#which is normal. they sell breakfast foods

[rockafirevevo]

just remembered the denny's breast sign. does anyone know about the denny's breast sign

[primatechnosynthpop]

Travel log: had some fun times today but failed miserably to uphold a respectable meal schedule

[smilesrobotlover]

Whumptober day 12- underground caverns

WOOOO did all this last minute so much so that I didn’t have time to make it any longer! Stay tuned for tomorrow to see what the deal is ;)

Warnings for a mention of blood and flesh and someone hurting his ankle.

~~~~~~

Two days had passed inside the small inn with everyone pitching in to help nurse Rusl and Leon back to health. To Rusl’s dismay, Leon had given up his breakfast and his coat the day they trekked up the mountain for him, and so the first knight was completely out of it, needing care for his lack of self-care. Not to mention the wound in his side that Rusl gave him when he was being controlled by the puppeteer.

With Ammon’s help, the injured men were healing well, with Leon acting more like himself as he recovered. Talon was also recovering, feeling much better and refreshed with rest, food, and knowing that Rusl was recovering well. Overall, things were looking up for the men, but Ammon was beginning to grow worried.

They were running out of rupees, which meant that they would be kicked out soon if they didn’t get more. And Ammon knew that they couldn’t afford to be kicked out. The red potions helped speed up Rusl’s recovery, but he still needed time. So Ammon decided to go out to try to make more rupees, with Linebeck, Benji, and Kass following to help him.

The village was crowded with its residents sitting or running around, and Ammon kept his eyes peeled for someone who would need assistance with anything. Normally, a person in need would give a handsome prize to those that helped them.

The men split up and began searching for ways to make rupees. Ammon helped a cat get down from a roof and fetched apples from the store for an old woman. He overall got ten rupees and five wildberries from it, which was better than nothing, but still not good. After selling the wildberries for fifteen rupees, he decided to search for the others, praying that they had better luck than him.

He found Linebeck first, who was angrily wringing out his overcoat by the fountain. Ammon walked up to him, confusion apparent on his face.

“What happened here?”

Linebeck huffed, laying his coat in the sun. “This guy had me dive into a river to get his stupid chest that he lost! I nearly died!”

“Oh.” Ammon stared at his coat as Linebeck began to wring out his hair.

“Then, the idiot gave me an egg for my ‘efforts’. An egg! What the heck am I supposed to do with an egg?”

“Just sell it.”

“And what will that get me? Huh? Not enough for what I went through! I won’t be able to keep the money anyways!”

Ammon rolled his eyes. “Linebeck we need the money to stay in the inn. What would you even need rupees for anyways?”

“You don’t need to know everything about my life!” Linebeck argued, handing him the egg. It was a golden egg to Ammon’s surprise, and he wondered if it would sell well. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Benji approaching them holding a big bag, looking smug.

“Please tell me those are rupees,” Ammon said, and Benji laughed.

“No, it’s even better than rupees!” Benji reached in and pulled out a seed. “It’s a deku seed! It’ll blind anyone when you throw it!”

Ammon stared, unamused. “Benji, we need rupees, not seeds.”

Benji stared back, glancing at the bag of seeds, before throwing own in front of Ammon. He wasn't lying when he said that it’d blind anyone, because Ammon couldn’t see a thing for a few seconds. When his vision returned, he saw Benji’s stupid face smiling at him, and Ammon glared.

“Don’t do that again! Now sell those so we can get more rupees, dang it!”

Benji pouted and put the bag of useless junk away. “They’ll come in handy someday! Just you see!”

Ammon rolled his eyes and glanced at the golden egg, handing it to Linebeck.

“This is golden, it could sell for fifty rupees at the minimum. Sell it.”

Linebeck huffed and got up from the fountain, trudging his way to shop while Ammon and Benji watched. Goddesses, it felt like Ammon was with his son when he was a teenager. Always distracted by anything that blew up and pouting over everything. An ache to see his son again suddenly appeared in his chest, but he pushed it away, needing to trust that his son will be able to protect himself. Right now, he needed to focus on his friends.

While waiting for Linebeck to return, Ammon spotted Kass walking towards them, cradling his left wing and looking upset. Ammon raised a brow and walked up to him.

“Are you ok?”

Kass’s eyes widened and he forced a smile. “Oh yes! I’m fine… I just… haven’t gotten any rupees.”

“You and everyone else. It’s alright,” Ammon said, turning to glare at Benji. “Benji, make sure you sell those so we can get rupees. Hopefully we’ll get enough for a couple of more days.”

“But—”

“Quit acting like a child and sell them! Right now staying at the inn is the most important thing, not having useless seeds!”

Benji huffed. “These seeds aren’t useless! I showed you what they can do!”

“Sure, they’re not useless if you want to flashbang someone. Sell them.”

Benji groaned and stomped away, leaving Ammon and Kass alone by the fountain. Ammon glanced at Kass and chuckled slightly, who was laughing as well.

“Sometimes I wonder if he’s secretly a child with facial hair,” the rito said, and Ammon nodded.

“I wonder that as well.”

“Excuse me.”

Ammon and Kass turned to see who was talking to them, and an older man was on the opposite side of the fountain, looking frazzled and nervous.

“Hello,” Ammon greeted, hoping that the man had rupees to offer.

“I heard you’re doing jobs around here, yes?” He asked, and Ammon nodded. “I have a job for you, and I’ll pay you a handsome prize for it! I just…I need help.”

Ammon and Kass glanced at each other, and they both nodded.

“Of course, what can we do?”

The man looked relieved and he pointed to the well to the side of town.

“There’s something wrong with the well. When I went to get water, I received a bucket full of blood and flesh!”

Ammon and Kass glanced at each other again, an air of unease falling between them.

“We depend on that well water, so please, find out what’s going on down there, and I’ll pay you!” The man pleaded. Ammon nodded, and rested his hand on the man’s arm.

“We’ll take care of it, do not worry,” he said, and the man smiled.

“Thank you, oh thank you! My home is right by the well, so knock on my door to tell me what’s going on.”

“Of course.”

The man smiled again and walked away, entering what Ammon assumed was his home. He let out a sigh and looked up at Kass, who looked nervous.

“Well, sounds like we have an opportunity to get more rupees, yes?”

Kass nodded, but he didn’t look any less nervous. “Yes, but that’s… horrifying. What could cause the water to turn to blood?”

Ammon shrugged. “It could be a dead animal. Or it could be something that isn’t blood but looks like blood.”

“Yes, but what about the flesh?”

Ammon hummed. “It’s most likely a dead animal in that case. Either way, I hope he does pay well. We could use the rupees.”

Kass nodded and glanced over, spotting Linebeck and Benji walking up to the two.

“How much did you guys get?” Ammon asked, and Linebeck huffed.

“Fifty rupees.”

“I got 25 rupees,” Benji jumped in, and Ammon frowned.

“How many of those seeds did you have?”

“Thirty.”

“Wouldn’t you have thirty rupees then?”

Benji huffed. “I kept some of them, ok?”

Ammon sighed and shrugged. “Well, that’ll buy us two more nights. But we just got a request to investigate the well, so we’ll be doing that.”

“Hopefully we’ll get plenty of rupees from this!” Kass said, and Ammon nodded.

“What are we needing to investigate?” Linebeck asked, and Ammon paused, knowing how the man got around blood.

“We’re—there’s something wrong with the water, so we need to fix it,” he said simply, and Linebeck frowned.

“How’re we gonna do that?”

“No idea, let’s go.”

Ammon led the rest of the men to the well, which looked like a normal well. But when Ammon looked down, he could smell a hint of the metallic smell of blood. No doubt that guy was telling the truth.

“Oh goddesses, what is that smell?” Benji asked, pinching his nose.

“Clearly whatever’s causing the bad water,” Ammon answered, and hopped over the edge, grabbing onto the ladder on the side. “Now come on.”

The other men followed reluctantly, and Ammon hit the bottom with a splash. He looked around where he was, feeling cramped inside the small well and wondering how all of them were going to fit comfortably. Benji landed next, his eyes narrowed as he observed the well.

“I’m no wellologist, but shouldn’t there be…I dunno…water?” He asked, kicking the shallow water before him. Ammon frowned and nodded, also feeling strange at how little water there was. He knelt to the ground just as Linebeck reached them, dipping his hands into the little puddles of water around him. Where he was expecting blood, he only got normal well water. Strange.

Benji nearly toppled onto him causing Ammon to fall onto his hands for support. He turned and saw Benji and Linebeck both staring at Kass, who was clearly taking up too much space.

“I–Um… I’m so sorry,” the rito mumbled, holding his wings close to him.

“It’s alright, Kass,” Ammon said, and Linebeck rubbed his head, staring at the stone around them.

“Yeah, but do we all need to be here?” Linebeck asked, leaning against the ladder. “Seems a bit crowded down here.”

“I suppose you’re right, Linebeck. I doubt we need everyone here. Two of you can go up above and wait.”

Linebeck stared at the ladder, as did Benji, and the two raced to climb it first.

“Get off!” Linebeck grunted, trying to shove him down the ladder, but Benji remained stubborn.

“I was here first!” Benji grunted back, the two fighting while Ammon stared bemused.

“Guys, I said two of you can go up, not one. There’s no need to fi—”

The step Benji was on suddenly snapped, and the short man yelped as he fell backwards, tumbling until he hit the stone wall. Except, to Ammon’s surprise, he didn’t stop rolling. Instead he phased through the wall and vanished before their very eyes. The men all stared in shock, it being silent for a long moment.

“W-what the f— did-did you guys see that?” Linebeck asked after jumping off the ladder, his hands in his hair. “BENJI! I’M SORRY, ARE YOU OK?”

It was silent for another minute until a strained voice from beyond the wall spoke.

“I think I twisted my ankle.”

The men all glanced at each other, and Ammon stepped towards the wall, putting his hand against it. Just like Benji, it went through as if nothing were there, and he poked his head through to see his friend laying on the ground, an uncomfortable look on his face. The two made eye contact and Benji forced a smile and a thumbs-up.

“So there’s a trick wall I guess,” he said, his voice sim pain. Ammon glanced down at his ankles and frowned, kneeling to observe them.

“Are you alright?”

“I don’t know, my ankle kinda hurts,” Benji mumbled, and based on the pain in his voice, it seemed like he wasn’t overreacting.

“Well, it’s best if you stay off of it for now—”

“Oh my.”

Ammon looked up to see Linebeck and Kass poking their heads through the strange fake wall, staring at the view ahead of them. He turned to look as well, noticing the large cavern right in front of him. There was more water, but it was a sickly green that shined against the torches lighting up the area. In the distance, a strange floating skull floated around, not noticing the group of men. Ammon stood up and drew his sword, a sense of dread overwhelming him.

“Come on guys,” he mumbled, stepping towards a platform within the water. He hopped over to it and gestured for the others to follow, though they only sat there.

