#Happy birthday to the house in the cerulean sea | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

that-foul-legacy-lover · 9 months

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Happy Birthday, Dearest Ajax

Synopsis: It’s Childe’s birthday, and he wakes up to the best gift: you.

Foul Legacy x Reader Pronouns: Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Genre: Fluff Warnings: Mentions of crying

~ * ~ “Oh, Chiiiiilde…” A new day dawns over Liyue Harbor, the dew in the air not quite hot enough to become humidity yet, forming a fine, cool mist over the pavement as the sun hangs like a lantern over the sea. Refracting the sunrise, the water turns from deep indigo to light pink and pastel orange, glittering like the finest gems and lapping calmly at the many boats docked near the shore, waiting for their cargo. Many people are already hard at work, valiantly doing their best to complete the brunt of their daily tasks before the summer heat sets in- in Liyue, there are always lists to be checked, quotas to be met. It is as the gods say: the Harbor never sleeps. And yet, today, you do sleep. Normally, you’d be up and ready far before the sun rose, steps spry and nimble and silent, leaving behind a quiet house and a sleeping Abyssal monster on the other side of your bed. But today you wake up late, yawning and stretching your arms with a smile on your face, the knowledge that you requested this day off several weeks ago nestled comfortably in your mind. With a mischievous grin you gently nudge Foul Legacy, murmuring his name in a sing-song tone and brushing your hands over his hair, playing with the small lock of white amongst the copper as he begins to whine sleepily. It takes a few moments for Childe to fully process that you’re next to him, drowsily leaning into your touch with a low, rumbling purr before his gaze drifts to yours; suddenly he springs awake, cerulean eye wide as he lets out warbling chitters and trills of surprise and delight, speaking to you in an melodic, otherworldly language. You’re here, you’re here! You laugh kindly and open your arms, and he sinks into them, joyfully pressing his cheek against the top of your head, his star-speckled wings fluttering like glittery silk gauze. You press a kiss to his face, his fangs leaving painless, miniscule scratches on your own lips, and pull back with a soft smile. “Good morning… and happy birthday.” Childe blinks, once, twice, then whimpers as his crystalline eye wells up with tears- happy tears, sweet as honey and slightly overwhelmed with love and affection for you, the sensation of your hand gently cradling his masked cheek making his heart bloom with warmth. His claws move to hook in the fabric of your shirt, head resting on your shoulder as he allows himself to cry, sniffs and hiccups coming out as tiny, high pitched chirps. “Aw, sweetheart…” Your fingers thread through his soft hair, carefully scratching behind his horns and under his chin, and Childe melts under your hands, purring and crooning and attempting to curl up in your arms, even though you’re so much smaller than he is. His tears spill onto your hands, starry drops like rain, and you do your best to kiss each and every one of them. Eventually they slow, wiped away by you gingerly dabbing his cheeks with your sleeve, and Foul Legacy warbles and coos thankfully. He settles for burying his head in your lap, nestling himself cozily under the covers of your bed with only the tips of his crimson horns poking out, weighing you down so you can’t change your mind and decide that you actually want to go to work today. Not that you would, of course. Childe’s birthday only comes around once a year, and this is the first time you’ve been with him for it. Sunlight begins to stream through your window, hanging in the air and illuminating specks of dust adrift, and Childe’s claws creep out from under the blanket and quickly bat at the floating particles before he emerges entirely from the covers, pulling you close to lean back against his chest. The two of you idly gaze out the window, watching the clouds drift across the cotton candy sky, forming and swirling together before fading apart into feathery wisps of white. There’s movement to your side, and you glance down to see Childe plucking and fussing with the sheets and quilts atop your bed, carefully arranging them around you and him to form a comfortable makeshift nest before gently bumping his head against your back to get you to lay down. He curls around you, holding you delicately so his black and violet armor doesn’t scrape against your skin, and sweeps one of his sparkling wings over you. It’s like being under a canopy of brilliant stars, and your eyes shine as brightly as the constellations in the night sky. Quickly Childe ducks his head under his own wing to join you, his lilac fur fluffing as the mere sight of you makes him happily croon, nudging his forehead against the palm of your hand until you chuckle and relent. You carefully trace your fingers over the dips and grooves in his mask, eyes narrowing in concentration, and Foul Legacy sighs blissfully and smushes his cheek into your hand, much like a cat to someone it loves. And oh, every facet of Childe just adores you. His eye begins to drift shut, but you poke him lightly, whispering for him to stay awake for one minute more. You lean in, affectionately cupping his face and swiping your thumbs across every ridge and scar littering his features, then placing a soft, sweet kiss on his forehead with all the love and care you could possibly muster. “Happy birthday. I love you.” Happy birthday, dearest Ajax.

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dontuwishuwerehere · 1 year

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TOMORROW'S THE DAY, FOLKS!!!

Posting starts at 12am EST on March 17

Tag us (@dontuwishuwerehere) in your post or in the tags (#dontuwishuwerehere) and we'll reblog it. If you post any kind of art or image, please make sure it has a description in plain text for accessibility purposes. If you need help with writing one, feel free to DM us for assistance!

also to celebrate, ANY THITCS-related posts that go up tomorrow and are tagged with #dontuwishuwerehere will get reblogged. So if you've got any headcanons or AU concepts or shit posts queued up, tag 'em and we'll show them some love!!! (thank you @house-in-the-cerulean-sea for the idea💙)

HAPPY THIRD BIRTHDAY TO THE HOUSE IN THE CERULEAN SEA 💙🏖️🏡 WE ARE SO GLAD YOU ARE HERE

#dontuwishuwerehere #the house in the cerulean sea #thitcs

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wanderlust-in-my-soul · 2 years

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Rules: Answer 30 questions and tag 20 blogs you are contractually obligated to get to know better.

Tagged By: @pose4photoml @ellaspore 🥰 Thank you so much! 😘

Name: Josi

Star Sign: Capricorn

Height: 180 cm (or 5'9)

Time: 13:00 o’clock (or 1:00 pm)

Birthday: December 30th

Favorite Bands/Favorite Solo Artists: So many :D It depends on my mood. Right now it would be Stray Kids and The Rose. In general, over the years, and something I can always come back to and feel good: BTS, Ultimo, Sunrise Avenue, LP, Bad Religion, Disturbed, Rise Against, AnnenMayKantereit, Kari Bremnes, Pink, Lewis Capaldi, Niall Horan, Matchbox 20, SDP and I guess many more 😅

Last Movie: Spider Man: No way home

Last Show: His Man, if this counts, if not, Love Mechanics

When did I create this blog: November 2018

What I post: Everything I like. Mostly gifs from BLs I am watching, but sometimes I need to express myself and write a few thoughts about the shows. I love quotes and pictures (bls, landscapes, beautiful things) and sometimes I reblog political stuff. But I don’t have any straight line I follow. I see it, I like it, I reblog or post it. I am a simple person 😊

Last thing I googled: calculating centimetres in feet 😅

Other Blogs: No (I don't know how people do this. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed with just this one blog)

Do I Get Asks?: Sometimes. Would love to get more of course, but I am happy with what I have 😊

Why I chose my url: Because I love to travel, and I love the word wanderlust (in German Fernweh – it describes my urge to travel, to see more beautiful places on this earth so well, it is a feeling I have deep in my soul) and when I created this blog I didn’t know what to expect :D But I like it and I won’t change it 😊

Following: 231

Followers: 942

Average hours of sleep: between five and seven (on weekends sometimes more)

Instruments: None, but I love listening to the piano

What am I wearing: grey jeans, light green t-shirt and pastel socks with stripes

Dream job(s): something without people (which is funny as I work with people right now and not so funny on the same side, because I hate my job)…I would love to own a book store somewhere at the coast. I know, customers = people, but it is different :D

Favorite Food: Sushi

Nationality: German

Favorite Song(s): This could change daily. I fall in love with songs quite often. Right now it is “Paper Cuts” by EXO-CBX. I also like “Sorry” by The Rose, “Jikjin” by Treasure (listen to it with headphones!). For all times I can say “Peter Pan” by Ultimo, “All I want” by Codaline and “Recovery” by LP

Currently playing on repeat: Look above 😅 And my playlist with K-pop, K-Rock, J-Pop and some Thai-Pop and a little bit K-Rap

Last book I read: “Heartbreak Boys” by Simon James Green – predictable, but cute.

