#also its ridiculous that for this year i picked tracks that are all on either bandcamp or youtube for all 3 kids to make it

[childrenofcain-if]

Did your school also have that awful baby project where you have to partner up with another student and be “parents” for like a fake robot baby? The one that has sensors in it and it cries in the middle of the night and you have to feed it and carry it around for like two weeks.

I'm imagining if MC and C had to pair up for that project in school. It's a funny mental image of two kids arguing over a fake baby like they're 40 year old divorcees.

Obviously they both want a good grade but they literally won't stop arguing over every stupid thing about the fake baby.

A whole lot of: “You're holding it the wrong way.” “No, YOU'RE holding it the wrong way.” “Why did you have to dress it up in THAT outfit. It looks hideous.” “I thought it was cute! What, are you not happy unless it's wearing formal three piece suit, get over yourself.” “You're supposed to look after it tonight.” “I told you that I'm too busy with practice after school.” “Well that's too bad, we both agreed that Friday is YOUR night to look after the baby. I'll get it back on the weekend.” “But I can't take the baby with me to football practice! Why are you so inconsiderate?" "Great, look it's crying now. That's gotta be your fault.”

Teacher would immediately be so done with them and ready to take off points for “inflicting psychic damage on the baby by means of hostile environment” or some bs 💀

it was supposed to be a simple project—a rite of passage, really. every student had to go through it: the dreaded baby project. the one where you and a partner were tasked with taking care of a robot baby for two weeks, complete with cries in the middle of the night, diapers that needed changing, and a never-ending checklist of parental responsibilities. it was meant to teach you about responsibility, commitment, and empathy, or whatever nonsense the school administration tried to sell it as.

you, on the other hand, had different thoughts. especially when you found out that your partner for this cursed experiment was none other than C Lacroix.

the moment the teacher had paired you two together, you both shot each other the same look of mutual horror. of all the people in your class, of all the potential partners, you were stuck with each other. it was like fate had a sick sense of humor. C, the person who couldn’t go a day without making some snide remark about you, was now supposed to co-parent a fake baby with you? for two whole weeks? this was going to be a nightmare.

“why do we even have to do this?” C muttered under their breath, running a hand through their hair as they eyed the little plastic baby lying in the crib in front of you. “making this project mandatory is ridiculous.”

“you think i’m happy about this?” you shot back, already feeling the tension between you two rising. “you’re not exactly my dream partner either.”

the teacher, mrs. wentworth, stood at the front of the class, giving out instructions as though this were the most serious, real-world task you’d ever face in high school. you had to pick up the baby, name it, dress it, and take care of it as if it were real. the sensors inside the baby would track how well you handled it, including how quickly you responded to its cries, how gently you held it, and whether or not you remembered to change its clothes and diapers.

C crossed their arms, glancing at the little bundle of plastic with thinly veiled disgust. “how are we supposed to pass this if it’s literally rigged to cry at random hours?”

you didn’t bother hiding your frustration as you leaned in closer, keeping your voice low. “well, maybe if you actually try instead of complaining all the time, we could figure it out. just a thought.”

they shot you a glare. “oh, so now you’re an expert on fake babies?”

“better than you, at least,” you muttered, folding your arms over your chest.

the two of you stood there in a silent, seething stalemate for a moment, both unwilling to be the first to back down. then mrs. wentworth walked over with an expectant smile, handing you the baby and the care guide that went with it.

“don’t forget,” she said, her voice overly chipper, “this baby is your responsibility. think of it like it’s a real, living child.”

C muttered something under their breath that sounded a lot like kill me now but managed a tight-lipped smile as mrs. wentworth walked away.

and so the nightmare began.

***

the first night was a disaster. the baby—whom you both begrudgingly decided to name “charlie,” after a half-hour debate that nearly escalated into a full-on shouting match—began crying at exactly 2:14 a.m. you were supposed to take care of it that night, but when the piercing wails filled the room, you groaned and instinctively checked your phone. two missed calls from C. the stupid app linked to the baby must’ve been ringing off for them.

“are you kidding me?” you muttered, rolling out of bed and grabbing your phone.

when you called them back, their voice was groggy and clearly annoyed. “why is the baby crying?”

“gee, i don’t know, lacroix, maybe because it’s a robot baby that cries for no reason? it’s literally designed to do this.”

“i thought you were supposed to be taking care of it tonight,” they shot back.

“i am, but it’s just— can’t you hear it over the phone?” you snapped. “it’s like it’s possessed. i’ve tried everything, but it’s not stopping.”

you heard a sigh on the other end, and then a rustling noise. “fine. i’ll come over.”

within fifteen minutes, C was standing in your doorway, wearing a dark green hoodie and gray sweatpants, looking very much like they regretted every life decision that had led them to this moment. they made a beeline for the fake baby, picking it up awkwardly, their movements stiff and unsure.

“you’re holding it the wrong way,” you said immediately, wincing as the baby wailed louder.

they glared at you. “no, i’m not.”

“yes, you are. you have to support its head.”

“i am supporting its head,” they growled through gritted teeth. “this thing’s just broken or something.”

you crossed your arms, trying not to lose your patience entirely. “great, so we’re already terrible parents and it’s only day one.”

C shot you a look of half-exasperation and half-amusement. “well, it’s not like we’re competing for ‘parents of the year,’ are we?”

“oh, trust me, we’re not even good enough to be in the running.”

***

by the end of week one, things had escalated.

“i can’t believe you dressed it in that,” you said, eyeing the baby’s outfit with utter disdain. it was a simple onesie, with little ducks printed all over it, but to you, it was the equivalent of committing some kind of fashion crime.

“what’s wrong with it?” C snapped, not in the mood for another one of your critiques.

“it looks ridiculous. you couldn’t have picked something more… i don’t know, neutral?”

“neutral?” C scoffed, narrowing their eyes at you. “what, were you expecting it to wear a three-piece suit? maybe a little tie and cufflinks? it’ll end up looking like a mini version of your dad.”

“at least it wouldn’t look like a clown.”

C threw their hands up in frustration. “oh my god, it’s a baby. it’s supposed to look cute.”

“that isn’t cute.”

“i thought it was cute!”

“well, it’s not. and now we look like idiots.”

“we?” C let out a sarcastic laugh. “last time i checked, i dressed it while you were too busy pretending to care.”

“i care!” you protested, your voice rising.

“really? because you didn’t seem to care last night when i was the one who had to stay up until 4 a.m.”

you crossed your arms, glaring at C. “i told you i had practice. we agreed that i’d take care of it over the weekend.”

“yeah, well, the baby didn’t get the memo.” C turned to grab the diaper bag, slinging it over their shoulder. “it’s your turn tonight, by the way. don’t be a deadbeat this time.”

“i can’t take it with me to hockey,” you said, your voice flat.

“then figure something out,” C snapped. “i have chess club to attend as well.”

you groaned, rubbing your temples in frustration. “this is impossible.”

“you’re telling me.”

***

come tuesday morning, you were a zombie. dark circles under your eyes, your body aching from both the lack of sleep and the lingering soreness from practice. when you met up with C in the hallway before class, you didn’t bother hiding your exhaustion.

“rough night?” they asked, though there was a smirk playing at the corners of their mouth.

“i hope you choke on your chess pieces,” you muttered, glaring at them.

they raised an eyebrow. “such hostility. it’s not good for our charlie, you know.”

“charlie’s fine. i’m the one who’s falling apart.”

“well, you’re supposed to be a co-parent,” they said, their tone teasing but with an edge of seriousness. “maybe if you actually tried…”

“oh, don’t you dare lecture me about trying,” you snapped. “you’re the one who left me with the baby for three whole days.”

“you’re the one who wanted the weekend slot.”

“it was monday yesterday!”

C opened their mouth to argue, but mrs. wentworth appeared before either of you could get another word in.

“how’s it going with little charlie?” she asked with a smile that was far too cheery for how sleep-deprived you felt.

“great,” C said immediately, flashing a charming smile that was only reserved for faculty members.

you shot them a look that could kill. “‘great?’ really?”

mrs. wentworth raised an eyebrow, clearly sensing the tension. “is there something you want to add?”

you crossed your arms, biting your tongue. the last thing you needed was a lecture on communication from your teacher. “no, it’s fine. we’re doing… great, yes.”

“fantastic,” she said with a smile. “just remember, it’s important to create a healthy, loving environment for your child.”

as soon as she walked away, you turned to C. “loving environment? you couldn’t even be bothered to show up last night.”

they shrugged, unbothered. “i had chess club after school.”

you let out a frustrated sigh, shaking your head. “i can’t wait for this project to be over.”

***

the arguing reached a fever pitch by the middle of the second week. it seemed like every little thing about the baby was grounds for debate.

“you’re not holding it right,” C said, standing over you as you tried to rock the baby to sleep.

you sighed out in irritation. “oh my god, can you just back off for once?”

“i’m serious, you’re supposed to hold it like this,” they insisted, demonstrating with an exaggerated motion, as if they were some kind of baby-holding expert now.

“you do realize it’s not even real, right? the sensors won’t know the difference.”

“that’s not the point.”

you clenched your jaw, doing your best to ignore them as you continued rocking the baby. it was past midnight, and you were exhausted—more exhausted than you’d ever been in your life. who knew a robot baby could be this draining? C, on the other hand, seemed to be operating on a combination of stubbornness and sheer arrogance, unwilling to back down from any argument.

“why are you so obsessed with doing everything your way?” you muttered under your breath.

“i’m not obsessed, i just don’t want us to fail.”

“oh, please, we’re not going to fail because of how i hold the stupid thing.”

“well, it’s crying now, isn’t it?” they shot back, crossing their arms.

you glared at them. “it’s crying because you won’t shut up.”

C huffed in frustration, running a hand through their hair. “fine. you know what? fine. you handle it. i’m done.”

“who’s the deadbeat now?” you snarked as they started storming off to the corner. they stopped in their tracks when they heard you and, with a barely suppressed groan, stomped back to you.

“back so soon?” you asked in faux surprise before thrusting the baby toward them. “your turn.”

C rolled their eyes, grumbling under their breath as they resigned themself to doing the baby-holding now.

***

by the time the project finally came to an end, you and C were barely on speaking terms. the constant bickering, the sleepless nights, and the stress of trying to keep a fake baby “alive” had taken its toll. you were both exhausted—mentally, physically, and emotionally.

when you handed charlie back to mrs. wentworth, you couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief wash over you. it was finally over.

“well,” mrs. wentworth said, eyeing the two of you with a bemused expression, “i hope this has been a… productive learning experience.”

“yeah,” you muttered, rubbing your temples. “something like that.”

she gave you both a tight smile. “i’ll be docking points for the… tension between you two. i did remind you that it’s important to maintain a healthy environment for your child.”

you and C both opened your mouths to protest, but she held up a hand. “no need to argue. you’ve both done enough of that already.”

as you walked out of the classroom, the weight of the past two weeks hung between you. it wasn’t until you were halfway down the hallway that C turned to you, not meeting your eyes.

“all things considered…” they started, their voice low and reluctant, like they were pulling teeth just to get the words out, “you weren’t that bad of a partner.”

you blinked, turning your head sharply to look at them, unsure if you had heard them correctly. the very same person who had spent the last two weeks criticizing every little thing you did, was actually complimenting you?

