat customers!  She also loves getting her pussy ate to the point that her thighs tremble and resent having to hold her up afterward, but really who wouldn’t? Nothing hotter than your sexy pirate girlfriend fucking you senseless then coming up for air, face wet from nose to chin, wearing an absolutely shit eating grin.

[magpiefngrl]

Drarry AUs: mermaid

A few days ago I asked for prompts for drabbles to kickstart my creativity, which is slumbering for months now, and you responded and gave me some fab ideas <3 However, the fact that I’m, apparently, completely unable to write anything under 500 words means that these “drabbles” are going to take me a while. 

@go-to-helvetica said: “a mermaid au because mermaid!Harry is my jam” 

Thank you for the prompt! I hope you like what I did with it :)

(No warnings, rated Teen, 1.7k, beta’ed and preread by the lovely @nerdherderette at a moment’s notice! I’m so grateful <3)

Customs of the land and the sea

Sunlight tickled Draco’s eyelids, tugging him out of a deep slumber. Licking his dry lips, he tasted sand and jerked awake. With wakefulness came the feeling of heavy, soaked limbs and burning lungs. He turned to his side and retched saltwater. Coughing, he wiped his face and attempted to sit up when a hand touched him lightly on the back.

‘Are you OK?’

Draco flinched with an undignified squeak.

Startling green eyes met his. The green eyes belonged to a face more handsome than faces had any right to be. Draco felt another part of him burning. Somewhere lower than the lungs this time. The man’s naked torso was glistening and tan and Draco swallowed hard as his eyes travelled down the planes of his chest and stomach—and came upon a silvery tail, twitching in the surf.

A merman! The legends were true, then.

Draco shook his damp hair out of his eyes and sat up. A quick glance told him he was in a small cove, not far from his town. He dimly remembered a storm breaking out during the night, the waves slamming into—oh fuck. They’d been out on Theo’s yacht.

‘Where are the others? Are they OK?’ He rasped, his throat hurting.

The merman shrugged. ‘Maybe? I don’t know what happened to them. Perhaps my friends saved them. Or ate them.’

Draco shuddered and shuffled a little back onto the beach. In the stories, the merfolk weren’t kind people. ‘Are—are you going to eat me, too?’

The merman tilted his head. ‘No, I don’t eat on the land.’

Draco’s shoulders refused to relax. ‘Well, why did you save me then? It was you who brought me here, right?’

The merman’s gaze travelled all over Draco’s face, then his body, making Draco’s cheeks heat up, his skin tingle. It was a predatory gaze, curious and greedy, but also tinged with a sentiment that Draco couldn’t discern.

‘I’ve seen you before,’ the merman said.

‘You have?’ Draco spent a lot of his time in the sea, usually taking one of his family’s boats for sailing or fishing in the bay. ‘What’s your name?’

‘In my country I’m called—’ here the merman made a screeching sound that pierced Draco’s ears. It sounded like Haerrrr and a long vowel eee at the end.

Draco gave it a try. ‘Harry?’

The merman mouthed the word as if tasting it. ‘Harry is good,’ he decided. ‘And you’re Draco. I heard your friends call you that.’ He blushed and his tail stirred in the surf.

Draco let his gaze wander down Harry’s torso and he burrowed his fingers in the sand to stop himself from reaching out to touch him. He’d heard of the merfolk beauty but he also knew it was more than that. ‘Charming like the devil, they are. They lure you in,’ his grandfather used to tell him on winter nights when the sea outside his window raged and swallowed ships whole. ‘And then they have their way with you, down in the murky depths of their world.’

In those days, ‘having their way with you’ conjured images of torture. Now, Draco could think of another interpretation that made his mouth dry.

Harry didn’t make him feel unsafe. He made him feel quite a lot of things, but fear wasn’t one of them. Draco stretched his hand out. The merman looked at it but made no move to take it.

‘In my country it’s custom,’ Draco explained, ‘to shake the hand of the man who saved your life.’

Full lips stretched into a smile that almost made Draco’s heart stop. Death by supernatural beauty: that’d be a first. Harry took his hand and Draco squeezed it lightly. Harry squeezed back. His hand was large and warm, and felt wonderful wrapped around Draco’s.