“Ammon is—is the option to go back up still on the table?” Linebeck asked, his voice cracking, and Ammon frowned.

“No. There’s more than enough room down here, now grab Benji and get over here.”

“Why do I have to?”

“Because you’re the reason he’s hurt in the first place, now get over here!”

Linebeck huffed and stepped out from the wall staring at Benji as he was a pile of dirt.

“Get over here, baby,” Benji said with a grin, and Linebeck physically recoiled, grabbing him as if he were a piece of seaweed covered in slimy gunk.

“Why can’t you just be normal,” he grumbled, getting the man on his back and standing up straight.

“You did this to yourself. Now carry me, big boy.”

Linebeck groaned and clumsily hopped over to where Ammon was, and Kass finally did the same, still holding his wing gingerly. Ammon raised a brow but didn’t comment on it, only moving further into the cavern. It was strange at how such a place could exist underneath the village, and Ammon couldn’t help but wonder why such a place existed. It was empty save for the flying skull, and the occasional dripping sound rang out through the cavern. Ammon turned to the rest of the men and nodded, pointing down a hallway.

“Let’s go find whatever’s causing the water to be ruined.”

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Could you make a part 2 for Okita x Harpy! Reader?

-Okita was unsure of what to do with you, after you had moved in with him months ago, you were such a bird brain, but you were also so warm and cheerful, always trying to help, even if it didn’t always work.

-You loved meeting Kondo, Raiden, and Kojiro, Okita’s friends, greeting them all so warmly and brightly and they were surprised that you were calling Okita your husband, which always embarrassed him.

-They knew you were a bird brain too after you were so happy to meet Hubby’s friends and you went to help him go get snacks, and you took three steps then froze, seeing these three unknown people in the house, tilting your head to the side, “Who are you?”

-As time went on, Okita learned to appreciate you, as you were a skilled hunter, bringing home fish and game, which he would take to the butchers to get meat and sell things like the hide, getting some extra money.

-However, nothing could prepare him for when he arrived home one day with his friends, as you all were going to go out to eat after he cleaned up from training, when you looked apprehensive, peeking around the corner at them.

-Okita knew something was up when you didn’t fly into his arms like normal, welcoming him home, “Y/N? What’s wrong?” you stepped out, wearing a dress and not your normal clothes, “Y/N is going to lay an egg!”

-Everything froze as everyone turned white before all eyes went to Okita, thinking he had impregnated you, while his soul was escaping through his mouth, unsure of how to respond.

-It was Thrud, after Raiden panic called her, who explained that harpies like you would lay eggs a few times a year, but they would be unfertilized, basically being a giant chicken egg.

-You were shaking Okita, who was still in shock, telling him to wake up as he was laying face down in the living room, as Thrud explained that he needed to make sure you were comfortable because if something happened you could become eggbound which could put you at risk and if that happened he would need to bring you to the Valkyries who knew how to help.

-The three other warriors left with Kojiro telling you he would bring by some food for you both later and you cheered, thanking him before you returned to your husband.

-After dinner, Okita made you comfortable, making sure you had blankets and pillows, and you couldn’t help but melt into them, enjoying the lovely nest he had made for you before you opened your arms to him, demanding cuddles.

-He was hesitant, but did as you asked, hugging you and the nest was very comfortable, and he didn’t realize he had fallen asleep until he jolted awake several hours later to something cooking and found you nowhere to be found.

-He went to the kitchen, seeing you doing your best making him breakfast, some rice and eggs, despite it being a little burnt and he smiled, joining you for breakfast, noticing you seemed back to normal.

-He ate, finding the eggs were tasty, “Did you do something to the eggs- they taste better than normal?” you shook your head, beaming brightly, “Y/N’s eggs are always tasty!”

-Okita froze, looking down at his empty bowl, “Did we eat your egg?” you nodded brightly, not at all bothered, “Yup! Y/N’s eggs always make good breakfast! Y/N is glad that Hubby likes them- Hubby?”

-Okita had turned all white again, his soul leaving from his mouth, in shock that he had eaten your egg, once again unsure how to respond to this as you went to get seconds.

[sinelanguage]

i propose lusan and 30 + 45 :excellentemoji:

This is not how Sanji expected this island adventure to go down. 

When the Sunny ported at an idyllic spring island in the middle of an annual festival dedicated to romance, Sanji thought he was in a dream. Everywhere he looked there was a romantic vignette, from the secluded benches with perfect cliffside views off the water to the countless intimate restaurants with oceanside seating. There were food stalls up and down the island’s main road, all selling unique specialities the likes of which Sanji had never seen before. 

There’s never been an island that appealed to Sanji more specifically than this. It's perfect.

And yet he doesn’t get to experience the perfect night of romance with one of the lovely women on the island. No, instead he’s stuck with Luffy.

As soon as they port, Luffy drags him around by the arm and says they’re going on an adventure today, and despite Sanji’s very loud and desperate protests Sanji’s along for the ride. Everyone else on the crew had already left, leaving him the only one to make sure Luffy didn’t either piss off someone important or eat something inedible. 

And despite Sanji’s best efforts, Luffy still eats something inedible. It’s a pastry from a shop that forbad Devil Fruit users from buying anything, and yet Luffy still did. The pastry makes him wrinkle up like a salted snail, and the only cure is apparently a goodnight’s sleep.

What a damn joke.

And so instead of enjoying the festival, sampling the cuisine, romancing the women of the island, Sanji drags a half-catatonic Luffy to the nearest inn so he could sleep off his mistake. 

“So, what? Typical suite?” The inn clerk says, bored. He pages through a book in front of him, not even looking Sanji in the eyes. 

Maybe fighting the inn clerk would make him feel better, but no. He’s on a mission here. Sanji takes one deep breath in and one long breath out.

“One typical suite,” he grits out, throwing a handful of Berri on the counter. Luffy almost falls off his shoulder as he does. “For whatever room you have that’s already set up, I don’t care as long as it’s available now.”

The clerk shuffles through his desk without even looking away from his book, fumbling around until he plucks out a small key with a large pink heart keychain with Room 15 engraved on the front. It chimes loudly as Sanji grabs the thing and shoves it into his pocket. 

“Thanks,” Sanji says. The clerk simply grunts. 

Dragging around an ungrateful Luffy, Sanji ignores any and all protests on his mission to find the room. Each of the doors are brightly colored with little hearts engraved around the side, and it doesn’t take him long to find Room 15.

The door opens easily, creaking up slowly. Shoving Luffy inside, he flops on the ground as Sanji shuts the door behind him. He locks it for good measure, shoves the key as deep into his pocket as he can considering how large the heart keychain is, and takes a look at the room. 

The room is lit only by candlelight, soft flames make the pastels of the walls and decor glow. Despite the obnoxious size of the keychain, the theming of the room is remarkably subtle by comparison; it’s a normal inn with dark wood furnishings and soft floral touches, and one tall, floor to ceiling window with an unobstructed view of the ocean. The smell’s subtle, too, a soft seabreeze with a hint of floral.

Okay, fine. Things are looking up for him, he and Luffy can get a goodnight’s sleep, Sanji can wake up early in the morning, and he can explore the island to his heart’s content. A romantic breakfast isn’t as ideal as a romantic dinner, but he’ll take what he can get. He looks around the room for the beds, and–

With a jolt, Sanji realizes that there’s only one bed.

That makes a remarkable amount of sense. Of course. Of course this is a typical suite on the island of romance. It’s perfect and lovely and he’s here with Luffy. It makes Sanji want to cry on the floor and drown in a puddle of his own tears. 

“Hey, Sanji,” Luffy calls from the floor; he still links wrinkly, but at least he’s talking again. “Sanji, where are we? What happened to the food? And the festival? We were having so much fun.”

“You ate poison, dumbass,” Sanji says. He picks Luffy up by the scruff and sets him down on the edge of the bed, watching as he practically melts into it. Before he has the chance to crush it, Sanji takes off Luffy’s hat and sets it on the dresser. “You need to sleep it off.”

“That’s so lame,” Luffy says, flopping down on the bed. He tries uselessly to grab at Sanji, he’s still wrinkly and weak. “I wanted to do the whole festival.”

So had Sanji; in retrospect, Luffy dragging him around did mean he got to experience as much of the island’s food as possible. Every booth had its own specialty, from freshly seared meats to delicate pastries, and Luffy made sure to drag him along to every single one of them. That was somewhat unusual in itself; Sanji expected him to stay by the barbeque and eat the island’s entire stock of meat, but instead they got the full sample of the island. 

Including the mysterious pastry that somehow took Luffy out of commission. 

“You’ll have time in the morning, as long as you don’t eat anything stupid again,” he says. He takes off Luffy’s shoes then shoves him further up the bed so he’s not hanging half off of it. “What even possessed you to eat that thing? There were plenty of warning signs saying Devil Fruit users shouldn’t buy them.”

“But I wanted to try everything with you,” Luffy complains. “Isn’t that what you wanted to do?”

Sanji snorts. “Yeah, well, unlike you, I didn’t turn into a snail after eating a croissant.”

The noise of complaint Luffy makes is as passionate as it is pathetic.

Sanji could probably leave Luffy now; he’s fine. He’s probably fine, Sanji doesn’t need to babysit him all night. He can enjoy himself on the island himself, like he planned on. 

Luffy tries to hold himself up by his forearms, then falls back down onto the bed with a pathetic groan. He looks truly miserable, his hair mussed unevenly and his skin still wrinkly. He's like a fish set out to dry.

No, there’s no way Sanji could just leave him here. With a dejected sigh, he starts taking off his shoes, and then his tie, setting them together with Luffy’s hat on the dresser. They don’t have actual sleepwear, so just that will have to do. 

“Get under the covers and scoot over,” Sanji says. “We’ll finish the festival in the morning, okay?”

With a hum of agreement, Luffy squirms around the bed until he’s halfway under the covers. He doesn’t seem to be able to manage much more, pouting up at Sanji with his cheek pressed into the bed, one leg fully over the covers and the other just over them.

“Idiot,” Sanji grumbles again, scooting himself in bed right beside Luffy, trying to get the entire bedspread over them both. “You can’t pout, this is your damn fault.”

As soon as Sanji’s horizontal under the covers, Luffy whines and clings to him as much as he’s able to. It amounts to one arm over Sanji’s chest and his nose pressed into his shoulder, his legs still not fully under the covers with how much he’s squirming. 

“But you had fun, right?” Luffy asks, his breath hot against Sanji’s shoulder. “You liked the, uh…” he struggles; Sanji can feel him frowning. “You liked the fruit things. The lemon dragon one.”

“The dragon fruit tart with lemon curd,” he says. He did like those best; the flavor profile was unusual, and he bought a second one just to examine how the baker flavored the tart crust itself with lemon zest, just subtle enough to compliment the curd. “Yeah, I liked those best.”

He’s expecting Luffy to go on, but instead he doesn’t. Then, there’s a loud snore in his ear, and Sanji realizes he’s fallen fast asleep. 

