heaven of delight

A Good Decision

Originally posted by lovemusiclifexx


Stiles Stilinski x Reader, Stiles Stlinski x Lydia Martin

Length: 1264 words

Warnings: none

Stiles Stilinski was entranced, as he stared at Y/N from across the hallway, leaning on his locker casually, figurative hearts in his eyes. Eyes trailing the body he was captivated by, he softly smiled, before he caught the figure of Lydia Martin across the way, his long-time crush and recently; a close friend.

Lydia was literally the most beautiful female Beacon Hills High School had seen, with flowing strawberry blonde hair, and full lips that could kiss the life out of a man. She’s the definition of a Queen Bee, with grades as perfect as her being, and a wit as sharp as her brow-game. He didn’t really know what that meant, but had been told by Lydia herself that it was a compliment.

She’d never looked at him though, at least, not until everyone in Beacon Hills lives had gone to shit.

Y/N, however, was new this year, and wasn’t as pretty or as smart as Lydia. But still attractive, especially to him, and the biggest smartass he’d met. And that was coming from him. He’d planned on asking Y/N out, but then he’d had a ‘moment’ with Lydia in a recent werewolf-related chase. They’d held hands, had been pressed close together with a lot of staring and heavy breathing.

Keep reading

I was tagged by @fieldofclover! Who I cannot tag back, but Tumblr likes to guess at names anyway, and apparently FITSTUDS is an option. So like. Do with that information what you will. 

1. How tall are you?
Like 6″1ish! I can reach every shelf. Every single one. 

2. What colour and style is your hair?
Blonde and short! So very short. I miss having hair that could grow out convincingly.

3. What colour are your eyes?
Blue, but like. With a ring of yellow in the middle. One of them also has a tiny red dot and I’m very fond of it for reasons I can never put my finger on. (Quite literally)

4. Do you wear glasses?
Yes! Though I will often forget and then walk around wondering why everything seems weirder than usual. The frequency with which I do this is probably worrying. 

5. Do you have braces?
Sort of? I had a plate, which isn’t really the same as having braces, but is kind of like having the fun cousin of braces. I quit part way through though and now I have 1x completely sideways tooth, though you can’t actually see it. 

6. What is your fashion sense?
Fandom T-shirts all day every day *finger guns*. Tomoyo would disown me in half a second. 

7. Do you have any siblings?
Two younger sisters! People are often surprised that I am the oldest child. Like, extremely surprised. Then they ask if I am sure. 

I’m pretty sure, yes. 

8. What kind of student are you?
The stressed kind with social anxiety that makes discussion classes something of a panic infused hell roulette. Also the kind to get overly invested in drawing things in the margins of lecture notes and then getting emotionally conflicted when I need to throw them away later. Real talk though, university absolutely ruined my ability to relax. I can’t spend more than a few hours doing nothing before the guilt starts to seep into my soul and I feel bad for not working on an essay instead. What essay? There are no essays. I haven’t been at university for years. But the guilt is there all the same. 

9. What are your favourite subjects?
I adore History and Classical Studies. Languages were also very satisfying, if more work than every other subject combined.

10. What are your favourite TV shows?
I don’t watch too many TV shows (again, because of the faceless guilt that hounds me every of the day) but I’ve been watching Supergirl on plane rides recently and oh my god. I love it. So much. I may have cried openly on the plane during several of the episodes. YOU CAN PROVE NOTHING. 

11. Favourite Books?
Why you gotta call me out like this. Ok, I’m going to go with The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms by N.K.Jemisin, because it is fantastic and I adore it in so many ways. I would say more, but I have a small army of bookshelves all glowering at me from across the room and I don’t want to be here all day, so we’ll leave it at that. 

12. Favourite pastime?
Writing! Writing lifts my soul and actually lets me feel like I’m achieving something in life, which is something I can’t go long without. I’m also a huge fan of reading, and playing games, and then talking too much about both of those things. 

13. Any regrets?
When I was younger I spent a lot of time trapped in a cycle of self-loathing that made life very difficult. Finally discovering that things like social anxiety and depression existed for other people in the world changed my outlook on life entirely, and it’s only a shame that I never discovered it earlier. 

14. What is your dream job?
Author! It might not be super achievable, but I’m at the point where I know I have to try for it anyway. I’ve had enough of jobs that I only mildly enjoy.

15. Do you want to get married?
One day for sure! Still have to find the idiot though. He’s around here somewhere.

16. Do you want to have kids and how many?
Yes, but not yet. I feel like 2 might be a good number? Depending? Alternatively I could just get a bunch of cats. I’m not above that. 

17. How many countries have you visited?
Oh my god, not enough. I’ve been to Australia and Malaysia, and I lived in Brunei for a little less than a year when I was little. There are many places I would LOVE to go, but I don’t think I could ever go alone. 

