#pebbles (me) ramblers
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WHOEVER said that vampire!chuuya looks like verlaine im in your walls
#SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP#i think it was one of my moots actually#it felt like being punched in the gut#bsd#skk#pebbles (me) ramblers#bsd 109
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the fall and model buses just hits really hard when they were released at the exact time a social crisis was ongoing and politicians were ignoring the deaths of civillians due to police brutality in a third world country with a history of dictatorship
like it's just got a different vibe yk
#I never cared much for the drop I just love the buildup of the fall#how it grows and grows and then explodes#and the last breath feels like there's still air being held in because you had more to say#I used to hate that last breath because it didn't feel cathartic but now it just feels accurate#I remember me and my mom passing by a place with a yard with funky decor and I asked what it was thinking it was cool#it was a memorial for the lives lost from the tortures of the 70s done by the government to political prisoners#latam moment#but also#'and the ramblers will say 'it's such a marvelous view' but we don't know how many lives it took'#I always interpreted model buses' 'you're just scared of the future' as politicians being afraid of protestors#because trust me they were terrified#but then again most protestors were young adults and highschoolers#they were scared of us#of those who'd become the future#and of progress too of course#there's just a lot of layers and it feels heavier than it was probably meant to be#more powerful idk#lovejoy#lvjy#pebble brain#lovejoy pebble brain
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Hi Hello Welcome ^-^
About me! ✨️
Alyssa • Lyss • She/They • 21
Main Interests | Genshin Impact • Ultrakill • Rain World • Hollow Knight
Status | Chronic rambler in tags
Tags I use! 🖌
#lyss art | all art in general
>> #my art | rendered art
>> #doodles | art i dont think is rendered
#lyssten to my rambles | general text & ask
#comic | dedicated comic posts
#animation | AMVs and animations
#travel puppet au | my gijinka AU
>> #lore art | drawn AU stuff
>> #lore text | text AU stuff & related asks
#rw crossover | crossover of rw with various other fandoms
>> #karma corporation | rw x lob corp
>> #elden rain | rw x elden ring
#gift for lyss | art drawn for me
[All tags are under this post for navigation]
About Askbox! [CLOSED] 🔔
❌️ Talk or ask me things
❌️ Doodle requests
❌️ Ask iterators and scugs in my AU
✅️ You can PM me if askbox is closed
Keep in mind 📌
❌️ Empty blog & default PFP is INSTABLOCK
❌️ I am not obligated to answer all asks
❌️ Do not claim my art as your own
✅️ You can use my art as pfp with credit
✅️ Feel free to tag me in fanart or inspired art -- If I don't see it you can ask/PM me about it
Travel Puppet AU & Refs 🌐
Canon divergence around after Gourmand Campaign where Suns created a travel puppet to slap some sense into Pebbles. The travel puppet became known internationally and other iterators start adopting it. Those puppets aren't built including the Self Destruction Taboo so the iterator populace can get some semblance of freedom.
World building : About • Timeline & Cycle • Branches • Gifts
About the Iterators : Relations • Interests • Colony
Relevant events :
Master ref 📌
Individual ref + associated creatures
Wishful Omnipotence ref
#pin#blog intro#lyss art#my art#doodles#lyssten to my rambles#travel puppet au#lore art#lore text#rw crossover#gift for lyss#comic#animation
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Rover
the dust on your boots--
pennsylvania loam and
cement powder from new
york, jersey sand and
granite pebbles from
walking on the face of old
man appalachia, the oil
black earth of bayou country
my daddy was a rambler,
made me and my brother
and rambled on
#poetry#spilled ink#inkstay#poetryriot#writerscreed#poem#poets on tumblr#twcpoetry#allpoetry#napowrimo
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kinktober all year, 2024
i’m so sorry, but-
it had to be done.
after the fiasco of kinktober 2023, and i had to regroup with blood and wine, i am continuing to lick my wounds from the humiliation. i mean, a genuinely kinky person was all around ignored during a kink-fest, like nothing about that makes any sense whatsoever. worse, i don’t even know why i was ignored; i mean, i have my theories but they’re all hard to confirm. i really don't understand why i was given such a cold shoulder this year when i dropped the first one shot.
it’s supposed to be a community and yet, i saw right away that it isn’t. “don’t ‘yuck’ someone’s ‘yum’” feels like a naïve joke at this point because all i could think leading up to the 18th when i pulled the plug was “gee, sorry i’m not good and sexy enough for you guys. i’m terribly sorry that this is torturous for you, there's literally nothing i can do about it so i'll see myself out before this is done so you don't have to be exposed to my bullshit for a while.”
god, my sexuality is just… it’s too much. it’s way too much and i feel trapped inside of it. i'm helpless to rid of it even as i genuinely hate it so much. i genuinely wish i didn't have a sexuality because it's useless. no one likes it or wants to know about it.
i’m way too much. i'm too kinky and yet i'm not sexual enough. all dressed up with nowhere to go.
and yet, i can’t let them win. these totally unsexy, borderline gross, borderline sexist, pregnancy-loving scoundrels who inexplicably dominated this year couldn’t write a compelling story if it saved the world; they cannot continue to act like they're the only ones who can do it. there has to be a place for me; there just has to be. i may hate my sexuality more than anything and find it ugly and disgusting and i'm pretty sure it's the last thing you'll ever see before you die, but it’s like the inevitability of death: you can’t escape it. plus, after the last couple of months, i don’t really need some hundreds of people to kiss my ass to feel like the queen of kinktober: i don’t need fandom, and i don’t think i ever have needed it, either.
so, i give you kinktober all year.
now, just to make it easier on myself—mainly because i honestly have no clue how 2024 will play out (it could be the worst year of my life for all i know, especially if this year was anything to go by), but also because i have wips to write—these will be sent out on a weekly basis starting new year's day, giving us a grand total of 52 one shots. aside from the first one, i’ll keep the prompts a surprise just to keep my very personal preferences to myself, but i will give away titles, though. i'll also keep the participants under wraps until i post them for the same reason (you know alex will be in like... one or two, though).
yes, this is going on ao3 because i’ve been getting really, really tired of tumblr and really all social media lately. no, i don’t care if you join me or not because it’s a holistic thing that’s really just meant for myself; you can if you want, though. “i’m not like them, but i can pretend.”
“the wandering jew” (this one, i've already shared; it's my water kink)
“django tango”
“heroin”
“five minutes”
“corduroy”
“poison ivy”
“chillblains”
“he’s gotta have it”
“bats in the attic”
“midnight rambler”
“pebble beach”
“chiaroscuro”
“this kiss”
“disco volante”
“seashells”
“deer in the headlights”
“scarlet”
“walk with me”
“have a cigar”
“poison whiskey”
“i think i lost my headache”
“touch too much”
“pearly dew drops”
“still crazy after all these years”
“enjoy every sandwich”
“let’s talk about cars”
“twin flames”
“as serious as a heart attack”
“trial by fire”
“he didn’t”
“flannel”
“side street”
“be with me”
“heart and lungs”
“dodge the bambula”/“jackin’ it in san diego"
“the razor’s edge”
“she likes surprises”
“black coral”
“black nightshade”
“seduce and destroy”
“pick a number”
“all that glitters”
“…like clockwork”
“sabra cadabra”
“world of brass”
“every night i burn”
“one of these nights”
“aquamarine”
“the beast”
“dream with me”
“dionysus”
“time has come today”
#kinktober#kinktober masterlist#kinktober prompts#kinktober all year#testament#testament band#anthrax#anthrax band#anthrax fanfic#testament fanfic#fanfiction#fanfic#writing#kink tag#kink tumblr#kink content#text
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Radar Beach
My friend Jerry Toon wanted to spend his summer on Radar Beach on the west side of Vancouver Island between Tofino and Ucluelet. It was very remote, at the time, and quite difficult to find. He asked if I could pick him up on August 25 so he could get back to civilization. My girlfriend, Barb, had an old Rambler American she bought from her mother and agreed to make the trip with me. Jerry gave us very specific instructions on how to find him.
We took the ferry to Nanaimo and drove across Vancouver Island toward Tofino. The paved road only went as far as Port Alberni so we had to rely on logging roads for much of the way. We drove to the top of Radar Hill and camped in the car overnight. We were completely alone on Radar Hill the entire time. In the morning we started searching for the beginning of the trail that led to the 5 beaches that make up Radar Beach. The trail head was overgrown, didn’t look much like a trail, and took some time to find. We clambered down the steep grade, sometimes climbing down trees that were part of the trail. Eventually the terrain flattened out and we could see an expanse of sand appear through the brush.