Well, he’s not sneaking away now. So much for Sanji’s adventure on the island of romance; the place offered so much promise, too. Each of the food stalls he and Luffy visited were perfect, and if Luffy hadn’t been taken out of commission, they’d have toured the entire island before nightfall. 

Despite Luffy’s typical reckless adventure, he’d even taken the time to bundle up their snacks to some of the better lookout points, too. His mouth watered the whole time, like he was ready to pounce, but grumbled and dragged Sanji up to one of the benches with a view of the water. They’d eaten their tarts, there, Sanji chattering the whole time about how this island had the perfect conditions for fruit trees. 

It was, frankly, nice. Sanji wished he’d gotten his perfect date, but really, he’d have just done everything Luffy took him on today. 

The soft sound of the waves outside is barely audible over the sound of Sanji’s heart in his own throat. That wasn’t– that wasn’t Luffy’s ideal adventure, Luffy had taken him on Sanji’s perfect adventure, from going to every single food cart to trying everything he could, even if he didn’t like it, up to and including a pastry that made him wrinkle up.

This was a date, wasn’t it? And Sanji didn't mind. Actually, he rather enjoyed it, up until Luffy took himself out of commission. He’d been so disappointed about the night ending, he hadn’t even thought about the details before.

Luffy mumbles something incomprehensible in his sleep, pressing up further into Sanji. Sanji can’t seem to calm down, his face heating as he realizes Luffy essentially took him on a date, and Sanji booked them a room in what amounts to a romantic honeymoon suite. 

“Shit.” Luffy grumbles beside him, holding him closer. “Oh, no,” Sanji says. He just went on a romantic date? With Luffy? “What the hell.”

He hadn’t minded the date. He really hadn’t minded the date, and Sanji has a bad feeling that the thought is going to keep him up all night, and ruin his chances of a date with anyone other than Luffy in the morning. 

Groaning, he tries to force his eyes closed, listening to the gentle sound of waves and Luffy’s considerably less gentle snoring. Then, in a moment of pure curiosity and self indulgence, Sanji puts one hand on Luffy’s head, carding his fingers through his hair. He makes a satisfied sigh, and Sanji’s heart races without his permission. 

Oh, no.

This is not how Sanji expected this island adventure to go.

[igglemouse]

I'm really not sure what I would have said to my parents if they were still around today. Maybe, no? Yeah, I think that is it. Just no. I wonder if they ever took a moment to think about what their actions might mean for me, their little girl and my future?

I guess I could ask? There are many spells that might allow one to speak to the dead but...

But I should not dwell too much on what could be and what could have been since it no longer matters today. From all that I know, they did love me, very much, but they loved their ambition a little more I suppose.

Either way, the result is the same. Me being here having a lame salad for breakfast and wishing I could be more accepted amongst the magical community.

Normally a spell caster would make simoleons through magic. Nothing crazy you know, we'd get licensed by groups to do this or that, within the realms of our needs of course, and then we split the income with the realm...but that isn't me. I'll have to come out here every day and collect things to try to make a simoleon or two. Perhaps one day I'll strike gold? Yeah, not likely with my luck.

I could get into more reliable jobs, quick tasks that pay out immediately like paper delivery or food delivery or, yeah, not where I thought my life would be. "Hey little Grace, what would you like to be when you grow up?" a paper delivery girl! Heh.

This is why it's important for me to sell my jewelry. It's not going for much because there isn't much of a brand behind it but it's good enough for right now. It's good enough to push me into the next day and the one after that and the one after that.

But despite not having no tutor or structured setting in which to learn magic I've decided that it won't stop me at all from trying it. As you might be able to tell, I'm not getting very far. Just more sparkly sparks.

With little motivation to do much else I find myself back outside and collecting rocks. Look, I'm young and able and so I may as well make the most of it and besides, I always need as many shiny rocks as possible for my jewelry.

And the day goes on with more collecting...

Before I knew it night had arrived. The moon showing half of its face and letting me know that it was probably time for me to head home.

Too bad I'm usually not one to listen to rules.

And so, with no lessons learned and with little to lose I head back into the castle. The doors were still unlocked and the lights were still lit but most importantly...

Tonight I would learn who was occupying this castle...

Episode List - Next Episode

[klbwriting]

Who Am I Really?

Chapter 3

Fandom: Aquaman

Pairing: Ormxfemale!Reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Orm and YN settle into a day at the shelter while trying to figure out who he is

The first day with YN at her shelter was fascinating for Orm. After breakfast she took him to see the cats where they started fixing up their area. There were around 6 cats and 3 kittens right now and they all needed litter changed, water, and food refills. She was patient as Orm couldn’t remember ever seeing a cat before. She taught him how to measure the right amount of food per cat, how to figure out if any were on a special diet, and how to clean litter, which was the worst thing he’d ever experienced. She laughed at his face when the smell hit his nose.

“Sorry, sometimes Goose has tummy trouble,” YN said as she cuddled the black and white kitten while he worked. “I’ll get the next one and then we can move on to the dogs. I have a couple volunteers coming in to walk some today, maybe we can ask them if any of them know you from town.” Orm nodded but had a feeling no one knew who he was. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t a metahuman, that he was human at all.

The dogs were not much better smelling than the cats. They cleaned kennels, fed, and watered them and took a few into the play yard to run around. As volunteers arrived YN led them to meet Orm, explaining about him having an accident on a hike, the cover story they had come up with, and asking if they knew who he was or had seen him before. Just as he suspected no one had, but YN was undeterred.

“That’s fine,” she said as they were bathing a large German Shepard after most of the day was over. “We will go into town tonight, walk around, see if anyone put up missing posters or possibly just knows you on sight. How about we go to the mall? Its big and there’s a lot of people, do you think you could handle that? I don’t want to overwhelm you.” Orm thought about it as he caressed the animals head, keeping the boy calm as he was rinsed. The mall didn’t seem like a place he wanted to go, but it might help find someone who knows him. He should probably get it over with.

“Should be fine,” he said. YN noticed he was less than enthused and flicked some water at him. He jumped at the surprise and his mouth fell open before he started laughing. There was a sink near him for smaller animals, so he turned on the tap, got his hand wet and flicked water at her too. When he put his hand back under for more, he noticed the instant boost he got at the feeling off the water. It was invigorating, making him feel stronger than he had ever felt. It was heavenly. YN watched him closely.

“You must love the water,” she said. He looked over, not noticing that he had been entranced by it for longer than normal. He nodded. “Good, you won’t mind this then.” She turned the hose on him and sprayed his face. He sputtered from the sudden wet and then laughed and it felt good. He knew he didn’t have memories, but he felt like he hadn’t laughed like that in a long, long time. Maybe he never laughed, maybe he was miserable or angry, but right now, he wasn’t that. It felt good to laugh.

After finishing with the animals and closing up for the evening YN drove Orm to the mall. He hated it instantly. So many people, so much noise, so much excess. He didn’t know why he was bothered by how much stuff was around but he was. YN seemed to notice his annoyance and led him towards a cart that was selling food.

“I am starving,” she said. “What about you? You think you’re more salty or sweet?” Orm furrowed his brow, looking at the baked treats. Pretzels, his mind remembered that word without prompting. He was trying to figure out what he could remember, how to do basic things, how to read the language here, how to talk, and what he couldn’t remember, his name, past, family. He was trying desperately to pull anything out of his brain to help but nothing was coming. He sighed. “Don’t like pretzels?”

“No, I was lost in my mind,” he said. She looked at him with sympathy, but not pity, it was nice, he hated pity. Well, there was something he remembered. She reached out and took his hand. He felt a small spark in her touch and looked at her. She smiled back at him, and he almost moved closer but the guy at the counter asked for their order.

“2 regular pretzel sticks and 2 cinnamon sugar sticks,” YN said. She pulled her hand away to pay and Orm noticed the gap it left in his hand. Her hand should fill his, that’s all there was to it. She was here with him because she was made for him. And he was for her. Where was all this coming from? Why did he feel this way? She finished paying and he took the offered snacks. They walked towards the stores, and he watched her bite one before taking a bite of his small one. Butter, salt, bread, all tasted amazing on his tongue.

“These are good,” he said, taking a bite out of the sugar one. She nodded. “These are pretzels…”

“Yup, and maybe when we finish walking around we can get you more and try cheese sauce, will change your life,” she said. Orm chuckled. “While we’re here let’s stop and get you some more clothes, you look a little rumpled in those.” Orm looked at what he had been wearing for at least 2 days now. Ya, he could use a change. She led him into what she called a relatively cheap department store. She was asking people as they walked by if they might know him and checking any pieces of paper or notices on walls as they went. She cared so deeply that he be found, that if he had a family that they know he was ok. He was almost hoping he didn’t have anyone; he didn’t want to leave her side. He knew that his emotions couldn’t be trusted right now, anything could easily influence him, but he still had these feelings for her, and he didn’t want to leave her.

“So, clothes, anything?” he asked, motioning to the hundreds of items available. She looked at him, surveying his figure and honestly, enjoying her view, before walking with him and selecting some things. Once she had a few days’ worth of outfits she left him to try things on and find out right sizing. He wasn’t sure what else she did but when he came back out, she had some packets of other basics for him. “Are you sure you want to spend all this money on me?”

“Yes, because if I don’t, you’re going to start smelling like my dogs and I deal with that enough,” she said, a teasing smile on her face. Orm shot her a fake glare and she laughed. It was such a beautiful sound. They bought the clothes and decided to get out of there, heading home. YN couldn’t deny she was falling head over heels for this mysterious visitor. She would still do her best to find his family, help him get home, but deep inside, where her selfish impulses lay, she hoped she could keep him.

[zaceouiswriting]

Fairy Prince - Hearts of Leviathans - Ch.28

Character: Sky x male reader, Riven x male reader, Brandon x male reader

Universe: Somewhere in Winx Club/Saga

Warnings: None

Getting rid of those three idiots seems impossible. For some reason, they won't leave me, as if I were an unstable lunatic. I may not be as stable as I'd like to be, but this? It's only a matter of time before I'm back to normal. I'm sure of it.

They even follow me into the canteen, which I can finally see from the inside. The warm light shining on my skin feels good, and the plants on all the walls make the room appear larger.

There aren't many people left, except for a few specialists who were probably waiting for the fairies to finish eating. Luckily, I still have about half an hour before class starts, so I should be able to eat in peace.

Through a large window, I can see a Malciol tree with its purple leaves and blue fruits, which stands in the middle of the inner garden of this old school as a symbol of a hopeful future. Previously, I only knew these trees from history books. Even though these trees originate from my home world, they became extinct after the catastrophe. As far as I know, the tree in this school is one of the last. All these years since the catastrophe, we have only been able to survive thanks to imports from other worlds. We once had one of the most fertile worlds in the magical dimension. Only Solaria and a few other worlds were more fertile. Although we needed all of it back then to feed our large population and save for unforeseen circumstances, Solaria produces huge amounts of food and sells hundreds of millions of tons more than their population every year. They haven't had a bad harvest in ages.