Draco didn’t want to let go. ‘Thank you for saving me.’ For a brief moment, an impulse to follow Harry to the sea overwhelmed him, and, startled, he dropped his hand.

The tide was coming in, the water reaching Harry’s waist and nearing Draco’s legs. He pulled his feet up, even though every part of him was damp.

Harry gazed out to the sea. ‘I need to go back in.’ His tail flopped impatiently. ‘I wish—I wish I could stay longer.’

‘I wish you could, too,’ Draco whispered.

Harry turned his back, his tail splashing once in the water, but he seemed to change his mind. He turned back to Draco, bit his lower lip and reached out. He buried his fingers in Draco’s hair, caressing white-blond strands, running down Draco’s skull in a way that brought shivers to Draco’s spine. ‘I’ve always wanted to do that,’ Harry smiled wistfully. ‘It’s… it feels nice.’

Draco’s heart pounded as loud as the sea. ‘It does.’ His voice came strangled and he coughed to clear it. ‘It feels really nice.’

Harry’s fingers trailed down Draco’s face. ‘You feel different, too,’ Harry whispered. ‘It’s so hard—to leave you. Now that I know what you— what you feel like to hold.’ Face swiftly turning red, Harry shifted down the shore. A second later, his tail flapped in the surf, and then he was gone.

Draco returned to the town to find it in unrest and mourning. Fishermen had gone missing since the storm and Theo and Vince had yet to be seen, but Blaise had found his way to the shore riding—according to the stories he told everyone who’d listen down the pub—a giant turtle. Blaise had always had a tendency to tell tall tales, but how could Draco doubt him ever again? The legends were true; perhaps turtles let people ride them to safety just as mermaids touched people’s hair. He didn’t tell anyone about his experience. Let Blaise have the attention and give interviews to the county’s paper. Draco wasn’t in the mood.

He felt listless after meeting Harry. He ate little, slept little and thought of the merman constantly. He had no idea how he could go through life without ever seeing him again. He went fishing several times in the next two weeks, but Harry was nowhere to be seen. Of course, Draco had never noticed him before. Perhaps Harry saw him and stayed away. That made Draco feel worse.

When at home, he spent all his time in his workshop carving wooden figurines; but whereas in the past he carved dragons and serpents, he now carved sea creatures, fantastical and fanciful—creatures that drew the admiration of friends, even though his father disdained them as he held no respect for anything that wasn’t useful.

Draco’s favourite wooden animal was a half-dragon, half-dolphin that was small enough to hang around his neck with black string.

A fortnight after the storm, on the night of the new moon, his mother caught him at the front door.

‘Going fishing again?’

‘Just here in the bay,’ he told her. ‘I’ll take the Narcissa.’ It was the small green boat Draco’s father had gifted to his mother when they were engaged.

She laid her hand on him. ‘You’re different. It looks like grief, but it’s as if someone has cast a spell on you. You seem distracted all the time. Oh! Draco…’ her eyes lit up and she took a step back to take him in. ‘Are you in love?’

Draco had no idea what he was except that he felt as if he was drowning in a longing he could never satisfy. He gave her a kiss on the cheek and opened the front door. ‘I’ll see you later.’

The evening was calm and his boat bobbed quietly in the dark water. Draco sat back on the stern and let his right hand trail in the ocean, while he looked at the stars. They held as many secrets as the ocean. The breeze whispered softly and he’d almost dozed off, his hand still trailing the cold water, when something brushed against his fingers. Draco’s eyes shot open, body tense and mind alert.

His hand felt the stirring in the water again and the feel of something warm, something that wrapped around it. Draco’s heart drummed fast and loud as he turned to the starboard side and saw a dark shape in the water. Two hands grabbed the side of the small fishing boat and Harry pushed himself up, water dripping down his face and naked chest. In the starlight, he looked as fanciful as the creatures Draco carved; a figment of his imagination, a dream made real because he willed it so.

Draco wrapped his fingers around the dragon-fish he wore around his neck and knelt on the side. ‘I thought I’d never see you again.’

‘I thought I could stay away,’ Harry murmured. ‘I couldn’t.’

‘So you saw me all those times I came out here?’