I’m tagging: @jean—-ralphio, @kurogabae, @zelinxia@an-actual-lion, @moonlightpastime, @fallintolight, @kairi-ou, @altalemur, @tinytinyrobot, aaaand anyone else who might want to waste an hour :D

How happy am I to think that one month more puts an end to our long separation; shall I find you my Dear girl as impatient to receive me as I shall be to fly to your bosom? I have ever since you gave me leave to do it, considered loved and cherished you as my own; but the prospect of your being so by those sacred ties which society has established and heaven approves has something delightful in it, that I find myself incapable of expressing. How often have I with Eloisa exclaimed against those forms which I now revere as calculated to knit our union together by new and stronger bands. It is not true that—
“Love free as air at sight of human ties
Spreads his light wings and in a moment flies.”
A sincere passion takes pleasure in multiplying the ties by which it is held to its object, and every new sanction is a new gratification. It seems to think it never can be closely enough linked to what it loves.
With transport will my heart answer to the question, will you take this woman to be thy wedded wife?
Prepare my charming bride to crown your lover with every thing that is tender, kind, passionate and endearing in your sex. He will bring you a heart fraught with all a fond woman can wish.
—  Ham to Eliza, October 27, 1780
Jasper Imagine Request

28 with Jasper?

28. “Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?”

You knew all about the vampires. Your parents were ones. They were long dead, because they were about to turn you while you were a toddler but the Volturi intervened. You were scheduled to be changed when you reached the age of 21, so they allowed you to roam the earth freely because you knew the price of telling their secrets. 

You met the Cullens when you were 15 years old. You met your mate Jasper Hale. You confided in the Cullens, asked them to help you prepare for your transition ahead of time. Jasper was in charge of keeping you calm. But even if your emotions are good, the body can still feel the bad. Your was tense and tight from the physical training you were doing for the past few months. You wanted to be in top shape when you were changed so that you could be strong as an immortal. Jasper admired your strive. But your back was causing you pain that emotions couldn’t fix. So, one day, he made and offer.

“Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?”

“Sure.”

His hands worked your back and you felt like you were in heaven. Jasper was delighted that you were releasing tension, but he was now very close to you and could hear your heart beating. Jasper stilled himself and then abruptly left, leaving you sitting on the couch with a now supple back.

glorified-fishing-net  asked:

My dearest, I have loved this blog since forever, long before I had even gotten an account. Due to a recent event, I have gotten the courage to ask a question inspired by said event. How would the 2ps react to finding out that their best friend (or crush) is lesbian/gay? I know this may be a bit controversial, but I do wish to know. Thank you.

((Thanks; I’m pleased you enjoy this blog ♥(ˆ⌣ˆԅ) !

My sexuality headcanons for them are right here. Oh, and I’ll have Reader-kun come out as gay, btw–))


Coming out to a Second Player

2P!America: “Bruh, you’re homo?” He eagerly slammed a fist on a table, “Fucking finally! Yo, lemme be the first to take ya to a gay bar, ahahaha!”

2P!China: “Oh hey,” He made finger-guns at you and smiled teasingly, “So if you’re into dudes, does this mean I have a chance with you?”

2P!England: He instantly grinned and clapped his hands cheerily, “Good heavens, I am so delighted you have told me!” He giggled quietly and added, “Now we can be cute little gay boys together, hehe.~”

2P!France: “Mm.” He didn’t have much to say about it, but that’s only because it made absolutely no difference to him.

2P!Russia: “Oh? I wish you the best of luck.” It didn’t affect him, but he understood you might have more hardships compared to people born as hetero.

2P!Italy: “You’re gay?” He was taken by surprise and caught in an awkward situation because he’s usually in denial about his own sexuality. He coughed about twice before continuing, “I mean. Doesn’t matter to me.”

2P!Germany: “Really bro? I’m proud of you, hah!” He grinned and patted your head. “…But seriously, why are all my friends gay?!” He’s aware that he’s probably the only straight guy in his circle of friends but it doesn’t bother him, even if he occasionally teases them about it.

2P!Japan: “…That must have taken a lot of courage.” He knows he can come off as intimidating (and sometimes he uses it to his advantage), so he’d respect you for telling him no matter his exterior.

2P!Canada: “Oh. Uh, cool, I guess.” Similar to Francois, he wouldn’t have much of anything to say about it.

2P!Romano: “Honey,” He flippantly gripped your shoulders and grinned, “Thank god. The more gay the better!~”

2P!Austria: “Hm? Ah… congratulations, my dear, you came out!” He chuckled before playfully adding, “All the homo.”

2P!Prussia: “Oh… that’s fine! I-I mean… I’m totally okay with it, and I hope everything’s been well for you and such…?” He’d feel a little awkward discussing the topic but he’d support you no matter what.

6

The whole thing and nothing but the thing so help me gods. (x)

vierranstavely  asked:

Hey Jess, I've seen that a lot of your currently reading posts are romance novels. Do you have any recommendations? I've been having trouble finding good ones.

I read most historical romance, so if you’re looking for contemporary romance, my list is pretty limited! Meg Cabot’s always my go-to recommendation, but The Hating Game by Sally Thorne and 738 Days by Stacey Kade are two contemporaries I read this year that I really liked. 

My go-to authors for for historical romances are Eloisa James, Sarah MacLean, Tessa Dare, Julia Quinn, and Lorraine Heath. I’ve really started to adore Eloisa’s most recent stuff - Seven Minutes in Heaven was a damn delight. I just picked up a couple of Lisa Kleypas’ novels at Savers I’ll probably get to sometime this month. 

If you’re looking for something with a supernatural/paranormal bent, Ilona Andrews and Shelly Laurenston are good bets. Patricia Briggs is all right if you’re a fan of the Charlaine Harris “tell EVERYTHING show NOTHING” school of writing; I don’t think I would’ve gotten through the majority of the Mercy Thompson series if I hadn’t listened to the first half of the series on audiobook. 