Although that's all well and good for them, now that I remember everything again, the anger I feel towards them and all the other worlds that left us to fight our war alone makes me so much more furious than I can explain. I would never have willingly fought the Princess of Solaria because her father and mother were kind to me. For the great one's sake, I even went to her mother's funeral when we were children, yet they still let us die.

Dark thoughts begin to cloud my mind. What I want to do to her peaceful world is take revenge for letting so many of my countrymen die like pigs on the slaughter table. Even though I know it's not entirely her fault, I would still like to see her world burn.

Suddenly, a slight nudge from the side pulls me out of my devastating thoughts. Worried eyes look down at me. It's almost as if this puppy giant can sense other people's emotions. How annoying. What is this guy?

Even though neither of us said anything, I'm still grateful he is here and is keeping me in check. Despite this, I still feel unwell, but I know I have to get going or I'll never learn anything. Thanks to everything that's happened, I'm already about two weeks behind everyone else.

At first, I didn't notice it, but only Sky and I were endlessly filling our plates, from pancakes to waffles and even ice cream. Who in the world eats ice cream for breakfast? Out of the blue, Sky plops a scoop of the same ice cream on my waffles. I glance at him sideways and see him smiling at me kindly, making me blush ever so slightly. Maybe this is his weird way of checking on me? I mean, it could be worse. I love food, but this still wouldn't get him back in my good graces.

With our mountains of food on our plates, we stroll to one of the tables where Brandon and Riven are already sitting. But as we sit down, I can already feel the two of them staring at us with disapproving gazes.

"You too?" Brandon asks, exasperated. Confused, I look at Sky, who looks away in embarrassment.

“What?” My voice is barely above a whisper, as my body is still sore from earlier.

Chuckling under his breath, Riven points his fork at my plate. "He's talking about the mountain you're about to eat. Do you really think you need that much food?"

Feeling insulted at my love of food, I give him the middle finger before diving into heavenly warm waffles with ice cream. Biting into them feels and tastes like a cloud if you could eat it. As I happily chewed on it, I couldn't help but groan in excitement. But when I open my eyes again, I feel strangely watched: the whole room has become silent, and all eyes are on me.

"What?" I hear myself snapping at them before I realize it. "Never seen anyone enjoy their food? Besides"- I turn to Riven and Brandon- "Isn't it a little pathetic to judge someone by how much they eat? Both Sky and I are more than healthy, but maybe you should think about your training; are you doing enough that you only need this little bit of food, or is your training schedule as pathetic as your manners?“

The vicious looks quickly turned to pure shock. I hold my head up and grin at them as the rest of the cafeteria starts to laugh, muttering about how I destroyed them. All that matters to me right now is that Sky is comfortable with what I have said. So I steal a glance at him, but all I see is him staring at me with his mouth open and his cheeks brightly glowing.

But as always, Sky is my knight in shining armor in times of need; without a word, he hands me a bar. I look at him quizzically, but he doesn't answer my silent question. He only smiles gently. He pats the others on the shoulder who hadn't finished their smaller plates and leaves me alone with the strange bar in my hand and all the plates on the table. Did they really leave me alone with their shit?

Grumbling and feeling pretty pissed off, I put everything back and threw the leftovers away. Of course, I separate everything so that some can be used as fertilizer for the fields behind the building.

Only after I had done that could I leave the cafeteria. In the doorway to the cafeteria, I said goodbye to the specialists, who were happily eating but still warmly returned the favor. This surprised me and even left me speechless, but it soon made me smile.

Back in the hallway, which feels strangely warmer than before, I pull the paper I earlier received out of my pocket. When I see the room number "403," I start looking for it. I could easily ask the building for directions, but I have to get my bearings back somehow.

However, I quickly realized that I should have put my pride aside and just asked the building for directions, because after wandering around the building for a few minutes, I hadn't seen any room with the four hundred! Not once! What the fuck is this place? How can it be impossible to find a room? I'm not only stressed but also annoyed.

Besides that, I haven't seen any other fairies either. Are they hiding somewhere? Are they playing with me, or do they still believe the rumors? I swear, if they go back to their earlier behavior, I will destroy them all! They humiliated me enough by calling me names.

My anger slowly turns into mild panic. Even though I don't really care about learning, I don't want to be seen as an idiot who fought to be accepted only to never be seen in a classroom.

As I walk through the long, wide corridors of this old school and look over the ornate walls, I suddenly remember the maids and butlers I saw when we arrived but who have since seemingly disappeared.

This thought quickly makes me uncomfortable. I feel the paranoia creeping up inside me. How can so many people disappear?

As I sink deeper into these thoughts, I move closer to the walls when suddenly waves of fear crash onto me, almost sweeping me away. It would have happened if a gentle voice hadn't called me. I didn't even notice that I had covered my ears, closed my eyes, or even started to crouch against the wall at a 90-degree angle.

Somehow, that gentle voice, sounding almost like honey, can pull me out of these devastating thoughts. Yet I couldn't open my eyes or take my hands away from my ears, afraid that the person would judge me for my weakness. Despite everything, that gentle, soft little hand caresses my head, leaving me so stunned that I can only stand there, unable to think of anything.

"Can you take a deep breath for me?" I hear her voice ringing through my hands, but I can only shake my head, even though I feel a little dizzy already. "Then can you open your eyes?"

I gather all my remaining strength and do as the voice asks. The brightness, which has not changed in the slightest, suddenly overwhelms me as if I have never seen it before, but that is not the case; it is the same light as before panic rose within me. Besides the bright lights, I see fiery red hair hanging in my vision, shining almost like flames of the "Eternal Flame" sitting hidden deep in a temple on a frozen world.

Her smile is so warm and inviting that I've almost forgotten all my problems. But my memory quickly returns. She's the girl who's always with Stella, or at least the few times I've actively seen her. But there is none of the disgust in her eyes that I had seen before, or at least thought I had seen. At the moment, I am unsure about many things. Maybe I just imagined it.

[Masterlist]

[curseofthebloodcountess]

When I was a child, we would drive to Laredo to spend weekends and holidays with my grandparents. My grandmother had a beautiful garden. She had a fig tree and two orange trees in the front. In the back, a veritable jungle grew in meticulously planted pathways, leaving just enough space for lawn games, plastic pink flamingos, and my swing set. The porch was a humid paradise, shrouded with see-through plastic tarps to keep out rain. She had bird feeders and hummingbird feeders and she would get so angry when we played too roughly too close to her flowers. When old age forced her and my grandfather to sell the house, the plants came with them to San Antonio, but the second garden lacked the first's finesse. It was dominated by crepe myrtles that came with the house and a pedestal and trellis that featured a statue of the Virgin Mary. A bad thunderstorm blew through and knocked the Virgin Mary to the ground, severing her sculpted head. My grandmother put her severed head up, and proudly displayed her in the front lawn, which always felt like a testament to her unshakable faith and a warning to the neighbors that a crazy woman lived there. It was a little sad, too, but I don't want to be sad about it. Instead, I want to think about how she would yell at my father, her son-in-law, for mowing the grass too short after my grandfather died, but privately, she would tell us how glad she was that my father was a "sweet boy" who would come over to help. She couldn't care for her garden much by then, but we all tried to help.

The plants came from all over - Home Depot, the grocery store, a neighbor's yard... And often, out of state and out of the country. The number of times I sat in the back of my grandparents' Crown Victoria with illegal produce and plant cuttings, crossing the border from Mexico to Texas was a non-zero number. I didn't know until I was much older that it wasn't normal to hide your oranges from border patrol, much in the same way that I didn't know until I was much older that my grandmother had also hidden the Mexico trips from my mother for twenty years.

She could make anything grow. I don't know how she did it. She would see a plant she liked the look of on a walk and she would take the finest clipping of it, so small the owner would never notice, and within a month, she'd have a bigger, better version of that plant in her yard. When my mom was growing up, she had a lot filled with fruits and vegetables to keep the household fed. Her kids would tend to it but if they didn't do it just right, she had no patience for them. I think after decades of growing food - of working the fields, of subsistence farming - she relished having a pleasure garden, full of nothing but flowers.

She passed when I was in high school. She was a fierce, difficult woman, who was as tough and sweet as fruit leather. She loved me and I love her. I can't bring myself to say "loved". I love her still.

So I gave her garden to my arcane trickster rogue, Gisele Domencyzk, who cultivates plants from every corner of the Dark Domains just to make her baby sister smile. She has smuggled bouquets from Borca. She has grown daffodils from Dementlieu. She's brought all her plants to sunless Barovia, using magic items and spell scrolls to keep the garden alive. And, yes, she has the severed head of Ezra the Blind of the Mists displayed proudly amidst it all. Why shouldn't she?

I don't know that my grandmother would understand or appreciate my little tribute to her. I just know that it matters to me that my rogue, who has worked and grown in impossible circumstances and thrived in her own way makes me feel that much closer to someone I loved and lost a long time ago. I know it's silly, but I think of her sister, Ophelia, and I remember the taste of scrambled eggs made with the creamiest half-n-half for breakfast and the feeling of cold tile under my feet and wicker furniture I never liked biting into my skin. I think of being loved unconditionally and being the product of women's choices (hers, my mother's later) to make a better life out of nothing.. I think of how a 5-foot-nothing old lady was more than happy to lie to officers of the law to bring the sweetest oranges home to the people she loved.

And I feel loved all over again, getting to take a piece of her forward to tell stories with my friends.

[chertila3000]

Well, a small mini bonus with the circus brothers. Since they are rodents, meat dishes are closed to them, they simply cannot digest them and their stomach rejects it, but at the same time they calmly eat eggs and dairy products.

Because of his depression, Oswald ate quite a bit and his relatives sometimes had to almost force him to eat at least a small piece. Contrary to stereotypes, the rabbit does not like carrots, or rather, he is indifferent to them and prefers celery to them. Favorite food: blueberries. Despite the fact that he is already recovering from his drooping state, he still eats little. As a rule, these are vegetable broths with glass (rice) noodles and mushrooms. He is close to Korean cuisine, which includes a lot of rice, all sorts of roots and vegetables (excluding all meat and seafood). It is difficult to associate him with establishments, since the rabbit likes to eat alone and in silence (which is quite difficult to do with a bunch of children) But if you choose, then these will be Asian establishments in a format where a stove is built into the table or a huge pot of broth is placed and the guest cooks for himself. Well, or these fairs with a bunch of tents. where there is food for every taste.

His brother, on the contrary, is stereotypical and loves cheese, of course not as ardently as some of his brothers, but an egg and cheese sandwich for breakfast is already a tradition. And so Mickey eats everything that I sell at their circus: popcorn, cotton candy, candy and other sweets, sometimes forgetting about the existence of “normal food” And so Donald often has to keep an eye on both of them, because one brother eats almost nothing and needs to be forced to do it, and the second takes everything he can get his hands on into his mouth. The duck himself is not picky and eats whatever is given, but he has a great love for boiled corn on the cob with butter and spices.