Harry gazed in Draco’s eyes. ‘I looked for you every night.’ He reached out and touched Draco’s hair again. ‘Your hair reminds me of the stars,’ he said.

‘”Fairy hair” they call it in my town,’ Draco murmured and leaned closer, feeling Harry’s breath on him. ‘I’ve missed you. I-I brought you something.’

He pulled back a little and took off the wooden animal. ‘I made this,’ he said. ‘I’d like you to have it. Something from the land.’

His eyes startled, Harry nodded, and Draco put it around his head. His fingers traced the cool, wet skin and rested around Harry’s neck.

‘In my country it’s custom,’ Harry said in a low voice, ‘to kiss the person who gives you a gift.’

The force of Draco’s desire squeezed his chest and made his breath come shallow. He leaned closer and felt Harry’s breath on him. ‘It’s a good custom.’ His lips played on Harry’s, his heart thrumming a wild tattoo against his ribs.

‘Customs should be observed,’ Harry murmured and rose an inch, his tail flapping below him, and kissed Draco. He tasted of the sea and of something feral and untameable and utterly enchanting. Draco deepened the kiss, one hand cupping Harry’s face, the other holding him tight around the shoulders. The feel of his ocean lips, demanding and insistent and increasingly more ferocious, made his blood sing. He could spend eons kissing Harry and he knew with a certainty as final as death what it meant to give your heart to the sea.

***

Dare Dating (8th year)

Pirate AU

Durmstrang!Harry and Beauxbatons!Draco AU 

Royalty/Arranged Marriage AU 

Musicians AU

Medieval AU

Fae AU

Adventure AU

Firefly/Space AU

Magical Flower Shop AU (canon universe)

kofi 

[impracticaldemon]

Dangerously Predictable

Fanfiction ~ Fairy Tail ~ Graylu Request ~ AU ~ Affinity for Astrology? Words: ~2900

A fanwork exchange with @miss-zei  💕

Gray pushed back his chair and stretched, enjoying the pull on muscles that had been held too tight for too long.  He scrubbed briefly at his eyes and then glanced back at the computer screen and the satisfying notation marking the end of a new chapter.  As usual, he was torn between letting Lucy read it immediately and proofreading first.

“Not much chance she’s up now anyway,” he muttered to himself, squinting down at the time showing at the lower right of his screen.  But she might be.

Lucy Heartfilia, best-selling author and sometime astrologer, kept strange hours.  Gray had first gotten to know her years ago, in high school. Back then she had been the golden girl:  blond, lovely both in face and spirit, a top student.  On top of everything else, her family had money.  Half the school had been in love with her and the other half had been bitterly jealous of her.  Gray had been surprisingly oblivious to her at the time.  A nerd through and through, the only thing he’d really cared about was keeping his grades high enough to get a scholarship to the university that housed the New Energy research laboratory.

They had met in the time-honoured way of protagonists in a teen-high-school-romance movie.  Lucy had been sitting on the floor at the back of the school’s dusty and little-used library, crying.  Gray had gone looking for an obscure reference book that happened to be in the very corner of the library in which she sat.  He still winced when he remembered his first words to her:

“Excuse me, but you’re right in front of the section I need—could you move please?”

Instead of being annoyed by his insensitivity, Lucy had just nodded and slid to one side, drawing her knees up more tightly to her chest so as to be in the way as little as possible. Gray still wasn’t sure what had gotten through to him—he thought it might have been the way that she had simply done as he asked, without protest or fuss.  He remembered getting the book he’d come for and then hesitating, as it dawned on him to wonder why the school’s most (and least) popular girl was sitting in the library in tears.  Instead of leaving, he’d asked a second question:

“What’s wrong?  I’m Gray, by the way—Gray Fullbuster.”

“Um, yeah, I know who you are,” Lucy had replied, eying him cautiously.  “We have at least two classes together. Besides, you’re the one who’s interested in cold fusion.”

Gray had been a little surprised, to put it mildly.  How had she known his guilty secret?  Cold fusion had still been considered a crackpot idea by most physicists at that point.

He’d sat down with her, and they’d talked, and he’d learned that she’d lost her mother a few years earlier and that her dad now wanted her to give up her dream of writing in order to join the family business—with an option to take some kind of business degree concurrently or down the road.  More accurately, he’d learned that she wanted to write—he hadn’t known before, of course, since things like that had never impinged on him before then.  Either way, they’d become friends.  