“wait, what?” you said, your voice dripping with incredulity. “did you just say something nice to me? are you feeling okay?”

C rolled their eyes, but there was a faint smirk tugging at the corner of their lips. “don’t get too excited. i’m just saying… you didn’t completely screw it up.”

you couldn’t help but let out a dry, sarcastic laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “wow, high praise coming from you. if this was a real baby, it would probably be dead by now with the way we handled things.”

C chuckled softly, the sound catching you off guard. it wasn’t their usual arrogant laugh, the one that always made you want to punch them. this was different—quieter, more genuine. they shrugged, their shoulders relaxed as they glanced at you.

“yeah, maybe. but…” they hesitated for a second, their pale green eyes flickering to yours before quickly looking away. “i wouldn’t have asked for another partner.”

the words hit you like a slow-motion realization, and for a moment, you couldn’t quite process what they had just said. you stared at them, mouth slightly open, completely taken aback.

before you could ask what them meant, they were already walking off, their long strides taking them down the hallway.

“good luck for your practice,” they tossed over their shoulder, their voice casual, as if they hadn’t just dropped a bombshell on you.

you stood there, frozen in place, your mind racing to make sense of it. what did they mean by that? were they actually being sincere? and why did they say it like it wasn’t a big deal?

the hallway felt suddenly quieter, the distant chatter of other students fading into the background as you tried to wrap your head around what just happened. your heart was pounding a little faster, and you felt an unfamiliar warmth creeping up your neck.

why the hell am i getting flustered over this? you thought, shaking your head as if that would clear the confusion.

you let out a slow breath, your mind replaying C’s words: i wouldn’t have asked for another partner.

why did that make your heart skip a beat? this was C—the same person who had criticized every little thing you did, the one who would normally rather die than give you a compliment. and yet, here you were, feeling oddly flattered and confused.

you were about to turn and head toward the gym lockers to get your hockey gears for practice when you realized your hands were still clenching the care guide from the project. you looked down at it, then back at the direction C had walked off in, their figure now disappearing around a corner.

a small, involuntarily giddy smile crept onto your face.

maybe they weren’t that bad of a partner either.

[inseparabiles]

My (least) favourite part about writing fic for this ridiculous fandom is trying to play Google PhD for Caracalla's fantasy-convenience syphilis.

You don't get to just have symptoms from every godforsaken stage of the disease at once willy-nilly like you're collecting them in jars for display. Pick one or AT MOST two stages at once and sit with it. Christ.

Let's see what we've got here. Welcome to my unlicensed clinic for fictional people and friends only, but do take this neutral disclaimer that I dropped out of school at 12 so I'm totally a professional and this analysis is medically sound as all hell.

Ready? I'm not.

Primary stage: 2-12 weeks after infection - congratulations, nothing here. I have not checked his privates but the only symptom of the initial stage is the chancre, which lasts for up to six weeks before healing on its own and nothing else exists in this stage so. Clear based on presence of other symptoms.

Secondary: 1-6 months after primary stage. - rash, check - fever, can't measure without touch or thermo but a safe check anyway - sores, yes but in a weird location (how are you getting these on your cheeks exterior, tell me). - muscle aches, check. Have you seen how this boy walks? How he holds his hands? - weight loss, don't know. He's petite, doesn't really look malnourished. - headaches, hard probably. - hair loss, none. Fluffy as fuck. - swollen lymph nodes, again I have no touch contact. Probably though. - sore throat, no complaints and has no issue shouting.

Latent: that stage after secondary, where you kind of just don't have symptoms most of the time, but the virus is getting everywhere. Spine, brain, heart, nerves, organs, everything. Flares are possible but mild. Lasts up to 20 fucking years - our boy is like... 25 at most. Hopeful? Not so fast. Based on all evidence and speculation, I wouldn't give Caracalla's immune system much credit as to its ability to hold the infection at bay and the "up to" numbers are best case scenarios. The lowest range for how long the latent stage can last is three years, but quicker progression is usually seen in AIDS patients, and AIDS didn't exist in 200 AD, so we're ignoring that. Despite this, given the era and its customs and culture, it's perfectly possible that Caracalla's caught his infection in his early to mid-teens, which...

... no symptoms to check against, so, moving on,

Tertiary: Most people with untreated syphilis never hit the tertiary stage, because the infection takes so long to get to this point. Up to 30 years. Yet somehow, Caracalla manages to have tertiary stage neurological symptoms from advanced neurosyphilis while not having the physical symptoms or, sans despair-inducing circumstances, the age to show for it. And while having the definitive second/latent stage symptom of skin rashes, which you do not have in the tertiary stage at all. And you don't get to speedrun this stage either: you can live with this thing for twenty years without dying of it. You don't just hit tertiary one day and die next week. Again, how are you managing all of these cherry-picked symptoms and HOW are you fast-tracking them and yourself to hell SO fast. This is going to be such a long list but here we go: General: - brain damage / dementia / cognitive problems, absolutely. - heart disease, nope. - movement disorders and muscle problems, aside from the forementioned pain, no (clear) evidence. - nerve damage, no evidence. - seizures, none. - vision problems / blindness, none. Neurosyphilis: (can and will develop at any stage, however, symptom progression seems tied to general progression, you don't get to have tertiary stage symptoms with secondary stage disease, etc. Except if you're Caracalla and the gods hate you I guess.) Meningeal: - headache, hard probably - nausea and vomiting, no evidence - neck stiffness, I mean sure but he also sits like a sack of potatoes, differential diagnosis of your fucking posture sucks so much - light sensitivity, honestly Geta suffers more of this than Caracalla does (I think this is Joe's fault and I relate) - vision or hearing issues, still nope - cranial nerve dysfunction, no evidence

Menigovascular: - vertigo, no evidence - stroke, thank gods no - muscle weakness or atrophy, still petite but looks fine, twin comparison checks out

General paresis, early: - mood disturbances / irritability, very much - personality changes, yes (based on Geta's statement) - changes in sleeping habits, unknown - forgetfulness, dear god and how.

General paresis, late: - mood swings, and how - memory loss, yes. - impaired judgement, sorry is laughing at this inappropriate - confusion, yes - delusions, yes - seizures, still no.

GP / psychiatric: - depression, no - delirium, hard maybe - mania, no evidence - psychosis, well on the way there

Tabes dorsalis: - ataxia (issues with coordination), reasonable or strong evidence sans differential (drugs. he's on so many drugs) - nerve pain, probably - bladder control issues, most likely not - outside of differential (script case -> fear) - abnormal sensations, we just won't know - vision changes, still no evidence - pupil abnormalities, none - loss of coordination/reflexes, some sans differential (DRUGS) - neuropathic arthropathy (bone/joint fragmentation), none - problems walking, some

So with all of that out of the way, this boy's manifesting: - none of the initial stage as far as we can tell, so he's had syphilis for longer than six weeks. Great, this really narrows it down, lads. - nearly all of the secondary stage symptoms, including rash, which is not present in other stages, indicating that he's either secondary or latent stage per presentation (1-20 years after infection). - one definitive symptom of tertiary stage syphilis, being his absurd amount of neurological / neuropsychiatric symptoms. Even then it's almost impossible for him to be at this stage under any circumstances, but here we are. TERTIARY STAGE DOES NOT HAVE RASHES OR OUTWARD SYMPTOMS. TERTIARY STAGE IS INTERNAL ONLY. (screams into a megaphone in the general direction of Hollywood) - three symptoms of early general paresis - every single symptom sans seizures from late general paresis (again you can't have this with your other symptoms by ANY standard that I have been able to dig up. Like based on medical law this is literally illegal go straight to fantasy disease jail.) - let's say one whole symptom of neuropsychiatric made out of two halves, with psychiatric disorders manifesting in late stage disease - 2½ symptoms of tabes dorsalis which is whatever, as none of this is technically outside the legal zone of what he's allowed to be experiencing.

WHAT THE FUCK KIND OF DISEASE PROGRESSION BLIND BAG ARE YOU DRAWING FROM. No wonder everyone's so worried about you. You're either going to die an absolutely excruciating and horrifying death in a week or in 50 years and nobody can tell which is it going to be.

The only thing we can say for somewhat certain is that regardless of where his disease progression is headed, his mental state is not going to go back to fine ever again thanks to the plentiful evidence of physical and permanent brain damage from his infection, even if he was pre-latent and experienced a decent degree of improvement in the asymptomatic period - but honestly, as a person of questionable mental and physical state myself, I relate to and accept this. Disability is not a death sentence.

The rest of this though? What the hell. What are we supposed to do with this. Who do I sue.

[getvalentined]

I thought I posted this here ages ago, but I couldn't find it to link in another post I'm working on, so I'm posting it now!

Regardless of everything else surrounding the First SOLDIER battle royale game, I'm always going to be delighted that the timeline established in its opening cutscene indicates that Hojo and Lucrecia were experimenting on Vincent for around seven years before Lucy ran off and Hojo put him in the box.

See, the thing that's always bothered me about the known timeline of Vincent's life as it existed up until this cutscene dropped is that it kind of implied that Hojo did all his scientific body horror work in about two months, and then Lucrecia took over and spent a couple months on her part. This is...utterly ridiculous, for so many reasons, not the least of which is Shalua being aware of Lucrecia's work with Chaos having subjects, which it didn't prior to Grimoire's death—this project wouldn't have been ongoing long enough for Shalua to refer to "subjects" in Dirge if it was only a couple months of work.

The implication with the timeline shown in the FF7FS opening is that Lucrecia and Hojo both moved to Project 0 after their part of Project S was complete, presumably leaving Gast with Sephiroth while they tried to make superhumans that would be deployable sooner than a literal baby. We know it's post-Jenova Project, because Hollander is there but Gillian isn't, so she's already in Banora with baby Angeal. The team is shown working on Project 0 until around 1984, with Lucrecia present.

Hojo working on Vincent for a year or two while Lucrecia first gives birth to Sephiroth and then recovers from that whole ordeal makes sense. Him going back and forth between Midgar and Nibelheim trying shit on Vincent that he thinks might work on Project 0 also makes sense, given that we know Hojo's work on Vincent was eventually repurposed for a couple of the Tsviets, who are the current iteration of what Project 0 originally was.

When Vincent's body finally gives out, Hojo just kinda leaves him there, changing his focus entirely to Project 0, while Gast still has Sephiroth. Lucrecia comes back to Nibelheim at that point, for whatever reason, and picks up where Hojo left off, trying desperately to do something to keep from being responsible for killing both Valentines.

Gast leaves the company in 1984, whereupon Sephiroth is moved into Hojo's care—not Lucrecia's—and we can assume that Project 0 as a whole is shuffled.

This is the point where Lucrecia reaches the end of her rope. She's never going to get to meet her son, she's never going to get anywhere in this damn company, she's still so sick from the Jenova infection she contracted during her pregnancy. She can't do this anymore. So she dresses Vincent up like his dad (because his eyes look just like his father's), puts on a wedding dress she never got to wear, and leaves forever.

Hojo comes back to Nibelheim, possibly looking for Lucrecia—he either finds her "dead," or he only finds Vincent. Either way, Lucrecia ends up in the Nibel Mountains and Vincent ends up in the basement. With nothing left to lose and nothing holding him back, Hojo proceeds to track across the planet to find Gast and shoot him in the face.

This is a much better story.