Top 3 fictional universes I’d like to live in: Fantastica ("The Neverending Story" by Michael Ende), London Below ("Neverwhere" by Neil Gaiman) and Marsyas Island (“The House in the Cerulean Sea” by TJ Klune)

Tagging: @moonlightchicken @piningintrovert @gunsatthaphan @smittenskitten @i-got-the-feels @alsoran @pleasecallmesweetie @stars-inhereyes (as always, only if you want to, otherwise ignore me 🙃)

Thank you again for tagging me, this was fun! 😘

#tag game #personal #this was fun

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ownheartbeating · 1 year

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hiii bao, holiday pal here!! 💘💘 i'm very sorry that i did not check in yesterday, just had some stuff going on, but i am back! How has the first week or so of the month been for you?

I LOVE THAT YOU LOVE THAT LINE FROM DEAR READER!!! That song is so incredible and special, one of my favorites of hers in general for sure. I love how she sounds so emotional in the way she sings it, you can tell she really pours her entire heart into her music (whether it's writing or recording or performing, etc).

Some of my personal favorite lyrics from the album are "Everything you lose is a step you take." and "I wake with your memory over me // That's a real fuckin' legacy to leave." LIKE OH MY GOD???? Those lyrics are extremely different now that I'm reading them next to each other, which says a lot about the variety of feelings/experiences in her songs. Also love "And I never think of him, except on midnights like this." Sorry lmao this turned into me babbling about how much i love taylor's music.

Speaking of Dear Reader... do you read/have you read anything interesting lately? Do you have a favorite book or author? My favorite author is Stephen King!

sending love as always, take care of yourself! 💞

~☃️ anon (Winter/December/Holiday pal™️)

Hello buddy!!!! That’s totally okay, welcome back!!! My December so far has be fine thanks for asking! I received some presents from my friends for my birthday last month and that cheered me up!

Ahhh I’m so happy you love dear reader too!! That song is so special to me. Sooo true. She is so talented and dear reader truly is a gift to this world. Or to my world at least. I love

EVERYTHING YOU LOSE IS A STEP YOU TAKE!!!! I love that lyric too, it’s so comforting and I want that as a tattoo tbh!!! A REAL FUCKING LEGACY!!! That part in maroon sends me chills !!! The clean versions says A LASTING LEGACY and the first time I heard it, I was taken aback because I didn’t even know there was a clean version. I’m so glad you included a midnights rain lyric. God I love that lyric so much and that song changed me. It really did.

Yes !!! I started reading as a hobby this year because i was bored and I’m soo glad I started!! I don’t have a favorite book or author, but the first book I read this year was the seven husbands of Evelyn Hugo and I loved it so much. I really did bawl eyes out reading it. I also love the house by the cerulean sea!!! It was soo funny and comforting and made me cry as well. Everything I know about love is also a great read for me because I really needed that book. It was funny and comforting as well!!

Ooh do you have any book recs by Stephen king? I’ve watched some movie adaptations of his books such as IT and Carrie

#answered #holiday pal #anonymous

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ps-pandakochii · 2 years

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ᴍʏ ʟᴜʟʟᴀʙʏ

TWENTY-FIVE -`, 5. ┊❁ཻུ۪۪

“Happy birthday auntie!”

Your eyes flutter open to meet the eyes of a nearing sea. An ocean that waves in your direction wherever you may set sail. Strands of blond pooled out from underneath the delicate head that faced you. A lopsided grin was forming on your nephew’s face as he awaits your reply with eager anticipation. Blinking once, twice—then thrice—a smile was sewn onto your face: one that matched Giorno’s. Like a ship coming home, his arms wrapped around your neck. His face, as if reaching a sanctuary, buried in the junction of your neck. With much care, your arms enveloped him in your embrace. Now sitting upright with your back against the headboard, you cradled him in your lap. You hugged him. Hugged him like the little bundle of joy he is; like the newborn baby you held all those years ago. In your heart of hearts, he will always be your baby. This child will always be your world.

The sun was rising against the backdrop of the cerulean sky. Its rays of sunshine peeking through into the little island of your bedroom. A safe haven for the both of you. In between the silence, you swear you can hear a melody. A nostalgic tune with a matching voice. You can hear a lullaby. You can hear your mother. A voice so soft and sweet, yet off beat. . . The voice of your deceased mother is singing a lullaby. Then, the vocalization of your mother who you’ve never met is gone. “Auntie,” Giorno spoke, quiet and quaint. “I love you.” His grip around you tightened, as his face started to borrow even nearer to your neck. As if you were his moon pulling the tides closer to his shore. To this child—you are his guardian—his parent. He needs you as much as you need him. To him, you are his world. “I love you too GioGio,” the words come easily yet so sincerely. “I have always loved you,” you kiss the crown of his head. “And I always will,” you stare upwards at the ceiling; the corners of your eyes filled with sunlight.

“What would you like to wear today GioGio?” Your fingertips brushing against articles of clothing. Peering over your shoulder to face your nephew, you patiently await a reply. There’s a moment of silence. A moment of contemplation. “You’re wearing white again,” Giorno whispers, staring at you. A flash of melancholy appearing in his eyes. Tilting your head to the side, you arched an eyebrow. Yet before you can speak he intervenes, “I wanna match with you! I want to wear white too!” By now he’s running over to you; his form clinging to your right leg. “Alright, alright. Let me look please,” laughter laced in your voice. Soon the both of you are racing out the door. Hand in hand, you both stroll along cobblestone streets. Once reaching the destination, it was hard to part. Crouching down so you were eye to eye with Giorno you stated, “grandpa will be picking you up today, I’ll be working a little late.” Giorno was not pleased, pouting he asked “when will you be back?” Kissing his forehead, you uttered “around evening. Now off you go.” You gently ushered him off into the building. He waved back in goodbye.

— — — — —

“Grandpa, there’s a visitor in front of our house,” Giorno whispered urgently. Indeed there was a visitor. A man of towering stature, with hair as gold as the touch of Midas, and dressed in colors fit for a funeral. Eyes that reflected a setting sun stared at the duo from across the garden. The wrinkles that lined Giorno’s grandfather’s face grew tense; his lighthearted smile falling. “Mr. Brando,” he nodded, approaching Dio with his grandson in his arms. At this action, Giorno shrinks into his grandfather’s chest. Obviously wary of the domineering stranger before him. “Greetings, Mr. Shiobana and little Giorno,” his tone crisp and clean and clear. Gazing at Giorno, his smile turns kind. A fondness glows in his eyes. The eyes of a nearing sea, met the eyes of a setting sun. “Would your aunt be available by any chance?” Dio inquires, his sight never leaving Giorno. At such a question, the child’s head shakes from the right, then to the left. At such a reaction, a small chuckle leaves the lips of the visitor. “Please come in,” the oldest out of the three spoke. The door to the estate now opened. Now welcoming.