He’d eventually found out that she’d known about the cold fusion thing because she was writing a novel that touched on the idea and she liked to research thoroughly. Mind you, the impressive thing had been that she’d figured out that “icemakewizard” from the cold fusion forums and chatrooms was him.  It was a dumb, childish name, but he’d had it for so long even back in grade twelve that he’d been reluctant to give it up.

They’d been close friends throughout the rest of grade twelve, ignoring the teasing, taunting and outright confusion of their classmates.  When Lucy was out on a date, it was Gray who had known where she was and with whom, and the one time that Lucy had gotten really uncomfortable it had been Gray who had borrowed his dad’s car to come pick her up.  Gray didn’t go on dates, and it was a tribute to Lucy’s willingness to let Gray be himself that after a couple of gentle nudges she’d stopped pushing.

Throughout that year, and the summer afterward, Gray had learned how to write (in Lucy’s words). It had started when Lucy had ripped apart a major scholarship application he’d spent hours working on. It could have resulted in their first real fight; instead, Gray had sat at his computer studying Lucy’s proposed changes and Lucy had lain on his neatly-made bed behind him explaining each one of them in turn until Gray was satisfied and Lucy had fallen asleep. He’d contemplated leaving her there and just crashing in the basement, but he’d known her dad would give her serious grief and she’d be embarrassed, so he’d swallowed his pride and asked his own dad what to do.  

Silver hadn’t been in Gray’s life for very long at that point, and they’d still been sorting out what they thought of each other.  However, it was Silver who’d gotten him to call one of Lucy’s girlfriends so that when Gray drove her home at two in the morning, Levy could tell Lucy’s dad that they’d all been out together and lost track of the time.  Well, they had been out together—it was a longish drive from Gray’s lower-income neighbourhood to Lucy’s mansion on the outskirts of town. Levy, a petite firecracker with bookish tendencies and blue hair, had been surprisingly understanding about it all. They hadn’t spoken much, since Levy had sat in the back with Lucy.

After that summer, the shit had hit the proverbial fan.  Lucy had run away from home and her dad had blamed Gray.  Gray had just tuned him out.  Gray had known where Lucy was, and although he’d worried about her, he’d done his best to check in with her often.  He wanted to keep her safe.  It had become a lot more difficult to do once he’d started his degree in earnest, especially since he was in a different city.  Unfortunately, Lucy’s dad had a lot of pull and a lot of money; for a few years, he’d made things hard on everyone.  Gray’s grades and academic probity had been challenged at one point, and even Silver had faced strange “issues” at work.  Eventually, Jude Heartfilia’s tactics had gone from dirty to straight out violent.

Ultimately, Lucy had disappeared, and even Gray hadn’t known where she’d gone.  That had been a low point in his life.  Sure, he’d eventually been able to stop watching out for hired thugs—he’d become pretty fit and competent at self-defence over the years—but that hadn’t made up for the sudden absence of sunlight in his life.  Or starlight, rather—Lucy had always loved the stars.  Gray had loved Lucy, but he’d never spoken of it and neither had she.  She’d always seemed destined for somebody with the kind of bright warmth that Gray lacked and Lucy herself had in abundance.  He had been there to learn with and to rely on; if there was an intangible “something else” missing from the equation, such was life. But her absence hurt.  The only thing that helped was when he wrote—then he felt closer to her again, somehow.

He’d found her again when she’d published her first best seller.  She was living in a different part of the country and publishing under a different name, but he’d known it was her book the moment he’d scanned the first page.  Sooner, really.  After she’d disappeared, he’d taken to keeping an eye on the bestseller lists and hoping.  She’d called the book “The Icemakers”, and it had dealt in withering irony with the way that “rainmakers”—those indispensable individuals who brought in a business’ richest clients and fattest contracts—would stop at nothing to make a deal. The “rain” might nurture the business, but it did nothing for human relationships.  Gray had winced when he’d seen the title and read the description, but the dedication had made his heart leap with a sudden, not-quite-forgotten hope: “Icemaker, I miss you.”  