When we arrived at the first beach it was totally deserted, as Jerry said it was likely to be. We headed south along the sand until we encountered a large outcropping of rock. After climbing over the rock we could see a second beach, equally as deserted as the first. We got past the second beach and ran into some different scenery with a lot of rocky shoreline, a whale carcass in the rocks, and some shipwrecks in the water.
I managed to get myself inside a sea cave and grabbed some pebbles that had bits of sand pounded into them by the waves. We encountered the paw print of some animal I thought might be a wolf. Barb’s hand was not much bigger than the mark in the sand. It took some effort to get past the next beach and finally see the fifth in the series of beaches. Jerry said he would be at the very end of the last beach so we pushed on.
We saw what looked like a shack made of driftwood and bits of other material. We asked if there was anyone there and two girls came outside to greet us. They invited us in to share some bannock with them and told us they knew Jerry. Barb looked very uncomfortable while we chatted with the girls. My guess was that she was not happy with the girls being totally naked. They shared some of their experiences living on a deserted beach for the summer. They were able to scrounge enough food and buy a few things they needed to augment their diet.
We continued on down the last beach, finding a few abandoned shacks along the way. As promised, we found Jerry at the very end of the beach, in a relatively nice shack. We also found the animal that left the huge paw print in the sand. It was a very large and friendly dog. After the long hike Barb and I needed a break so we spent the night in the shack with Jerry. The next morning we started the return journey to Vancouver. Of course, we had to stop to say goodbye to the girls.
I have been to very few places as remote, wild, interesting, or beautiful as Radar Beach. I went back a few years ago and found it had been gentrified. The trail was manicured, had hand rails in places, and we had to pay to park at the top of the hill.
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And the ramblers will say “It’s got a marvelous view!”
idk what this artstyle is because it’s not my normal one, but it’s fun. I listened to The Fall on loop for most of the drawing h e l p. No thoughts, head Pebble Brain
This was a nice little return to drawing after not having done a full drawing in a while. Basically the idea behind this is like, The Fall is about a monetary and general gap between parts of society right? I think? So the ramblers are just all the birds busy chirping about their lovely view. Meanwhile everyone else is crowded high into the buildings in the background, with the best vantage point for the gaps and faults but too far away to voice it.
Or maybe the migraine brain fog is finally getting to me. Who knows really? (Both probably). I’m going to post this on my art twitter later, which is here if you’re into that
#it's like 1am my-time#so if this post flops#i might shamelessly repost it tomorrow#during the daytime#lovejoy#pebble brain#wilbur soot#ash kabosu#mark boardman#joe goldsmith#Lee speaks#my art#clip studio paint
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Ranking Pebble Brain Songs as Where I Would Put Them in a Movie
There’s always got to be some movie aspect with my post once in awhile. When Are You Alright? came out, my brain kept picturing where those songs would play if they were in a movie...since I’m a movie fan. So I decided to do that with Pebble Brain. This is just me describing where I think the the songs of Pebble Brain would be if they were played in a movie.
Oh Yeah, You’re going to Cry About it?-Credits
I feel this song would be the second song that would play during the credits. Something the audience can dance to while they leave the theater. The song could also be played during the beginning of a movie that introduces the protagonist.
Model Buses-Ending Song
Played during the resolution. The problem has been solved and the protagonist and their friends can have fun and just hang out, no longer having to be “Scared of the Future”. It’s got an upbeat kick and I can feel it being in a movie that takes place in high school or college. Feels like a summer song that would lead into the credits.
Concrete-Climax song
There’s a problem that’s been plaguing the protagonist for the whole movie, and it’s time to face it as the movie reaches the climax. Again I feel this song would fit a college or high school setting.
Perfume-Relationship song
Since most movies always have a romantic relationship(or even a love triangle), I feel Perfume is the song that plays when the protagonist finds out that the girl they are crushing just got a new boyfriend when the protagonist thought the girl and them were getting close enough where they can confess their feelings. Now the protagonist is left feeling disgusted by the new relationship, wishing they were the boyfriend This song just screams heartbroken angst, even more so when I feel the ending could lead into a fight between the protagonist and the boyfriend.
You’ll Understand When You’re Older-Middle of Act 2
It was kinda hard to place this song but I can feel it plays in the middle during Act 2(I can’t really pinpoint when Act 2 and 3 starts in movies) but it would be when the protagonist feels nothing is working. After all the protagonist has to struggle and feel down on their luck before they hit the climax of the story(In reference to the Hero’s Journey format). They’re older, but they still don’t understand
The Fall-Fight Song!
This one seems kinda obvious, especially sine it’s so different than the other songs. The beginning, since it’s slow would be prep for the fight. The pre chorus of “And all the Ramblers will say, It’s got a marvelous view” The protagonist gets one last glimpse of the sunset before they go face off the antagonist. The chorus “And we’re so calm but we’re fucking scared” can literally describe the protagonist feelings going into the fight. The second verse is where things start to pick up The breakdown is the actual fight, the antagonist taunting the hero. The ending with the pause beats of the bass and drums is the protagonist stumbling forward or backwards.
It’s All Futile, It’s All Pointless-Driving Song
The protagonist is tired but needs to drive home. It’s 11:30 pm. This song comes on and they just loudly sing along to the lyrics, their voice shaky and cracks a bit. They sing their heart out all the way home and wait till the song ends before they leave their car and head inside. They’ve been through a lot the past couple days and really needed that.(Totally not describing my drive home from work.)
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ok FAVE PARTS OF PEBBLE BRAIN SONGS:
oyygc: the sorta raspy feel to the vocals in the verses, the “in the back room of the bar in the backseat of my car im the ending shes the start” part, the way the vocal get more intense on “does she still think of me”
model buses: the guitar motif that kicks in on “youre so appealing”, the chorus as a whole, the second part of the second verse (cause youre so relieving, like a breath of fresh air on a warm summer evening, its up to you right when deciding the night), the instrumental bit esp the trumpet(?) line
concrete: funky drums at the beginning, when the guitars kick in, the s alliteration in the first verse, the lyrics in the first verse in general, the chorus in general, the instrumental between the end of the first chorus and the second verse, the bass in the chorus, the bit with the triplets in the ending instrumental
perfume: the bassline during the chorus, the second “i say you need better standards” where wilbur yells a lil bit, the instrumental under the i say you need better standards bit, the second half of the first verse (your tongue is razor sharp i miss when it would fight mine left your heart on standby etc.), the ending instrumental
yuwya: that one recurring part in the instrumental You know the one, “you can tell hes lying cause his lips move”, “youre keeping a dark secret but youre talking in your sleep”, literally just the instrumental parts as a whole especially the guitars, THE ENDING
the fall: the funky drum in the second verse, guitar bit during the second “ramblers will say” part (is that the chorus), the way the guitar sounds in the instrumental part, the chord progression in the instrumental part, how into it wilbur gets at the end of the monologue, the lyrics as a whole
iafiap: the build up to the first chorus, the rythymic feel in the second part of the chorus (youll never get rid of me im like a fucking disease), the lyrics in the chorus, the reuse of the model buses trumpet riff in the bridge
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TW: TEEN PREGNANCY (KIND OF)
oh ? what’s this ? a new muse ? why yes, it is ! okie dokie, hmu for plots or hit the lil heart so i can slide into ur tumblr or discord ims to yeet this babie at u
●● is that ELIZABETH OLSEN ? no, that’s just LUCY DAHLMAN, the 26 year old CISFEMALE who is an ACTRESS. some say they’re LOQUACIOUS AND WHIMSICAL, but their family and friends will swear they’re HUMOROUS AND EBULLIENT. when i think of them, i think of cameras flashing, laughing so hard that it hurts, yves saint laurent perfume, rumors written on tabloids, baggy sweaters in the winter. i wonder if HER neighbors knows that HER YOUNGER SISTER IS ACTUALLY HER DAUGHTER. ●●
QUICK STATS !
full name: lucille sophia dahlman
nickname(s): lucy, lu
age: twenty-six
date of birth: september 28th
zodiac sign: libra
place of birth: los angeles, ca
gender: cisfemale
sexual orientation: pansexual
romantic orientation: panromantic
occupation: actress
hogwarts house: hufflepuff
ABOUT LUCY !
if you’ve ever heard of the dahlmans (and i’m sure you have) you’d know that the name is synonymous to one thing: fame. lucy’s father, jason dahlman, is an a-list actor, director and producer, her mother, katherine webb is a model-turned actress and her three older brothers are also actors.
so to the surprise of literally no one, lucy was thrust into the spotlight at a young age. at first, it was small roles given to her through the power of her parents, but it wasn’t until she was thirteen that she was cast as a main character in a tv series that she was finally seen as someone other than “the dahlmans’ daughter”
the show’s success brought about many opportunities, both on television and on the silver screen, for her. she’d been dubbed nicknames like “america’s sweetheart’ and gained a reputation for being innocent and a goody-two-shoes which to be clear, wasn’t false, but was certainly exaggerated for the media.