More ear delight!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ywexupg1Fn0

I can never get enough of choir chord tuning. :D The purposes of this exercise is getting the choir used to the sound of certain chords so we know if we’re in tune or not. I just love this tuning exercise because it makes me feel the vastness of the universe through sound. Like there are lines expanding out of me into the stars.

They’re not being returned

Holding onto those earrings,
taken out near the edge of my second throw pillow,
you stared into my eyes with the hope
of purity, the moment of interlocking
my blue eyes with your brown,
intent on something to blossom from the soil
torn from years wasted on a man with worn armor,
one who turned to smile away to the heavens, an angel
far more delightful. shared in confidence, while you read
a book highlighting the inner workings of me,
you drove to passion, with pure desire taking over
every inch of your limbs, trembling because finally
I wasn’t another one staring to the skies
instead of your eyes.

But I’m no different, I’m one who caught your passion
with my mitt, one passed from friend to friend
one that was reviewed as the best, because this
was the only way to play the game. In my discomfort,
I only wished well, while blocking the number
and never speaking of the earrings left on my bedside.

Angel Radio

Dean imagine requested by anon. “H-hello. I have read many of your imagine and they are lovely. :) I would like you to write a reader + Dean. Where the reader is an angel, who helped the brothers in the past, and with the fall, she lost her grace. She feels lost and looks for Dean on earth, she listen to angel radio for news about him, and that’s how she finds him. Dean is very happy she’s fine and takes her to eat something, it’s her first time eating. And well, cute stuff. Please write it as how you feel more comfortable with. And thanks to you for allow us to send requests. Have a great day. :)" One correction; the angels that fall still have grace, but they’re less powerful than they were previously. No grace, no angel radio, no imagine. I tried to work around this one so that the reader, as an angel, is as close to human as is possible, while remaining an angel. Also, I decided that this imagine will be split into a series, so please donate any and all request ideas for future installments, keeping with the theme of what you read here.Hope you like it!

Your heart may as well have dropped through the soles of your feet, your throat closing up around you startled inhale as your world began crumbling down. No, this wasn’t right. Before you had a moment to contemplate the rift you felt tear through your chest, the ground had disappeared from underfoot, and you were… falling. Everything was… duller, flatter, less… vivid as you raced towards whatever surface awaited. Colours lost their striking appeal, the warmth emanating from your core was extinguished, just like that. One after one, your senses failed you, leaving you a mere shell of the excellence you had achieved from your divine birth. All of this torment, all of this… numbing, just from a butter knife to Castiel’s throat. Unfortunately, the rumors had reached your ears seconds too late; the deed was done, and you felt your own grace tear into ribbons, your vessel’s ribcage struggling to retain the scraps that it could as the wind began to tear at your hair. The gales ripped past your body as you plummeted towards… nothing, towards everything. The Earth? The sea? You couldn’t fathom direction or location, you only knew you were free-falling from an impossible height, your limbs sucked upwards by the downwards force, air thieving the breath from your lungs. Your world was a mass of careless paint stokes, colours slashed here and there as your sight was warped by your motion. Everything was so wrong. Your thoughts were scattered, as were your emotions, your mind and heart torn thirteen different ways as you struggled against the inevitable decline, gravity pulling you back to one recurring theme: You never thought your fall would be this literal.

You would be abandoning Heaven and all of it’s delights, joining your entire race as you surrendered to the human imperfections you had come to admire in the Winchesters, your mortal acquaintances. Perhaps, if your body didn’t break against a mountainside, you would search for the brothers, for an explanation. Maybe they’d allow you to participate in the righting of the world, no matter your… well, your far more fragile state. You were no longer the semi-indestructible force that had become so useful in hunts. If they could manage in all their humanity, there was no reason against your own involvement. You closed your eyes against the bite of the passing air, tears streaming over the planes of your cheekbones both from terror and from the painful exposure, and you prayed for the first time in your extensive existence. Funny, how the tables should turn in this fashion. An angel, or what scraps of desecrated grace remained, prayed mightily for her now disposal life. You prayed still when your body struck the water, bubbles of your oxygen roaring all around, skin searing with a blinding pain you had never known, tumblers of salted liquid scorching down your throat and stinging like poison on your tongue. It was everywhere all at once, your lungs struggling to inhale the watery substance, your nostrils burning as you gasped beneath the surface, your vision blearing in a most unsettling fashion. You were lost in the Hell you were forced to experience, all because of the rebel’s actions. Your last conscious thought was a severing of all feelings of friendship you still harboured for the angel… then again, if you were angel no more (or just barely an angel), perhaps he was in a worse condition than you. You couldn’t determine the emotion behind your thought. The world faded to oblivion.

You were told later, when the humans were pressing their chilling medical devices against your skin in search of a heartbeat, that a younger, off-duty lifeguard had hauled you from the surf. He too, you were informed, was in treatment. The young man believed he had witnessed your fall from the clouds, an absurd statement met by medication and restraints. They figured his head had struck a rock while retrieving you from the waves. You had enough sense about yourself, despite your less than frequent interactions with modern humans, to laugh along with the medics. You thanked… whatever force resided in your former home, that your ejection had occurred at such a late hour. There would be many more under medical care had you fallen in stark daylight. You also had enough sense about yourself to pull the needle from your vein (you were shocked at the pain you experienced when you extracted the simple metal point) and flee the clinic, your mind spinning around a single plan; the Winchesters. Surely, they had some sense of what was happening. You acquired a map, enough money to pay your fare on a bus (how convenient, a "donation” box filled to the brim with currency, ripe for the taking. Humans were so considerate) and decided on a trail from the back-most seat. The vehicle was moving at an agonizing pace, the rubber barely crawling along asphalt. You would, unfortunately, need to build a tolerance for these methods of transportation. You bent your head over the map, straining to decipher the winding lines crisscrossing over the paper, when you first heard a voice. Your spine straightened, your ears tuning to the words that spoke in your head, a mere whisper of the strength and volume they once possessed.