What awaits through that door is a home. A home that is lived in. Photographs of the past and present and perhaps, later the future, are strung across it’s monochrome walls. Hand drawn pictures are also present, each line and stroke crafted with love. Paperwork is left somewhat neat—somewhat messy—scattered across a table. Among the dull contents are handwritten letters in various languages, an open photo album worn around its spine, beige tinted stationary, two matching pairs of sunglasses, and a child’s art kit. Pillows and blankets are dispersed throughout the living room while a line of stuffed creatures are adroitly placed on a shelf. In a nearing corner stands a child’s bike against a stack of vintage suitcases. A pair of worn out Oxfords stands proud on the luggage; just below a similar, yet much smaller sized style of loafers was present. Dio stands in silence; the lavish black box in his hands feeling out of place. It was now an overbearing weight that pressured him. That whispered, “I don’t belong here.”

Eyes of a setting sun peered at a neighboring shelf that simply held three photographs. All at a glance appeared to be wedding pictures. The first being a black and white photo of a man and woman in traditional Japanese garments. Their faces mirrored one another. A perfect picture of happiness and love. And the woman was wearing white. The next picture was of a couple wearing a more westernized style of wedding attire. A serene happiness was apparent on each person’s face. A calmer love was there. And standing between them was a raven haired child who appeared somewhat shy, or was it melancholy in those ocean eyes? Once again, the woman was wearing white. Then, the last picture; it appeared newer than the rest. And it was not a wedding photo. A golden-locked child with eyes of a nearing sea was in the arms of a young starry-eyed woman. Their smiles like the sun: warm and bright and lively. Dio paused for a moment; his jaw slackened. He could feel their happiness. He could feel their love for one another. Matching crowns of edelweiss in each person’s hair. And of course, the woman was wearing white.

Reflected in the eyes of a setting sun was the photograph of his son in the arms of his aunt. “Mister,” a small hand tugs at the hem of Dio’s trousers. Glancing down, he’s met with his unknowing son. And as if on instinct, Dio now holds the child in his arms. He hugs his son like in the photograph. Like how his aunt held him. Stunned for a moment, Giorno pulls back. His eyes meet his knowing father. “Are you happy?” The question leaves Dio’s lips like a prayer. A wistful wish. At such an inquiry, Giorno nods without any hesitation. A smile blooming onto his face, like the edelweiss in his hair in the photograph. “I am! I’m with auntie now.” He points to the photograph; the corners of his eyes filled with sunlight. “What about your mother? Your father?” Dio’s line of sight never leaves Giorno’s delicate face. “My mom is gone. So is my step-dad. And my real dad,” he goes quiet. His eyes are distant, as if he’s out at sea, “my real dad didn’t want me. That’s what my mom always told me.” Suddenly, he faces the photograph of him and his aunt. In a secretive whisper he continues, “but I don’t think my mom is my real mom. . .” At this Dio quirks an eyebrow, nodding at the boy to carry on. “I think, I think my auntie is my real, real, real true mommy!”

Giorno is laughing now. The kind of laughter a child does in glee with all the teeth and smiles and repetition and slight hiccups. At this, Dio smiles. His eyebrows scrunched. He’s conflicted. “Giorno,” a warm voice cuts through the atmosphere. With Giorno in his arms, Dio turns to face the older gentleman before him. “You should get your homework done before your aunt comes home,” Dio sets Giorno down. “Okay grandpa,” he runs down a corridor disappearing somewhere into the spacious villa. “He’s grown well,” Dio states as he watches his son go. “Indeed,” Mr. Shiobana turns to the much taller man in front of him. “Have you met [Name] already?” The blond haired man nods, “I have met [Name], just briefly in passing. I’m waiting to hear back from her regarding Giorno.” He glances down to the lavish black box in his hands. “And I brought a gift for [Name]’s birthday.” The lines upon Mr. Shiobana’s face relaxes into a smile. “Thank you,” he gently takes the box from Dio’s hands.

Now he’s staring at the trio of photographs before them. “Three generations of Shiobana women,” he starts to muse. Dio nods along; he too stares at the photographs. “A white dress is supposed to be a joyous thing.” Dio briefly glances at the much shorter man beside him, but he doesn’t say anything. “Ever since [Name] could understand what happened to her mother, she started wearing white for special occasions.” He sighs sadly, his eyes now staring at the photo of his daughter smiling in euphoria. “When she turned fifteen, she started wandering the halls of our house wearing white. She claimed she couldn’t sleep, yet she always looked so weary. It’s all a bit tragic. A bit eerie. She wasn’t herself anymore. . . Like a phantom in the night, she looked so much like her mother; the resemblance is uncanny.” Memories of his own mother briefly flashes through Dio’s mind; his curious gaze now situated on the photo of [Name] with his son. “I couldn’t protect my youngest daughter,” Mr. Shiobana’s tone is now wistful; his eyes glossy with the reflection of his daughter’s face. “I haven’t quite forgiven you for what you’ve done to my oldest child, but you have a chance to be there for your son. So please, for Giorno’s sake, don’t end up like me,” warm hazel eyes met a setting sun.

— — — — —

It was after hours. The chortling and chattering and confections are gone. Cups and dishes and silverware are neatly tucked away behind wooden cabinets. The boxes and bags and letters and parcels of gifts have all been opened and placed in your bedroom. The celebration for your birthday has long drawn to a close. Somewhere in your sprawling villa, a grandfather clock cries out; the day of your birth hasn’t ended though. You can’t sleep yet. Wandering the passageways of your own home has become a ritual. A tiring affair. You pass by a glass door. A full silver moon hangs overhead as you stare at your reflection. Like a phantom in the night, you’re draped in white. Earrings made of diamonds hang like shooting stars. Your [hair color] strands loose and down; held in place by hair ornaments in the shape of a dragonfly and a butterfly. Your [eye color] orbs are worn and weary. You resemble someone; you don’t mean to, but you do. Even after all these years, it’s almost unnatural how you look like your deceased mother. Oh, the cruel irony of it all.

Your feet are bare as you continue drifting from corridor to corridor. Your steps, light and fictitious; it always feels like you’re searching for something. Or, are you perhaps running from something? Here in between the spaces of time, a lullaby is playing. The vocalization of your mother’s voice echoes through the night. All at once, you find something you didn’t know you were searching for. From the corner of your eyes, you notice a lavish black box situated on the shelf where you keep a generation of photographs. A telling story of your family lineage. The box sits there like an offering; a present that doesn’t belong. Is this how Pandora felt when she came to open her box? Lifting the covering was simple; there’s not much to it. The contents were another tale. Inside, an unexpected gift. Nonetheless, a very welcoming present. As you hold the makeshift array of edelweiss, you notice a ladybug among its petals. It nimbly moves from one flower to the next, before landing on your hand. It stays there for a moment before flying out an open window; its shape: a red blur against the silver moon.

Dropping your line of sight, you notice a piece of paper. At the tip of your feet lays a white card. Simple and small and sophisticated, its appearance is a reminisce of a love letter you received all these nights ago. On the night when you were nineteen going on twenty; the night of your sister’s love affair. What should you do? Well, you pick it up of course. Ornaments of gold line its cover; twisting this way and that. It sounds complex, but it’s surprisingly simple. Written in a mixture of cursive and print are words belonging to a deceased mother tongue. The language of Latin. Your eyes are brimming with tears; because somewhere, someway, somehow, this person found you. Not Vivian of Euphoria—not your mother or older sister—but you, [Name] Shiobana. This card is a testament to that; a code between the two of you. The words left your lips like a prayer. A nostalgic wish. "For you who I have lost, it’s okay if you don’t remember, because I do. In between the spaces of time, I’ll call your name. I'll recognize you. When we finally meet, please sing me my lullaby.”