they’d managed to keep that up without any problems until she was around nineteen... when she fell pregnant with her then-boyfriend’s baby. it was a literal nightmare for her pr team, especially since the finale of her show was still fresh and they didn’t want her to end up on one of those “child stars gone bad” articles. yikes?
so, since lucy had every intention of keeping the baby, they decided to send her and her mom to ashcroft to live with her aunt to keep the pregnancy on the dl. nine months later, one day after valentine’s, patricia rose dahlman was brought into the world. she ended up staying in ashcroft for another two years to lay off any suspicion.
her pr team and her family felt it was best to keep the pregnancy a total secret from the public to maintain her image, which was why they decided to pass her baby off as her younger sister, and her mother’s daughter.
ok so uhh personality wise, lucy is a total sweetheart ?? i mean, she wasn’t called “america’s sweetheart for nothing. she’s kind of spontaneous, likes to go on random adventures a lot and is just ?? a total rambler ?? someone tape her mouth shut i swear she once talked about a pebble she found on a beach for like forty minutes straight.
a literal klutz, to the point where she has to have a pack of band-aids on her person at all times. incredibly sarcastic and a drama queen to a fault, but also she’s also just ?? actual sunshine ?? she radiates so much positive energy it’s unreal tbh
anyway she’s been back in ashcroft for a little bit now, taking a break from acting since she wants to spend more time with her daughter !! because she literally hasn’t seen her since she was last in ashcroft which was four years ago !! so she misses the heck out of her !!
no wcs part of the intro again because i’m working on a new wc list but in the meantime, gimme new friends, old friends from when she was here six years ago, people who are suspicious of her true relationship to patricia idk? fans ??? she’s an actress so she def has some u feel (listen. if they a stan account lucy probably recognizes their username she’s vv close to her fans) um idk anymore i’m just throwing out suggestions love me thanks
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In the Darkest Hour ⚡ [Hercades]
In which Hercules and Hades embark on a quest to the Underworld...[takes place evening of July 6th to evening of July 9th]
@trip-downtheriverstyx
[tw -- monsters, near-drowning, death, creepy underworld stuff, talk of gross bodily fluids, uhh yeah just some nasty underworld stuff]
HERCULES:
They left the cottage without much more conversation. The Fates had stayed behind with Belle as she said goodbye to them at the door. He was pretty sure he’d her tell them to leave, but he didn’t think much about it, because the next second the door snapped shut and he was standing in the half-dark with Hades. And Georgette.
Her body floated there morbidly, her hair falling back, her arms and legs hanging limply. Her face was still, eyes closed. The rain had washed away most of the blood on her face, but it still stained her torn clothes.
Hercules couldn’t look at her for long or he would feel like being sick. His heart was thrumming hard and fast in his chest.
He’d tried to talk--once or twice, trying to start a conversation. He was a nervous rambler on his best days. He’d tried to explain what had happened: it was an accident, a tree, and--I didn’t mean--but Hades had said: I don’t care. Which had promptly shut Hercules up. He’d tried again a little later as they’d stepped into the tree line by the river.
Hades lit his hand with fire and sent it towards the dark trees, which groaned as the fire snapped and cracked through them.
Soooo, how long have you known the Fates, then?
Hades had snapped at him something about concentration and Hercules had fallen silent again.
It was a long, quiet, eerie walk towards the Gates. Hercules had never traveled so deeply into the woods and he felt the hair rising on his arms as they trudged through. The bank of the river muddied his boots. The blue fire cast eerie shadows on either side of them. It hollowed out the curve of Georgette’s neck, her collarbone, the indents of her eyes. It made her look like a ghastly, cold thing. Hercules looked away.
He wanted to talk. The whole time, he wanted to babble--because he was terrified and confused and full of grief so heavy that he felt it physically in his shoulder blades. His body ached from carrying Georgette the short distance to the cottage.
And he was thinking, couldn’t stop thinking about what the Fates had said.
Can take the magic from the boy, but not the boy from the magic.
And the dragon’s voice still hissed in his ear:
Demigod. Son of Diana.
What did it mean? For months and months now, Hercules had both yearned for answers and been terrified. What if there wasn’t any reason for the way he was? What if he was given up because he’d hurt his mother when he’d been born? Or hurt his father? Or--someone else? What if he was given up because he was mistake? An abomination? Shouldn’t have been born. Or was born of incest or infidelity--
Demigod, the dragon had said.
No good fate had ever befallen a demigod. Not even the one he was named for. He’d gone insane, he’d killed his wife and children. Achilles had died. Perseus, Theseus. Bellerophon had been irrevocably crippled. Orpheus had lost his love--
Being a hero was not something Hercules wanted.
He just--wanted to save Georgette.
If he lost his own life, well, he supposed it would be just recompense, but it did not mean he wanted to die.
Lost in these thoughts, Hercules did not even realize they were at the Gates until the river lit up blue and the earth trembled beneath his feet.
The hole expanded and expanded into a dark nothingness, like a gaping wound. A chill rose up from it. It made the hair on Hercules’ arms stand up, but there was also something about it that made his blood sing in his veins, thrumming fast and sure.
He glanced at Hades, but the other man was already walking down the stone steps that had appeared at the mouth of the hole. Georgette’s body drifted behind him, as if she was being carried by an unseen current.
Hercules hesitated and then, he gathered his courage and stepped into the Underworld.
With each step downwards, he felt--lighter. Stronger. He let out a breath (which he had not realized he was holding) as his foot hit the bottom step. Everything was dark as shadows besides the light from Hades’ flame.
Hercules flexed his hand, spreading his fingers and then, he clenched his hand into a fist. His heart still beat strong in his chest, steadier now, slow and pulsating. And he knew, without anything at all really changing about him, that somehow--his magic had been restored.
Somehow, here in this place where things died, Hercules became powerful once more.
He reached forwards towards Hades and moved his hand slowly over the orb of flame that was hanging there. It was hot, but the kind of warmth that the sun’s rays on a bright summer’s day might feel like. He let out another breath and clenched his fist, like he could grab the flame and let his arm fall back down to his side.
“Do you--know what this means?” Hercules asked, looking at Hades.
Am I a demon of the Underworld? Am I a monster?
HADES:
Yeah, Hades wasn’t in the mood for small talk. He’d been hoping for a quiet night in, after all. But here he was again: traipsing through Enchantra wood toward the Gates of Hell during a muggy, wet evening.
It was even worse than usual, the summer flora having taking over much of the paths. There was barely anywhere to put his feet and they could barely see through all the foliage. He had to burn his way through in short controlled bursts, which he drew back as quickly as he could. Hades took no pleasure in any of this. He knew that Enchantra was no regular forest and what little magic sense he had was on high alert as they moved deeper and deeper...the shadows behind them lengthening, Hades’ feeling eyes on the back of his neck.
But he had no other choice if he were to save the life of Georgette Midler. And if the forest was pissed, it didn’t retaliate, at least, not yet. They managed to arrive at the Gate in one piece: himself, Hercules, and Georgette still floating in the air, suspended like a leaf buoyed by the wind.
But there was no wind. In this, the darkwood, there was barely any noise. Even the misting rain could not get in through the thickened canopy. The light was dim, Hades’ fire casting everything in its glow. As the river lit, that glow spread, and shadows danced across the tree trunks, as if they were ghosts.
There were no ghosts though. Surprisingly, not a lot hung out around the Gates. But was that really so surprising, come to think-- no ghost wanted to see the Underworld, that was why they were ghosts. No, the Gates were here for the living.
For people like Hercules, who needed-- hope.
Down they went until at last they’d arrived where the paths split. Hades had no idea what paths Hercules saw (perhaps a plain, cold tiled one, leading him straight to Dis) but Hades saw all of them. He was about to twitch his hand and bring Georgette forth when--
Ah, good. Hercules was talking again.
Hades glanced back at Hercules, who was staring down at his own hands. So the bloke got his power back just as the old wives’ tale went. Hercules, born again. Hades raised his eyebrows.
“Well-- legend is if you’re strong enough to be able to walk through the Gates, you’ll be-- born again, in a way. Diseases, curses, all that stuff will lift. But there are only a few kinds of people who can walk into the Gates and not die instead. Vampires, for one and--creatures of the Underworld for another. Like me.” He flashed a close-lipped, half-amused smile. “So that must be why the Fates weren’t concerned. They smelled it on you, eh, chap? You’re one of us.”
Hades turned back around then, and flicked his hand forward. Georgette’s body drifted...and kept drifting, and kept drifting, picking one of the paths where-- yes, her soul would be. Hades stopped her body in the air again.