“Y/n, I don’t know if you can hear me. I can’t get a hold of Cas… thought I’d give it a shot. We’re over near Lawrence. There’s a bar just on the border, The Cadillac Ranch. Meet me there.”

You called for the driver to change course, sprinting to his side to press a wadded clump of bills into his cup holder when he refused the journey. He advised you to settle in for the trip. You would arrive at your supposed destination in just under four hours. For the first time in your entire existence, you laid your cheek against the torn faux-vinyl seat cushion beside you, closed your eyes to the jumble of the asphalt beneath you, and drifted to a most unusual numbness. So this was sleep. You though of your brethren, the handful of whom could have survived, fading into this foreign calm as you were currently, of their thoughts, of their emotions. How many were alive? How many hurt? How many were more powerful than you were, their grace less affected than yours? How many individual voices could you pick from the static-ridden mumble in the back of your mind? There was a riot in your mind, furthering your fatigue. With little trouble, you were able to surrender to exhaustion.

You woke to find your joints stiff, your skin tingling all over, yet so… unfeeling at the same time, your eyelids bloated shut as the kindred face of the driver emerged before your bleary eyes. The vehicle had stopped moving. You were free to go. You thanked the man before shuffling from your makeshift mattress, clunking along the floor mats towards the exit, your ears picking up on the muted surges of music from within the bar ahead. Your hearing range was drastically decreased from your downward drop, your mind stretching to startling extents to be able to pick garbles lyrics from the clamour. Your feet struck pavement, your brain reaching for word from the brothers as you strode into the building, warmth caressing your cheeks with delicate fingers. The mass of patrons was unfamiliar, no heads poked from the surface to alert you of impossible height. The Winchesters were not here. But you hadn’t endured all that you had to give up now; you pushed through the throng of party-goers, your bruised complexion earning many a concerned glance, your head turning around and around until… a pair of glorious emerald eyes locked on you, full lips opening as his jaw dropped, his expression morphing from a mask of slight worry to one of unadulterated relief and concern.

The music cut to silence, leaving only a distant warping in the backside of your skull. You couldn’t hear your breathing, the beating of your heart, nor the exaggerated shrieks of the people beside you as they danced over your toes. Dean Winchester, the man who had before seemed only a glimmering spark of light, all humanity and purity and care, existing only to protect, to nurture, to embrace… was beautiful. For the first time, you were able to dissect his features, the high planes of his cheekbones, the delicate curve of his lips, the shadow of stubble dotting his sturdy jawline like a kiss from the night sky. You were only able to recognize him by the glimmer you saw just above his heart, the pinprick of white light fighting to free itself from beneath the layers of flannel and leather, a mere sliver of the glory that had blinded you before. He jumped to his feet, rushing over to pull you into his chest, bombarding your body with half a million foreign experiences, resulting in a complete sensory overload; he was artificial musk and cologne, warmth and smooth skin, muscles pressing into your chest, your sides, your back, calloused palms rubbing against your raw skin. He was… you inhaled, unsure of how to gauge your reaction. He pulled himself away, holding you at an arm’s distance, assessing your damaged before the breath rushed from his lungs, washing over your face, a delectable sensation. From your proximity, the spark of his soul just barely tickled your chest.

“Y/n, thank God,” he chuckled, looping his arm around your waist, tugging you gently alongside him, guiding you back to his former seat, his palm spreading on your hip to secure you to his side. He ducked his lips to hover by your ear, lowering his voice to prevent any eavesdropping. “It’s all gone to Hell out there. I was worried sick,” he straightened himself, his eyes drifting over your battered body, pausing where the waves had struck splotches into your skin, his brow softening. “Speaking of Hell…” he breathed, more to himself than to you, his volume rising once again as he gathered his breath to speak. “C'mon, you must be starving. Let’s get you something to eat.”

FOR YOUR EYES ONLY, Part 1

Author’s Note: First things first, happy birthday! I heard through the grapevine that it was coming up, so I figured I’d write you a little somethin-somethin to make sure you got something other than older. As I’m sending this in, the final part is still a work in progress, but I aim to have it done by noon (my time) on the 13th. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!

            It was midday, the sun blazing hot over the sand and concrete. “I really don’t know why we’re here,” Arnick said sourly as he stared out at the beach. Tetrox had convinced him to come along with her on a trip that she had won in a lottery to a seaside resort. “We can’t swim in water. We’ll just die.”

            “Aw, come on, sugah!” Tetrox said as she shouldered her pack and slugged him in the arm. “It’ll be fun. Just follow my lead, alright?”

            It wasn’t like he had a choice. Arnick adjusted his hat and followed Tetrox to the reception desk of the resort, where Tetrox presented their ticket/voucher/whatever on earth the contest gave her. The receptionist glanced over the voucher and nodded slowly, typing with one hand as she handed the slip of paper back to Tetrox. “Congratulations on your victory,” the receptionist said as her now-free hand went to the drawer just below her work station and removed a key attached to a tag that said “7”.