And of course—like the love letter before—the note was not signed.

⛥ミ ┊ 6. ˎˊ˗ BREATHE

My Lullaby

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franticvampirereads · 3 years

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My birthday was last week and I finally got all my presents together for a little haul pic 🥰.

The books:

- Heavy Vinyl vol. 1

- Teen Titans: Beast Boy

- The Friend Scheme

- House in the Cerulean Sea

- Running With Lions

The other stuff:

- Gift cards (not pictured)

- A t-shirt featuring King from The Owl House

- A lovely glass jar to put on my bookshelf

- A lovely purple photo box that I can store some of my art prints in

I am so happy with all of my presents and all the love from my family. 🥰🥰🥰

[Image ID: On the left side is a glass jar with a bow tied around it with a black t-shirt tucked partially under it. On the right side is a purple photo box with holographic stars, with a stack of five books on top of it. End ID.]

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abcd-adventures · 3 years

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Today is the husband’s last day of work before he is off all of next week! I am SO HAPPY about it! We don’t have plans or anything--except for some bike riding--but just having him home will be wonderful!

Yesterday, it was 70 degrees in the afternoon, so I met my wonderful friend Lu at the park for a picnic. Her birthday was on the 8th. I brought her a copy of The House in the Cerulean Sea--because we like all the same books--and some tacos! It was an absolutely spectacular way to spend the afternoon! I can’t believe she’s over 70! I hope that I can age as amazingly!

At 2, we had C’s virtual initial 504 meeting. It was really helpful, and I am SO GRATEFUL to everyone who participated and that C is so appreciated by all of his teachers. I feel really hopeful and so does he which is even more important! We had a long talk when he got home from school; I’m just so proud of him and love him so much. I HATE that I didn’t recognize this sooner, but I’m glad we’re dealing with it now.

We have settled on a Christmas plan that I feel as comfortable with as anything, I guess. My mom, brother, and niece are going to come to our house on Christmas afternoon. We will gather outside, masked and socially distanced. The husband will grill and I will make sides (ahead of time). I will serve everything--gloved and covered--and set the plates out and we’ll eat distanced. I have little fold-out tables that I can bring outside for everyone. We’re only doing gifts for the kids this year and they will also open them outside. Thankfully, we live in Texas and it will be over 60 degrees on Christmas. This is the only way I could feel comfortable including everyone without hurting feelings or feeling like the risk is too high. Sanitizer will be by the door and it must be used to go in and when coming out and the only reason to go in will be to use the restroom. So, there we go. Covid Christmas. *sigh* I’m mostly doing this for me mom because my dad died right around Christmas time last year and it’s already hard enough for my mom. She would feel too awful excluding her granddaughter, but I don’t respect my brother’s lack of Covid precautions. So, here we are. *sigh*

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house-in-the-cerulean-sea · 1 year

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17 headcannons for march 17. that are so widely spread in this fandom that I'm not even completely sure what is cannon anymore

1. Neither Linus nor Arthur are coffee drinkers, usually Arthur prefers cocoa and Linus tea but you won't catch these two drinking coffee, even tho it might seem like they'd need it!

2. Arthur Parnassus, a Swifty or lover of 80s tunes? Actually both can be true.

3. Zoe's hair flowers bloom affected by her emotions. When with Helen, they are usually pink. Literally, no idea whether or not that's canon.

4. Helen's a redhead.

5. Linus becomes a true fashionista on the island. It's starts with the egg adventure outfit and once he gets comfortable in his skin, he and Zoe go on elaborate shopping trips and his wardrobe becomes even more colourful than mine.

6. Arthur had an extravagant sock collection with the most colourful and patterned socks possible. Of course this is supported by textual evidence, but if we are honest to ourselves, there's only three pairs of socks mentioned red, purple and the one with the clouds. It's completely possible that he just has colourful but one-coloured socks and just this one pair with a pattern. No, i know that's unrealistic.

7. Mr. Graves. Y'all are gonna tell me that that's Not the canon name of the orphanage Arthur went to? Like i thought this was a fact and I haven't even finished @davidbowielovesyou s amazing fanwork "stay" which you can find on ao3 and should be smarter about then me and read it

8. This might be a personal one but Helen is a skater. It's her and her rollerblades against the sand on the concrete.

9. Everyone is autistic. I was gonna say: "only Linus is confirmed autistic" but that's not actually true is it? Tho i think we can use our critical reading skills here and come to the obvious conclusion that he is. But so are phee and Chauncey and Lucy and...

10. Except for Arthur who has ADHD.

11. The term island dads. I'm not actually sure if the TJ knows that name, it certainly originated on Tumblr. But if he knows it👀 Hiii! Love yr work, obviously. Just think about it, the name could have been Anus and i do not like that

12. Linus and Arthur are constantly dancing. Especially in the kitchen!

13. Young Arthur was a punk and an activist and he probably wore multicoloured doc martens

14. Also Linus is obsessed with Princess Diana. I know I personally made that up but i still forgot whether or not it was true

15. There's an underground rebellion going on, that we don't know anything about but these definitely actions and protests for magical rights going on under the radar

16. Doreen aka Ms. bubblegum is either part of said rebellion or secretly also an unregistered magical being. I think she's very neat and it would fit her character to do something this pretty right one dicomys nose.

17. While Arthur of course is cold resistent due to his phoenix abilities, Linus is not which means that when they put David to bed at night Linus insists to wear winter clothes every time so he can say good night, no matter how often Arthur and David tell him that's really not necessary @islanddads is the mind behind this one

@dontuwishuwerehere

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jadekitty777 · 4 years

Text

Chapter 3: Land Home

Time to end the little drabble series! This one is full of sugar and fluff.

Day 6: Rekindling @taiqrowweek

Rating: K

Words: 1400

Summary: On the cusp of his departure, Qrow has one last thing to do.

Ao3 Link: Path to the Sun

He finds Tai out on the porch, lounging with his feet up on the railing and a mug of tea in his hands. The night is surprisingly brisk for August, but despite the crispness in the air, the fireflies were out and dancing around the yard. Zwei, their new puppy, was racing back and forth, trying to catch the bugs between his teeth.

Tai turned from that show to smile at him. “Girls give you any trouble?”

“Well, Ruby tried to speed wash the dishes. Again.” Qrow said as he settled down beside him. “Didn’t work. So I had to make her start over.”

A snort. “Of course she did.”

It had only been a few weeks ago that Ruby had discovered her semblance was super speed, but naturally that had opened a curiosity in what she could accomplish with it. Particularly any chores that could be considered time consuming (which meant, all of them). They were getting kind of familiar with haphazardly folded clothes and water spots still left on the windows or the car.

Tai said she was being reckless – how would she learn discipline if they didn’t set some rules down? Qrow said she was being experimental – how would she know her limits if she didn’t test them?

They hadn’t yet come to agreement and today, Tai certainly didn’t seem inclined to start the conversation, merely resting further back in the cushions of the porch seat. “Thanks, for doing everything tonight.”

“Don’t get too comfortable with it. This is a birthday exclusive.” He slid closer, resting against his shoulder. “Tomorrow it’s back to the status quo.”

A kiss, featherlight, was pressed against his head. “I know, I know.”

They stayed like that for some time, enjoying the rare bit of calm provided under the light of the broken moon. Nestled together like this, Qrow could almost pretend that things were normal. That next week they’d be starting their classes at Signal together just like they had the past six years now. He could already picture the first day: He’d be improvising his lesson plans, Tai would be sticking to his down to the very letter, and they’d definitely be rushing to the breakroom at lunchtime to sign up for the yearly field trips together (No way they’d let Alma and Stoat get “Grimm Sea Life Studies Down at the Beach” again!).