“Follow me and stay close. If you so much as put a toe off a path, you’ll be lost, nothing I can do about it. Sides--” he smirked again. “I know a shortcut.”
Hades ventured forth, walking the path toward the swamps. The rest of the paths peeled away and then disappeared, because Hades didn’t need them and when he was here, the Underworld knew. He hadn’t been back since February-- since he thought he was going to stay here forever. Now, it was like no time had passed at all.
Which made sense. There was no time here. And since there was no time, it took no time for the path to pebble, then wash into sand, as they came to shore of the swamps, a boat waiting for them.
Hades floated Georgette’s body into the canoe, laying it down gently. He looked back at Hercules. “You know where we are? What to expect?”
HERCULES:
The silence was oppressive. Hercules felt it pressing down on him from every angle, pressing against his eardrums. He could hear the blood rushing through his veins. Still alive, still invincible. He had not been afraid to enter the Gates—but it wasn’t because of what the Fates had said, wasn’t because he knew or even wanted his powers back, but because he wasn’t afraid to die.
If he traded his life for Georgette’s, if that’s what was meant, Hercules would do it in an instant.
Especially because he didn’t want to be what Hades said—one of us. One of them. A demon. Something unwholly and evil.
(Though, he knew Hades wasn’t evil. He wasn’t the nicest person, but he wasn’t evil. He knew not all things that came from the Underworld was evil, but it was still the Underworld. It was still a place of death. Hercules was something of death.)
They walked in that awful, heavy silence. Everything was dark besides the path beneath their feet, which was plain and unassuming, but it made Hercules’ stomach churn anyway. They were standing in nothingness. It reminded him of the stories that his mum used to tell him. Of Nakara. Of Andhatamisra—the blind darkness. A darkness, cutting the tree at its roots, supposed to drive men insane.
It went on forever. Hercules’ stamina was back. It no longer cost him anything to walk and walk and walk, and he was partially glad for it, because that was what it felt like. Like they had been walking for hours. It also felt like they’d been walking for the blink of an eye.
Suddenly, there was the quiet sound of water lapping at a shore.
There was a boat.
Dark, still water stretched out before them.
Hercules thought of Puyoda, the water of pus, where men who slept with prostitutes lay, forced to eat all manner of awful things: urine, mucus, salvia. He thought of Georgette here, forced to do those things, forced to be among men who lived like dogs.
If anything, she should be in Ayahpana, forced to drink hot iron for her alcoholism.
Or, she could be here.
“The Vaitarni, o-or I mean, I-I guess you’d call it…the Styx? The—the Stygian marshes?” He cleared his throat a little.
“I—know the stories. Some of them but…should probably let me know what we’re in for…” He hit his fist against his thigh awkwardly and stepped closer to the boat where Georgette’s still body lay.
HADES:
Hercules garbled off a few words that Hades had only seen in books. Growing up, he’d done his fair share of research into the worlds of the dead-- for obvious reasons. He had learned of Hindu myth just as he’d learned of the Greeks. Read plenty of Chinese, Japanese, Korean tales of ghouls and demons alongside the ones set in Great Britain and Ireland. Course, the ones that he knew best were the ones in his own backyard-- the ones that his mother adored, hence Hades’ own name.
But as Hercules spoke of the Vaitarni, he knew that the bloke wasn’t entirely off. Though-- no amount of storybook reading would prepare anyone for the real thing.
There were enough horrors in these dark waters, which in certain light, could gleam as dark as oil-- or blood. Here there be monsters-- lost, sinful souls all. What form they took usually reflected back on who the person was. So maybe Hercules would glimpse one of the Hindu’s flesh-eating birds or five-hundred toothed crocodiles.
Hopefully Georgette, soul still so young-- freshly dead, as it was-- wouldn’t have succumbed so quickly to the same fate.
“Right. Get in,” instructed Hades. He ushered Herc forward and clambered in after, talking as he did.
“So here’s the den of greed and gluttony, which-- the Fates mentioned. Some souls arrive here like we did, all able-bodied, or so they think. Usually that’s the greedy. They go treasure hunting,” explained Hades as he unwrapped the rope off the dock.
He flicked a hand and the boat pushed off, as if helped by an invisible oar. And there were oars in the boat; Hades simply didn’t need them.
“They spend their whole life trudgin’ through these waters, fishing for shiny stuff in the waters below. Sometimes they band together-- sometimes they attack other boats, try to steal their haul. So be on the lookout for other boats. They’ll most likely not be friendly.
“And y’know, sometimes-- sometimes they fall in. And that’s where the gluttonous lie. Most of the souls have transformed into monsters and demons by that point, but some look like people. They go looking for flesh or guard their treasure below. So...watch out from below too.” Hades settled down into the chair and tossed an oar to Hercules.
“Where do you think your bird will be, eh? Above? Or below?”
HERCULES:
Hercules listened intently, once they’d settled in the boat.
He tried not to look anywhere but at Hades’ face. The creepiness factor had jumped from a solid 10/10 to a 100/100. And Hercules, though invincible (now), was not above succumbing to fear and horror the likes of which this swamp could possibly offer him.
Though, he felt strangely calm as the boat rowed further and further into the unfurling darkness.
With every ripple of the water as the boat cut through it, Hercules knew they were closer to Georgette. Hercules was closer to fixing his mistake and getting Georgette back. He thought this, held this certainty in his heart, as he kept his eyes fixed on Hades’ blue ones, which were hauntingly clear and bright, even in the near darkness.
Something splashed, like a fish jumping in the water, a few yards away, but Hercules did not flinch. He looked at Hades and he sucked in a breath, hoping to avoid the dangers. If he could just reach Georgette, if he could just find her…
At Hades’ question, Hercules blinked grabbing the oar, catching it in his hand, his reflexes once again quick as lightning.
“Uh—” His heart twisted in his chest, and though he had done his best not to, he looked down at Georgette’s broken body laying in the boat between them. Her head was at his feet, her golden hair stained pink with blood. Besides that and the dirt and blood, she could almost be sleeping. If Hercules ignored the rest of her body, which lay unnaturally, even though Hades had set her down as gently as he could.
Hercules stared at her face.
Gluttony or greed?
It felt too intimate a question. Hercules had known Georgette for—almost a year (he had actually met her last March…April? But they hadn’t become friends until August.) But he’d only been…dating her a week—if it was even dating. They’d never defined anything. Which was fine, but he felt bad calling it that in his head and—
Gluttony or greed?
He stuck the oar absent-mindedly in the water, turning the boat slightly South. At least, he thought it was South. South was, after all, the end of all things.
South, perhaps, was all around them at this point.
“Gluttony,” he finally settled and cast his gaze into the dark waters.
He couldn’t see anything, not really. In the half-light, no brighter than moonlight in a darkened wood, there were gems and gold that sparkled beneath the water, but no monsters. Everything was still. Too quiet.
“How am I supposed to find her?” he asked, after what felt like hours, what felt like just a moment.
How long had it been? How long?
“How—we could be at this for eternity.”
HADES:
Gluttony. Hades’ mouth twitched, though whether he was going to smile or frown, Hercules’ wouldn’t have been able to tell, and the expression was gone the next moment. Hades leaned back and gazed out at the waters, smooth as glass for now. Gluttony-- where the hungry and the thirsty made their bed. Hades was not privy to know his own fate, but he knew with certainty that these were not the waters where he would lay.
This wasn’t about Hades though. This was about Hercules and Georgette and whatever sins the both of them had dragged down to these abysmal tides. He wondered why Georgette, gluttonous as she was, deserved to get saved anyway. What were those silly Fates thinking?
(Though why had Belle been saved? Hades’ own hubris? That was in a much different part of the Underworld.)
He glanced up from his own reverie as Hercules’ talked again. Hades barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes at the question.
“The soul and the body are still connected-- barely,” he said. “That connection grows the closer we get to it. Think of it like a…gold detector, sort of, eh? We’re following where the body is tugging us. Or-- I am. I dunno what you can feel, Wonder Boy.”
And as he spoke that he wiggled his finger in the air and the boat turned just a little. “Don’t worry, just row. You’ll be the manpower, I’ll navigate. We’ll find your girlfriend.” He cracked a smile.
Around them, ripples moved from the boat. The mist thickened, the dock far away now, and only the water ahead and the monsters lurking below.
Eventually, Hades held up his hand and the boat came to a stop like he’d dropped an anchor. That feeling was back in his chest, the one that told him something was not quite right. It was the loudest it had ever been. It was steady and consistent-- like a heartbeat.
“Hear that?” Hades said, tilting his head. “X marks the spot.”
HERCULES:
Hercules’ eyebrows furrowed.
What could he feel?