This also explains why the official Dirge guide says that Vincent was asleep in the basement for, very specifically, 23 years, and why all Ultimania material cites that he was in the coffin for "over 20 years" even though he was shot to death 30 years ago. It's not a retcon. It never was. It's a clarification.

Vincent was killed in 1977, 30 years before Cloud found him during the Crisis. But he was under the knife and in the tubes for seven years after that, until the two equally brilliant psychopaths trying for opposing reasons to make him into Something Else finally gave up and put him in a box.

That's fantastic.

[ochrearia]

Small Shenanigans

Iiiiii don't have a better title for this but I don't careeee. This is yet another followup to the last one I can't believe I'm doing chronological parts right after each other instead of just random situations days or weeks apart. Crazy!

Also yeah. Left Beefer, Blue, and Cyber out. I'm sorry I cannot handle all these BFs at once it's so hard on my brain to keep track disjrjsifjg AAAA GUILT ITS FINE

BFs in this one-shot: PoPr!BF (Biff, mine), wyd!BF (Beef, Karl's), fc!BF (Boyf, Keyy's), sfa!BF (Peacock, Shed's), S2!BF (Bee, Isaac's), Yourself (YS)

“Someone tell this absolute moron to remember to relax his muscles, because I’m all the way over here and I can still see that he’s so tense that he might collapse into himself and make a black hole.”

“I woke up, maybe five minutes ago? And you’ve decided to be the biggest problem in my life. What did I ever do to you, Bee?” YS grumbled in response, suddenly self-conscious of how he’d already been tensing all his muscles up.

“Dude, you’re stressing out 24/7. That’s bad.” Beef pointed out, the most obvious statement of the century. “Ever heard of this thing called self-care?”

“And before you joke about ‘yes I have, I’ve been taking care of you guys’ that does NOT count.” Boyf added quickly.

YS closed his mouth, glowering at him for taking the words out of his mouth. Now he couldn’t deflect.

“Could do it for him.” Peacock suggested. “We’ve got him all warm and cozy already. More care for the big guy!”

Fuck all of these assholes. YS groaned, pulling his hoodie strings so far out that the hood closed around his entire face, only showing his nose. One of the first things he’d been allowed to do was put the hoodie back on properly when he woke up. It had apparently been a few hours at least since Biff found him, and now there was mostly everyone just hanging around for the sake of it.

Blue had been busy, as well as Beefer. Well, more like Beefer couldn’t get away from his world without a really suspicious excuse. Blue had insisted the rest who could come to give YS lots of love on his behalf, which was sweet.

Cyber wasn’t fully comfortable with anyone but YS yet. He wasn’t even actually in the main group chat either, because YS knew he could not trust the rest of these morons to be appropriate all the time with a 14-year-old version of themselves in there.

“I am fine.” YS insisted rather weakly. “Tense muscles are nothing, there are infinitely worse things that I could be dealing with right now.”

“We have to convince you to eat sometimes, YS, so sorry to say that we’re not believing that shit for a second.” Biff grinned, knowing that would only make him complain more.

God, dammit, I can’t with this. YS grumbled more, facing his worst enemy- his own head. Sentiment gets caught too easily in his mind, just the fact that they were here for him, talking about how to take care of him, something about that made him feel ridiculously small. Something about that also caused a slight flush to his cheeks, thankfully hidden by the hoodie.

The bastard known as his shapeshifting, however, was not hidden by the piece of clothing.

“Aaaah, he’s shrinking again!” Peacock teased gleefully. “Oh please, please get small enough so I can pick you up like a stuffed animal, just one time.”

“Shut the fuck up!” YS all but shrieked, embarrassment growing worse by the second. “Stop that! You’re doing it on purpose, stop using my power against me!”

“But you’re so fun-sized!” Bee grinned, ignoring his pleas and going further.

“Nah, it’s kind of really hilarious to be able to call you short.”

YS shrunk more against his will, whining while he covered his already hidden face with his hands. “Hate you. Hate all of you. Terrible, bastardly little brothers. I will kick you out of my apartment.”

“I don’t think you can kick any of us out of here with how small you’re at right now.” Beef grinned with a shrug. “I mean, look, you’re small now, might as well go with it. Let us help you, idiot.”

“At least let me give you a shoulder massage.” Biff insisted. “Beef said something about you not liking people touching your upper back so I’ll avoid it. You’re probably tense as fuck everywhere but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Ugh, fine. If that means you idiots will stop talking about taking care of me, in front of me.”

“Nothing wrong with hearing how much people love you, moron. You have to stop thinking you’re exempt from such things.” Boyf thought with a stern look.

That word again. He’d been so averse to that word at the start. Didn't like hearing it in relation to himself because he didn’t want to believe it. Insisting that it didn’t apply to him, because why would it? And it was getting hard for him to continue thinking that when in his right mind. Dammit, they were changing him in ways that he hadn’t expected.

And he hated to admit it, but the shoulder massage was fucking melting him.

“‘I’m fine’ my ass.” Bee teased. “It’s so fun to see you be the complete opposite of what you tried to make us believe at the beginning. Mr. tough guy, talking about how cool and mysterious he is, acting like a complete fucking force of nature. Fast forward and here you are, small as fuck, flustered over the idea of people wanting to take care of you, and then also melting faster than butter at the first moment of loving attention.”

“I am going to- I’m going to block my mirror with a blanket. Because you fuckers keep waltzing in whenever you want and making my life hell.” YS hissed. “Banned from the big brother world because you can’t be trusted to behave.”

“Behave? We’re behaving.” Biff snickered. “You want to see us actually misbehave? There’s a very easy way for me and Beef to team up to do that right in front of everyone!”

“Shut. Up.” Venom wasn’t a common factor in YS’s tone, but it slipped in every once and a while. This wasn’t actually potent venom though.

“Geez, alright, no need to be sensitive about it.”

Alright, you know what, if they were going to treat him like a toddler then he was going to act like a toddler. It wasn’t like he could get any smaller at this point, they’d teased him to the limit. Might as well just give up!

YS whined indignantly, deciding that the continued shoulder massage was no longer worth it and wiggled his way out of Biff’s grip. He gained slight triumph hearing his offended gasp, turning around and sticking his tongue out at him. Well, now he was on the floor and his line of sight didn’t even reach past some of their torsos.

“He moved! Fair game!” Peacock hollered, swooping in and lifting YS off the ground by the waist. He had a habit of picking him up.

“Watch it! Watch where you put your hands!” YS shouted, smacking the hand a little too close to his stomach. “Fucking hell! Would it kill you to warn me before you keep doing that?!”

“Think I’m starting to figure out this fabled YS secret that Biff and Beef refuse to give up…” Boyf thought aloud, but it went unnoticed compared to the air chaos.

“Put him on your shoulders! That way he can pretend he’s at normal height and act like he isn’t an adorable softie.” Beef suggested.

“My big brother teddy bear abandoned me for another me. This is crazy.” Biff deadpanned, but his voice was still playful.

“What do you think about that idea, big guy?” Peacock held YS up in front of him like he was holding a pet cat. “Ah, wait, I can’t call you that right now. Are you good with that little guy?”

Mortified. Something stirred in YS’s head at being called ‘little’. Huh. He was always the big brother, being tall and towering over some of them. Why did being the small one and being acknowledged as such make him want to melt? Seriously? He’s not a little brother.

Maybe it was just the idea of not having to be the ‘oldest’ keeping everything together. To be able to be the idiot, not the first line of defense.

“...Yeah.” YS mumbled, head full of fuzziness. “I wanna be up there.”

Such a silly concept. Getting a piggyback ride, again, from Peacock. Despite how big he usually was, despite how tough and serious he’d tried to come across as. Reminded him of a nickname he’d been given a while ago… something rather silly.

“I think you killed his brain.” Bee cackled from his spot near the wall mirror. “Can he get too embarrassed? Should we pull it back?”

“Never tried that hard, to be honest.” Biff shrugged. “I am but one man. Only so much I can say on my own to push him over the edge. I don’t think he can handle all of us getting on his ass at the same time.”

“Aw man, don’t make me feel bad. I was just teasing. We didn’t actually make you uncomfortable, did we?” Boyf worried.

YS shook his head for a moment before resting his chin on top of Peacock’s hat. “No, I’ll live. Thinking about stuff. Might still be a little messed up from my bad night. Still tired but when am I not, honestly…” He was rambling.

“We’re all here for you, remember that.”

“Do you feel any better by being up there?” Peacock asked lightly. “Boyf is still kinda taller than me, so I can’t guarantee the best view. Is this close enough to your normal?”

“I promise that you don’t have to worry about simulating my normal height, I live like that everyday. I haven’t lost it. I’m simply not like that right now.” YS rolled his eyes.

“Well… now what? You’ve got your throne atop Peacock’s shoulders, what say King Brother?” Bee teased, trying to play around some more.

“King Brother? Don’t inflate his ego even more than it needs to be…” Beef jokes.

This apartment was where he spent almost all of his time, really. Only having energy for small amounts of actually doing things. Getting food, supplies, anything that was necessary were things YS could kick his ass enough to do before he ran out of essentials. But in terms of anything else, he didn’t really get out a lot, and he didn’t count going to other worlds. Most of the time going to those other worlds entailed another apartment that he didn’t even walk out the door from.

The sun had been up for a while now. He didn’t make a habit of opening his window shade much, the light in his room was a pale yellow from the old lightbulb. God, he used to be so active. He used to go out a lot more, enjoying the air and sky, being a person in the outside world. He used to be content to go out alone. Nowadays he could barely stomach the idea, knowing that weirded out looks would be shot his way for how he appeared. He didn’t like going out alone.

But he wasn’t alone here. Five of his brothers were hanging around, seemingly not willing to leave any time soon. Perhaps he could take advantage of that, to take a step that he probably needed?

“Let’s get out of here.” YS said finally. They looked at him like he’d just said the world was ending- actual shock. “What? Stop looking at me like that. I can’t enjoy my piggyback ride if Peacock doesn’t have an open space to parade around. I can guide us back to my apartment if we get lost.”

“YS? Playing into being ridiculous? What fucking year are we in?” Biff was teasing, but the excitement shining in his eyes gave him away.

“All of us?” Beef questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“If you want to be a boring loser and stay here that’s your choice. Ah, but you don’t let anyone challenge you like that and get away with it, now do you?” Peacock was egging him on on purpose.

“Running around like maniacs with the chance to explore the slight differences of YS’s world? Hell yeah, sounds like a great way to spend an afternoon.” Boyf hopped up, ready to go.

“Try not to run off so fast that the smaller of us can’t keep up. Then we’ll really be lost. Unless you’re gonna do it on purpose, then I have a few choice words.” Bee snarked, getting up from his place too.

“Fuck it, let’s go!” Came Biff’s deciding call.

It was a warm day. Clouds every once and awhile, but the sky still a bright and vibrant blue. The sun was doing its best to dodge the clouds, shining on the rambunctious group as they pranced and paraded down street sidewalks, guided by wherever YS decided to point them. They got stares, sure, but it was okay. He wasn’t alone this time.

Ah. There was nothing in his chest but happiness here.

How silly.

[crazylittlejester]

I started typing and it got out of control...

I don't know if you've watched Ever After High or not, but I've been re-watching the entire show on account of not having much to do and I've come to the conclusion that an LU crossover with EAH would be absolutely awesome. The general idea is that characters from fairytales grow up and have kids that re-enact their parents' stories and this happens over and over again to the point that their entire society is built around this. Since they have a magic book that kind of seals your fate if you sign it, this is where the conflict of the show comes from.