            “You’re going to be in cabana 7. It has a lovely beachside view, and it’s a rather short walk from there to the shopping outlets should you find yourself in need of a swimsuit or any other amenities.”

            “We won’t be needing-” Arnick began, only to have Tetrox cut him off.

            “Oh, splendid! Ah’ve been lookin’ for a new bikini,” She gave Arnick a sly smile and started to make her way out of the lobby in the general direction of their cabana, “Maybe ah can model it just for you, Nicky.”

            Arnick’s face turned three shades darker, and Tetrox’s smile grew a little more. Why, of all people, did Tetrox get under Arnick’s skin the most?

            A short walk across a wooden deck built over the beach’s sand led them to a cabana with a wrought-iron number seven nailed just to the left of the door. Tetrox took the key and slipped it into the lock, turning it and hearing that satisfying click as the door opened up. Tetrox stepped inside, leaving Arnick in a still flustered state just outside the door.

            “Oh. My. COD! Nicky, yah gotta get in here! This place is huuuuuge!” She went deeper inside, prompting Arnick to follow along. It made sense that it would be huge, but he didn’t expect a fully-furnished beach house, complete with a kitchen.

            “Waste of space,” he muttered as he walked past the loveseat, couch, and dining room table. The dining room had a glass wall that looked out onto the beach, complete with sliding doors that led onto a deck. Off of each side there was a bedroom and a bathroom, presumably so each of the inhabitants could get ready at the same time in the morning.

Tetrox immediately cut to the left and tossed her bag into one of the bedrooms, shouting “dibs!” What immediately followed was the characteristic “WHUMP” of an octoling flopping onto an incredibly soft mattress, followed by muffled laughter.

Arnick went into the other bedroom, and assumed that the rooms themselves must be similar, if not directly identical. The bed that dominated the room was probably larger than certain rooms in Arnick’s apartment, and certainly too large for just one person. Knowing Tetrox, she would probably make the most of that space. Even so, Arnick felt that there would still be plenty to spare.

He set his bag down on a chair pulled up to a round desk, and started unloading his various accoutrements. He had packed enough for the trip: three days’ worth of clothes, plus an emergency set just in case, a spare pair of shoes (sandals, for walking on the beach), his shaving kit, his treasured copy of Marshall Mollusk’s Rules of Engagement, and his trusty companion, one Private Potter.

Arnick pulled open the curtains to reveal another set of sliding glass doors out onto the back deck, and set Private Potter on the table inside so he could photosynthesize at will. The dresser inside the room, however, was a different matter. Not that there wasn’t enough space, but that there was far too much. Arnick felt that he could lie down inside one of the drawers and still sleep comfortably. Instead of sorting his clothes the way he usually did, he committed an act of treason against his persnickety tendencies and neatly organized his various changes of clothes in a single drawer, so he would only have to open up one in order to retrieve his various belongings. Under normal circumstances, he would have separated them by type, and possibly by color. Unfortunately, these were not normal circumstances, so he just tried to keep them in their own neat little rows in the one drawer.

While Tetrox still laughed and flopped around on her bed (Arnick could hear her from his own room), he went into the bathroom and started to set up his shaving kit around the sink. His straight razor, strop, mug of soap, and brush went on one side. His deodorant, beak brush, beak paste, and mouthwash went on the other. He nodded at the orderliness of the setup, then nodded and went back to his room and put the empty shaving bag away.

He had just taken off his hat and sat down in the chair for a bit of light reading when Tetrox burst into his room, shouting “Nicky!”

Arnick’s hands flew up in the air, along with the book, and he had to stretch to catch it before it hit the ground. “Tetrox,” he said shakily, “I would much appreciate it if you didn’t shout at me when I’m enjoying some peace and quiet.”

Tetrox leaned against the door frame and pouted, and heavens above it was a delightful pout. Not that Arnick would ever admit it, at least. “Peace and Quiet? Indoors? While we’re at the beach? For three days? Come on, Nicky, yah know we can do better than that.”

“You won this trip,” he said, opening up to the last page he could remember and starting to scan it slowly. By this point, he probably knew the book by heart, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a scintillating read for him. “You should be the one to enjoy it,” he continued, glancing over at her.

“It was a trip for two.  You’re my plus one, sugah,” Tetrox said, disappointed. The pout deepened and became a little more honest. “I thought we could enjoy this together.”

Ouch. When she put it that way, Arnick really didn’t have a choice but to accede to her requests. “Fine,” he said, putting the book aside and standing up, “I suppose that I can do that much. What do you want to do first?”

Tetrox’s face lit up and she bounced on the balls of her feet a little. She glanced over at his bathroom and became slightly concerned, “Oh… well, Ah… kinda forgot some of my beauty supplies,” she said.

“Not surprised,” he said, making his way over to the door, “There should be a pharmacy nearby. At the very least, we can get what you need there.”

He left the room, only to have Tetrox ask him. “Nicky? Did yah seriously bring your cactus with yah?”

Arnick stopped dead in his tracks and his hackles raised, his mouth working as he tried to find an answer. “I couldn’t let him dry out,” He said, knowing it was a flimsy excuse, “Someone has to water him, you know!”

“He’s a cactus, sugah,” Tetrox said, walking past him with a smirk on her face and her hands in her pockets, “He ain’t gonna dry out. I think that yah would just be so very very lost without him, hm?”