There was a tickle under his skin, but he was doing his best to ignore it. It was just the creep-factor of this dark and solemn place. Hades voice echoed eerily, though from what Hercules could tell there was no end—no walls or ceiling for his voice to echo off of. Just the water. Just the darkness. And Hercules rowing, telling himself he felt nothing but his own fear, his own determination.
He pulled a face at Hades’ words.
She isn’t my girlfriend, he almost grumbled, but then he knew the rest would pour out—how they had never had time to establish anything. How it had only been a week. How she was just his friend, really, someone he cared about. Hercules would do the same for anyone he loved.
For anyone he had hurt.
This is my fault, he would say.
But he knew Hades didn’t want to hear any of it. That he didn’t care. That Hercules was walking on thin ice. Or, well, rowing, technically.
He wondered if the water was cold and he swallowed, hating to think of Georgette laying down below, dark, silent, cold.
The boat lurched to a stop, as if it had hit a bank of sand. Hercules knew it hadn’t. His oar still stretched down deep into the water. Everything was still quiet. There was no tell-tale lap of waves on a shore. Only the sound of other boats, rowing in the distance.
“Right,” Hercules said, as he glanced over the side of the boat for the first time.
There was no good spot to look in a place like this. He’d kept his eyes firmly on Hades’ until now. Not that he was scared. He had nothing to fear and nothing to lose. Not really. Everyone back in Swynlake hated him. He was probably going to have to skip town again. If he died—only Pegasus would care. He’d burned all his other bridges, just like he always did.
It didn’t matter. Only thing that mattered was Georgette got another chance.
“So, uh, I guess I’ll see you in a few minutes.” However long that was in a place like this.
He set the oar down next to Georgette’s body gently, trying not to knock the wood against her. While he was still bent over her, he stroked a hand over her matted, knotted hair, caked with blood and debris. It didn’t feel at all as soft as it usually did.
Straightening, he hesitated for a few moments before leaning over and untying his boots. Then, he pulled his shirt off over his head. He didn’t need to have anything something could grab, or drag him down with. Just in his trousers then, he stood up, the boat rocking unsteadily, sending ripples out along the water, but Hercules stayed steady.
He looked over at Hades. “Wish me luck.” But, before Hades could (and Hercules didn’t really expect him to), Hercules took a deep breath and jumped, diving into the dark water.
It clawed at him like a thousand knives, the water colder than anything he’d ever felt in his life. It squeezed his lungs, and he had to battle everything in him to keep from letting out the precious air he had stored there. The feeling disoriented him.
After a few moments, his limbs stiff from the cold, he opened his eyes to a soft, gentle, golden glow.
The amulet around his neck had lit up like a beacon.
He didn’t have time to wonder at it (it barely surprised him at this point.) Hercules merely jerked backwards, a face right in front of him. It was a body, with its eyes open, floating. He realized that they were everywhere. As if the very water was made of them. He swam through them, all ghostly pale, nothing more than essence, than mist. It made his heart clench, made his flesh crawl. They watched him go, he made eye contact with many of them, but they just went back to searching to. It felt like being on an eternal subway, always waiting for your stop. Never finding it.
But, there was nothing for it. Just to push on. He kept the memory of Georgette’s face, her warm, rosy cheeks and long eyelashes; reminding him that this was finite. He just had to find her and he would be out of this nightmare.
Angling his body downwards, he began to dive down deeper. The souls did not bother him. They went straight through him. Something moved off to his left, but he ignored it resolutely. Searching every face for one he recognized.
He must have looked at a hundred faces. That was what it felt like. A hundred dead faces. And each one—he would see for months and months after this. He would wonder who they were. When they had died. If they knew that they were here.
Finally, there she was. She looked right at him—but there was not an ounce of recognition on her features. Hercules swam to her, through the souls of the dead, reaching for her hand. When he grabbed onto her, she felt solid, but paper thin, like the page of a book. He was afraid if he tugged too hard she would tear into a million pieces.
The sound of his heart rushed in his ears. The only sound in this dark, empty void.
She did not react when he kicked his feet downwards, looking up through the bodies. There was no sun to beckon him to the surface. There was nothing at all to indicate which direction was which.
He was lost.
And his lungs were beginning to burn.
He kept his hand clenched around Georgette’s and he swam. He swam and swam, each stroke growing more desperate.
Then, there was a tug.
Something on his foot.
Hercules looked down and there was the head of a creature, it’s teeth on the surface of his skin. It looked like a crocodile. No, a snake. No—a tiger. Each time he blinked it changed and shifted.
It jerked and his mouth opened involuntarily, letting out bubbles of precious air. He kicked his foot out and the head just moved back and forth. Another one appeared from the depths, moving silently. There was no tide to push against it.
Hercules felt light-headed, his lungs screaming for oxygen.
His fist formed without thought and he waited until it was close, its mouth opening, like it was going to swallow him whole. He punched it in the roof of its mouth, shattering through the surface of it, its blood thick and wet and warm and black as it bloomed like a cloud into the water. The creature made a sound like a wail and its other head released Hercules’ foot from its massive maw.
With a desperate kick, Hercules rose to the surface with a gasp, drawing the still, dead air into his lungs. It felt as pure and sweet as a spring breeze. He spit out water—it tasted like blood and bile.
The boat was right in front of him. He grabbed the edge of it and looked over. Georgette’s soul was floating just above the water, her ghostly hair moving as if it was still below the water. It reminded him of the last time he’d seen her properly alive, looking up at the stars, a storm rolling in, her hair moving in the wind.
Something splashed a few feet away, jerking Hercules from his reverie, and with another cough he hauled himself into the boat with one hand, rolling in, knocking against Georgette’s cold body. Her sweater started to soak against the water pooling on Hercules’ skin. He shivered and sat up, still holding onto to Georgette’s soul. (Was definitely not thinking too much about that.)
It moved through the boat as if it was nothing.
Hercules gathered it in his arms, turned it, and laid it parallel with Georgette.
It floated into her prone body, its bluish-greyish-greenish glow disappearing as it sank down.
He waited.
A second.
Two.
Three.
“Why isn’t it working?” he said desperately, his voice rasping from the water, the taste of bile and iron in the back of his throat. He glanced up at Hades, his gaze desperate, red-rimmed; tears gathering against his bottom eyelids.
HADES:
Hades, in case you were wondering, did not wish Hercules good luck. The boy went in with a splash and then was swallowed by the water, Hades rocking in the boat until it finally steadied. But Hades had been alone on these waters before. Hades had been alone many places in the Underworld. Though, if you were to ask him, he would tell you-- that in the Underworld, he never felt truly alone.
There was a hum in the air, you see. A hum, which he felt in his own veins. If he focused in, that distant hum would become voices and he could pick out just one and listen to someone’s story. That’s what the Underworld was for Hades, just a tangle of stories, some sad and some wistful, but all of them finished.
He sat on that boat as the air hummed and hummed, and off in the distance, there was the sound of splashing. Hades did not feel the need to investigate, no, he’d let any other boats pass by and they’d do the same for him, as if they heard a humming too-- only it was more like a rattle, a warning, to stay away from the slight, pale, living boy, who knew how to walk every path.
For Hades then, there was only the wait.
So y’know, he got out his phone to text Belle. What? He literally had nothing else to do.
Hercules just dived under water 2 get girl’s soul lol.
What time is it there? How much time I miss?
Hey remember to put yams on the list for O’Hare’s.
Then he went through some pictures he’d taken and did some light photo editing so he could upload one to Instagram. Had to keep his followers happy, y’know, dead bodies or no dead bodies.
Then there were a few bubbles on the surface. Hades cocked an eyebrow and swiftly pocketed his phone, just as Hercules’ head emerged, gasping for air. Georgette’s soul emerged yet, though it made no sound and did not disturb the water. Instead it just materialized, floating there. Hades’ raised his eyebrows at the sight; for all his months trekking through this place, he’d never seen something quite like that.
“Oi, you need help?” he called to Herc, but he didn’t think Hercules heard him over his own waterlog. The boy trawled through the water and collapsed over the side of the boat the next moment, Georgette’s soul floating above.
She floated. She floated. And then, she sank, her soul moving eerily as if it were still in the water. When at last she disappeared, Hades, too, expected the body on the boat to stir with fresh, new life. But he felt nothing pass through the body. There was no heartbeat, no flicker of anything. Death clung.
Hades glanced at the dripping Hercules, and his brow twitched at his panic. He held up a hand. “Oi. The Fates had other instructions, didn’t they? We have to take the River-- shit, what was the name?” He glanced around. There were no bloody signs of course, why would they be? “Shit, it was the river that wrapped around the-- Oceanus!” he remembered.