Translation: - "celery + tomato" - "loves blueberries" - "Spinach salad" - "Rice noodles with mushrooms" - "Tofu with natto" - "Cheese soup" - "Cheese balls" - "Egg and cheese sandwich" - "Candy and popcorn"

[donnetellotheturtle]

Siren

Chapter 9

When Hugo woke up, Varian was gone. Hugo rubbed his eyes as he laid up.

“…Goggles?”

There was no reply. Hugo grabbed his glasses from the table, and found a note.

Hugo,

I went to get a head start on work today. I’m in the painters room if you need me, and Lance is serving breakfast on deck if you’re hungry.

Love,

Varian

P.S

Thanks for last night. Usually I have to deal with those episodes all alone…it was nice having you around.

Hugo smiled softly, then got up and stretched, work with Varian today, and find that moon ring tonight. By Hugo’s approximations they should be in the Kalder pods territory in two weeks. It was just before they hit Rosas port.

He'd ask around, see if anyone knew about it. Subtly though, as to not cause suspicions. He went over to the bucket of sea water and splashed himself quickly before changing into his normal attire.

He felt his stomach grumble and figured he’d made his way over to the deck.

A bunch of crewmen were up and about as he got up to the deck. He could smell food and he turned to see that Lance was cooking meat on something that looked to be a Varian creation.

“Hey!” Lance said. “You hungry?”

Hugo nodded.

“What do you feel like?”

Hugo thought for a second. He didn’t really know much about land food. “…Surprise me.”

Lance lit up at that.

Hugo ended up muching on something called French toast and bacon. It was delicious. He made his way down to the painters room as he finished the last piece of bacon, plate abandoned in the dirty dishes pile.

He knocked on the door before coming in.

Varian was humming as he worked on his personal project of a water breathing potion. He must have gotten done with the balancing and the machine tune ups. His voice still sounded like a siren.

Hugo smiled and closed the door.

“Hey sweetcheeks.”

Varian stopped humming, and then smiled at Hugo.

“Hey. Did you see my note?”

“I did. Lance made me French toast and bacon. It was delicious.”

Varian chuckled, adjusting the goggles on his head. “I’m glad you liked it. Do you want to help with this? I have some formulas that need some reworking.”

Hugo nodded softly, wrapping his arms around Varians back as he looked over the sheet.

“Hugo?”

“Hm?”

“this isnt working on the formulas.”

“I can look at them as I hold you.” Hugo said, smirking into Varians ear.

Varian giggled, leaning back into Hugos embrace as he got the formula and put it in Hugo’s hand. Hugo didn’t let go, just using one hand to look it over.

“Hm. This is like a transformation potion back home.”

“What do you mean?”

“Not all merpeople can shapeshift naturally. Especially if they’re originally from deeper waters, so they use those temporary potions if they need to go on land. Although it’s fairly rare, as most of the deep sea merpeople stay down there. A lot of them are huge too! Like bigger than a whale!”

“woah!” Varian pulled out a book, taking the note. “tell me more!”

Hugo looked over the book. It had a lot of information. Mostly what they talked about the night before with alchemy. “huh. Didn’t realize you wrote everything down, goggles.”

“Yeah. I want to know as much as I can about underwater life…mom never talked about dad had a hard time even talking about mom so…im curious.”

“Well, like on land, theres a bunch of different cultures and pods and subcultures inside of them. A lot of different tails as well. Most merpeople have a fish counterpart. Mine, for example, is similar to a green arowana. Cyrus has a sand tiger shark tail, and Donella a reef shark.”

“That’s so cool! Do you gain the diets of the fish you’re similar to?”

Hugo shrugged. “depends on our parents, really. Cause we still have a bit of human in us as well. Some people are extremely similar to fish, with more scales. Some have hair that looks like seaweed as an evolutionary trait. Which gets interesting cause seaweed is a treat that vendors sell. Like your streetfood.”

Hugo paused, seeing that Varian was looking back at him with a soft look.

“What?”

“…you’re pretty when you talk.”

Hugo sputtered, laughing softly. “I-Uh-“

Varian grinned evilly, leaning backwards into Hugos embrace. “you’re pretty all the time. But especially when you talk.”

Hugos face was beat red. Varian giggled. “How’s that for flirting?”

“okay no more cuddles for you.” Hugo let go of Varian, still blushing up to the tips of his ears.

“Aw come on!” Varian whined. “Youre allowed to flirt but not me?”

“Yep! Especially when it makes me flustered.”

Varian was about to say something before the balancer made a noise. Varian sighed. “Back to work.”

Hugo smiled, watching Varian settle in to do his work. He went over to the formulas and started taking them more seriously. He pulled a piece of paper and started working on it, drawing his own and starting to test it out.

It was a quiet moment as they did their separate things.

Hugo didn’t know how they would test this potion without revealing that the two of then were…well not 100% human. He was unwilling to let Varian test it on himself since potions like this could be…funny at best. Disastrous at worst. Obviously they wouldn’t be testing it on any animals or other crew members.

It felt like the best thing was to make it and hope to the moon any side effects weren’t permanent.

Varian was humming again. Hugo listened closely to it. A song that was so familiar. He wondered where he heard it before.

He worked quietly and listened to his moon sing.

--

Hugo was up late again. Hed checked the kitchen and upper deck already. Quietly, he made his way to the next rooms, the cold room. He checked there quickly. Nothing. He. Was grateful. That spot was cold.

Closing the door, he made his way into the next group of rooms. Nothing in any of them. Hugo groaned.

“This isn’t working.”

“What isnt?”

Hugo screamed. Turning around he saw the face of Rapunzel, who looked confused and concerned.

“Is everything okay, Hugo?”

Hugo stood up. “Oh yes captain I just lost an earring! I can’t seem to find it!” He mustered the best smile he could.

Rapunzel, for once, let her smile slip. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice you sneaking out late every night?”

Hugo opened his mouth to speak.

“So what’s really going on, Hugo?” She asked before he could spew another lie.

Hugo scratched the back of his neck. “I’m a night owl. And really, I just lost an earring. I can’t seem to find it anywhere.”

“what does it look like?”

Hugo paused. This was a good chance to get some information.

“Like a moonstone. One shaped like the moon?”

“Ive never seen you wearing that one?”

Hugo couldn’t help but feel prideful. She was avoiding the question. She knew something.

“I usually don’t. I lost it before the pirate crew kidnapped us. Been looking for it ever since we got back on the ship.”

Rapunzel shrugged. “I haven’t seen it. But I can put out a ship wide note to keep an eye out for it?”

Hugo nodded. “I’d appreciate that. I’m going to keep looking. I’ll go to bed soon.”

Rapunzel nodded. “Also it wouldn’t be a bad idea if you guys spent a little time away from work tomorrow? Get out and see the fresh waves. Take a break. You two seem like you need it.”

Hugo watched as she walked away.

Her room was next. She was hiding it. He was sure now.

He was going to get that ring and save this goddamn ship if it killed him.

--

The next morning came and Varian seemed to get the same conversation as Hugo did last night.

So there they were, standing in the sun. Hugo had half a mind to jump into the ocean with how tired he was.

“Hugo?” Varian asked, taking his hand.

“hm?”

“you okay? You’ve been glaring at that piece of wood since you got up here.”

“…I’d rather be down in the painters room. Or swimming.”

Varian chuckled. “I get it. But Rapunzels right. We need some social interaction besides each other.”

Hugo grumbled. Varian kissed his cheek and pulled away, looking at the bow of the ship, then chatting with the captain up ahead.

“Hugo.” Nuru leaned on the wall besides Hugo.

“Oh uh, hey.”

Nuru smiled. “Its good to see you in the light of day. Usually we don’t see you until dinner.”

Hugo chuckled. “Yeah…not really a people person.”

“you’re a Varian person though!” Nuru smiled. It was a wry one. What was her game?

“I…guess. Though I don’t know how he puts up with me half the time.”

Nuru chuckled. “You two act so much alike. When he first came on the ship, he shut himself off from everyone. Including Rapunzel.”

“Rapunzel? She’s just the captain.”

“Shes more than that to him. They’re like siblings.”

Huh.

“Why aren’t they together much then?” Hugo asked.

“Rapunzel has a lot of work to do. Do you know much about her?”

Hugo shook his head. “basically nothing. Why?”

Nuru had this look on her face. It once again made him wonder what she was up to. “Youre not from Corona, right?”

“No.”

Nuru sighed. “Then you don’t know the story. Okay. Where to start?” She thought it over for a second. “Okay so, once upon a time-“

“Youre starting with once upon a time?”

“Do you wanna hear this or not?”

“…”

“that’s what I thought. Once upon a time…”

There was a woman named Rapunzel. She had long, beautiful blonde hair and green eyes. She grew up on an island, with only her caretaker, Gothel. As a child, she grew up looking out at the sea, Gothel forbid her from going anywhere near it, despite the fact that it surrounded the island.

Then one day, she met a pirate. One who had come to hide from other pirates, and possibly raid her island home. His name was Flynn Rider.

Rapunzel hid Rider from Gothel worried that she’d hurt him. In the meanwhile, Gothel was making a deal. One to sell Rapunzel once she was old enough.

“Sell her….” Hugo processed what those words meant. “…Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. Girl was prime real estate. Gothel had done this to many girls before. Most were kids when they were taken by her. Rapunzel was a baby when she was.”

“Holy shit.”

“Anyway…”

Rapunzel and Rider figured this out after a couple days on the island. Long story short, Rider had the honor and privilege of killing the witch. Afterwards, they sailed to Corona.

A while after that, Rider, now going by his real name, Eugene Fitzherbert, and Rapunzel bought the sundrop.

They made stops all over, Arendelle, Rosas, the motoniuan shores, even Avalor.

“Wheres that?”

“you really don’t know anything, do you sea breath?”

Hugo pouted. “Anyway, continue.”

“Right.”

Until one day, they came across a farmer and his child. He was 14 at the time. Rapunzel made some mistakes.

“This part is Varians to tell…you should talk to him about it…neither he or Rapunzel have told me the full story but…I think varian might tell you.”

“Whats your game?”

Nuru smiled. “If youre going to be with Varian, you have to let him in. You have to let him let you in too. I can see you care about Varian and are suspicious of the captain.”

Hugo opened his mouth to argue.

“You don’t hide your feelings well, sea breath. At least, not to me. So I have to ask. What’s your game?”

Hugo paused. He didn’t trust her.

“Let me rephrase. What are you really searching for on this ship? Cause it sure as fuck isn’t an earing.”

“….It’s none of your business.”

“…I’d be willing to help. No questions asked.”

Hugo glared at her. “Why?”

“…It’s what friends do.”

Hugo blinked. “Youre not my friend.”

“I could be.”

She had this look in her eye. Conniving but desperate. Hugo could have sworn he saw something shining at her back for a moment. He didn’t trust this.

“Think about it, Sea breath.” She smiled, and walked off. Hugo reeled from the conversation.

He shook it off. Hed figure it out after he got the ring.