But this time around, there would be none of that. Because Qrow had finally put in his resignation at Signal and returned his Huntsman status on the mission board back to “On Duty”.

He wouldn’t say he hated his profession as a teacher, but there was no denying he’d begun to feel like he had stagnated in life. Become a useless set piece at the school and even in the house; a decoration that was nice to look at but ultimately unneeded for the day-to-day. Of course, Tai vehemently disagreed with those notions, thinking perhaps he was letting his insecurities get the best of him.

Qrow had no idea how to verbalize to him that he had to be a part of something in which he felt like he was doing the most good. It was the only way he felt right. He needed something bigger, grander, more fulfilling and he certainly wasn’t fulfilling that as an eighth-grade professor.

But his desires had made things a bit rickety between him and Tai. Every time the topic came up, his lover struggled to respect his need to leave while combating the want to keep him close. Safe. Here. Battled against his inhibitions. His fears. Things that had laid in his heart like scars on the skin from previous losses.

In a way, it was comforting, to know he meant that much to Tai. That these four years they’d been together had as great an impact on him as it had for Qrow himself. It was something else, something rich and undefinable, being loved and wanted. To know this would always be his home and the people within would always welcome him.

Which was what led him to say, “I got something for you.”

“Oh?” Tai’s laugh rumbled against his ear. “So you didn’t forget my birthday for the 12th year in a row?”

“I was trying to go for an unlucky 13, thank you very much.” Qrow joked, pulling back to give them space. “Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

A brow was arched suspiciously, but he straightened up, twisting his body to face him more fully. “I swear, if you put slime in my hands or something…” He murmured as he cupped his hands out and let his eyes fall shut.

“Don’t tempt me.” Qrow joked, aware how tight his voice sounded as his nerves started to get the better of him. He pulled out the trinket from his pocket, where it had been burning a hole all evening, and dropped it in his grasp. Ignored the way his hands started to shake. No turning back now. “Okay, you can look.”

Tai’s eyes opened and he looked down.

A second later, his gaze snapped back to him, shocked. “Qrow, is this-?” He trailed off, staring back down like he couldn’t believe what he was holding.

Laying in the palm of his hand was a necklace. The handmade pendant was the same shape as Tai’s emblem, but, to hold the halves of the heart together, Qrow had crafted a sun in the middle. Embedded in the face of that sun was a piece of the turquoise gemstone that had been sitting on his shelf for so many years now.

Yet, it wasn’t the flare and glitz of the design that captivated Tai so completely.

No, it was the silk blue cord that acted as the chain his eyes were locked onto, his fingers brushing along it like it was delicate as glass.

Delicate, like the question Qrow was truly asking him.

There was an old yet simple legend in Anima, one as ancient as Remnant itself, that told the tale of how the Sky and Sea created the world. It was said that before everything, the planet was nothing but a black husk. There was no light and no color. The dark Sea, growing lonely in its isolation, eventually called into the nothingness. A voice from far, far away, replied. It was the Sky.

Knowing they weren’t alone, they went on a blind journey together, trying to find one another. There were a lot of versions of what followed, tales modified from the story being orated for so long, but it all ended the same way: Eventually, the Sky and Sea fell in love with each other and that powerful emotion drew them together. The moment they touched, they turned blue and the horizon and the continents came to be.

Though centuries had passed and science and understanding of the world had proven such ideas ridiculous, Anima still held tight to their oldest fairytale in ways that could still be felt today. Like having their capital’s signature color be blue and bestowing children with aeronautical and marine-based names.

But the one tradition that stood out above all the rest was the Gift of Blue Thread. It was the act of presenting a lover with an item, typically jewelry, on a piece of blue ribbon. Because, as the saying went:

Give them something of cerulean thread, like sky and sea you’ll be forever wed.

Qrow felt his throat knot up, and the speech he had practiced got caught in the snare, only a few words from it escaping. “I was thinking, uh, maybe you might want something a bit more permanent, between us.” He paused, dipping his head. Felt his cheeks flare up as he managed to get the sappy sentiment out between his teeth, “So that you know, no matter how dark things get, I’ll always try to find my way back to you.”

A beat.

Then, predictably, Tai was laughing.

He ruffled up instantly. “What’s so funny? I’m being serious!”

“I know.” Arms wound around him, pulling him in until he was practically spilling along his lap. “I’m not laughing at you. I’m just really happy.”

“Then…” Qrow murmured where his face was buried against his neck, “It’s a yes?”

With as much gentleness as he had the necklace, Tai caressed his fingers along his face, down along his cheek and his jawline, before cupping his chin and pulling him free of his hiding spot.

He stared into blue, blue eyes as Tai lent close, whispering, “I can’t think of anything I’d want more than you.”

When their lips finally touched, Qrow swore he felt the start of their own world together.

#qrow branwen #taiyang xiao long #Taiqrow #taiqrowweek #rwby #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

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shuskas-story-book · 3 years

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Beside Me

Based off the song Mother Mother by Oleander

This story was a birthday present for @brinytrolls.

Faldur and Sarky both belong to Freddie

"Thanks for watchin dudes, seeya in the next video" Sarkan chirped, a bright smile on his lips before hitting the end button on his recording system. "Well....looks like another succesful run eh Sarks?" he asked himself, shaking his head and letting his ears droop a bit. He sighed and looked out the window to the storm before frowning. Out on the road closing in on his borrowed vacation house was a familiar shape, one of the only people who would know where he was spending the perigee in quiet solitude.

"Fal? What in alternia's grey biosphere are you doing out in the rain?!" he asked aloud, quickly pushing back from the desk his computer was stationed on and quickly hurrying his way out to the front porch. He looked around, panting for breath as he tried to catch sight of his Kismesis through the thick rain.

"Faldur! Where are you?!" he shouted with worry, trying to find the violet seadweller with the darkness being illuminated with a massive flash of lightning. His teal eyes went wide when he finally spotted the sea dweller, covered in mixture of rust and gold and cerulean blood and wandering down the road as though he didnt know where he was. It took just moments before Sarky had his shoes on and was pelting down the road in his pajama pants, his favored hoodie, and a pair of flipflops.

"Faldur! Terrors above what are you doing out here? I know your a seadweller but this isnt like yo-HOLY SHIT IS THAT BLOOD?!" he nearly screamed. Faldur's eyes were tinted a bloody orange, not even caring about the brightly colored blood on his suit jacket or the fact that his typical fedora was missing from atop his head. His hatesprit gave a soft little whine, the teal reaching out and carefully wrapping his arm around Fal to help support the seadweller as his knees buckled. Fal could be heard muttering things about what had happened, the dark growl in his voice causing the fur along Sarkan's back and ears to rise. "Lets get you upstairs and in bed" he said softly as he guided the seadweller back to the house.

The day was a long one, Faldur shattering plates and cups as he went on his angry little tirade. It wasnt like he couldnt replace the things in his own house, it was more the fear that Sarky felt watching the highblood destroy things and not bother with the damage he was leaving on himself. Dark fingerpads sliced open, jacket sleeves shredded by talons and glittering porcelain and glass pieces from what was just in the kitchen.

Faldur wound up falling asleep curled up in the corner of the large dining room, his thin form trembling lightly in the aftermath of his rage. Sarky sighed when he noticed this and gave a small little smile, moving over to drape one of his extra hoodies over his kismesis to try and help give him some comfort as the teal worked on cleaning up the shattered remains of what was once a set of dishes.

******

"Come on Fal, lets get you in a tub" Sarky sighed, having stayed up the entire day to make sure Faldur didnt wake back up and get hurt. The violet gave a confused little noise as he felt the warm hands under his arm and around one wrist as he was guided to his feet. "Sark..... when did.... why are you here I went home?" he asked, mostly to himself in his tired state.