“Nothing of the sort!” He said, straightening up and trying to look like the paragon of a gentleman. “I simply wanted to make sure he was taken care of, that’s all.”

“Yah would have missed Private Potter so much, Nicky,” Tetrox teased as they made their way towards the door. “Yah would have missed him somethin’ awful and sought solace in the spines of another cactus.”

“Your mockery of my dutiful care of my houseplant is unappreciated,” Arnick said, leaving the front door and making his way to the beachfront stores. Tetrox was not far behind, still prodding him about his love for his plant.

Eventually, she ran out of bad jokes to throw his way. Saying he’d be a “prick” if he left Private Potter all alone at his apartment, that he might be stolen by some “prickly” customer, that Arnick would set his eye on another “succulent” plant while he was away. Eventually, they got to the pharmacy on one of the beachfront’s corners, and Arnick asked Tetrox, “Right. So, what did you forget to bring?”

Tetrox started to count off on her fingers, “Deodorant, chapstick, an extra pair of socks, and a beak brush.”

Arnick stared at Tetrox for a second and blinked, baffled. “You remembered your beak paste, but not the brush?”

“Yeah.”

“Unbelievable,” he said, still stunned by the notion. How one could forget the brush but remember the paste was beyond him.

“Oh!” Tetrox said, remembering one more item, “I need a razor.”

“A razor?” Arnick said, confused, “What do you need a razor for?”

“These legs ain’t gonna keep themselves lookin’ sexy, sugah,” she said as she walked off down the aisles to begin the search for her various toiletries. As she walked off, he couldn’t help but pointedly stare at her legs and how nice they would look if there wasn’t anything covering them.

“No, nope, no,” He said to himself as he turned away and made a beeline for the candy aisle, hoping to pick up something sweet to distract him from constantly being called “sugar”. Two boxes of Sugar Daddies later, he was in the checkout line, and spied the display of cigarettes behind the cashier. He felt he would need them this weekend, to be quite honest.

“Will this be all for you, sir?” The cashier asked. He was a hermit crab, and the shell coming off the back of his head was colored with white and blue stripes.

“A pack of menthol, please,” he said, gesturing at the distinct green packaging on the cigarette box.

“ID?” the crab asked, and Arnick presented it without question. He could order himself a drink and still get carded like he was freshly eighteen. “Total is nine-fifty coin, sir,” the crab said as he rung up the three items. Arnick presented the money without question and took the bag just as Tetrox was coming up.

She must have spied the last box of Sugar Daddies being put into the bag, since she asked, “Ah guess yah are what yah eat, Nicky,” she teased, pointing at the bag of Sugar Daddies, “Still, I thought you’d be buyin’ Nerds.”

“Did you find everything?” Arnick asked as he took the bag and looked at the armful of things Tetrox had. Everything she needed was there, plus a couple of candy bars of her own.

“Yup!” Tetrox chirped, looking over at him, “You’re such a good boyfriend, Nicky. Always lookin’ out to make sure Ah’m doin’ fine.”

The hermit crab behind the counter hurried to scan the items, realizing that the air was going to get quite awkward in a flash. “Your total is twenty one fifty,” the crab said, hoping that she would just pay and get out of his store.

Tetrox paid up and gave Arnick a playful wink as she walked by. “Ah also need a swimsuit,” she said, then paused and gave a shrug. “Well, another one.”

“Why would you need another swimsuit,” Arnick asked flatly, “We can’t swim in the ocean.

“Because the one ah brought won’t help me work on my tan, sugah,” she said, bumping her hip into his and continuing down along the beachfront.

She’s going to be the death of me, Arnick thought, but he continued along. Even so, despite his thoughts, he couldn’t help but enjoy her affection, though he didn’t know if reciprocation would be considered acceptable. She walked along, marveling at the various stores and shops, and a wide smile on her face showed that, despite the time she had been living with him and learning about new things, she still had a sense of wonder when presented with the novel.

“Nicky, check this out!” she said as she stared into a storefront, “What are these?”

Arnick went up alongside her and saw massive boards that were as long as they were tall, perhaps bigger, that had fins sticking out one wide end. “Surfboards,” Arnick said, nodding and examining them. These were hand-made, carved from fine wood rather than plastic and fiberglass.

“What do people use them for?” She asked staring at them in wonder.

“You’ve battled on Blackbelly Skatepark, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Same basic thing, except with water instead of concrete.”

Tetrox’s eyes widened and she stepped inside, a grin plastered on her face. There were a couple of TVs situated in various points of the store that had video of urchins, crabs, and even a couple of shrimp riding the waves on the boards that dominated the store’s inventory. Through the speakers of the store, horn and a very distinctive-sounding guitar wafted through the air. An urchin sitting behind the counter was chewing on the end of a pen.

“Suh?” He said lazily, sitting up and leaning against the counter. “Name’s B, cuz. Can I interest you lot in anything?”

“Just browsing, thank you,” Arnick said, though Tetrox was still enraptured by the video of the surfers carving along the waves.

“Ah really wish ah could do that,” she said with a low whistle, prompting B to speak up.

“Yeah, you lot don’t do so well in the water. But if you lot are looking for swimsuits or something to at least look the part, I got a couple of racks and fitting rooms.” The urchin gestured lazily over to a pair of clothing racks that had swimsuits for guys and gals. The majority of them were wetsuits, though there were a couple of one and two pieces, as well as board shorts. Tetrox gasped excitedly and immediately went over to the racks, rummaging through. Arnick followed reluctantly.