< >

Read this on A03!

[therosefrontier]

Day 1: Vocal Chords

“Suzume, please. You can just cancel class, can’t you? You’re not seriously planning on going up there sounding like…well, like that?”

Suzume looked her roommate in the eye with the cadence of a deep, exasperated sigh which she would have breathed, if only it didn’t hurt so much to breathe it. She woke up this morning feeling pain all over, giving her the sensation and probably the appearance of someone who just got hit by a truck, but the worse part was her throat, she soon figured out. Her breathing was raspy, her voice was strained and hoarse, and she struggled to swallow food. Breakfast was a nightmare, and Quinn just got a front-row seat to all of it, so really, it was no wonder she looked at her like she was crazy.

“It’s too short a notice; it just…wouldn’t work,” Suzume replied, whispering to save her pained voice, and subconsciously adjusting the scarf around her neck which covered up the large black and purple bruise that greeted her in the mirror this morning. She didn’t realize it would be that bad…the cut wasn’t too deep, but the force of that hit she took… Well, neither biology nor medical practice were her specialties, but it wasn’t hard to guess why her throat was causing her problems, that was for sure.

“Oh come on, what do you mean it ‘wouldn’t work’!?” Quinn shot back, her eyes narrowed and brows furrowed as she seemed to suddenly become determined to unfairly use her strength of voice to make a point over Suzume’s weakened one. “Don’t tell me your bosses will get onto you for taking the day off because if they are, then so help me I will march to that school right now and tell them exactly what I think because you know, if they don’t take care of their teachers when they are so obviously sick, then I—”

“No, no, please, Quinn, it’s okay,” Suzume cut her off with a reassuring smile, really hopeful that it would do the job of getting her to drop whatever bold ideas she was getting. She would take this moment to laugh it off, to really sell the act, if, of course, she wasn’t so solemnly confident in how painful laughing would most definitely be. “I’ll be fine in a few hours. It’s not a big deal, I promise.”

Quinn still looked upset, crossing her arms and making a strangled noise of disgruntlement. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Ugh…well, fine. I’m not going to argue with you while you’ve lost your voice, but for the record, you sound awful. If you get worse, just…remember my work is only a couple of blocks away, okay? You can come get me, or send a bot to get a message to me, and I’ll be there. I’ll get you home.”

“Okay, Quinn.” Suzume smiled, more genuinely this time. “Thanks.”

+++

Quinn was right, and Suzume knew it. She hated to admit it, but she was in no shape for teaching class, but she just…had to try. She had to just pass it off like a normal case of losing your voice and let that be the reason she would save her lectures for another day in favor of just handing out a practice test, or something like that. She could manage. Because the problem was, she just couldn’t ask for sick leave without somebody asking why.

Maybe, she could give a nice excuse and come up with a normal explanation for the injury. However, the normal assumptions would be way too alarming, she thought… it might look like someone tried to choke her, and that wasn’t what happened at all. Well, someone did try to kill her, technically, but it wasn’t by choking. She, Manuel, and Felix were left at the mercy of a player piano, of all things, and there was absolutely no way that little detail was going into her cover story without someone thinking that she had officially lost her mind. The repeated shockwaves the piano emitted while they tried to shut it off really did a number on all three of them, but…it could have been worse, so Suzume would count her blessings. They ripped out the piano roll before it finished its song, and no one got seriously hurt.

Suzume just wished her injury didn’t have to be so noticeable. What was she supposed to say, that she fell and ran into a tree? It wasn’t feasible, and she just couldn’t attract attention. A few questions, even if well-meaning, from her boss could easily have a domino effect and reach so many other people, like Quinn, her coworkers, her students, her neighbors, the local police, politicians, the media, and worse of all: her father. He was already suspicious of what was going on lately with her, and he hasn’t trusted Manuel since the day they met, nearly ten years ago now, so she was justifiably quite wary of the very real possibility that he would get the blame for all of this, especially since the official cover story was that she was at the shop with him all night. Best case scenario, he’d get blamed for the accident somehow; worst case scenario, people would get it in their heads that Suzume got choked by the guy that everyone insisted on mistakenly assuming was her boyfriend.

This was exhausting to think about. The stress over discovery almost succeeded in distracting her from her pain, though, so, maybe that was a bonus. Either way, she would rather stay in motion than sit and rest with nothing to do but stew in her thoughts. She really wasn’t by any means a workaholic, regardless of what Quinn might think, but if given a choice between the two, she did prefer working over thinking. The stress was just too big a price to pay. Of course, if she could choose to do anything right now, she would be at home with her cat, tinkering with CAL-A or playing Vexitl tiles with herself, but alas, life wasn’t fair.

Suzume got to the university main building in one piece, giving some quiet ‘hellos’ and light apologies with a smile to everyone she met over having lost her voice today, while making a straight beeline to her office to get what she needed before making her way to her first class. She realized, then, that she was quite anxious to see her first class, actually, as well as the third and the fourth, because, given recent events, she needed to see that Kyle, Pen, Xavier, Terrence, and Ophelia were in it. Those kids had better not have gotten into any trouble. If she found out they got mixed up with the Black Rose or Silver Eye, or worse yet, if those dangerous groups had come to them…then, she wanted to know. She needed to know.

With a looming sense of dread, Suzume thought about what happened last night. It was supposed to just be a bit of investigation, but…then, they ended up facing the Silver Eye leader herself, Cypria (or more accurately, Polni Tyndarid, which they just figured out was her real name, actually), and despite their previous uneasy alliance, she was furious with them, now. Despite her usual stoicism and deliberate carefulness to act, she angrily accused them of working with the Black Rose, on account of Felix’s former membership with the treasure hunting organization, and she…well, left them to die, after that. Maybe, Suzume could argue that she wasn’t really trying to kill them, but it definitely looked she had finally lost her mind, and that, frankly, was terrifying—much more so than whatever had been going on before. Suzume didn’t know what Cypria or any of these people were going to do next. She really hoped, for all of their sakes, that it wasn’t going to be more violence.

But gratefully, the students who she had mentored, who got caught up in this mess half a year earlier just because the Firxstroll House wanted a time machine and decided they’d add on some young talent to make it happen, were all here, safe and sound. Her classes went by, one by one, and she managed, but it wasn’t easy. Not in the slightest.

The pain only grew worse with each passing hour. Suzume could only whisper, so she tried to simply avoid long lectures today and give her students some practice work to spend the class time on, instead, but she couldn’t avoid talking entirely. She had to try. She had to keep going, no matter how long this day took. No matter how many times she felt haunted by last night’s fight. She could handle it.

This…was really getting exhausting, though. Using her throat, that is. It hurt so much, she could barely think.

“Um…Miss Kazama? Are you alright!?”

At the end of the fourth class of the day, Pen came up to her desk, clearly looking worried and anxious, as if she had been wanting to ask this ever since class began. She wasn’t the first one to ask, either. She and her other robotics clubmates especially had a good reason to be worried. Even right now, Terrence hung behind her, just a short distance away, like he didn’t know what to do in the conversation but also really wanted an answer.

Suzume was quiet, for a moment. She thought about Pen in particular, about how the young woman who loved loud music, flashy clothes, and robot battling had been so famously worry-free before, always refusing to get stuck in thoughts over whether something would or would not work out, even if she really should, but now…that look she was wearing, with creased eyebrows and a tight frown and with hands clutched so tightly to her notebooks that she might make a hole in them—it was a look she was wearing far too often, these days. It made Suzume really hope this would all be over, soon. “I’m fine,” she said in a whisper, wearing a faint smile. “I just need some rest—that’s all.”

[dollsonmain]

I showered but apparently I'm not done blabbing.

It's a long one.

So, the way work is set up the other two employees have a task sheet that they follow. I can look at them and see what tasks the two of them do or don't get done. They tend to get up to half done each day and work on the other half the next day, though they often don't get it all done in two days, even.

I don't get a task sheet. I don't know why. Maybe she doesn't feel like I need one because I can generally find something to do, but my coworkers have been there for years, so....

I do think it's funny that I hate making food so much and am officially the sandwich lady, now.

Like, that's my unofficial task sheet.

turn on the tiny hot case

warm up X breakfast sandwiches and put them in the hot case, replace as needed throughout the day

look in the cold case and make as many sandwiches as are needed (this number changes depending on Manager's idea of what "full" means at that time/with the seasons)

keep track of ingredients

when that's done, go and pull/push drinks to the front of the cooler so customers can reach them and fill in the boxed drinks as I can from a small stash that's left outside the cooler, this is different than being "in the cooler", and I only get put "in the cooler" now and then, usually after noon on a long shift when Owner wants to be in the bull pit and Manager shoos me off to do something else so they can talk shop without me hearing

at 8am start exactly 4 hot dogs on the roller and start putting not-breakfast sandwiches in the hot case as space opens up/the breakfast sandwiches sell

at 9, or when they're done, take the hot dogs off the roller, bun them, bag them, and put them into the hot case

clean the roller (I forget this part a LOT and have to do it the next day 😬)

She added "fill the cigarettes" a while back but I generally don't need to because her dad, the owner, seems mildly obsessed with it and it's almost always full. I have a feeling I annoy him by going in and resorting them a bit so that each row of a single type (like there are 3 rows of normal, red Marlboro shorts) are level, whereas he likes to fill one all the way up to the top and leave the others kind of empty, and I find it resorted his way almost every morning. I don't care. There are a few mornings where I've needed to add a bunch but usually don't need to add any at all.

ALL of this is done while also manning the register, which sometimes means none of it gets done because customers have uncanny timing.

But, when it's slow and I get all of that done in an hour or two, I get bored and go around cleaning in places that don't get cleaned or digging around for expired products.

Often I am cleaning the Coffee Bar and where the Slurpee and Gator Ice machines are because those counters tend to be sticky and I don't do sticky. If I happen to touch the counter and it's sticky, I can't focus on anything else until it is not sticky.

Today I got bored and was cleaning, then was done cleaning because I've been cleaning almost every day, though it's surprising just how fast everything gets dirty again... I don't super-clean everything because that's not been my job, it's just something I noticed needed done and did it because I ran out of my own job to do. I even got bored enough to clean the Apple Pay reader device today. I mean, it needed it... But........

I've brought in [half of] a Sponge Daddy (because I cut up my sponges so they last longer) and requested melamine sponges to make cleaning faster and easier, and it's worked, so I run out of cleaning to do.

She came out of the office eventually after doing I don't know what in there for hours (I think they were assembling new RTA furniture in there or something, and her dad was there way earlier than usual), and I said I need a task.

So she was like "You've been really on top of the Coffee Bar (my boredom cleaning), so I think I'm going to give you that job instead of Coworker." and I'm like um.....

Ok......

So today I was taught how to disassemble and clean the cappuccino machine which took an hour because I'd get part of it off and there'd be a customer, get part of it done, customer, etc. I need better tools for that, there are crannies.

But like, she really needs an overnight crew, and a better understanding of what the closing crew should be doing every night.

I don't think she's worked closing in a place that specializes in food prep. I have, and have worked opening at the same place, so I know how both work.