Obviously there are a few different ways a person could go about setting this up but I'm just going to pick out fairy tale parents and backstories for them because I think that's the most fun.

Warriors: I'm thinking that he'd be best as Helen of Troy. Greek mythology is canon in EAH because of Cupid, so it works. The same themes of lust and infatuation are present. Also war.

Wild: He fits Sleeping Beauty's story the most, but that's already taken so the next best thing is Rip Van Winkle. It's only 20 years compared to 100, but I think it's the closest I'm getting for now, and the point is that he wakes up as an old man.

Sky: I think he should be the guy from the jabberwocky poem that uses the vorpal sword to defeat it. The jabberwocky is supposed to be the most powerful monster in EAH last I checked, so it would be the closest equivalent to Demise other than the Evil Queen.

Legend: Given that wizards are supposed to live a long time, Merlin would be a good fit for Legend because he'd have a few centuries to finish growing up into a mature wizard. He could still be a veteran of adventures this way without sacrificing his magical abilities.

Twilight: Unfortunately there aren't really any stories about wolves that aren't villains so he's tragically stuck being a non-descript farmer. I'm so sorry. Under other circumstances he'd get to be one the guy from "East of the Sun and West of the Moon" except that guy is a bear and not a wolf.

Wind: I'm torn between picking an infamous pirate or a story from mythology. Either one would probably work, to be honest, but it would probably work better if Tetra was a pirate's daughter and he's related to a deity in charge of ocean storms.

Hyrule: Ended up picking Jack the Giant Killer for him because that story's about surviving because you're clever, and Hyrule's games are supposed to be ridiculously hard. Also there's a magic sword involved.

Four: With the Minish he could totally fit into the story about the little elves that help the tailor/cobbler. But there's a story called "The Four Skillful Brothers" and I can't say no because it literally ends with them rescuing the princess via teamwork and splitting the reward.

Time: I feel like he'd fit in best as some kind of forest spirit or changeling, but as the Hero's Shade he could also be Godfather Death. I've been thinking about it and I really can't come up with a good placement for him.

Spirit Tracks Link gets an honorary mention because he is canon in my heart. Since New Hyrule is in the middle of the industrial revolution he's probably more of an urban legend. Either the ghost of a train conductor's kid or a guy cursed to see ghosts like his Zelda.

I know nothing about ever after high but im obsessed with what you’ve just said to me oh my god

first of all anytime someone draws the connection between Wars and Helen of Troy I loose my mind a bit, one day when I have the proper brain capacity and time I’m going to write a whole ass analysis paper on the comparison between the two of them because its so important to me

ALSO JABBERWOCKY MENTION??? I’M OBSESSED. AND JACK THE GIANT KILLER FOR HYRULE?? dude I can see you spent sooo much time thinking about this and oh my god I am so obsessed this is really cool, you ate

[laura1633]

Max Verstappen and his brand

I'm not sure why I wrote this (and its very much just my opinion and apologies if there are any inaccuracies, I am thinking out loud) but here it is...

I wouldn’t call this a rant, more just random thoughts based on certain opinions I have seen about Max’s “celebrity status” or “personality” and people somehow using this as a reason to suggest he’s not that popular or couldn’t really be the face of F1 (not that Max would actually be bothered about that)

I think these days there are very much two parts of F1 - the racing and the show. Which is fine, I’m not someone who would ever think less of someone who came to the sport through DTS and I wouldn’t suggest that these people care less about the racing. You can come into the sport any which way and be as passionate and invested as the next person and I fully mean that - the sport shouldn’t be gate kept, I love F1 and I love it when other people come to the sport and fall in love with it.  But still - I think its fair to say that in recent years the popularity of the sport has exploded and with it there seems to be a lot more attention on the driver’s personal lives and building them up into celebrities as well as being sportsmen. 

The thing is, Max is not someone who chases after celebrity status. He’s not always hanging out with celebrities or going to trendy events etc. He is a driver who is passionate about the racing. That is clear if you look at his criticism of the Vegas GP. During the run up to the race he was very critical, for example he wasn’t shy about saying he felt like "a clown" standing up on those stages at the opening ceremony. He also didn’t hold back when giving his views on the disaster of FP1 and fans being kept out, he literally said he “would tear the whole place down”. To understand what Max loves about F1 you only need to look to the speech he gave where he very eloquently described the emotion and passion behind racing and why it is more important than the show. Even then there were headlines in certain corners of the internet describing it as a rant as if he is completely wrong or out of order to give his opinion. 

Max is very honest and is all about the racing and what is best for the sport. Max’s brand is not based on celebrity it is based on racing which I think some people either fail to see or just flat out ignore. Look at his involvement with Team Redline or check out Verstappen.com Racing if you need proof of how invested he is. 

Also I found this article which I had never read before about the feedback he was able to given when testing a GT3 car recently - HERE

To suggest Max isn’t popular because he’s not seen hanging out with celebrities or not trying to build a brand outside racing is ridiculous (and this is not me having a go at any driver who wants a brand outside racing - that is also fine of course!). The man was responsible for bring fans in to the sport in droves during the 2021 championship battle. He also has fans who literally travel around the world to watch him race - he has grandstands in multiple countries that sell out and through his website he offers ticket packages etc. His rise in popularity also resulted in the Dutch GP coming back on to the calendar. 

Max has been instrumental in pushing the sport forward - but he does that on track. 

Despite all I have said above - if you have ever watched Max in interviews or filming the marketing promos for Red Bull you will see he is far from boring. People who think he doesn’t have a personality have probably never spent time actually watching him. Now I know not everybody likes every driver and that is fine but I can’t help feel that people decide they dislike Max without ever really knowing anything about him.

I saw a post from someone calling 2023 uninspiring and it was one of the strangest takes I have seen on 2023. Max absolutely smashed record after record and completely dominated and picked up wins even in difficult and changeable circumstances. How is that uninspiring? I bet if their favourite driver had been the one picking up those wins they would have been hailing it as an amazing season. Yes we all like to see our favourite driver win but to say another driver’s record breaking win is uninspiring is laughable.

Essentially Max is not chasing after celebrity. He is someone who has a very successful brand centred around racing and likes to keep his personal life private as much as possible (most of the stuff we see is actually from Kelly’s posts not Max’s).

If alongside all his racing stats his legacy is that of someone who was outspoken and a defender of the most important part of F1 - the racing - then I think that is amazing.

[randomvarious]

Today's compilation:

Hits House 2001, Vol. 2 2001 House

Alright, well, I don't know how necessarily true this is, folks, but if you look at the back cover of this CD here from France that's packed with a full helping of house gems and jams from the early 2000s, you'll notice that a whole lot of these tracks are marked as being exclusive. And the label that put out this comp, Absolute Sound, which is a sublabel of another French company called Happy Music, *did not* go on to then release most of these 'exclusives' as 12-inches on either their own label or on Happy's. And some of these were pretty popular, well-distributed tunes too!

So either I have a really great comp on my hands here that played a significant role in partially shaping the sound of house music for 2001, by publicly serving up a bunch of tunes for other labels across the globe to then pick up, or maybe that 'exclu' label is being used a bit more gratuitously than it would seem to imply 🤔. Being that none of the songs on this CD are the full-length versions, the specific edits that were supplied on this release could've been what earned them their 'exclu' tags in the first place (which would feel like a little bit of a sleight of hand), or perhaps these songs' inclusions on this CD marked their first ever official appearance in France? 🤷‍♂️

Either way, while the fact that all of these tunes are cut annoyingly short and aren't afforded the necessary breathing room in order for them to achieve their full, delicious impact, it really can't be denied just how chock-full of bangers that this album still is. I think 20 out of 22 of these songs came out in 2001 itself, so let this be an opportunity for you to transport yourself back to that year and allow some of its finest house tracks to just wash over you for over an hour 😌.

Now, it's not very easy to pick a favorite among this batch, but I think Sandy Rivera and LT Brown's "Come Into My Room" might be the one. First of all, it's, of course, a tune that uses the extremely popular filter technique—that approach where certain elements get looped repeatedly, and sound like they're being submerged underwater at first, but then progressively continue to sound clearer and clearer, until they satisfyingly breach the surface. This concept was all the rage in the global underground house space for a long while it seems, and yours truly still happens to be a complete and total sucker for it 😋.

And while its constant implementation can be seen as an unfortunate means to reducing house music down to something that's more formulaic, filtering still has a natural way of generating a level of anticipation for the listener, as they know to await and enjoy the climb-up to that peaking breach, and it also automatically means that, in a genre that's often ridiculed for its overall repetitiveness, that because of the filtering, although the elements themselves will be much the same, they won't actually sound exactly alike with each successive bar, which ends up lending the song a little bit more variety than what was once standard.

So, yeah, I love that track; and not just because of the filtering itself—because there's sooooo many filter tunes out there—but because of what that filtering is applied to: a constantly chirping lead pair of guitar notes and a contrastingly deeper synth piece that accompanies them, which is also further enhanced by some rumbly bass pulsations too.

And another thing that I think's worth mentioning is that Sia—yes, that Sia—is on this release as well. Maybe you're not aware, but long before she went on to become a total 2010s pop sensation who donned her own intriguing face-obscuring wigs in order to retain a semblance of much-desired anonymity, she had actually already been active as a solo musician for well over a decade, and this somewhat popular house remix of her "Drink to Get Drunk," which was done by UK duo Different Gear, is a pretty good one that matches her unique voice to an electro-dubby synth melody.

So, at the end of the day, while every single song on here is most likely better enjoyed in its full-length version, this still makes for a pretty terrific time capsule of house music from 2001. I'm highly skeptical that most of the songs that are labeled as exclusives are actually exclusives though, but if they really are, then damn, is this thing extra special then!

Highlights:

Kings of Tomorrow - "Finally" Lil' Devious - "Come Home" Slow & Newland - "Being in Love" Soul Dujour - "Here We Go Again" Modjo - "Chillin'" Deep Swing - "In the Music" Different Gear vs. Sia - "Drink to Get Drunk" Sandy Rivera feat. LT Brown - "Come Into My Room" Harry "Choo Choo" Romero - "Tania" Gypsymen - "Babarabatiri" Banda Sonora - "Guitarra G" Freshmove feat. Darryl Pandy - "You Can Do It" Intrallazzi & Fratty - "The Love (L'amour)" Cerrone - "Give Me Love" Static Revenger - "Happy People" Simpson Tune - "Bring It Down" Eminence feat. Kathy Brown - "Give It Up"

[maciedeclines]

The Worst Songs of 2024

Well, 2024 certainly had its ups and downs. I liked a lot of music this year, but yikes there were some absolute stinkers and artists that I discovered I really do not like. But uh, get ready to hear me ramble about songs I dislike I guess.

Dishonourable mentions

Taylor Swift - Down Bad/Fortnight

Benson Boone - Beautiful Things

The Weeknd - Dancing In The Flames

The Kid LAROI - NIGHTS LIKE THIS

David Guetta & OneRepublic - I Don’t Wanna Wait

Tom Grennan - Higher

Katy Perry - WOMAN’S WORLD

#10 - us by Gracie Abrams & Taylor Swift

Oh boy, this has not been a good year for Taylor. But surprisingly this time it’s not actually her fault. Now I really am not a fan of Miss Abrams, and you’ll see this further up my list. Her songwriting is pretty decent and I want to like her songs, but my god I really do not like her vocals in any way. I don’t quite know what my issue is with them but lord they are not good here at all. Taylor actually sounds decent on it but I just can’t get over the whiny, irritating vocals from Gracie. Sorry, not a fan.

