no love spell needed
no love spell needed
(Skylynx wore a short sleeved tunic, doing minor upper body stretches for some archery practice on horseback. They tossed you a wink as they rolled their shoulders.)
“Do people still think battle scars are hot, or will I have to get by with muscles alone?”
Just obsessed with the idea of everyone in jatp being straight up geniuses. Like we already know that the band are fully geniuses when it comes to language and music - the boys came up with a full song with a rhyming scheme on the fly and they can all memorise songs with barely any rehearsal. But like Julie’s doing calculus at 15 and she’s got an A in history, Flynn’s managing a band by themselves while also doing schoolwork and DJing, Reggie recognised Caleb as a magician who died 50 years before he was even born, Willie’s favourite place to hang out at is a museum, and they’ve successfully pulled off multiple schemes throughout the show. These guys are the embodiment of smart idiots
when some stranger whos nvr interacted with you ever and doesnt follow you likes a sh post you made over a week ago and sends you some random fucking song about heroin like
You don’t have the partner you want because you aren’t the partner you want yet.
Who wants me to write I'd Lie or Today Was A Fairytale?
I am pretty much turning into that old Chris meme, the one where he's like "Leon you need to fuck my sister, Leon I'm gonna break your kneecaps, Leon it is vital for the future of the world" but I'm like "Ethan you need to give my man your child. Ethan it is absolutely vital."
It’s mermay! A month I really like because mermaid stuff fascinates me. I don’t have much to offer this month but this small excerpt from my (very) long Book of Nile fic that I'm writing where Joe and Nicky hang out too. I think that scene is cute, and the fic won’t be out before months so I feel okay posting this bit (and it doesn’t have any spoiler!)
(Context: it’s a urban fantasy au, Nile moved in town a few months ago, Joe and Nicky own a cafe, they’re new friends).
Nile barely hears the bell as she opens the door of the cafe -she would go in more strongly but she knows the poor thing is barely hanging on, neither Joe nor Nicky have gotten to fix it yet despite the hinges whining for a couple of weeks now.
“Joe!” She calls out once inside, and when his head pops out from behind the shelves, she rushes straight to him. “Hi Nicky,” she throws a quick wave at Nicky on her way who laughs and reciprocates, not hurt but amused that she doesn’t go to him first. She quickly ushers Joe behind the bookshelves, away from any prying ears.
“I need your help.” She starts before Joe can say anything and he raises his eyebrows but let her speak anyway, wearing that kind expression he always has. “I want to give you both a gift because you and Nicky have been very kind to me and before you ask,” she interrupts him as he opens his mouth with a glint in his eyes. “Yes I have yours, no I won’t tell you what it is.” Now he’s smiling. “And I don’t know what to get Nicky, can you please help me? Do you think he would like a pendant? I know merfolk usually likes jewelry, right?” And she takes her first breath of air, how long has she been speaking?
“Hello Nile.” He greets her warmly, no ounce of malice but amusement in his voice. “And not my Nicky, no.” At the name, Joe’s eyes naturally look toward Nicky who is counting money behind the counter.
“But he has earrings?” She finds herself asking. He does, two small silver hoop on both of his ears, one of the first things she noticed about him.
“He does have earrings.” Joe smiles again, but this one is for her, not Nicky who isn’t even looking at them. “It is tradition in his community for a pair to wear a piece of their partner on them, usually a piece of jewelry or something akin. Nicolo doesn’t like jewelry.”
“Oh.” She looks at Nicky, Nicky who always wears pants with too many pockets, loves his sandals and large shirt and wears blue as the most extravagant color. His cut short hair and clean-shaven face with no fancy beard or mustache.
“He finds them too much of a hassle and not practical. He thinks rings are a hazard only waiting to rip one of your fingers in case of an accident since we watched that documentary about awful accident people survived from.” Joe takes a moment to shudder, certainly remembering a scene from that show. “But he likes to honor the place he comes from and its traditions. So we found a compromise.”
“You gifted him the earing?” She guesses.
“I made them myself,” Joe announces proudly, she can see how his chest puffs out and the way his eyes grow all kind and mellow, back on his husband. “I asked a jeweler to help me and show me how. True he helped a lot but I put my heart into it. The most simple, smallest earrings I could make. He never took them off once.” He adds in a lower voice, just for her.
“And you?” What do you wear from him she wants to know, and she knows Joe won’t take her curiosity as misplaced.
“My Nico gave me many pieces of jewelry over the years, he has the eye for it and I, on the other hand, have the appreciation to wear them. But here,” and he shows Nile his left hand, the fourth finger adorned by a ring. “We compromised and he gifted me a human tradition ring.” It’s a simple silver band with intricate gravure all over it, small and faint enough to not be seen from afar, needing a closer look to see the stunning design.
“I didn’t know about these traditions.” It’s not like she grew up near many merpeople, they are known to prefer saltwater over lakes and rivers. She had a selkie friend as a kid and knew many water nymphs in high school and college, all with Chicago’s lake but no merfolk, not as friends who can talk about more intimate things anyway.
“Oh my Nico gifted me many things. There are many rules on courtship where he comes from. It took many tries and trials for each of us to decode the other’s language and culture but I finally understood what he meant with all those gifts he kept giving me. It wasn’t a hardship to reciprocate the courting afterward.” Huh. Nile’s brain falters on that word for a second, but she quickly gets a hold of herself.
“Okay, so no jewelry. Noted. What do you think he would like then?” And he proceeds to talk to her through kitchen knives and tools as well as poetry books he wants to read. She files it all away in her head, promises herself she’ll look all that up later on her laptop.
That evening when she comes home, Nile walks by the plant Booker gifted her and pointedly ignores it and the words Joe said earlier that are still swimming in her head. Its leaves are green again and she needs to sleep, not think about what a courtship is.
Tell me your deepest darkest secrets, I'm curious.
Jukebox Appreciation Week WIP: Six-Sentence Saturday
... not even going to pretend this is six sentences. I’m having too much fun in this verse, so here’s a snippet from the University TAs oneshot that I’m writing for Four Seasons Day:
The tug to join him is strong, but damn it—she’s a dignified adult and she’s technically at her place of employment. Crossing her arms, Julie grasps desperately for the veneer of professionalism. “We’re not dancing in the hallway.”
Waggling his eyebrows like some kind of nonsense cartoon character, Luke moonwalks confidently back to her. “Pretty bold claim there. Gonna need you to cite your source.”
She gestures down at her stationary body. “Citation: me.”
But he shakes his head and breaks into one of those giant grins that makes him look like a human sunbeam. “Doesn’t sound like a legit source. Or a real citation system.”
“Do you have a better citation?”
Eyes crinkling up mischievously, he catches her hand and twirls her firmly into him, pulling a surprise giggle from her. She barely registers how close they are before his free hand slides securely around her back and, for a moment, her world tilts upside down as he smoothly dips her in a semi-circle. When he swings her back up to standing, she finds herself face-to-face with him, their breath mingling as his arms draw her close. He blinks, like he wasn’t expecting the proximity, and his eyes slip down her face as he rasps out quietly, “Citation: Julie Molina, personal dance with author.”