"Well....I mean when you come wandering down the road half the town away from your place I'd guess you didnt go home" Sarky teased softly, not doing much more than that as they stepped into the downstairs bathroom and settled faldur on the closed toilet. "What happened last night man? You were shamblin around like a day walker!" Sarky commented, his long ears lowering. He worked quickly to get the water started and to the right temperature for the seadweller.

"I.....I went on a date last night....was supposed to be a possible matesprit" Fal replied with a shaky breath, tears starting to well in his eyes. "I....Sarkan I dont.....Why does everyone decide I'm nothing? Th-that I'm only good for my money?" he asked.

sarky was taken back by the question, a hand moving to rub at the back of his neck. "I....I dont think I can answer that for ya Fal.... Alternia's a cruel place, we all know this but the fact that you came home covered in blood is....more than what I guess was just a date gone south" he said softly, sighing and kneeling down beside his kismesis. "But no matter what I'm right here for you. Quadrants be damned for tonight, you need someone with a gentle touch" he stated, Faldur blinking and looking to his kismesis with a confused little chirp in his throat.

"you heard me fish face, now come on. Lets get you out of these bloody clothes and into a nice cold bath eh?" he offered, standing up enough to help remove the tattered cloth from the seadweller. It was a long process, Sarky taking extra care around the gills and fins and making sure to check the other for any cut or scrape that could have been worse than first thought.

"Sarkan.....why do you do this?" The seadweller asked, Sarky's ears perking up a bit as he looked over his glasses. "Why wouldnt I Fal? We may be kismesis, but that's just a rivalry thing more than anything else. Rivals can still care for one another and help them to be stronger than what we were before" he explained softly, tapping the other's hip lightly as he nodded towards the tub "Come on. Get in so we can get the rest of this blood off you"

Faldur pinned his fins back, turning his half blind eyes away. "did....did you find my glasses anywhere?" he asked instead, trying to get the old feelings to squash down enough for him to look Sarky in the eyes again.

"No, you didnt have them on when I found you last night" came the soft reply, Sark guiding the fish down into the water with careful hands as though he could break at any moment. "I know where you keep your backup pair at this place, so i'll grab them when I get you something clean to wear. " he hummed, grabbing a rag and starting to carefully run it over Fal's shoulders.

They worked like this in silence for a few moments before Faldur spoke up with a shaky, qiet voice "Sarky....you always stand beside me.....even when I'm out of my mind" Sark blinked and tilted his head a bit with a confused little pout. "Hmm? What do you mean by that?" he asked, Fal shaking his head and bringing one hand up to nervously fiddle with one of his fin piercings.

"I-i shattered all that glass...dont pretend i didnt, I saw it in the trash bin when we passed by" he muttered "Yea fal you did....but i'm right here to sweep it all up" Sarky hummed, shaking his head a bit with a chuckle. "Why are you smiling Sarkan?I-i made a huge ffffucking mess! I-i-i was acting obscene!" he blurted out, hand dropping into the water as Sark carefully cradled the fish's cheek in his hand "Yea...But I'll be right here to help you clean up and destress....You can be the anger and the rage, and I'll be all the rest" What Faldur didnt expect was the soft kiss to his forehead, fins flaring out a bit as he looked up to the other with wide eyes. "W-what? What do you mean by that? Where are you going?!" he asked, hands moving to grasp at the side of the tub.

The teal just offered a small smile "I'm just getting you something to wear Fal, I'm not leaving you here alone" He replied softly, trailing his nails along Faldur's hornbed in an attempt to calm the others nerves. It worked for the most part, Fal letting his fins droop back into a comfortable position before sighing and closing his eyes.

"you know Sarkan.....If you leave me, I think it would kill me"

"I know fal.....I know"

*****

The two were bundled up in comfortable pajamas, faldur having been patched up from his wounds and now clean and cuddly against the larger troll. They were quiet as an old movie played, something the both of them would enjoy so as to not cause any major issues on the film choice.

A scene had the characters passing through a large garden and had Sarky perking his ears with a small smile as he broke the comfortable silence they had settled into. "You know....You're like a Wisteria Fal" he hummed, reaching up to trail his fingers through the other's lightly damp curls. "Bright petals, beautiful hues~" he cooed, fal blinking and turning up to the other with a pout. "A Wisteria? Bright like me?" he asked in reply, Sarky chuckling and nodding with a soft kiss to his violets forehead. "Yes like you~" he hummed.

"Sarkan....I'm more like a vile little child stuck in a farm sty!" Fal huffed, arms crossing over his chest as he turned his eyes away from the other. "So? you know I love playing with my vile little reptiles~" Sarky teased, sticking out his tongue at fal playfully and getting a swat to the shoulder.

"Difference is I'll burn you out!"

"So? I remember burning your diary that one time Higgins~"

Fal puffed out his cheeks and growled softly, turning away and just going silent as Sarky moved his hand down to pull the other into a hug instead of just lounging across his lap. "But, just like back then Fal, if you start to cry I'll work to put a smile back on that horrid face of yours" he purred. Faldur smiled a bit at the memories he had with the teal that held him, his own arms moving around his shoulders to return the hug tightly. "Yea.....If you left me rest assured I'd perrish... it would kill me to loose someone like you" he muttered against the fuzzy ear next to his cheek.

Sarky just chuckled softly and shook his head, swaying along lightly to the music the movie was putting off "Your my little wisteria, bright beautiful petals" he hummed, fal pulling back and offering a soft little smile "A wisteria.....bright and beautiful" he replied with a happy little purr in his chest, Sarky touching foreheads with him

"Yes, just like you Fal"

"just like me~"

#faldur #faldur gemela #sarky #sarkan #sarkan nerdal #higgins (fal)#snerdal #moirallegiance #kismesis #blood #pining #pale/pitch flipping #soft touch #kind words #panic attack #?

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bibliobethblog · 2 years

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Merry Christmas 🎄 and Happy Holidays everyone! Hope you’ve had a wonderful day wherever you are in the world. Today I’m joining in with the tag #booksyouwouldgift which I saw on the lovely Claire from @ormondebooks page I am so lucky to have some amazing bookish family and friends in my life but it’s usually much easier to get a book from a wishlist, then I can be sure they don’t already have it! 😅 However, this little stack I would definitely consider gifting because they are all SO BEAUTIFUL 😍 My Cousin Rachel by Daphne du Maurier - I read this recently with my booksta pals @lovedreadingthis and @always_need_more_books review to come! This is a stunning Vintage Modern Classic Designer Edition and it made me realise I want the whole set 😂 As Kerrie mentioned in her review, the paper is just gorgeous and it feels lovely to read one of these! The House In The Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune - one of my books of the year. This exclusive @illumicrate edition has the most stunning sprayed edges I think I’ve ever seen and the story is so special. Highly recommended if you haven’t read it yet!! The Summer That Melted Everything by Tiffany McDaniel - this was the author’s first published book. I read it because of my bestie @tarheelreader and I’m now obsessed. (Betty was also one of my books of the year last year). I’m eagerly anticipating another book by this author! Circe by Madeleine Miller - I buddy read this with @keeperofpages and it started a Greek mythology re-tellings obsession that I have LOVED this year. Janel bought me this hardback for my birthday as she knew how much I wanted it 🥲🥲🥲 (I previously had the paperback). Anne Of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery - this is one of my favourite childhood books and I’m going to adore re-reading it in this gorgeous Seasons Edition, again brought to my attention by @tarheelreader 🤣 hopefully at some point next year. What do you think of my choices? What books would you love to gift? Let’s have a chat in the comments! 🤗😘 #bookstagram #bookstagrammer #booksasgifts #beautifulbooks #favouritebooks #favouriteauthors #mycousinrachel #daphnedumaurier #vmcdesignercollection #thehouseintheceruleansea #tjklune https://www.instagram.com/p/CX63zh2rdr7/?utm_medium=tumblr