#9 - Timeless by The Weeknd & Playboi Carti

This has not been a good year for Abel either. Dancing In The Flames would’ve been my #11 on this list, however I’m keeping it to a top 10. Yeah nothing about this song is good. Abel sounds extremely checked out against some okay at best production with Playboi Carti struggling to pick which artist he wants to impersonate next as if he’s Halsey. I’m so glad Popular is a lot bigger than this song will ever be, at least that song was good.

#8 - Lovers In A Past Life by Calvin Harris & Rag n Bone Man

Yikes. What the hell happened here? I’ve never particularly been a big fan of Rag n Bone Man but Giant worked really well.. and this is the follow up? Nothing here works at all. The production, especially the drop is SO irritating and obnoxious with Rag n Bone Man’s vocals also being just outright bad here. Again, what the hell happened? Hell, I literally liked FWBV2 when most other people didn’t, but I cannot get on board with this whatsoever. I’m glad it underperformed.

#7 - The Tortured Poets Department by Taylor Swift

I’ve been pretty vocal about my thoughts on the album of the same name, but long story short, as a big fan of Taylor this album was ridiculously underwhelming. A lot of my issues came with the songwriting, and this song is the absolute PERFECT example of it. “We declared Charlie Puth should be a bigger artist” “like a tattooed golden retriever” ??? What is going on here? This song shrank on me fast (along with Down Bad & Fortnight - both in the dishonourable mentions list) and it might honestly be Taylor’s worst song to date. To say I’m disappointed is an understatement. Oh well, at least Florida!!! exists.

#6 - Belong Together by Mark Ambor

I do not like this new trend. Painfully boring and dull with a horrific vocal performance and cringe ass lyrics. Need I say more?

#5 - That’s So True by Gracie Abrams

Wow, and I thought her vocals were bad enough on us. This is just horrendous. She’s consistently off key throughout the entire song, against a basic backing track. It’s a shame because once again the lyrics are somewhat decent, and I think I’d have a shot at liking this if it was sung by LITERALLY ANYONE ELSE. Which is what frustrates me so much about this song. Her bridges are honestly quite good but her vocals are just… yeah I should stop otherwise we’ll be here for hours. But she didn’t even have the worst vocal performance of the year.

#4 - Thick Of It by KSI & Trippie Redd

Do I have to? Okay ignoring all the DanTDM beef, this song absolutely sucks. KSI sounds utterly horrific on it as he could rival Charli xcx with the amount of autotune he uses on his awful singing. The songwriting is, as expected, awful. Trippie Redd is somehow the “best” part of this song and yet his part still sucks. And yet it became a top ten hit in the UK. Somebody get me OUT of this country. Right now.

#3 - Slow It Down by Benson Boone

OH BROTHER. I first discovered Benson properly in 2022 with his song In The Stars which I still think is a pretty fine song. And I used to quite like Beautiful Things until Radio 1 & Capital decided to rinse it every day of the week and I now can’t stand it. Similar story with this actually, except I’ve never liked it. It just started off as a song that certainly existed, but off the bat I was secretly hoping it didn’t become a hit. But of course it did. And it soured on me in record time. Benson’s screeching is just utterly insufferable (I could’ve put Cry in this list but I listened to that song once and refused to come back to it so I suppose it’s not really fair since I still wouldn’t listen to it), with once again basic production and awful songwriting (can’t you tell there’s a theme here) and all of them add up to create this absolute mess of a song. The sooner Benson is forgotten about and goes back to releasing ballads that don’t stick around, the better.

#2 Home by Good Neighbours

Oh I really wish I could’ve put this at #1. This song is just the epitome of awful. However there is somehow a song worse than this, which we’ll find out in a moment. Regardless, genuinely why in the fuck was this a hit. Every single thing about this song is horrific. The ear-splitting vocals, the basic production that we’ve seen ten times over, the lyrics (AGAIN.) like there is fully NOTHING that redeems this song in the slightest. Thank fucking god this song never fully took off like it looked like it was going to, because I think I genuinely would’ve gone into hiding. But you want to know what’s (somehow) worse?

#1 - The Sound of Silence (CYRIL Remix) by Disturbed

Genuinely why. Why does this exist. W h y. The original Disturbed cover has always just been pretty okay/decent for me, nothing special but also not bad. This on the other hand is absolutely fucking dreadful. How the fuck do you compress the vocals to be so goddamn awful it makes me want to pour bleach in my ears and then drink it to remove me from the misery of living on a planet that this song exists on. The production is also horrific which is a whole other thing in itself, but let me talk about the vocals because genuinely what in the fuck happened here. Literally I’m so curious as to how you somehow fuck up the vocals THAT badly. I honestly think if I keep talking about this song I will actually go insane & how this became an actual proper hit will forever baffle me and simultaneously make me glad the remix was never acknowledged in the UK. In other words, fuck this remix and anyone who actually somehow enjoys this. I pray for those people.

And that was the year! Wow, it was rough huh. Here’s hoping next year is a LOT better. Please. Ideally let’s leave Gracie, Benson, KSI & CYRIL behind.

[coolcoelacanth]

i wrote a long diary entry basically about my cat findings and financial life so i will put under the read more if you are interested in the tea LOL

update on my cat again: luckily the gabapentin made her sedated enough so they could take the chest x-rays w/out having to fully sedate her. bad but expected news, she has patchy lung infiltrates in both lungs, and her bronchioles were opaque. this means there is definitely irritation/inflammation in her lungs. i was hoping it would just be a pulmonary issue, since the vet said her heart murmur sounded quieter while she was on the gabapentin (possibly indicating a stress murmur), but we did a proBNP test and the results were abnormal :/. it didn't say low-high which is kind of annoying (esp considering how much i'm paying...), but that means i have to do the echocardiogram now to finally see if there is something wrong w/ her heart/what it is. if there is something wrong w/ her heart, the coughing and the lung x-ray could indicate pulmonary edema (fluid in the lungs due to all the blood in the left ventricle not being expelled to the body, causing regurgitation into the lungs).

i am praying that the echo is normal and she simply has like bronchitis from allergies, or asthma or something with a better prognosis than a heart condition. i'm also going to be 1.2k in the hole after all this testing, but i'm already in a massive amount of debt from going to pharmacy school so i figured why the fuck not who cares lmao just tack it on. plus it's better to figure it out now than to wait until she's in terrible condition and on her deathbed. and i will have some sort of salary after this final year of pharmacy school, so i don't have to make it too much longer. (either a salary from doing a residency or if i'm desperate, signing onto walgreens or some shit and hating my life). but i also have to pay a ridiculous amount of money to even take the naplex (pharmacy board exam basically), and i have to pay to take the MPJE (NYS law exam for pharmacists). i'm pretty sure the total will be like $700, and. that's if i pass the first time....and my tuition is crazy high, and the last year i'm literally not even in the classroom bc we just do straight rotations onsite for the last year WHICH WE ARE NOT PAID FOR.

i'm tired of getting boned economically by my stupid ass school. i'm not so upset about the vet bills tbh, for some reason i literally don't care. i have enough savings (although most of them are from my graduate plus loan to pay form my rent LOL RIP) and i can always TAKE OUT ANOTHER LOAN if i need more money for rent or something, so i at least i'm fortunate enough to have that option. i am just so ready to be free from all this bullshit and have an actual goddamn income. i'm going to treat mirabel anyway, but now i'm worried how much treatment is going to cost, i only had my mind on the tests we had to do. and i really really really hope it's something curable/manageable and NOT a congenital heart disease. or if it is heart disease, it's not severe. i did have hope from the chest x-ray, b/c the vet said that her heart did not appear abnormally large or shaped, and i read that a positive proBNP test can also indicate other stressors like bronchitis so it's not a guarantee that it's her heart.

also it's literally just my luck that i pick out the congenitally sick cat from the shelter. i love her and she's my bff at this point, but it's like yeah that's about right for my track record. they didn't even mention a heart murmur on her vet notes from the shelter, which i'm confused about. did they just not write it down, or did they straight up not hear anything? b/c the vet said it was grade 3/4 which means its pretty goddamn loud. i'm like, did i get lowkey scammed by the shelter? i mean i love mirabel, but idk seems a little shady to me. but i am at least glad that i chose a good paying career so this is all (hopefully) a temporary issue, which a lot of people do not have that saving grace.

sorry i literally just wrote like a diary entry i did not plan on writing this much LMAO. if you actually read this, bless you. if you didn't, that's okay i'm fine w this being my echo chamber.

[luckydreams218]

Hidden in Darkness Chapter 2

Hello hello!

Thank you for taking a look at my writing! :D

Just a small heads up: I am by no means a professional writer, I just enjoy creative writing as a hobby and a fun pass time. I don’t do a lot of proof-reading and don’t usually plan my chapters either, I just write whatever I’m feeling on a given day. I apologize if my writing may be a bit messy, sloppy, choppy, not flow-y, etc., but I hope that you can enjoy reading regardless! I am still actively working on this series and will be posting new content as I finish (which may be on the slow end, so please be patient). Thank you again for your interest!

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Word Count: 3,887

Chapter II: The View from the Other Side

Ares’s favorite thing about Hallow’s Eve so far were the ornately decorated pumpkins, lanterns, and leaves that were strung and placed all throughout the village. Even though this was his first, and likely only, Hallow’s Eve, it created a warm and welcoming atmosphere that he felt drawn to. He could almost consider living here if things weren’t so bland otherwise. All the angels, angelites, dragonlings, and elves that he’d met alongside Mimi and Aki seemed to him to be one-dimensional. They all behaved the same way, said the same things, never picked a fight, all seemed to be subdued in some sense. It was unnerving to say the least. Yes, they were all nice, but overly so. Like they weren’t thinking straight or hardly even thought at all. He had kept an eye on Mimi and Aki to see how they’d respond, and neither seemed to bat an eye. He should’ve known they wouldn’t think anything was suspicious, after all, they’d spent their entire lives growing up here. They probably didn’t know anything else. The only people who didn’t act like zombies were children like Mimi and Aki and people that were younger than them. It seemed to him that around the human equivalent of twenty or so was where they started to stop thinking straight. Given that Mimi and Aki seemed close to his age, and he was roughly eighteen in human years, he didn’t like what that implied about his new companions.

If it was any consolation, the items he received while visiting door to door were neat. He had received homemade chocolates that were the best chocolates he’d ever tasted by far. Velvety and sweet and creamy in the middle. He also had been given a hand-painted maple leaf imbued with spells so it wouldn’t dry or tear. He was intrigued by its delicate beauty.

A sudden gasp from Aki and Mimi stopped him in his tracks and snapped him out of his thoughts. He followed their gaze to three young children, two elves and an angelite, who were hurling stones into the windows and at the door of the elder angel he had spoken with earlier.

“Hey! They’re throwing rocks at Mr. Stellarwings’s home!”  Aki whispered quickly to Mimi. Mr… Stellarwings? Ares thought for a moment, feeling like he’d heard the name from somewhere.