Anyway, closing crew should be filling and stocking the machines, taking all of the drip trays off, taking them in the back to the big sink, and washing them. This is not happening. No one is washing them. They get wiped down, sporadically, and I clean them as well as I can in the mornings, but not washed. Wiping the ones that are powdery is fine, but there are some that dispense creamer and they get gooey. I can't do that in the morning because the store is open, customers are trying to use the machines, and I have to man the register so I can't be elbow deep in dish water or even elbow deep in a machine.

They should also be responsible for cleaning the outsides of the machines, the counters around and behind them, and doing the job I was doing today.

The cappuccino machine parts and all of the drip trays, really anything that gets removed and cleaned should be left out to dry somewhere. There isn't a counter or anything in the back, so they'd probably be piled on the rolling cart on a bed of paper towels or the deli in the bull pit, or the small work area for making sandwiches which always gets used for other things, or something. Just laid out to dry somewhere.

Closing/overnight should also be cleaning the floors, cooler doors, cabinets, filling the cooler racks, etc. so everything is clean and filled before the first customer steps through the door in the morning. Opening shouldn't be walking in and finding muddy footprints, leaves, dirt, empty shelves, needing to sweep... All of that is supposed to be done before customers come in. The first customer of the day should come into a clean, well stocked, fully up and running establishment.

Closing DOES, in theory, turn off the hot case and dispose of any remaining sandwiches, though more than once I've walked in to find the hot case off and sandwiches left in it overnight.

Then morning crew would clean up any drips or dribbles that formed on the counters overnight and put all the trays and parts back before the store opens, start the hot case, warm up the sandwiches, tidy up products on the shelves, etc. etc.

However, I'm the one trying to do all of that other than mopping because we can't have the floor wet while customers are in, after I get there at half-past-opening and am also trying to man the register.

And this kind of sounds like I don't want to do my job, doesn't it? But that's not it at all, it's just that these tasks shouldn't be my job, for the most part.

[hlupdate]

One Direction certainly made some midnight memories.

But Louis Tomlinson tiptoed around the subject of just how many naughty antics he and his former bandmates got into as teenage heartthrobs in a new interview with Page Six.

“We were all lovely boys,” he deadpanned. “Lovely, lovely boys we were.”

Tomlinson, Harry Styles, Niall Horan, Liam Payne and Zayn Malik made up the boy band, which was formed on Britain’s “The X Factor” in 2010.

The quintet behind hit songs like “What Makes You Beautiful” and “Story of My Life” went on to sell over 70 million records worldwide and was adored by hordes of shrieking young fans.

Tomlinson, 31, admitted that despite being “lovely boys,” they still managed to get into some mischief.

“There were of course those times where we wanted to be ‘normal young lads’ and wanted to go out and have a drink and do whatever it is young lads do at that age, and so that was somewhat challenging,” he told us. “I just think that we found our own ways to do that.”

The “Bigger Than Me” singer added that he feels grateful to have gone through the experience.

“There was something very beautiful about going through that stage of our lives [together],” he explained. “We were all very young, 16 to 18. So to be young lads and to go through the craziness together at that young age …”

The group splintered in 2015 when Malik abruptly left, and they announced an indefinite hiatus the following year.

Despite this, the “Kill My Mind” crooner describes himself as a “massively” optimistic person.

“I’m lucky like that because I’ve always been that way,” he shared. “Always look at the glass half full and all of that.”

So much so that Tomlinson has named his latest album and world tour “Faith in the Future.”

“I think it’s a good, positive message to spread,” he explained. “And yeah, I’ve been lucky enough to always be an optimist in life. So I just kind of wanted to show that.

“We’ve all got our own worries and frustrations, but regardless of whatever those frustrations may be, to strive to see that glass as half full, it’s something I’ve always tried to do, no matter what I’ve been up against in life. …. All I’m trying to say is just spread positive messages. It’s just as simple as that, really.”

Tomlinson loves being on the road but does miss some things from home.

“The food,” he enthused. “Like Greggs sausage rolls. I f–king love Greggs [a UK bakery chain]. We often get a lot of s–t in England [about the cuisine]. We have s–t food apparently, but I love English food! I just had an English breakfast today actually for the first time on this American tour, so I’m a very happy guy.”

Tomlinson will be performing at Forest Hills Stadium in Queens, NY, on Saturday, July 29.

[igordumbra]

I find it kinda hard to write fanfiction about Fallen London to be honest, I know I shouldn't, we all know that if there's something this game doesn't lack, is text. So by all means, it should be fairly easy to write right?

My main problem is that I feel like my character doesn't live in Fallen London, y'know? Now, before I explain, keep in mind it's been a couple years since I started playing, I've never played a ES since i can't actually afford it and by all means this is not a critique to failbetter, just my personal experience that i want to share.

You see, what I meant by that is that, as much as I'm playing FL and reading the texts, I can't actually picture my character living there?

I have always had problems picturing stuff, some of it due to aphantasia but most of it simply because imagining things without a very detailed description is very hard for me, that's why I love Fallen London and books and fanfictions. Normally in fl this isn't a problem, since everything is in text and often quite detailed when in stories.

The problem, at least for me, is when I ain't in no storyline. And that's when what I said above come in, I can't actually picture my character living in the neath on his day to day because we don't see that in game aside from the first few storylines you play (Blind Pianist and Last Constable), where your character goes to the singing mandrake to drink and hear the pianist or to the blind helmsman in the end of the Last Constable.

We don't see these places being used in other stories, or if they are very little, and we don't have exact drescriptors on them. Take the singing mandrake as an example, what does it look like? what kinda drinks do they sell? Do they sell some kind of food? How big is it, does it have two floors or is it just horizontally big? Is it normal for people to play there? What kind of music?

Or maybe it was very described but it's been so long I forgot, no problem I'll check the wiki. Well, the wiki only has enough text from each storylet so that you can understand it's context, try hoping that someone has an echo of this and it actually has descriptions.

Now, it's unreasonable of a task for failbetter to do all this flavour stuff, instead of actual content, and I agree because the players can just imagine if they're actually curious, or maybe they live in London and thus can imagine how some place like this would look, and the city and the people.

Well, I can do neither, which makes even simple things complicated for example, my character lives in the brass embassy sanctum. I don't even know how that works, I've never seen an embassy and didn't even think they bedrooms, but at least it has a description, so it's nice (even if i have to switch homes to get the thing and then echo it)

But how they live there? Do they have neighbours, are they human or devils, what are their opinion on a human living in a sanctum? Where does he go for breakfast? And well, this is all probably expanded on ES, because it makes more sense to do it there which sucks for me.

And because i can't really imagine new things, just work with patterns and precise descriptions, I also like to write in a very grounded way, I will try to do my research before writing even the dumbest things, for example the bedroom. Or maybe i'll try to write something in the correspondence to get an effect, well in this case I'll ask the discord lore channel what do they think about it and if there's a better option, very lovable people there they always indulge in my silly questions.

And well, you can see how trying to "scientifically" write every single thing will only be exponentially more time consuming by the amount of things you want to add, and it makes me get into a state of "not writing because I know I won't have enough time" and just "Not writing because I can't craft something that would make sense to me in universe, due to the lack of information"

But I'll try my best, since I paid to re-read the blind pianist storyline again, to write about it. And hey, at least it isn't Mask of the Rose this time, that was a fucking nightmare.

Tl;Dr: Boy get's overwhelmed when trying to create things in his mind that aren't otherwise told explicitly in the flavour text because he values cringe stuff like logic and accuracy since he often relies on them due to the lack of creative power in the brain

[litgwritersroom]

Could you write something for Rocco, please? Poor boy needs some love - and a redemption arc. In villa, post villa, AU...

I will also accept food truck smut 🤣

THE COLOUR THAT YOU ARE

Rocco / MC - 3000+ - @mrsbsmooth

A mess of auburn curls, tanned skin, eyes that looked like nature.  And around him, an explosion of colour.

For as long as she could remember, Freya had been able to see things that no one else could see. Her Yaya called it the gift. She was proud that her granddaughter had it too.

Freya’s siblings rolled their eyes whenever she said anything, and the kids at school made fun of her. So she stopped telling people.

It was hard, sometimes, to see past the colours, but she mostly learned to ignore them. Most people were brown, which Yaya said meant they were just normal, everyday people. Materialistic people who hadn’t opened their minds; who trudged through their everyday routine, focused on nothing more than their own problems. 

Yaya was blue. She’d always been blue, but the colour seemed to change with the day. Some days, it was warm and sapphired as the ocean, and others, light and airy as the sky. She could always tell Yaya’s mood based on the colour; swirling and dancing through the air around her body. Lighter meant she was feeling good. Darker meant she was tired. And towards the end of her days, Yaya’s aura was navy; such a deep, shimmering blue it was almost black. 

It was Freya who held her hand as she passed.

She didn’t care much for people’s colours after that.

Occasionally, she’d see someone in the street that caught her eye. Like the broad, business-type man, screaming about stocks into his mobile phone, whose magenta-pink aura betrayed his inner kindness. The small girl in the tutu, whose cloud of tomato-red made Freya giggle. Impulsive, impatient, and probably a little fiery. Her poor parents. 

But every now and again, someone would see hers, too. 

They were always older - and often unassuming. A man at the park. An elderly lady on the bus, furrowing their brow as they looked at her before their eyes widened, and they smiled at her. Freya didn’t know what colour she was. She’d never tried to check. She knew what the colours meant, and she didn’t want to know. 

In fact, she hated that she could see them at all. 

It felt intrusive, in a way, to know so much about a person without even knowing their name - without them knowing that she could see their very soul; the very essence of their being. She hadn’t asked permission to see them so clearly, and it felt so wrong that she could do it without asking. She certainly didn’t like the idea that strangers could know so much about her. 

So she kept her eyes to herself.

Until him.

She hadn’t planned to go to the park that day, but warm days were rare in a Belfast autumn. She’d overheard some high school students on the bus talking about a food truck that was stationed out there. They’d laughed and made fun of it, giggling about the loser who owned it, an older guy who flirted with everyone, and smoked too much weed to care that he was selling alcohol to minors. 

So she’d slowly walked, soft music in her ears until she’d seen the truck. There was a line of people, most of them young, and as she drew closer, she saw the sign.

Cocktails & Cronuts.

She couldn’t help but be confused by the weird mix of breakfast and late-evening treats, but something drew her closer. She joined the back of the line, the girl working the counter smiling broadly as each customer stepped up, quickly pulling pastries from a cabinet behind her, and talking animatedly to someone in the back. But as Freya drew closer, she started to feel… weird.

There was something in the air; something wiry; as if walking through a cloud of static electricity. She tried to keep her eyes focussed in front of her, but the girl working the counter seemed to furrow her brow as she approached. The girl kept glancing sideways, growing seemingly concerned, talking hurriedly to the person that Freya couldn’t see. But with every step, the feeling only grew stronger, and she fell within earshot of the girl at the counter. 