#booksyouwouldgift #bookstagram #bookstagrammer #booksasgifts #beautifulbooks #favouritebooks #favouriteauthors #mycousinrachel #daphnedumaurier #vmcdesignercollection #thehouseintheceruleansea #tjklune

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talesofanavidreader · 4 years

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Happy first day of May (aka my birthday month) and the start of the #bookishflowersmay20 photo challenge! ⁣ ⁣ Day 1: Succulent - #TBR⁣ ⁣ These three books + Aurora Burning are on my May TBR! The Merciful Crow was one of my favorite books from last year and I was totally thrilled to get an arc of The Faithless Hawk from @fiercereads at C2E2! I keep seeing The House in the Cerulean Sea all over Instagram and it sounds amazing!! And finally my awesome book pod friends (who are hosting this photo challenge with me) have been gushing about From Blood & Ash so I’m super excited to read it. ⁣ ⁣ AND I got approved for Unravel the Dusk on netgalley today and I AM SO EXCITED! ⁣ ⁣ What’s your May TBR? Make sure to use the hashtag #bookishflowersmay20 so I can see your awesome photos!! ⁣ ⁣ #photochallenge #bookishphotochallenge #bookstagramphotochallenge #auroraburning #frombloodandash #thefaithlesshawk #themercifulcrow #thehouseintheceruleansea #tbr #maytbr #toberead #succulent #talesofanavidreader #bookstagram #booksofinstagram #bookstagrammer #bookblog #bookreviewer #booknerd #booklover #bookworm https://www.instagram.com/p/B_pz6F0g6Ab/?igshid=1nwkw8s8qn0zn

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kay-okays · 7 years

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on a wild hunt

on a wild hunt 2500k / T

i guess i’m posting fic here now? i don’t know. we’ll see how this goes

title and lyrics included lifted from "all is well" by austin basham. story based on this and this. and the fact they should move, immediately, to a house big enough for them, their anime DVD collection, and their future army of shibes.

thank you to the lovely @oqua12 for the help.

Dan shivers. He’s still got his jumper on but he may as well be naked with how intimate it feels. He whines a little, presses his back into the muddy earth behind him as he arches.

“Being here makes me not want to go back to the city,” he says, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Hmm,” Phil makes an interested noise against the thin skin pulled tight around the plane of Dan’s jawbone. “Where should we go?”

woe is me, weary soul heeding grief your love in my heart feels like the ocean breeze said your love in my heart feels like the ocean breeze

“Man, it's nice here.”

Dan looks up from where he’s tugging a rogue zipper on his shoe and grins. Phil’s got his back to him, eyes set out over a sparkling blue ocean, his voice soft with awe. “Do you mean like ‘Man, expression of exclamation, it's nice here’ or ‘Mann, nickname for this island, it's nice here’?”

Phil turns away from the sea and looks over his shoulder at Dan. “Not everything has to be a pun.”

Dan’s grin falls as he straightens up quickly. He places a cold palm against Phil's forehead, concern evident in the furrow of his eyebrows. “Are you feeling alright?”

Phil swats a hand in his direction and Dan sways away. “Ha, ha,” Phil says flatly, Dan covering his chuckles with his jumper sleeve.

Mann really is beautiful, in a way that Dan seems to forget every time they spend too long away from here. He loves London in all its sprawling beauty, miles and miles of cement and glass and greenery like a multi-tiered cake fitfully frosted with people upon people upon people. In the winter, this time of year, London so often has a glaze of gray fog over it, trapping the dew drops down at the ground level and driving its inhabitants just a smidge more stir-crazy than normal. Luckily for Dan and Phil, they find their most recent bout with dreary city weather timed up with Phil’s birthday, which means one thing -- a way out.

Mann has its own share of fog, light and misty on this side where Phil’s parents now live. They’re set back from the coast a bit, no more than a fifteen-minute walk to the best sunset viewpoint on the island at a pleasant, after-dinner pace. Dan had worn his long coat with the drawstrings, didn’t even attempt to iron his hair after seeing the scattered cloud cover outside.

It’s still light out, and Dan’s snapping pictures from the top of the cliff they found themselves on. Phil sidles up next to him and turns around, phone poised at an angle above them. “Selfie.”

Dan turns his head and smiles in a thin line, Phil snapping the photo before poking him in the side and snapping another one, Dan’s eyes scrunched tight and mouth stretched in a laughing grin as he darts away. It’s blurry across the screen when Phil opens up his photos, but he can still make them both out, leaning in towards each other even as Dan tries to escape. They look natural and happy, cheeks tinged rosy with a mixture of the crisp ocean air and their short walk.

“I like this one better,” Phil declares, holding up the second photo and showing Dan. He considers it over Phil’s shoulder.

“Me too, less of my face is clearly visible,” Dan quips, earning another elbow to the ribs.

They walk along the cliff in the quiet, hands in their coat pockets but elbows grazing, footsteps falling slowly in time as they always seem to do naturally when they walk side by side. It’s not bad weather but it’s an odd time of year, late January when not many tourists are out and there are only a few people jogging along the walking path. None of them pay attention as they trot past Dan and Phil, earbuds firmly in their ears and puffing out staccato breaths to their own private soundtracks.

The third jogger runs past them, and Dan speaks up. “Let’s go before we miss it,” he says, nodding toward the now-clearing horizon and inevitable sunset. He points at a winding staircase about a quarter-mile down the path; they can see it meets its end at a rocky beach at the bottom of a hill. “This way.”

Phil nods and digs his fist a little deeper into his pockets, leans further into Dan’s side.

Dan vows out loud to exercise more once they get back home, 2017 is his year, he’s actually going to follow through with a New Year’s resolution this time, he promises.

“This is… downhill,” he huffs out, palm kneading at a stitch in his side, “It’s not supposed to be… this hard.”

Phil’s no athlete but he says, in spite of himself, “You’re the one who wanted to run down the stairs, Dan.”

“I thought it’d be fun!” he tries to exclaim, but it comes out sounding like a sickly half-wheeze. He coughs. “Oh, this is just pathetic.”

Phil stands up from where he was leaning on the metal guard rails. “We’re almost there. Let’s keep going.”

Dan makes a face and whines, but he pushes a mop of damp, wavy hair out of his face and unzips his coat. Furred cap long-stuffed into a side pocket, he follows closely behind Phil the last remaining steps down a winding switchback.

It’s not much longer until the stairs dissipate into a small clearing, a desolate rocky beach situated at the bottom of the cliffs they were just on. The rocks are wide and flat, sun-bleached arms reaching far into the ocean until they disappear under cerulean water. The waves are calm this time of day, but Dan and Phil stay away from the water line, air too frigid to make it look appealing.

They step carefully on the wet rocks, round a corner at the base of the cliff and find themselves in a makeshift cove. The slabs of stone are smooth but slippery here, so Dan climbs up on one and turns towards Phil, extending out his hand. Phil takes it gratefully, and Dan doesn’t let it go when Phil joins him.

Dan angles his face towards the ocean and breathes in deep. He misses this in the city, sea-salty air and the sound of water beating against rocks, the quiet that comes after a wave crests, the odd sound it makes as it recedes back through the sand and returns to the ocean. The feel of Phil’s hand laced through his, fingers that slide together easily and click into place. The anonymity they have, pressed together under a nameless chunk of cliffs on this tiny island in the Irish Sea.