“Tell me something I don’t know. What do you think we should do?” Mimi whispered back.

“I don’t know. Do you have any ideas?” Aki asked, sounding more frantic.

Mimi paused as a wide smirk crossed her face. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do have an idea.”

“And that is?”

“We scare them out of their wits,” Mimi replied.

“Great, how?” Aki asked.

Mimi’s grin grew wider as she looked over directly at Ares. “We’ve got a demon on our side.”

~~~~

Ares crouched low, cautiously watching the children from behind a rock that jutted out from the side of the house. After Mimi asked him with an excited grin to scare the kids, he couldn’t find it in himself to turn her down. He never would have agreed to something like this otherwise. He was waiting for just the right moment, the perfect opportunity to catch them off guard. He never liked scaring people using his appearance. Sure, he was a demon, and demons are to be feared and all that, but Ares really wanted to make new friends. And it is ridiculously hard to do that when everyone he meets simply screams and runs away. Well, except for Mimi. He was grateful that she didn’t turn him away because of his appearance and really wanted to get to know her better, too.

A rock whizzed right over his head, nearly smacking his right wing had he not been paying attention. He seized his opportunity and jumped up onto the rock, crouching on all fours to keep his balance, a feral snarl on his lips.

“What makes you think it’s okay to throw rocks at someone else’s home? Didn’t anyone teach you to respect your elders?” Ares growled sharply, extending both wings out long for emphasis. The two elves cowered before him, one male one female, both hiding behind their angelite companion. Who showed no fear whatsoever.

“Get out of here now, all of you, before something more terrible comes your way!” Ares threatened, bearing his fangs. The angelite rolled his eyes and sighed.

“That’s a pretty lame demon illusion. Who do you think you are? The Squadron or something? You’re not the boss of us, so get lost!” The snarky angelite retorted with confidence. When Ares didn’t budge, he threw a rock straight at Ares’s head with only moments for Ares to react and dodge.

“Did you just throw a rock at me?!” Ares snarled, more with shock and disbelief than true anger.

“Yeah and I’ll do it again! Now leave us alone!” The angelite shouted back, launching another rock at Ares. This time Ares saw it coming and caught it with one hand, furious. He was normally pretty patient, but outright insolence infuriated him more than anything else. He was used to being kicked around, but to be disrespected by a kid no more than twelve in appearance pushed him over the edge.

“Oh you did not just throw another one. That was your biggest mistake yet,” Ares growled, clenching his fist with the rock inside, reducing it to molten liquid that oozed from between his fingers. This scared the bratty angelite enough to make him scream and run away. The other two followed him, crossing a nearby bridge in their escape. One of the elves lost sight of where they were going, however, and crashed into a large torch that marked the end of the bridge.

Ares saw everything happen in sudden slow motion. The torch started plummeting toward the wooden bridge where the two elf children were, inching its way closer to the wood until the bridge was suddenly a blaze of orange. Smoke and heat were everywhere and flames rose up all around, eating away at the fibers of the bridge. Without hesitation, Ares dove into the flames, grabbing the two children by their shirts and setting them down on the other side. He used magic to extinguish the flames clinging to their clothes, leaving them unscathed. Then he turned to the bridge. Using a great amount of magic energy, he motioned with his hands for the flames to condense inward and lift into the air. He created a large fireball hovering just above the bridge. Then, in one swift motion, he clapped his hands together and spread them out wide, causing the fireball to implode suddenly and disperse into the air without a trace. The bridge was no longer on fire and looked to be intact.

Everything was silent for the next few seconds. It appeared as though nothing had happened at all except that the wooden pole for the torch was broken and lying on the bridge, completely extinguished. The children looked on in awe, stunned into silence and unsure whether or not to be afraid or overjoyed.

It was only then that Ares noticed the crowd of people that had formed around the bridge, curious about all the commotion. Their only expression was complete fear.

An angel shouted from not far away. “I’d know that magic anywhere! That’s hellfire magic! Only a demon can use it in such a powerful way! That’s no demon illusion, that really is a demon!” Silence. And then a scream. And then total chaos broke out.

Ares hovered, frozen in place, with no idea what to do next. He looked down at Mimi and Aki for advice. All he needed to see was Mimi mouthing the word run with a panicked expression and he was off, following Aki who had already made a run for it. He paused to make sure Mimi was keeping up behind him, and she grabbed his wrist as she passed, dragging him along behind one of the nearby homes.

Ares leaned his back against the stone wall, gasping for breath as Mimi and Aki breathed heavily beside him. Ares took a moment to observe Mimi more closely while he gathered his thoughts. Her mousy brown hair was done up in two long pigtails that fell down to her thighs. She had fair skin, cocoa brown eyes, and a kind smile. It was this kindness that he could sense when they first met. Meeting new people wasn’t something Ares was good at, but with a sense of kindness, it became easier for him to try.

“What now?” Mimi finally whispered, breaking the silence and snapping Ares out of his thoughts.

“I don’t know. They probably called the Squadron by now which means we’re in trouble. I think our best bet is to get out of here. And fast,” Aki replied.

Ares couldn’t help but feel a wave of guilt. “I’m so sorry, this is all my fault. This never would’ve happened if I hadn’t been so careless,” he muttered.

“What are you talking about? You saved those kids back there and fixed the bridge. The villagers are just stupid if they can’t see how cool you are,” Mimi assured him. He grinned a little. She called me cool.

“It still doesn’t change the fact that if I had never shown up here in the first place, none of this would’ve happened to you two. And now you’re in danger because of my dumb mistake,” Ares sighed, knowing full well this was his fault.

“I won’t let you take the blame for this! If anything, blame Mistvale Peak and how all the people here are so dead set in their ways that they can’t recognize a nice demon when they see one,” Mimi argued, raising her voice enough to elicit a shh from Aki.

A door slammed open suddenly, causing the stone to vibrate as it collided with the rocky surface. “Mimizuko Mininozuka, what is the meaning of all this commotion?!”

“M-Mom… I can explain everything, I swear,” Mimi stammered as her mother approached from the back door. She had the same eyes as Mimi’s, dark brown hair done up in a bun, but a face that appeared cold and distant, unlike Mimi’s. She came closer with a menacing stride, disappointment on her face as she regarded her daughter.

“Wait! Don’t punish her, please, this isn’t her fault!” Ares jumped in, putting himself between Mimi and her mother. He could hear Mimi whisper faintly behind him, “Ares, don’t…”, but he wouldn’t move. The least he could do was spare her from whatever punishment she was about to receive. To his surprise, however, Mimi’s mother’s jaw dropped and she observed Ares with a hint of shock and recognition.

“You can’t be…” she muttered, almost to herself. “Quickly, come in, all three of you. It’ll be safer inside.” Mimi did as she was told, Aki following behind, Ares trailing in last. Once inside, Mimi’s mother darted quickly around the room, shutting doors and closing blinds until almost no light filtered in from outside. The only light was a small torch glowing just above the door in which they entered.

Mimi, Aki, and Ares remained dead silent as Mimi’s mother returned to face them. “Young man, your face is unmistakable. Is your mother, by any chance, Serenity Stellarwings?”

The name hit like a ton of bricks. Serenity Stellarwings. It had been so long since he’d heard his mother’s true name that he’d almost forgotten it.

“Yes, Serenity Stellarwings is my mother,” Ares replied with slight reluctance.

“Wait, Mom, you know Ares’s mother?” Mimi asked in disbelief.

“She and I were friends growing up. I haven’t seen her in a long time…” Mimi’s mother answered, seeming lost in a trance.

“Hold on. This makes no sense. Is this Serenity Stellarwings related to the Mr. Stellarwings here in Mistvale? Because Mr. Stellarwings is an angel, which likely means Serenity Stellarwings is an angel, so then how is Ares…?” Aki questioned slowly.

“Serenity is an angel. I’m a half-breed. Half demon half angel,” Ares replied stiffly. He never liked sharing this because he always got weird looks as a result. That and it dug up more of his past than he cared to remember.

“Mr. Stellarwings is Serenity’s father,” Mimi’s mother elaborated, filling in the gaps. So that’s why he was trying to talk to me like he knew me earlier, Ares realized.

“But then why do you look so much like a demon and not like an angel at all?” Aki asked.

“That’s something I’ve always wondered about myself. I never got horns, and my tail tip is significantly more blunt than most pure demons, but aside from that…” Ares trailed off, wondering whether to tell them about his wings.

A sudden loud knock came from what must’ve been the front of the house. “Nitanya Mininozuka, this is Nero of the Squadron of Mistvale Peak. I just wanted to inform you that there have been reports of a demon on the loose in this village. We are on the lookout for the creature as we speak. If you see anything, please report it to us immediately,” a thundering masculine voice rang out.

“Of course, Nero, thank you for your service. I will keep an eye out,” Nitanya replied nonchalantly. She paused for a few moments, listening for fading footsteps or wingbeats, and once she was sure he was gone, turned and looked Ares dead in the eye.

“Listen, Ares, you must get out of here immediately. Get as far away from this place as you can. The Squadron is a group of elite, highly-trained angels that will hunt you down day or night. They won’t follow you beyond the mist border, however, because they can’t. You do not want to get caught by them. Angels are unable to kill other living beings without tainting their minds. While they will not resort to killing you, they will torture you and make your life a living hell,” Nitanya explained, pointing at the back door. “If you go out that door and follow the path that leads to the right, you’ll be at the mist border in no time.”

“Why are you helping me?” Ares asked, still in disbelief as he made his way toward the door.

“Because I don’t want to see anything happen to my best friend’s son. Now go!” Nitanya replied with more care and kindness than he had seen from her the whole time.

“Wait! If he’s going, then I’m going with him,” Mimi declared, beating Ares to the door. Ares froze. He knew a conflict was coming and didn’t want to be in the middle of it.

“Are you insane? Mimizuko Mininozuka, absolutely not! You will stay here where it’s safe while I clear all this up. Am I understood?”

“No!! I will not just sit here and stay caged in this house forever! I’m tired of you telling me what I can and can’t do, where I can and can’t go. I just met Ares, but if he leaves, I’ll likely never see him again. I want to get to know him better and that’s why I’m going with him whether you like it or not!!” Mimi exploded suddenly, throwing the door open and bolting down the rocky path to the right.

“Young lady, you get back here this instant! You are grounded until further notice!!” Mimi’s mother shouted after her, stopping a little ways down the path. Ares waited in utter shock, but Mimi didn’t come back. Eventually Mimi’s mother returned to the doorway and looked at Ares. “It seems she’s serious this time. She’s tried to run away before, but she usually comes back by now. I suppose her father and I haven’t been the most lenient with her. It’s only fair that she go and see the world, perhaps earn her own wings as an angelite should.”

“I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for-”

“Don’t blame yourself. I had it coming. What’s the phrase? If you cling to something too tightly… ah never mind, that’s not important. You need to leave now if you’re going to make it out. So please, all I ask is that you take care of my little girl. Make sure she doesn’t get herself into too much trouble,” Nitanya cut him off lightly.