And as soon as he spoke its name, the boat groaned and lurched, suddenly carving a new path through the waters, through the mist-- and away from here.
HERCULES:
Hercules had forgotten all about the Fates. Had forgotten all about what had started them on this quest. All he had inside of him was grief--pouring out like a river itself, like a river long and wide enough to wrap itself all around the world.
He had his grief, which took many forms--panic and pain being the main ones. They stabbed at him, one after another, in equal turns, as he propped himself on his elbow and looked into Georgette’s still, lifeless face. It was covered in blood, black and red and pink. All he could think about was that fact. Not any promises by the Fates.
It wasn’t until the boat jerked that Hercules remembered any of it.
He scrambled back to sit in the boat properly.
“Where is--” but, he trailed off, because he was pretty sure that Hades didn’t know the answer.
They sliced through the water as if there was a motor tied to the boat, no longer slow and sluggish, drifting more than anything else. Water splashed up the side, ice cold on Hercules’ skin. Once again, they fell into silence, darkness all around them. Though, the water was clearer as they went. Hercules couldn’t tell what direction they were going. For all he knew they could be upside down. That was how dark it was. He felt as if he was in zero gravity, floating through nothingness.
The boat churned on, like it was being reeled in, pulled by some invisible fishing rod.
And then, as quickly as it started, it had stopped. (Or had it taken a long time? Time felt like some kind of accordion here beneath the earth.)
But, the front of the boat pulled onto sand. The river flowed in either direction behind them. Hercules couldn’t tell where they’d come from. Only that they were probably supposed to get out here. He hopped out of the boat with little hesitation. At this point, he was not questioning anything. He just wanted this over. He just wanted to see Georgette breathe again.
Leaning back over the boat, he looked at Hades. “I’ve got her.” Gently, he lifted Georgette into his arms. Her body was cold, but not stiff as her head lolled against his bicep. Her hair tickled. She felt like little more than a sack of flour. Though, the weight in his heart hadn’t lifted. But, as he sloshed through the ankle deep water, his legs didn’t shake.
He walked forwards with his head up.
The sand was dark brown, a deep, tarnished gold color. There was only one way to go, grey rock walls appearing on either side as they walked forwards. It funneled into one passageway, a light beckoning them towards it.
Hercules glanced at Hades, but kept going.
The light was sun. Even Hercules could tell that it was warming his skin in the way only the sun could. He could smell fresh air, feel a breeze. His steps quickened, ready to be out of this hell.
He stumbled into the light, squinting as his vision adjusted.
He heard a clatter of what sounded like sticks, and the scuffle of feet. Then, something sharp pressed against his skin. Even though he was invincible again, the force stopped him in his tracks. His eyes blinked a few more times before looking down the shaft of what seemed to be a spear to a woman with her dark hair braided down her back.
“Who are--”
Another of the women stepped forwards behind the first as Hades appeared at the mouth of the cave they had come from. As he did, it disappeared behind him, into a thick tangle of trees and solid stone, a stream flowing into what seemed like nothing but rock.
“Ambassador,” the older woman said and her head bowed slightly. “We were expecting you.”
“Lykopis, what about him?” The woman holding the spear to Hercules’ throat had not removed it.
“I-I’m with him,” Hercules said, pointing to Hades sheepishly.
The older woman, Lykopis, leaned forwards and whispered in the younger woman’s ear. Hercules didn’t catch what she said, but the girl’s eyes went wide and she dropped the spear down to her side at once.
“We’ll take you to where you need to go,” she said, “this way.”
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this gets INFINITELY funnier when u know that Tachihara is in his double agent era 😭😭
#like. he got reports to write probably 😭#sweating bullets n shit while his boss is in pigtails#bsd is so unserious sometimes and i love it#bsd#pebbles (me) ramblers
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For love of Jehanparnasse
[There is no way I was keeping Jehanparnasse out of For Love of Lore. This was inspired by a lovely comment from a reader on ao3 and a very excited conversation with @badassindistress! Whoops this is 2.3k, my bias is showing.]
Grantaire is sick and tired of Montparnasse’s antics. “Dude,” he growls after dragging yet another panicked young man safely ashore. “That is the third time this week.”
Montparnasse grins, teeth gleaming in the moonlight. He is sitting on one of Grantaire’s favourite rocks in his human form, black clothes wet against his pale skin. “You don’t have to rescue them.”
“I like my sea free of screaming humans, thanks,” Grantaire snarks.
Montparnasse shrugs and says smugly: “I did that guy a favour, that suit deserved to be ruined.”
Grantaire groans and lets himself all back onto the flat rock. Every single damn time someone is stupid enough to climb on Montparnasse’s back, mistaking the kelpie for a normal horse, he gallops straight into the sea with them. He doesn’t actually hurt then, he just leaves them there to splash around. Some of them manage to swim back to the shore but most of them need help. Help that usually takes the form of a very annoyed Grantaire.
“Seriously, Parnasse,” he complains. “Give it a rest for a week.”
“I would, but they make it so easy,” Montparnasse grins. He slides into the water, turning back to his horse form as he goes. The silky fabric of his seamless clothes melts into his skin and a moment later a beautiful black horse raises his head up above the waves. He lets out a triumphant whinny and disappears in the dark water.
Grantaire watches him go with resentfully narrowed eyes. Then, suddenly his frown changes to a grins. Montparnasse deserves to be taught a lesson. There’s no way Grantaire will be able to trick him, they’ve known each other since they were pup and colt, but Grantaire knows exactly who he should ask for help.
.
“You want me to get captured by your friend?” Jehan laughs. “Why?”
“Because you look pretty and harmless and because I really want Montparnasse to be the one screaming in shock for once.”
Jehan laughs, the flames of their hair dancing around their face. “What makes you think he’ll fall for it?” they ask. “Won’t he feel something?”
Grantaire shakes his head. He’s sitting on an old gravestone, wrapped loosely in his pelt. Jehan is floating beside him, gently going up and down with the lazily swirling mist. They’re a dwaallicht, a wisp, or whatever else humans chose to call the beautiful lights that dance in the mist after dark.
“Your human form is too convincing,” Grantaire says. “And Montparnasse doesn’t pay too much attention when he’s out on a power trip.”
Jehan hums and Grantaire waits for them to make up their mind. Traditionally wisps use their light to lure travellers off their path, into the treacherous marshes or into the graveyards that should be left alone at night. Jehan doesn’t do that sort of stuff, but that does not mean they weren’t born with a spark of mischief. “Alright,” they giggle. “Why not!”
“You’re the best,” Grantaire grins.
Jehan twinkles their eyes at him and the mist swirls thicker and thicker around them.
“Um, Jehan,” Grantaire says. “Could you tone that down a little?” He raises a hand to shield his eyes. Jehan is shining so bright he can barely make out their shape anymore.
“Oh, sorry,” they fluster and Jehan lowers their feet towards the ground. Slowly their light dims and they wrap their fire around them like a cloak. It shines and gleams like their hair, but they no longer burn like they did a moment ago. “Better?” they ask with a smile.
“Much, thanks,” Grantaire nods.
Jehan doesn’t look quite human yet, their hair still moves like flickering flames and the light in their eyes is bright as sparks, but if they want to they can disguise themself near flawlessly. “I’ll have to borrow some human clothes,” they say happily, looking down at their light-woven garment.
Grantaire chuckles. Jehan has a tendency to ‘borrow’ clothes that strike their fancy from people’s clotheslines. Their taste is…interesting. “I was kind of hoping you’d do that,” he grins.
.
It’s a perfect night for a gallop along the beach. The moon is a sharp sliver in the sky, mist is rising thickly from the water and rolling into the shore in an echo of the sea’s waves. Montparnasse trots along the seabed, steadily moving into shallow waters. The seafoam slides slick off his back as he surfaces, trampling the wet pebbles under his hooves. Proudly he tosses his manes in the night air. Not even the night is as gleaming black as he is. As he leaves the waves behind his hooves move faster up and Montparnasse speeds along the coastline, glorying in the feeling of utter freedom.
Suddenly his ears twitch. Something is walking ahead of him on the beach. Something with two feet and loud, human footsteps. He slows to a trot. This’ll be fun. It takes only a couple strides before Montparnasse sees the rambler. They’re lit by the light of the moon and the stars and wandering aimlessly through the mist. How foolish of them. Montparnasse slows down some more. He doesn’t want to frighten them. Not yet.
The person holds still when they see him and make a delighted sound. Montparnasse scrapes his hoof in amusement. Humans are stupidly fond of horses.
The rambler has extended their hand and is making the silly little sounds humans make to encourage animals to come to them. Montparnasse approach them calmly. They’re a slight little thing, pretty, but wrapped in a horrible dress several sizes too big.
“Come then,” they coo. “Don’t be scared.”