Shortly after that, Gray’s first collection of short stories had been e-published—he’d worked night and day to move up the publication date.  “Absolute Zero is Just Another Number” had been surprisingly popular, in a limited way. Nobody had understood the inscription: “The stars are cold without you.”

Two days later he’d gotten an email that read:  “You still aren’t very good at poetry, ice wizard.  I mean, what does that mean, anyway?  Congratulations on the book.”  He’d stared at it for hours trying to decide what to do.

Eventually, he written back: “You always told me to be less terse. I miss you too.  Congratulations on the best-seller.  Not surprised.”

He’d flown halfway across the country just to see her again.  It had been a shock for both of them, really.  Gray had filled out, and several years of periodically dodging Jude Heartfilia’s thugs had gotten him into the habit of keeping extremely fit. Silver had approved of the change and helped him train.  That had been… interesting.  Lucy had only seen him in his late teens and very early twenties—she was gone by the time he really hit his stride and became “the hottest guy to have ice in his veins”, as one eloquent admirer had eventually commented in despair.

Lucy, for her part, was even more beautiful than Gray remembered—and he’d tried to prepare himself—but what had caught him off-guard had been the strain on her face and the sadness in her eyes.  She was still unmistakeably Lucy, but diminished somehow. Quieter, more tired, less bright. She should have been glowing with the success of her book.

Their meeting had been awkward.  Lucy had obviously expected recriminations for her disappearance, but Gray had understood and forgiven her long since—almost from the beginning.  Gray had seen Lucy’s eyes widen when she’d seen him and they’d both realized that what she’d really wanted was his grade twelve self—unassuming and undemanding and far less threatening.  They were both adults now, with far more experience of the world.

Once they’d both adjusted a little, Gray had learned about all the challenges that Lucy had faced over the five years since she’d disappeared.  What had surprised him most was that Lucy’s father had died recently, and Lucy deeply regretted not having had the chance to speak with him before the end.  Bit by bit, over the course of their first reunion, Lucy had seemed to brighten, and by the time she had seen Gray off at the airport the next day she had looked so much like her former self that Gray had been reluctant to leave.

It had been the same the next two times they’d met:  Lucy would look stressed when Gray arrived and be starting to relax by the time he left.  Halfway through his fourth visit, Gray had told Lucy that he hadn’t bought a return ticket.  She’d looked at him for a long time and then commented that she’d already stocked up the fridge to feed two people and made up the guest room.  It had a small attached bathroom with a shower.  The perks of writing a best-seller, she’d said.

“There’s no point in you paying for a hotel, or a separate apartment” she’d added, looking down. “And… thanks.”

“What am I missing?” he’d asked, studying her closely.  “I mean, it sounds like there’ve been ups and downs, but you seem—well, scared.”

She’d put him off, and he’d given in easily and turned his mind to reorganizing his life.  It wasn’t until he’d been there over a month that she’d suddenly broached the subject.

They’d been sitting in his room.  Or rather, Gray had been at his desk, typing on his laptop and Lucy had been stretched out on her back on his bed behind him.  She seemed to love seeing him write—he supposed it was the feeling of having been the person who’d gotten him started.  He’d been frowning at the screen, trying to pretend that he didn’t know why he couldn’t concentrate.

“They’re always right. That’s the problem.”

Gray had given up on his writing immediately and gone to sit on the floor by the bed.  After a moment’s hesitation, he’d taken Lucy‘s hand, something that he’d done in the past when she’d been especially upset.

“What are always right?”

“My predictions—my fortune telling.  Astrology just… works for me, whatever medium I use.  Not that I see ghosts or anything… um.  I can predict things about people and for some reason, they always come true. I hate it.  It started happening when I first decided to do the fortune-telling as a part-time job to raise money—you know?”

He knew; she’d mentioned it briefly earlier.  Lucy continued.

“I finally had to start giving vaguer answers.  I wanted to be an author, not a full time astrologist!  But even working in a third-rate tea-shop word about my predictions started to get around.  I made good money at first, but then… then people started coming with terrible stories, tragic situations, and they all wanted to know “would it be okay?” and “how can avoid this terrible fate?”  It was awful. Many of them couldn’t pay but I felt like I needed to do the reading as some kind of public service…”

“Lucy…”

Her hand had clenched under his and he’d made a point of straightening it out again, finger by finger.