She must have seen the dumbfounded look on Ares’s face and continued. “Serenity was always a reliable friend, I trust her son will be the same for my daughter. No need to worry about me. I’ll be fine knowing she has a companion out there with her. Now go, I mean it,” she finished, shoving Ares out the door and shutting it behind her. Ares winced at the sound of the door slamming into place and, without any more hesitation, ran along the path where Mimi had gone. It just occurred to him that Aki was missing and hadn’t come back out along with him and Mimi. Where’d she go? He shook off the thought quickly, only thinking about escape for his own survival. The pathway narrowed as it wound down the side of one of the peaks, a smooth cliff face to his right and an extreme dropoff to his left. He finally saw Mimi down where a pink mist formed a thick barrier that he couldn’t see through. She had cast off the cardboard wings, but still wore her bright, ribbony outfit.

“There you are. I was waiting for you. I would think you’d want to not get caught,” Mimi snapped at him.

“Sorry, I was a little hung up,” Ares replied, pausing to catch his breath. “What’d you do with your wings?”

“I threw them over. The passage is too narrow for them. And besides, I’ll earn my own wings once I cross this barrier soon enough,” Mimi declared.

“Alright, then let’s go,” Ares stated, taking a step through the mist.

“Wait!” Mimi called suddenly. She stared at the barrier with a look of fright, suddenly hesitant.

“What’s wrong?” Ares asked, starting to worry he was taking too long. He began to feel worried about her, however, when he noticed that her eyes were starting to glaze over like the rest of the villagers he’d met. A reflection of the pink mist danced in her eyes while she seemed to consider turning back.

“Mimi! It’s too late to turn back now! Come on, we’ve gotta get a move on!” A shout came from afar. Aki finally came into view dressed in a simple turquoise skirt and grass green top. She must’ve gone to change out of her costume.

“But…” Mimi mumbled, any dimension to her voice gone. This scared Ares the most out of all that had happened so far.

“Mimi, it’s the spell of the mist. You know this! If you stay in its grasp for too long, it takes control of your mind until you never want to leave its borders. But it’s just a silly spell! It doesn’t mean anything! You have to fight it!” Aki shouted, grabbing her friend’s hands. “I’m gonna count to five. One. Two. Five!”

Aki pulled Mimi out beyond the pink mist suddenly, giving Mimi no time to react. Ares followed, crossing the magical border to see the forest beyond that spread out along the base of the mountain. A desert of sand extended almost endlessly to the left, while the trees and forestry extended almost endlessly to the right. In the line where the two biomes met, a few sparse trees dotted the sandy landscape, appearing to barely be holding on. Ares turned to Mimi and Aki, making sure they were okay. It had really scared him to see Mimi suddenly become what he had hoped would never come to pass.

Mimi blinked slowly, clearing her eyes and gazing around. Aki had stepped back to give her room once she was beyond the mist. When Mimi met Ares’s gaze, the hazy pink that swirled in her eyes vanished and she glanced about, almost unsure of what was going on.

“Is this it? Did I actually cross the border?” She asked almost in shock.

“Welcome to the other side. The view is great, isn’t it?” Aki replied calmly, a knowing grin on her face.

“Whoa look at all the trees!! Is that what a forest really looks like? And the sand. It’s absolutely incredible,” Mimi gasped, taking it all in. Ares sighed with relief. She was back to normal.

“Thank you both for risking so much and helping me get away. I really owe you big time,” Ares said appreciatively.

“Of course! You don’t owe us a thing, we’re happy to help out a friend!” Mimi grinned, giving a bright smile. Ares jolted and his heart skipped a beat. Startled by the feeling, he shook his head and tried to brush it off. “Something wrong?” Mimi asked.

“You consider me… a friend?” Ares replied in shock.

“Well yeah, why wouldn’t we be? We spent the whole day together and you’re really a lot of fun to be around! I’d absolutely consider you a friend,” Mimi said delightedly. Ares was stunned but overjoyed. A friend? Finally a friend? I’m not dreaming, right? He thought.

“The same goes for me. I’d like to be friends. You know, I definitely misjudged you before. You’re not so bad for a demon,” Aki added.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ares asked, offended.

“It means she likes you. She just doesn’t want to say it,” Mimi teased.

“It’s not that I don’t want to say it, it’s just that I’m really bad at saying it. There’s a difference,” Aki huffed defensively. Hearing that, Ares just laughed. “What’s so funny?” Aki growled.

“It’s been so long since I’ve had people I could call friends, I’d almost forgotten how nice it is. Thank you again. I really mean it,” he replied honestly, letting his feelings show just a little. He wouldn’t let himself get too attached just yet, but he finally allowed himself to call them friends. When he glanced over at Mimi, she suddenly averted her gaze, her cheeks bright red. Curious by this, Ares looked a little closer to confirm what he saw, but once Mimi had turned away he couldn’t tell. Weird. I’m not seeing things am I?

“We should still try to get away from the border, just in case the Squadron manages to follow us through,” Aki said warily. “Come on, follow me.”

She began to lead the way down the path that narrowed until it was barely able to be walked upon. Ares took to the air at that point, keeping an eye on Aki and Mimi in case either slipped and fell. From the sky, he could see just how steep the cliff really was, and while heights never bothered him, he feared for Aki and Mimi. Aki finally stopped at a little cutout in the rock face that allowed for more room to stand.

“In here,” she directed, pointing at the rock face.

“You’re kidding, right? Aki you know that’s just a wall of rock?” Mimi asked critically.

“No it’s not,” Aki chanted playfully, taking a step forward and walking right through the rock face. Ares and Mimi exchanged glances in disbelief and followed behind, taking a step into the darkness.

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I hope you enjoyed!! <3

Thank you again for reading and have an awesome day!

-- Lucky

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[feralphoenix]

PORCELAIN // a frisk mix

8tracks is back and playmoss just detonated zombied itself back up too i guess?! and i do not know if any playlist-friendly streaming services are long for this earth so i’m going to include links to all individual songs in the tracklist along with the full playlist link. ffs

LISTEN ON 8TRACKS | LISTEN ON PLAYMOSS

tracklist:

o1. pathfinder / kubbi | o2. lapsing / half waif | o3. ppl plzr / illuminati hotties | o4. a sky full of hot air balloons / lullatone | o5. forest friends / tenkitsune ft. taobien | o6. boys...men...DUDES! / starship amazing | o7. pinky promise / ujico* | o8. electric super loving you!! / twinkle park | o9. formed by glaciers / kubbi

[pa1nkill3r]

"Now How Come I've Only Found Out About This Now?" [G.W]

[Pairing:] George Weasley x Fem!Artist!Reader

[Summary:] So far, George Weasley knows three things about his new potions partner; So why not make it four? Or five?

[Warnings:] use of mudblood, a bit of angst, a bit of swearing, a pov change at some point in the end, idk-- fluff?? (is that a warning??)

[Word Count:] ≈2.7k

[A/N:] i used @buckystrenchcoat 's fluff plots for george weasley: 2. George finding out you can draw (kind of got carried away but oh well :D--) (ps just imagine that classes in hogwarts includes all of the houses together, thanks <3) Y/H = your house. (dk the timeline or what year george and the reader are in but i'd say between 3rd-5th year)

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The Weasley twins were becoming reckless and apparently, Professor Snape has had enough. The constant explosions on the other side of the dungeon and the numerous attempts at drowning his hair with shampoo has eventually led him to the decision of assigning the entire class their partners.

Thus halfway into the semester, the Weasley twins are never to be seen together again... that is until the end of 2nd period where they will go back and cause mischief elsewhere.

Fred was assigned to a Slytherin girl who George couldn't figure out if she's madly in love with his brother or wants to rip out his guts. While he on the other hand was assigned with Y/N. Truthfully, he never gave much thought to her, but after their first double potions lesson as partners, he began to wonder why he never gave much thought to her.

She was smart but never overbearing, made jokes here and there, sniggered when he made even the cheesiest of puns, and is wicked attractive. Their first task was to brew a calming draught and whilst adding in a smidge more of lavender, she proposed that they should make more while the majority of the class was still struggling.

"Why in Merlin's beard are we going to make more? We can just pass this and leave class early?" He asked, bringing a smile to her lips. "Yeah, yeah, that's what you want, don't you Weasley?" She quipped, looking back up to the red-headed boy who's now readying their vials.

"Just thought that we could make some for people, like, your brother. Poor guy, reckon he's going to rip his hair out getting partnered with Tuttle." And with that, George let out a laugh, a laugh that cost Gryffindor 5 points. Though, all was well when they were the first to finish and send their little vial of calming draught into the hands of Severus Snape, garnering 5 points each and an opportunity to leave class 10 minutes early.

And that was it, that was their relationship; potions partners.

George Weasley learned 2 things that day. One, his potions partner was someone he wanted to know more, to be with more, and two, one should never put a liberal amount of peppermint in a calming draught. (Fred learned that the hard way.)

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She was the epitome of beauty and brains. So far, that's what he knew about his potions partner. But a little incident in the corridor made two into three.

It wasn't unusual for Fred and George Weasley to skip class, especially if the class was History of Magic. And it also wasn't unusual for them to hide behind a tapestry whilst a stinky dungbomb was set in the first-floor corridor.

What was unusual though, was George not wanting to move from their hiding place, forcing Fred to also not move. "George, mate, wha-?" "SHH!"

Whatever Fred's question was supposed to be, it quickly got answered by the presence of a certain someone whose walking to the Muggle Studies classroom, his brother's potions partner perhaps? Fred grinned mischievously, nudging his brother in the abdomen, and earning a wince.

"Oi mudblood! Was that you?" They heard from a distance, heavy footsteps following the girl he's teasing his brother with. From their point of view, they could tell that the girl stopped in her tracks, sighing heavily as though this was a regular thing.

"Was that me, what?" She asked, clearly annoyed. "Was that you who did it? Or d'you just shat yourself? It smells horrid. Would make sense, as you're a filthy little mudblood."

George's blood was beginning to boil, fingers formed into a fist, knuckles white. Especially when they got to see the silhouette of the two arguing. Perfect, Winnifred Tuttle, his brother's potions partner bullying his Y/N Y/L/N. He had an urge to protect her. To avenge her. To show her how much he cared for someone who's supposed to be his potions partner.

"Was that supposed to be an insult, Tutts?" Y/N spat back, pulling George out of his trance and making Fred shut his mouth. Now he's the one staring intently. "It's honestly just sad. A 'pureblood' like you should know the difference between a dungbomb and a piece of shit. Or perhaps you're probably just that daft?"

The boys were fixated on their conversation now. A hand on their mouths, hopefully covering up their shock even if they're hiding behind a tapestry. George's heart was beating faster now.

"Me? Daft? Well, if I'm daft then why are you taking muggle studies?" Tuttle sneered, an ugly grin splattered across her face.

"Bit hypocritical, isn't it, Winnie? Bye-bye!" She turned her back away from the Slytherin now, walking into the Muggle Studies classroom, holding a few books in one hand and her middle finger in the other.

He knows three things about her now; She's bewitching, she's a whizz, and she's a muggle-born who doesn't take shit.

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A few more lessons in and one could say that Y/N and George are starting to become friendlier to each other. Acquaintances, sure, but, friendly nonetheless. But the Gryffindor wanted to live up to its name, to its values. He might've just gotten to know a bit about her but he was completely and utterly entranced.

Nothing's going to stop him now.

His right hand held his wand as he stirred the concoction in the cauldron. She, on the other hand, was cutting up the stewed mandrake. The easy silence between them was broken by none other than the lion himself.

"Hey," he called, lifting his gaze from the potion to the girl right next to him. "Hi." She said back.

"So... Today's a Friday, right?"

She looked at him, confused, recounting a particular time in which she looked at a calendar today. "Yeah, I think so."

"And we can go to Hogsmeade after classes?"

"Pretty sure you can, why?"