“Rocco - are you sure? Do you need to sit down? You’re looking–”

And then Freya saw him. A mess of auburn curls, tanned skin, eyes that looked like nature. 

And around him, an explosion of colour.

There were so many she could barely take him in, a mess of hue and pigment, like an artist’s palette discarded at the end of the day. Orange, green, white, red, yellow, blue, indigo; he was every colour at once, dancing around him with not swirl, but floodwater. There was something so unsettling about it, like she could feel the restlessness within him.

She’d never seen anyone like him.

Orange people were creative, and had to learn lessons from experience. Indigo people were empaths, who absorbed the trauma and emotions of others. Green people couldn’t be tied down, but red people were stubborn. Blue said ‘ungrounded’, but white meant ‘perfectionist’. 

How could he be all of them at once?

He must’ve felt her gaze, because he turned toward her, his brow furrowing as his eyes met her own. He looked at her; really looked at her; that stare so focussed and intense, as if pleading, begging her to see him. She couldn’t tear her eyes from his, something about him drawing her in. There was something about him, something about the tumult of his soul that had her aching to know him. 

To know how someone could be so many colours at once.

But before she could even say anything, he looked away. Almost in an instant, she saw his colours darken, as if by seeing him so clearly, she’d somehow bruised him. It hurt her to watch, a pang of pain through her stomach as he turned his entire body away from her. 

“I’m gonna take a quick break,” he muttered to the girl behind the counter, before hurriedly moving through a curtained-off area.

The girl frowned, but turned back to face Freya with a smile. “Sorry about my brother, he’s a bit of a weirdo.”

Freya smiled politely back at her, and ordered her food, deciding at the last minute to skip the cocktail. She took her cronut to the far side of the park, spreading her jacket out to sit against a tree, and tore piece after piece from the flaky pasty. 

Who was this guy? His sister had called him Rocco. How could he be so many colours at once? And why was he so… so…

Scared?

She couldn’t stop thinking about him.

She’d never seen anything like it, and she was almost certain she’d never see someone like him again. She wished for her Yaya, for the guidance she could give, wishing she was more religious so that she could ask for a sign to point her in the right direction. 

Google was no help, neither were any books she found in Yaya’s things. Freya paced around her apartment, trying to figure it out, on the verge of calling one of those psychic hotlines and asking someone who actually knew what they were doing. 

She knew she should just forget it. She knew it was weird that she was thinking about him this much. For all he knew, she was just some girl; staring at him way too hard, and coming back to stare at him again.

But she just needed answers.

It was almost a week later when she finally went back, and when she did, Rocco wasn’t there. His sister was running the truck by herself, laughing and kidding around with the few customers she had. But as Freya got to the front of the line, she seemed to brighten. 

“It’s you!” she gasped. “You’re back!”

Freya looked up at her questioningly, and the girl beamed at her. 

“Rocco’s been rambling about you all week. Freaking out, and going on like ‘she saw me. She could see me’. None of us have any idea what he’s on about.”

Freya took a deep breath, almost closing her eyes, as she let a small smile pull at her cheek. 

“I know what he means.”

The girl shook her head, laughing to herself. “Well, that makes one of us. He’s just gone off to clear his head. He should be b— oh!”

Freya felt him before she saw him, his presence warming her back, even though she could feel that he was still quite a distance away. She turned, and was almost blinded once more, his disarray of colours even more muddled than before. 

It was like staring too hard at a Monet, watching the watercolours bleed together in a swirl of uncertainty. It was beautiful, in its way, but so… so…

He paused as he saw her, before taking a deep breath of his own. He reached her side, meeting her gaze once more, and exhaled, a single word parting his lips.

“Hey.”

They walked for what seemed like hours, sometimes in silence, sometimes making small talk, but not yet acknowledging what they both already knew. They came to a stop at a small clearing, and he sat, leaning against a large oak tree, his arms resting on his bended knees.

“I don’t know why.”

Freya sat on the ground beside him, watching intently as he stared off into the distance.

“I don’t know why I look like this,” he frowned.

“Can you see it?” she asked, but he just shook his head. 

Freya furrowed her brow, silently asking him the question, and he spoke softly.

“I had someone tell me, once. An old lady in Greece. She pulled me aside and told me my aura was… different. I didn’t really understand what she was saying. I thought she was just a bit, you know, off. But she–” He turned his body toward Freya’s, meeting her eye once more, sending shiver down her spine. “She looked at me the same way you did. Like she could see something really bad. And I just… I don’t know why.”

Freya nodded, holding his gaze, almost distracted as his aura began to grey.

“I’ve never seen one like yours.”

He waited patiently for her to continue, the breeze blowing softly through the curls that made him look like some kind of fallen angel. 

She smiled softly at him. “It’s not bad, at least I don’t think so. It’s just so… different. Most people have one colour, maybe two if they’re in a transition period. But yours is everything; every colour; every emotion all at once. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

He furrowed his brow, pursing his lips together. “What does it mean?”

Freya shook her head. “I don’t know. My Yaya was the one who knew what it all meant, and she died a long time ago. I can see the colours, and I know what they mean individually, but I don’t know what it means to have so many at once.”

Rocco paused, looking over at her once more, and she held his gaze. 

“What do you think it means?”

“I told you, I don’t know. I just–”

“Please.”

There was something so honest in his eyes, and she was suddenly overcome with the realisation. 

He believed her. 

No one since her Yaya had believed her when she’d told them about her gift. And here he was, this guy she’d barely met, and he did. She could see it in his eyes, in the honesty of his colours, the purple seeming to pulsate as he trusted his intuition. 

She could feel him, every swirling cloud of his presence, almost like he was drawing her in. There was something there, just under the surface, something she could almost see. She closed her eyes, letting the colours engulf her, feeling them instead of seeing them.

So looked up at him once more. 

“I think it means you’re trapped. It’s like your soul is being pulled in sixteen different directions, and none of them are what you want. It’s torture, and it’s breaking you apart from inside, like you have no idea who or what you’re supposed to be. When I look at it, there’s no sense to it, there’s no consistency. The colours around you are like an oil slick on top of water. It’s beautiful, so very beautiful; but there’s something about it that’s just… so–.”

“Suffocating."

She watched as he whispered it. He swallowed deeply, as if trying to suppress the emotion that had just risen in his throat. There was such pain in his eyes, as if she’d brushed by a part of him that he never realised was hurting. She couldn’t help but wonder what had brought him there. Was it a girl? Or just the weight of his own expectations; choking him with each day that he woke up to walk a path that seemed to trip him at every turn?

She wondered what it would be like to see him without his aura, to see him as others did; and she furrowed her brow. 

A little dishevelled. Tiredness under his eyes. A frayed bracelet that had meant something once, but now, he wore just to look like he had a story. The impractical sandals for the brisk autumn day, the loose shirt and the earthy smell of weed in his hair. He looked broken, like he'd had his face shoved into the dirt one too many times. Like his carefree facade was a single judgemental glance away from falling apart forever.

How could they know - how could any of them know? They couldn’t see him the way that she could. They could see the outward appearance. They could see the truck, and the weed, and the rampant flirting. 

But they couldn’t see him. 

They didn’t see the creativity in his orange. The compassion in his green. The kindness in his pink, or the empathy in his indigo. They couldn’t feel the warmth of his blue, or the energy of his red. There was a universe inside him that only she could see. That even he couldn’t see. 

And it was beautiful.

As the sunlight softened his features, she looked harder, her eyes searching for a pattern in the mayhem of hues. It was there, she knew it was there, she just needed him to breathe. 

Freya took his hand, and he almost recoiled, but with a slight reluctance, he laced his fingers with hers. She said nothing, just held his hand, as the two of them stared at the distant horizon, lingering in the comfortable silence.

There was something so wonderful about his presence; in the warmth of his hand, and the way that setting sun illuminated the gold in his skin. The steady rumble of his breath, and the sound of his voice as he finally spoke.

“Do you believe in fate?” he asked, still not looking at her.

She smiled. “I suppose?”

“Do you think that we were maybe… supposed to meet?”

She didn’t react, just looked over at him, smiling encouragingly as he mulled over the thoughts in his head. 

“Because when you first came last week… I felt… something. Like I knew you were there before I saw you.”

Freya nodded. “I felt it too.”

“So what does that mean?”

She smiled, shrugging her shoulders gently. “Who knows? Maybe we were meant to meet. There’s no way of knowing, really.”

They fell into silence once more, and she brushed her thumb over his hand. He responded in kind, relaxing with each trace of her thumb over his skin. 

He was so out of place in this cold, dreary autumn, like he’d been born in the wrong place. Perhaps it was her own fascination with him, but the few rays of sunlight that still shone seemed to focus on him. They caught the green in his eyes, the pink of his lips, the dark auburn of his hair; the masterpiece of beauty and colour that she couldn’t understand why people couldn’t see. 

“Have you ever travelled?” she asked. 

He shook his head. “One trip to visit my Grandmother in Greece. Other than that… never.”

And suddenly, she knew the answer. 

She turned her body to his, squeezing his hand tighter as her heart began to race.

“Let’s go together.”

Rocco turned to look at her, his brow furrowed, and his colours began to swirl with excitement. His eyes were focussed. Serious. Present.

“Go where?”

Freya couldn’t help it, that same electricity burrowing deep under her skin, as that energy between them seemed to charge.

“Wherever you want to go.”

As they made their way back to the food truck, there was something different about him. The colours were still there, of course they were. But now, they seemed to… shimmer, like they, too, had felt the electricity. Rocco and Freya arrived back at the food truck, and he stumbled over his words a little as he excitedly told his sister he was going away for a while. She raised an eyebrow, but ultimately, smiled and shook her head; as if she’d known that one day, she’d watch him do something exactly like this. 

Freya stopped by her apartment, letting her landlord know she’d be gone for a while, threw some clothes and shoes in a backpack, and grabbed her passport on the way out the door. She hopped on the train to the airport, and walked into the international terminal, the electricity growing with every step.

And there he was. 

He looked up at her, and smiled, looking as nervous as a kid on his first day of school, his rucksack thrown over his shoulder. As soon as she reached him, he slipped his hand into hers, and she could feel he was shaking. 

“What do you think?” she asked, turning his attention toward the board of departing flights. “Peru? Kenya? Indonesia?”

He looked over the board, his brow furrowed, but paused. He closed his eyes, taking a breath, and opened them again, smiling softly to himself. He stepped closer, wrapped his arm around her waist, and pulled her into his side.

“Thailand.”

She nodded, before standing on her tippy-toes, and kissed his cheek. Rocco smiled shyly, that same beautiful energy radiating from his skin, his eyes full with gratitude as she saw him in his entirety.

He was beautiful. He was so beautiful, in his mess of colours and tones, in his opposites and his hypocrisy. He was real, so unbelievably real.

And he was here.

She ran her fingers through those auburn curls, holding his gaze, and smiled softly back at him.

“Let’s go and find out who you are.”