Montparnasse represses a laugh, but then the human moves forward unexpectedly and gently places a hand on his forehead. Their hand is surprisingly warm for such a cold night and Montparnasse suddenly finds himself staring into two amber eyes.
“You’re beautiful…” the rambler whispers and for a moment Montparnasse is actually thrown.
He’s used to this and yet… He bows his head slightly.
“Oh? Can I ride you?” they ask delightedly.
Montparnasse bends their neck a little more. Old habits die hard. Pretty eyes are not enough to drive the mischief out of him.
To his surprise his victim doesn’t fidget or fumble once. They confidently rest their warm hands on his withers and with a light, near effortless movement they jump on his back. They clearly think they know how to ride. Montparnasse will show them differently.
As soon as he feels their weight settle onto him, he bolts. His new rider screams, but before Montparnasse can buck to scare them even more, he hears that these aren’t screams of fear. They’re screams of laughter. No one has ever laughed while he ran away with them. Does this human still not realise they are in danger? They aren’t trying to jump off his back, nor are they clinging to him for fear of falling. They’re just…riding. Montparnasse leaps forward. He will show them what he is about to do, then they will be scared. As soon as he turns towards the sea, however, the mist suddenly thickens around him. Montparnasse can’t see.
He slows down immediately. He can always see. The mist is his best cover. He hides in it, it doesn’t hinder him. But there’s a glow to the mist he’s never seen before. It’s dazzling him, it’s disorienting. The rider on his back feels warm and almost weightless and as Montparnasse hears their laugh again, he spits out a curse.
“What are you?” he roars, human voice rough in his animal throat.
Two slender arms wrap warmly around his neck and a sweet voice whispers just beside his ear: “I’m Jehan.”
In the single moment it takes them to answer the fog lifts ever so slightly and Montparnasse catches a whiff of the sea. He launches straight into a gallop and charges into the waves. Jehan screams. Mont doesn’t know whether it’s from fear or amusement and he doesn’t care, in the sea he is stronger than on land and whatever Jehan is, they are going in with him. Just before he feels the water closing in around him, however, he feels Jehans arms unwrap from around his neck. Wildly he turns around, just in time to see Jehan plant their feet on a swirl of mist. The water does not touch them and as they spread their arms and begin to shimmer Montparnasse realises what they are. He tried to lure a wisp into the sea. He gawks at them, dumbfounded.
“Grantaire says hi,” Jehan laughs, their hair swirling upward like fire, their light nearly burning through their ill-fitting human clothes. They’re so bright it’s almost blinding.
Wait, did they say Grantaire? Grantaire knows this wisp? Montparnasse couldn’t care less about the prank, he can’t believe Grantaire hid from him that he knew someone like this. Someone that would climb willingly onto a kelpie’s back, someone made of living fire, someone made of flame that dares to dance on the water, someone so…
Jehan shines laughingly down on him and they dance backwards, away from him, back to the shore. “Thank you for the ride,” they singsong. “You’re very beautiful.”
Montparnasse stares into their eyes and moves towards them instinctually. He’ll show them beautiful. As Jehan retreats back onto the shore, Montparnasse follows. His hooves turn to feet as he moves upright. Moonlight gleams on pale skin and black silk dries instantly on his slender frame.
Jehan stares at him, feet not touching the cobbles, hair, skin and eyes full of light. “Oh…” they breathe as Montparnasse walks out of the sea. “Oh you’re so dark…”
Montparnasse smiles. “You’re so bright…”
They stare at each other and for a moment Montparnasse loses all sense of time. Then a spark lights up in Jehan’s eyes and they run. Firelight flares up in the night and Jehan darts away as a dancing streak of light. The heavy fabric of the borrowed dress falls uselessly to the ground and the last fold has barely fallen before Montparnasse leaps over it. When his feet hit the ground they are hooves again and he chases. Jehan isn’t fleeing, they’re luring. They want him to follow. The bright flash of their laughter rings out and Montparnasse catches a glimpse of them looking back at him, their face like a flame. He knows he’ll never catch them. No one ever catches a wisp. The mist rolls around them both, turning Montparnasse into nothing but shadow and Jehan into nothing but light. Again Jehan looks back, but this time Montparnasse can see their eyes. A moment later he sees hair flying wildly in the wind and there’s the sudden sound of feet running on the cobbles.
With a laugh Montparnasse sheds his animal form. Fair is fair. Feet should be chased by feet.
Jehan’s laugh sounds more human now and Montparnasse is gaining on them. His blood is boiling within him. He has never chased anyone like this.
The mist ripples, Jehan spins round and Montparnasse stops just in time, right in front of them. They stare at each other, out of breath and hearts racing.
“I’m Montparnasse,” Montparnasse says finally.
“I know,” they say, brilliant eyes fixed on him as if they’re never going to look away. “No one can ever keep up with me,” Jehan whispers.
“You let me catch you,” Montparnasse points out.
“You kept up tough…” Jehan says, face shining.
Montparnasse smiles and there’s no teeth gleaming in the starlight this time. He’s genuinely smiling. Jehan is…something.
The expression on Jehan’s face is almost shy, but it’s too full of fire to be so. “If I run again, will you chase me again?”
Montparnasse lowers his head ever so slightly and changes his smile to a grin. “Why don’t you try it and find out?”
.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Jehan shimmers apologetically and shyly winds a flaming lock around their finger. “He’s very…um…I like him.”
“So do I!” Grantaire cries and the fact that he just said that out loud speaks to his bewilderment. “That doesn’t mean I want to spend the night dancing around the cliffs with him!”
Jehan flushes happily. “I’m going to see him again tonight.”
“Of course you are,” Grantaire groans. He looks at the grey light of dawn appearing on the horizon. “You better get going,” he sighs. If Jehan gets caught in the daylight they are stuck in their human form until they are in darkness again.
“Oh, yes!” Jehan says, jumping to their feet. “See you, R!” They turn around with a smile. “And thank you…”
“What am I, a matchmaker?” Grantaire grumbles.
“Yes,” Jehan says cheerfully and they press a tingling kiss on his cheek. In the blink of an eye they turn to a spark that flits away in the last remnants of the morning mist.
Grantaire watches them go with a slight smile on his face. He has never seen Jehans quite so…giddy before. His smile cools a little and with a sudden energy he walks back towards the sea. He wraps his pelt around him and dives into the water, swimming straight to cave Montparnasse calls home.
He finds his friend asleep in his human form.
“Tired, hm?” Grantaire says, prodding him awake.
Montparnasse snarls, but grins when he looks up into Grantaire’s face. “Trying to teach me a lesson, were you,” he smirks, voice still sleepy. “Should have thought that one through, R.”
“You fell for it though,” Grantaire reminds him smugly.
Montparnasse folds his hands behind his head. “And I was amply rewarded for my mistake,” he smirks.
Grantaire scoffs, but then, just for a moment, he narrows his eyes. “You hurt Jehan and I’ll get a smith to shoe you.” There’s pleasantry in his tone of voice, but gravity at its core.
Montparnasse eyes fix on him silently for an instant, just long enough to acknowledge the threat. Then he grins again. “I’ll tell Jehan you’re mean to me,” he smirks.
“Oh,” Grantaire grins. “Don’t think you’ve got the upper hand on me now, pretty pony. Jehan is my friend and they like to talk.” He lets his grin widen. “Apparently you sing?”
The smirk slides abruptly off Montparnasse’s face and the cave fills with the sound of Grantaire’s laughter.
#jehanparnasse#montparnasse#jehan#fantasy au#for love of lore#writing jehanparnasse is just so /lovely/#it makes me do poetic descriptions#and makes me wallow in feelings#i love it#i love them#never mind me i'm emotional#if you think i wasn't planning this fire and water romance since the first enjoltaire ficlet you're wrong#but sis helped me figure out how to actually have them meet#seriously guys she is the best#if any of you wonder how come i can write so much#it's largely because i have thalia#sunfreckle's stories
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A Two-Headed Honda, a Googly-Eyed Miata, and More: Concours d’Lemons Highlights
Automotive creativity has no limits at the Concours d’Lemons, and it’s that spirit as well as a complete disregard for practicality that makes it such a wonderful Pebble Beach Car week event. Unlike most other car shows or concours, however, there’s no stuffiness at Lemons. At this year’s event, despite a few entries that seemed far too nice to be displayed at Lemons, the show remained a refreshing break from the many fancy car shows also occurring. This year’s still-free show took place at the Seaside City Hall, and its ultra-packed lawn suggest show organizers might need to consider a bigger venue in the next year or two.
Keep reading to see some highlights from a first-time Lemons showgoer.