“You’re a medium, right Nicky?” Tetrox asked, shuffling through the board shorts. Without waiting for an answer, she shoved three pairs into his hands and said, “Try those on.”

Arnick’s mouth worked for a moment before he managed to stammer out, “Tetrox, I think this is hardly the right way to go about shopping for a swimsuit!”

“How is it wrong? Yah pick ‘em out, then yah try ‘em on. Easy as pie,” she said before she shoved another pair of trunks into his arms. Arnick searched for some excuse, some protest, but a quiet “psst” from B caught his attention. Arnick leaned over and B flopped across the counter to whisper to him.

“Listen, bro,” he said, quietly enough to not draw Tetrox’s attention, “You gotta know when to fold ‘em, yeah? Go with her on this. I’ll knock fifty percent off the price.”

Arnick’s brow furrowed in confusion. First, because he was getting woman advice from a total stranger. Second, because fifty percent off? Just for going along with what Tetrox wanted? Seemed fishy.

“Giving a discount just because you want to seems like an unsound business practice,” Arnick said, a little cautious.

“Take it or leave it, bro. It’s my business, so I can run it how I like.”

There wasn’t really a point in arguing with either of them today. Arnick was snapped out of his reverie by Tetrox squealing, “Oooooh, Nicky! Check this one out! It’s right up your alley~.” She held up a pair of bright pink swim trunks, almost too hot pink for him to look at. Zapfish above, they were bright.

He held up a hand in protest and said, “I’ll, ah… I’ll just try these on.”

Tetrox shrugged and Arnick looked over at B, only to have the urchin gesture towards a door in the opposite corner of the store. Arnick let out a sigh and went over to the dressing rooms, closing himself within. He hung his cap up on one of the pegs, his jacket on the one below. Off came the shoes and pants, leaving his undergarments on. Heavens knew who else had tried these on.

The first pair were the tackiest thing he could have imagined, so of course Tetrox had to pick them out. They were black, and had a bright red crab plastered across the rump. Arnick didn’t bother with those; he just set them aside and looked at the next pair.

These were neon green and were almost as painful to look at as the hot pink ones that Tetrox had presented earlier. Even so, he tried them on and inspected himself in the mirror. They made his already-pale skin look bordering on translucent, and the green clashed with the purple of his tentacles. It was bordering on cringeworthy to the point where Arnick wouldn’t dare go out in public with it on.

“That one’s a huge ‘no’,” He said, taking the trunks off and hanging them up with the aforementioned crabby pair. As he got the next pair, he heard someone get into the fitting room next to him. Based on the humming of the person, he could easily deduce that it was Tetrox.

“How’s things goin’ in there, Nicky?” she asked. From his angle, he could see her shorts and shirt cascade onto the ground. Arnick felt his face turn a few shades darker and he pointedly turned away from the wall that concealed a mostly-naked Tetrox.

“I’m honestly not surprised you picked the tackiest drawers in the place,” he said flatly.

“Aw, come on, sugah,” Tetrox teased, “Yah could probably even make those hot pink ones look good.”

“Maybe, but certainly not this lime green monstrosity,” he said as he picked a more subdued pair of burnt orange trunks with a black paisley design. Granted, compared to the previous two pairs, “subdued” was a rather relative term. He pulled them on and immediately felt uncomfortable. Even through the outside fit him fine, the mesh that was supposed to keep sand from getting in and chafing him was a little… tight. Master Sergeant Avery Johnson and his grenades were compacted quite uncomfortably, and Arnick couldn’t get out of the pair of trunks fast enough. He put them in the “no” pile and stared at the last pair with a sigh.

It was considerably less gaudy than the rest, but that didn’t change the fact that it wasn’t his ideal choice. They were a dark violet, almost midnight, with little lobsters on them that were two or three shades lighter than the background. They would have to do if push came to shove.

Arnick pulled the board shorts on and found them surprisingly comfortable, testing his range of motion to find that everything still moved the way it should. Rather than being placed in an uncomfortable prison, his boys were nestled quite comfortably in a nylon mesh. He stared at himself in the mirror and found himself satisfied, surprisingly enough, and stripped out of the trunks. He put them aside and redressed himself, pulling the cap down low over his brow as he made his way out of the dressing room. Tetrox was still trying on her various swimsuits, and Arnick knocked on the door.

“How are you doing in there?” he asked, hoping she didn’t get herself tangled in the various bikini strings.

“Just fine, sugah,” She said, a note of satisfaction in her voice. “Just fine. Meet me outside, will yah? Ah don’t want yah to see what Ah have picked out.”

Arnick rolled his eyes and went back out to the storefront with its massive displays of surfboards, and put the pair of swim trunks on the counter. B sat up and stared at the garment in question and let out a long, low whistle.

“Well fuck me sideways,” he said, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips. “This is what you picked out?”

“She picked it out,” Arnick said flatly, “And it was the nicest option.”

“Yeah, I ordered way too much neon, to be honest. I probably have to pay people to take them away now.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Arnick said, trying to be cordial. He pulled some bills out of his wallet to pay for the trunks, only to have B hold up a hand to stop him.

“Take the trunks, man,” he said. “Thought you lot looked familiar, so I did some lookin. Not every day dude sees a dude with that hat walking round with an octoling.”