Phil’s stepped up onto another slab, a couple inches higher than Dan’s. He turns to look down at him, pushing his hands back into his coat pockets as the corner of his mouth turns up in a smirk. “Remember when I was taller than you?”

The sky is darker now, variants of cobalt and orange streaking above them, and they haven’t seen anyone around in at least twenty minutes. Dan leans in, fits his palms into the dips at Phil’s hipbones and pulls minutely. “Yes, I remember the first three months we dated,” he cheeks.

Phil makes another face and knees him in the thigh. Dan just pulls him closer, and Phil’s elbows bend to lean against his chest. He smiles secretively down at him and Dan can’t look away from sunny sky blue eyes, feels his own heartbeat in his fingertips and times his breathing with the tempo of the water.

“I’m glad you’re here with me this year,” Phil says, a single finger toying with the metal tab on Dan’s coat zipper. Last year they’d had a marathon Skype session like the old days as it rolled past midnight into Phil’s birthday, Dan in London for one of their projects, unable to make it up north until later. Phil’s quiet against the sound of the waves, almost as though he doesn’t want to alert them of their presence on the beach. “It’s better when you’re here.”

“Yeah?” Dan smiles, wide. He can’t keep it off his face.

“Yes,” Phil huffs out a laugh. He gets his arms free and lays them across Dan’s shoulders, anchors them together. “Always is.”

Dan’s bare hands find Phil’s waist and he tugs, their faces coming closer. He can feel Phil draw in a breath, see his eyes go to half-mast as his head tips, but Dan pulls back slightly at the last minute.

Phil’s face is confused for a split second before Dan leans in again, gently Eskimos his nose against Phil’s. “Your nose is all red.”

Phil reaches his a hand up to rub at it. “I’m cold!” He laughs, eyes going slitted with a familiar glittered grin. Dan feels all the air leave his lungs and he has to press up on his toes to reach for him, the first time he’s had to in years.

Phil makes a surprised noise when Dan touches their mouths together, and it gets lost between them in a muted sound. Dan kisses so unlike the way he usually talks -- instead of animated and hasty he’s calm and thorough. Purposeful when he parts his mouth and gently pushes, tilting his head to one side when Phil’s palm slides up and grips at the flat expanse of his neck. Dan tugs Phil off the rock to lean them against the bottom of the cliff’s wall, sun slowly dipping lower in the horizon.

They’re lazy here for a while; soft, exploratory kissing turns insistent and unyielding with each passing minute. Eventually Dan’s got Phil’s coat unzipped, hands shoved up and under his royal blue jumper and sliding across the soft skin at Phil’s back. He’s putty, literally and figuratively, Dan softly squeezing handfuls of flesh and drinking in the delicate, delicious whimpers he gets from Phil every time he trails his fingertips across a sensitive spot on his ribs. Phil’s hand comes down to grasp at the zipper on Dan’s coat, Dan making his own exclamation of surprise when Phil unexpectedly breaks their heated kiss to start pulling the metal tab down. He follows the seam as it separates open, dropping airy kisses down Dan’s chest.

Dan shivers. He’s still got his jumper on but he may as well be naked with how intimate it feels. He whines a little, presses his back into the muddy earth behind him as he arches.

“Being here makes me not want to go back to the city,” he says, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Hmm,” Phil makes an interested noise against the thin skin pulled tight around the plane of Dan’s jawbone. “Where should we go?”

Dan’s head falls to the side as Phil leans in, eyes sliding shut with Phil’s warm mouth pressing insistently into his neck. He can’t concentrate. He says the first thing that pops into his head. “A farm.”

“Charming little house in the middle of a corn field,” Phil contends after a beat.

“Your own menagerie of animals, you’d like that.” A shiver runs down Dan’s back when Phil pulls his collar aside, takes in mouthfuls of skin stretched across the sharp bones at the base of Dan’s neck.

“I'd kill to watch you chop wood shirtless,” Phil comments and Dan barks out a laugh.

“Mandatory physical activity required to survive?” Dan scoffs. “Too demanding.”

Phil leans back but Dan drags him closer by two handfuls of puffy coat lapels. He kisses him soundly, curves his hips forward when one of Phil’s hands creeps across his lower back.

“The mountains then, surely,” Phil mutters against Dan’s earlobe, finally getting a hand past the waistband on Dan’s jeans, fingernails making slight crescent moon marks in heated skin.

“Snow is lovely but not when we'd have to shovel ourselves out of it every winter,” Dan argues, sighing a bit when Phil fits a thigh between Dan’s. “But we could have a fireplace again…” He trails off.

“Fireplace?” Phil pulls away from his ministrations to glance up, considering. “Could this mountain scenario hypothetically involve you chopping wood shirtless again?” he questions, ducking away laughing when Dan pushes at his shoulder.

Without Phil in his arms he gets chilly again, so Dan zips his coat back up. Phil situates himself against the cliff wall, holds a hand out like a line that Dan takes.

Phils tugs Dan’s back to his front, caps his chin gently on Dan’s shoulder. The sun’s almost gone now, three or four curved orange lines above a navy horizon, slowly receding and wavering far in the distance. Dan feels Phil’s arms wind around his front, and he places his own hands over them. He listens to the waves for a long time before he can find the right words he wants to say.

“You know, we love it so much every time we come here,” he starts. He's oddly nervous. He can't place his finger on why. “What about Brighton? London is wonderful, but I feel like we're outgrowing our flat, not just size-wise but I've been feeling lately like I kind of want a change, a place we can actually call our own and by that I mean, like,” Dan's babbling now, he's fully aware but he can't stop the train once it's started, “Like, we can get a pet, or drill holes in the wall, or be loud without the neighbors calling the police on us, break a fucking kitchen tile without worrying about it, or paint an accent wall or something, I don't know...”

Phil, to his credit, never cuts him off mid-rant. When Dan comes to a natural end, dropping his head back against Phil’s shoulder, he finally speaks.

“You know, I think Brighton has some really nice beaches. As a matter of fact, I think they have some really nice houses near some of these really nice beaches.”

Dan lifts his head and turns to look at him, but Phil keeps his eyes trained on the dipping sun, his mouth trying to hide an impish smile.

“I think…” Phil starts again quietly, lips pressed soft against the short hair at Dan’s temple, “I think I can't wait to pick out matching beach chairs with you,” Phil trails to kiss against Dan’s cheek, chin, side of his neck, “and to find a dog to adopt and to decide what kind of wind chime we should have on the front porch. And of course, what color we should paint the accent wall in our lounge,” he lands at his shoulder and kisses there, once he's moved the puffy coat aside again. “Because we're definitely having an accent wall. It's what the first-time homebuyers always mention on House Hunters International.”

Dan nearly doubles over laughing, can't hold back from turning to throw his arms around Phil’s neck. He knocks Phil back a little with the force, pivoting them around in a lopsided half-circle, swaying slightly. He feels on the cusp of something important, a chapter heading later in life, bookmarked to read over again when looking for comfortable familiarity. Dan’s happy it happens here, on a sliver of sand that meets the edge of the ocean sequestered from the rest of the town, the country, the world.

“Oh --” Phil points towards the horizon behind Dan’s back, dusky pink and cornflower now, sun just below a wispy line of clouds. “We missed it.”

Dan glances with disinterest over his shoulder at the skyline before he pushes forward, walking Phil backwards to the cliff wall. Phil’s shoulders meet the earth and Dan slides his arms down, warm hands cradling a cold face.

“There’ll be more,” Dan murmurs, hushed words caught between kisses he presses to smiling lips, Phil’s quiet laughter the only thing Dan hears over the sound of crashing waves.

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