Mazda Miata with Googly Eyes
Maybe you’ve seen cars with aftermarket eyelashes, but how cute is his first-gen Mazda Miata with googly eyes? Around back, above the rip in the Miata’s aged rear-window panel was a bumper sticker seen on a couple cars that reads: “I think we have the opportunity here to make some extremely poor decisions.”
1989 Mercury Grand Marquis Colony Park LS wagon
Part of the Concours d’Lemons’ appeal to me is the way it reminds us of cars that could otherwise fall into obscurity. Younger automotive enthusiasts might not know that not too long ago, the Detroit Three offered enormous eight-passenger wagons, with two sideways-facing seats in the back. This one wore eye-catching 20-inch wheels that matched the woodlike details covering its immense side panels and the edges of the roof rails. The wagon, claimed to be around 6,000 pounds with modifications, honors a friend of theirs who recently died. His name is on the edge of the car’s roof, as is a decal that gives a middle finger to cancer.
1972 Citroën DS D Special
Even in this condition, nothing looks quite like a Citroën DS. One fun detail you don’t see on cars today: The “Lemon Goddess” features a one-spoke steering wheel. From the team that brought the car to Monterey:
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1978 Leyland-Australia Clubman Commercial
It’s hard not to like this right-hand-drive special from Australia, with its colorful critters on the dash, a kangaroo and a koala on the roof, plus a list of things in Australia that are trying to kill you. Number one on the list, of course, is “rallying in an Aussie/British Mini.”
Thanks to this car, I recalled Mini’s recent experiment when it tried selling a commercial-focused version of the modern Clubman called the Clubvan.
Rambler Convertible
This stripped-out Rambler convertible has seen better days, and we can’t imagine what it must have been like on the rally.
1990 Ford Festiva Roadster
We hear that this Ford wasn’t the car in which its team started the rally, but after a Ford Crown Victoria in the rally towed their original car that blew a head gasket, they found this Ford on Craigslist. Check out the cool (but probably not safe) black mesh headlight covers on this Festiva, which has an indicated 267,679 miles on the odometer.
1967 Mercedes-Benz 200D
The Mercedes “accelerates like a glacier,” its driver told me. The finned, diesel-powered Mercedes sedan has a manual transmission and a “silly hats only” policy that even the car follows on its trunk and again just above the front windshield. The Benz (and a few other cars) featured a very Lemons-style parking job, making contact with the hillside behind the grass in front of the city hall.
1991 Ford Moostang LX 2.3L
“They will hear you coming, and they’ll smell you after you leave,” one Moostang driver said in an impromptu auction of the car. This Canada-themed Mustang is worth a place on this list for the moose/mustang graphic on its doors alone.
Pirate-Themed Volkswagen Bus
One driver of the pirate-themed Volkswagen Bus assured me in his best pirate accent that “she was a fine vessel, lad,” despite some mechanical difficulties on the rally. The guys will be fixing up the “four-speed rudder” before its next event so they won’t again have to spend most of their time on the highway stuck in fourth gear.
1979 Honda Civic
As an automotive palindrome brought to life, this two-headed 1979 Honda Civic was a real crowd-pleaser and a deserving Worst of Show winner. Requiring two drivers and featuring four-wheel steering, we don’t want to know how much time this charming car originally required to look as good as it did.
1995 Nissan-ish Altimatum
Take in the details of this zombie-apocalypse-ready Altima, with its chain-link fence on the hood and … pink zebra skin carpets.
1986 Renault Alliance DL Limited, High Country package
This French convertible rolled past as I was watching that wonderful 1979 Civic park for photos, and I was struck by how ’80s the car looked with its straight-edged styling complemented by a red-on-red-on-red paint job.
Coca-Cola-themed 1965 Ford Mustang wagon
I’m not sure how a car said to be purchased on eBay a few weeks ago for $20,000 qualifies for Lemons, but be sure to get a closer look at this automotive strangeness in our photo gallery.
1983 AMC Eagle Limited AWD wagon
Before the Subaru Outback took off as its own model in the U.S., AMC offered a similar car. This particular example looked to be in good shape visually and had a two-tone paint job.
The post A Two-Headed Honda, a Googly-Eyed Miata, and More: Concours d’Lemons Highlights appeared first on Motor Trend.
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A Two-Headed Honda, a Googly-Eyed Miata, and More: Concours d’Lemons Highlights
Automotive creativity has no limits at the Concours d’Lemons, and it’s that spirit as well as a complete disregard for practicality that makes it such a wonderful Pebble Beach Car week event. Unlike most other car shows or concours, however, there’s no stuffiness at Lemons. At this year’s event, despite a few entries that seemed far too nice to be displayed at Lemons, the show remained a refreshing break from the many fancy car shows also occurring. This year’s still-free show took place at the Seaside City Hall, and its ultra-packed lawn suggest show organizers might need to consider a bigger venue in the next year or two.
Keep reading to see some highlights from a first-time Lemons showgoer.
Mazda Miata with Googly Eyes
Maybe you’ve seen cars with aftermarket eyelashes, but how cute is his first-gen Mazda Miata with googly eyes? Around back, above the rip in the Miata’s aged rear-window panel was a bumper sticker seen on a couple cars that reads: “I think we have the opportunity here to make some extremely poor decisions.”
1989 Mercury Grand Marquis Colony Park LS wagon
Part of the Concours d’Lemons’ appeal to me is the way it reminds us of cars that could otherwise fall into obscurity. Younger automotive enthusiasts might not know that not too long ago, the Detroit Three offered enormous eight-passenger wagons, with two sideways-facing seats in the back. This one wore eye-catching 20-inch wheels that matched the woodlike details covering its immense side panels and the edges of the roof rails. The wagon, claimed to be around 6,000 pounds with modifications, honors a friend of theirs who recently died. His name is on the edge of the car’s roof, as is a decal that gives a middle finger to cancer.
1972 Citroën DS D Special
Even in this condition, nothing looks quite like a Citroën DS. One fun detail you don’t see on cars today: The “Lemon Goddess” features a one-spoke steering wheel. From the team that brought the car to Monterey:
1978 Leyland-Australia Clubman Commercial
It’s hard not to like this right-hand-drive special from Australia, with its colorful critters on the dash, a kangaroo and a koala on the roof, plus a list of things in Australia that are trying to kill you. Number one on the list, of course, is “rallying in an Aussie/British Mini.”
Thanks to this car, I recalled Mini’s recent experiment when it tried selling a commercial-focused version of the modern Clubman called the Clubvan.
Rambler Convertible
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A Two-Headed Honda, a Googly-Eyed Miata, and More: Concours d’Lemons Highlights
Automotive creativity has no limits at the Concours d’Lemons, and it’s that spirit as well as a complete disregard for practicality that makes it such a wonderful Pebble Beach Car week event. Unlike most other car shows or concours, however, there’s no stuffiness at Lemons. At this year’s event, despite a few entries that seemed far too nice to be displayed at Lemons, the show remained a refreshing break from the many fancy car shows also occurring. This year’s still-free show took place at the Seaside City Hall, and its ultra-packed lawn suggest show organizers might need to consider a bigger venue in the next year or two.
Keep reading to see some highlights from a first-time Lemons showgoer.
Mazda Miata with Googly Eyes
Maybe you’ve seen cars with aftermarket eyelashes, but how cute is his first-gen Mazda Miata with googly eyes? Around back, above the rip in the Miata’s aged rear-window panel was a bumper sticker seen on a couple cars that reads: “I think we have the opportunity here to make some extremely poor decisions.”
1989 Mercury Grand Marquis Colony Park LS wagon
Part of the Concours d’Lemons’ appeal to me is the way it reminds us of cars that could otherwise fall into obscurity. Younger automotive enthusiasts might not know that not too long ago, the Detroit Three offered enormous eight-passenger wagons, with two sideways-facing seats in the back. This one wore eye-catching 20-inch wheels that matched the woodlike details covering its immense side panels and the edges of the roof rails. The wagon, claimed to be around 6,000 pounds with modifications, honors a friend of theirs who recently died. His name is on the edge of the car’s roof, as is a decal that gives a middle finger to cancer.
1972 Citroën DS D Special
Even in this condition, nothing looks quite like a Citroën DS. One fun detail you don’t see on cars today: The “Lemon Goddess” features a one-spoke steering wheel. From the team that brought the car to Monterey:
1978 Leyland-Australia Clubman Commercial
It’s hard not to like this right-hand-drive special from Australia, with its colorful critters on the dash, a kangaroo and a koala on the roof, plus a list of things in Australia that are trying to kill you. Number one on the list, of course, is “rallying in an Aussie/British Mini.”
Thanks to this car, I recalled Mini’s recent experiment when it tried selling a commercial-focused version of the modern Clubman called the Clubvan.
Rambler Convertible
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