“Are you trying to say something about Tetrox?” Arnick said without thinking. He paused, realizing that he got at least a little alpha there, and possibly overly protective.

“Nah, man. Just saying that you lot ain’t exactly a common pair. I like your work on the splatterfield, man. She ain’t too shabby neither. You look after each other.”

“It’s teamwork,” Arnick said, “it’s more or less what we do.”

“Nah, man. Read between the lines, sometime. Might do you some good. Keep the trunks. Lady will get to keep her suit. Swing by here again sometime, yeah?”

Arnick paused, staring at the urchin as the latter leaned back in his chair and watched one of the TVs displaying the surf videos as if he had only seen it three or four times. “Thanks,” he said, “I’ll do that if I’m in the area again. Tetrox told me to wait outside, so maybe we’ll run into each other later?”

“See you, man,” B said as Arnick left the store with a paper shopping bag in hand. By now, the sun was starting to set. He kept checking his time until, ten minutes later, Tetrox joined him outside.

“Sorry to keep yah waitin’, sugah,” she said with a chipper bounce to her step. “Ah just had to make sure that ah had the right size. Yah know, swimsuit shopping is harder for me than most.” She made a point to jut her chest out just so in order to ensure that Arnick was staring. She was very well put together, to put it politely. “They don’t always have my size, yah know,” Tetrox explained, a wry smile on his face. Arnick swallowed spit he didn’t even know he had in his mouth and kept walking.

The remainder of the walk continued in silence, leastways until they decided to stop for a bite to eat. There was a taco shop that was little more than a counter with five stools that Tetrox pointed out as they walked along. The pair each ordered a couple of fried fish tacos for dinner, and Arnick paid despite mild protest from his partner.

“Hey, Arnick?” Tetrox asked. The fact that she used his real name instead of one of the nicknames she had bestowed upon him immediately drew his attention.

“Yes?” he asked, looking over at her with a concerned expression.

“Thank you,” she said as she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. He felt his face blush dark at the action. She had kissed him like that a few times before usually out of the blue like this one was, but never in public. Usually she was welcoming him home after a long day out, or vice versa, or thanking him for something or other.

“For… ah… for what, Tetrox?” he asked, trying to maintain his cordial nature.

“Going shoppin’ with me today,” She said,  looking down at the bag she had set beside her. “I know you’ve been doin’ a lot of that with me since Ah got to Inkopolis, but Ah don’t want yah to think Ah’m takin’ it for granted.”

The genuine nature of the response made Arnick feel uneasy, ever so slightly. “I… well, it’s not like it’s a problem or anything of the sort,” he explained. Suddenly, Arnick was much more interested in the process of the proprietor of the taco shop –a rather large and stern jellyfish– making the batter for his fried fish. He poured a bottle of Negra Modelo into his batter, and mixed it in. “Do you think that we should discuss this over a pint?” He asked, gesturing to the jellyfish making their meal.

            There was a pause from Tetrox before she smiled and nodded a little shyly. “Ah think Ah’d like that very much.” Drinking was a social thing for the both of them. Celebration, conversation, even a moment of silence could be shared over a pint of bitter.

            Arnick flagged down the jellyfish and ordered two bottles of the beer he was pouring into the batter, and two of the jellyfish’s free tentacles plucked bottles from a cooler below, snapped off the caps, and put them down in front of the pair. Arnick was the first to raise his. “Thank you for making my life a lot more exciting in the best of ways,” he said in a moment of earnest praise.

            Tetrox was stunned for a moment before she clinked the neck of her beer against his own and said, “And thank yah for makin’ my experience up here a lot better than Ah hoped it would be.”

            They took the obligatory drink, then set their bottles down. Silence passed between the two of them for about five minutes before the strong, silent jellyfish behind the counter placed two plates of three tacos each in front of them. The tacos were cod, beer-battered and wrapped with pico de gallo, lettuce, and a squeeze of lime juice in a small corn tortilla. It was standard fare for the beach, but they tasted like heaven.

            On the way back, Arnick offered to carry Tetrox’s bag, after promising repeatedly that he would not look inside. Tetrox reluctantly passed it over to him about fifteen steps away from the taco shop, and made him carry the two bags in one hand as she looped her now-free arm through his own.

            He couldn’t quite say that he minded.

            The sun was dipping down behind the shops by the time that Arnick and Tetrox had their dinner, and it was fully set by the time they returned to cabana number seven. She opened the door, and he passed her bag back to her. They walked to the center of the living room together, then paused for a moment.

            Arnick was overwhelmed by this urge to take her in his arms and place his lips against her in the most tender, romantic way he possibly could, and he thought he could see a shimmer of that same urge in Tetrox’s eyes.

            He had to have been hallucinating.

            “Well… um… goodnight,” he said as he nodded to her and made his way back to his room. He stripped down to his undershirt and boxers, left his cap on the nightstand, and folded his dirty clothes in the drawer just below the clean.

            Arnick bid goodnight to Private Potter and lay down in bed, rolling on his side to stare in the direction of Tetrox’s room. Funny. Ten minutes ago, he wanted to go to bed. But now? He couldn’t shake this feeling that Tetrox was lying on her side, staring in the direction of his bed, herself.

submitted by jackthebard

Tammy’s comments: AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH! Finally published this! I read this before leaving the house but didn’t put it out! I simply loved this and I see you have sent me the next part already! Can’t wait to read the next part! *rubs hands*