“That’s why I moved away from the first city.  It was a wrench—I’d chosen it specially to be a refuge, a place where I could write.” Lucy’s voice trembled slightly, even though she was by no means an easily frightened person.  “And… that’s it.”

“Is it?”

There had been a long, long pause.  Reluctantly, eyes fixed on Gray’s face, Lucy had replied:  “Not quite. I did a reading for you.  I… missed you.”

“And?”  Gray had kept his voice deliberately detached, but his hand was wrapped firmly around Lucy’s.

“It was very confusing. Your life would be in danger if we met each other again.  But it would also be in danger if we didn’t.”

Gray had let out a long breath.

“Lucy, everyone’s life is in danger every moment of every day.  That’s how it is.  Life is dangerous. But it’s worse if you make yourself too afraid to live at all, right? You told me that once.  You always took the weirdest risks—“

“They weren’t weird!”

“They weren’t statistically probable—“

“You and your statistics!”

“You and your belief in luck!”

“And?”  Lucy had turned to lie on her side so that it was easier to keep her eyes on Gray’s.

“And you’ve usually been very lucky.  Even when your life has gone to pieces—I mean, we actually survived quite a lot, when you put it all together.  But I’ll tell you what I think, if you’ll hear me out.”

Gray had wrapped his arms around Lucy, so that she was partially cradled against his chest.  She had looked surprised, and then almost relieved. He’d waited to feel her nod before he’d gone on.

“I think it’s time to give the astrology—the cards and all the rest of it—a miss.  You’ve gotten pretty messed up since you left, Luce. See, I know you pretty well.  My guess is that you left in the first place because you did a reading and it said I’d be in danger if we stayed together. But you panicked and didn’t check the other half—not until much later.  Am I right?”

There had been another nod against his chest and a mutter that had sounded suspiciously like a slightly teary “stupid intellectual show-off”.  With more courage than he’d known he had, Gray had bent down and kissed Lucy’s hair.

“Well, this stupid, intellectual show-off—which doesn’t make much sense, you know?—thinks we should go home. Together.  Like, really together.  There are people who’d love to see you.  And, um”—deep breath—“I love you.”  When Lucy didn’t move, but seemed to relax, Gray had continued doggedly. “So no more predictions, right or wrong. Let’s be completely free to screw things up on our own—or not.”

Lucy had struggled to sit upright and leaned her forehead against Gray’s.

“So it’s going to be you after all, huh?  I kept thinking how being my friend had messed up your life.”

“Stupid intellectual best-selling author.”

“That… really didn’t make any sense as an insult.  Or just, at all.”

Gray had ignored the comment.  He’d traced his hands—very strong hands, Lucy realized—around Lucy’s face and then down along her neck.  They’d both shivered slightly, although Gray’s hands were cool, not cold.  When his lips had touched hers, Lucy had found herself leaning into the kiss.  It had gone on for some time.

Nah, she’s probably awake.  Gray walked quietly into the apartment’s spacious master bedroom. Lucy was lying in bed staring drowsily up at the ceiling.  As soon as Gray walked in, she sat up, face brightening.

“New chapter right?  I had a feeling your writing would go well this evening!”

Gray eyed her suspiciously. “A feeling?”

Lucy stuck out her tongue at him.  “The Lady Heartfilia spoke with those who have passed,” she said in sepulchral tones. “And they told her that the little plot difficulty with the Spatter-Latter Array would all work out…”

“The Matter—Anti-Matter Array, Luce.  As if you didn’t know.”

“Oh, it was probably the spirits.  They’re not very interested in these things.”

Gray studied Lucy, admiring the golden hair curling over one shoulder.  He decided that he wasn’t very interested either, right at the moment. The new chapter could wait. Probably better to read it over first anyway…

END

Tag team:

@shell-senji @fury-ous @queen-mizera @kazama-hime @hakusaitosan @tealdeertamer @very-x-vice @sabinasanfanfic @walk-tall-my-fr1ends @hakuokifirst @annahakuouki @eliz1369 @canadiangaap @vav-airis @moon-faced-pear-shaped @lady-yomi @thesweateristoobig @nalufever @sanguine-fairy