"Want to go on a date?"

She looked stunned which kind of hurt George's ego but as soon as the slightly parted mouth of hers became a cheerful grin, he felt a whole lot better.

"As long as you stop staring at me and not over mix our potion, then sure, I'll go out with you." She smiled, making George give a shy little grin back before attempting to put all his concentration on the brew. Mind boggled on the way she said 'our potion.'

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Going to Muggle Studies felt utterly useless now that Y/N's been promised to go on a date right after. But having George by her side, walking her to the class just seemed to be the best part of the day.

He recounted the time when he and Fred hid behind a tapestry and told Y/N all about it, giving a hot feeling to her cheeks. They stopped by the door frame of the classroom, Professor Burbage was waiting inside, pacing around her study as George's hand slyly held Y/N's.

"I'll pick you up later?" He asked with the same shy smirk plastered on his face, cheeks pink and ears flushed. "Yeah. Thanks for walking me here. You shouldn't have." She uttered, heels rising and falling as she bounced on her toes.

"Just making sure that Tuttsy's not going to ruin your day, love." Y/N felt heat rising to her cheeks and ears, as well as an uncontrollable grin. Her heel turned to make her face the concrete walls of the castle, hands covering their face and body slightly swaying from side to side. It was ridiculous, really. Dumb. Very.

"You're adorable when you're flustered."

"Shut up, Weasley." And with that, she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, leaving him slightly startled, stunned, and very red in the face. "You're adorable when you're flustered." She quipped, walking into the Muggle Studies classroom and taking her seat.

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Muggle Studies felt oddly slow that day. Usually, it lasted an hour but today it felt like a century. Professor Burbage's talk about electricity and muggle technology went in one ear and out the other.

If you'd ask why Y/N chose a subject she already knew plenty about, her answer would be that she wanted to see things from a different perspective. But truthfully, she just knew that she'd be good at it and it'd be an easy O.

So there she was; A scrap piece of parchment laid on the wooden desk and a pen since Professor Burbage discouraged the use of quills.

Her mind wandered off the moment she sat down on her chair. Feet either bouncing up and down or stuck straight onto the floor, she wouldn't know. What she did remember was her non-dominant hand posing itself as the other one scribbled on the piece parchment.

Her fingers played with the hazy light and the ink added depth. Soon she started sketching other things; The student in front of her, a study of Professor Burbage, a head with a moderately strong jaw and beautiful, short, messy hair. A male side profile with a big nose that has a slight bump on its bridge matching a cheeky grin with dimples. Her hand posed itself once more but this time she wasn't making it look like hers, she was making it look like his. Something she's seen many times before, and guiltily stared at once, twice, more than she could recount.

She was adding in the cluster of freckles when the worst happened; "Miss Y/L/N, still with us?" Professor Burbage stood at the front of the class, standing straight, clearly thinking about her posture. "Miss Y/L/N?"

She felt an elbow nudge her arm, and that was the thing that brought her back into reality. Her head whipped itself to face her seatmate then to her Professor, giving her a funny-looking nervous grin.

"Charm would get you nowhere, Miss Y/L/N. When was the first electricity generator introduced in Britain? And where was it installed?" She has to have something in that brain of hers. It must've been taught sometime when she was in muggle school. "Err-- 1900s something, Surrey--?"

Professor Burbage meekly chuckled, "Nice try. 1881. Godalming, Surrey. A point from Y/H then, I'm sorry."

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George was faithful and stuck to his word. Even being 5 minutes early after asking Professor Grubbly-Plank if he could go to the bathroom and have a wee, saying that the unicorns would definitely mind if he pissed on their trees.

He did not go to the bathroom but instead went straight to the Muggle Studies classroom. Leaning the side of his body onto the wall by the door. Trying his best to peer into the room and find his potions partner and soon to be his date and maybe even his. But he was getting ahead of himself.

The bell rang and he heard a loud shuffling sound of chairs being pulled back. The door was opened as students from all of the houses started pouring out and there she was. Looking beautiful as ever with her bag slung on her shoulder.

"Glad to see you're alright there, dove." He cooed, earning once again another shy smile. "Anything happened there?" He asked, pointing to the now open classroom.

"Felt way longer than usual, and I lost a house point." She said matter of factly. George chuckled, his heart filled with pride as he turned his head towards her.

"And what have you done to lose said house point?"

She smiled before reaching her hand into a pocket of her robes, pulling out a folded piece of aged parchment before handing it to the curious redhead.

"What's this? A love letter?" He bantered. "Just open it." And so he did. His nimble fingers unfolding the parchment, then he was stunned. Seeing his face drawn in ink with lines crossing over more lines was the last thing he expected. It looked like him. And it didn't look like Fred. It is him.

"I was just drawing in class but then I sort of blanked out and got a dumb question wrong." She paused, looking back up to see if the redhead was still listening. "Hello? Earth to George?"

"You drew me?" He was on a fine line of disbelief and awe. It truly looked amazing. She drew her hand at least three times before he recognized his was also there. She even got the little freckle he had on the middle of his wrist. The full body of ol' Professor Burbage brought so much of her energy and even the way her scarf wrapped around her neck was perfect.

Her cheeks were heating up again, realizing what she just did. "It's not that good. Just-- drew what I saw and, err-- whatever came to mind, I guess." Bad execution, sloppy excuse. "Okay, you've been looking at that for way too long now--"

"This looks bloody brilliant! Now how come I've only found out about this now?"

"Flattery would get you nowhere, Weasley." She joked, but he was serious.

"S'not 'flattery' if I'm stating what's true! It's amazing, you're amazing." She felt her heartbeat increase by a mile.

"Well then, I'm flattered." She said, adjusting the strap of her bag to hopefully let out some adrenaline. "And to answer your question, it'd be terrifying if I just started drawing in Snape's class. I swear that man has eyes at the back of his head. That's why this is a new discovery for you."

"Fuck, this is amazing!" He uttered.

"It's really not that good--"

"'S'really not that good' Some shit standards you have there. I'd put this in a museum!" He said loudly, extending both his arms and imagining that the piece of parchment was displayed on the Hogwarts walls. "If you don't like it then I'll keep it." George joked, expecting disapproval, which, to his shock, never came.

"Are you actually giving this to me?"

She shrugged, "I mean if you'd like a photo of you drawn by a teenage girl then be my guest." He smiled, genuinely smiled. He looked so pretty at that moment and there shouldn't be any holding back now.

"...But," She started, his gaze looked intently at her, ready to listen to whatever comes next. "There's a price."

"Between Freddie and I, we have 26 galleons and a few sickles." He said, earning a hearty laugh and a shake of her head. "Don't really think he'd like me to give all of it to you, I'm sorry. If you want I'd pay a bit then I--"

"No, George." She said, tugging lightly on his tie to gain his attention. "How about... a kiss? Perhaps?"

He grinned. His hand hovered itself across her face before landing on her cheek, thumb gracing itself on its apples, slightly squishing the skin whilst his eyes looked for any signs of discomfort; there was none.

They slowly leaned in, eyes locked on lips before their lips locked onto each other. His lips were slightly chapped but it felt like the softest thing on Earth. He smelled of cinnamon, firewood, gunpowder, and other indescribable scents, but it was nice. It was short but meaningful, gentle, even. His other hand was wrapped around her waist and once again, his thumbs were running up and down whatever part of her body it's laid on.

He learned two more things about the girl that day; she's artistic, and she felt like home.

He never thought there'd be a time in his life where he'd be thankful for Severus Snape. But life goes in unexpected ways.

"If you'd like to tip me then I'm just going to say that I love cauldron cakes." She grinned up at him as they pulled away before settling her face in his chest. George chuckled to himself before wrapping his arms completely on her waist, placing a sweet kiss on the top of her head.

"Yeah, yeah, come on." He said, pulling away to let her shake herself up as he held onto the piece of folded parchment which graced his face, giving it a small peck before putting it in his pocket, patting it three times.

"Better sign that drawing for me, Y/N. How much does an autograph cost?"

"Double the original price—?"

"And the tip?"

"And the tip."

[astaroth1357]

Demon Brothers as Roommates

Intro:

So, the MC has left the Devildom and, of course, everybody is quite sad… But this time around, they have a little trick up their sleeve. With just a bit of magic (and training thanks to Solomon) the MC can now summon one of their favorite demon boys up to the human world with them! There's just, uh, one problem though… After being summoned to their side, their beloved demon now refuses to leave it.

Alright MC, enjoy your new demonic roommate!!

Lucifer

Apparently Lucifer is on sabbatical… And yes, he does appreciate that irony in that.

Lucifer actually has a surprising amount of human world money stashed away in alias accounts (because this man renting a cheap motel on business trips? Let's be real) so he uses that wealth to get them a place befitting his standards… which are high.

Spacious apartments in nice areas that would make even the upper middle-class shit their pants? Congrats, MC, that's where you're staying now!

Even with all that money, though, Lucifer CANNOT sit idle for a second. The guy is used to working all his life and just sitting around would drive him insane!

Expect him to still be running some Devildom affairs long-distance style while doing something else on the side, probably stock market stuff tbh.

Is going to want to pay for and provide everything himself but will respect the MC if they still want to work and split the bills (not to a ridiculous degree, though, like half-and-half because that would mean getting three jobs at least).

A lot of trips and vacations too, especially if the MC likes to travel. It’s a good excuse to relax while also technically doing something so he doesn’t lose his mind doing nothing in particular.

He is going to be that strict roommate who expects you not to be a slob and isn't afraid to say so. Regularly scheduled cleaning/organization days are mandatory because hygiene is important. Take some pride in yourself and wash up, MC. That kind of thing.

Also going to have short-fuse for… antics. If you want to prank him, do so at your own risk because he may prank back (and that’s not nearly as fun as it sounds, trust me.)

Mammon

Yeah so, living with Mammon is like the inverse of Lucifer. Prepare to be poooor.

Man has no human money, are you kidding me? Even if he did, he wouldn’t keep it for very long. Couples budgeting is a MUST if you’re looking to survive.

The apartment is going to be whatever the MC can more or less afford on their own with Mammon shoved in somewhere like a cheap lamp… Don’t expect a lot of room.

However, Mammon is great at the hustle. Man can work multiple jobs and actually be pretty dang good at them. For the most part, anyway. He may occasionally trip up and get himself fired, but he bounces back quick.

If the MC isn’t so moral he can also uh… “find” some extra money lying around too. Just be careful when playing with fire, right?

Even if they’re poor as shit, Mammon is still a blast to be around. The guy knows how to have fun on and off of a budget. Lots of “window shopping” (getting kicked out of stores for goofing off), nightclubs, amusement parks, and cheap fun. They’ll never be without a story to tell or a smile on their face!

He IS pretty slobbish though. He’s not going to remember to clean up after himself unless told, but he’s also not going to be bothered if they don’t do the same thing. A weekly cleaning day is going to be ideal unless they don’t mind living in a pigsty...

Prank waaaaars!! The kind of guy to get them both water guns and have a war in the middle of the apartment complex. Good luck getting any rest with Mammon around.

Leviathan 

Whelp, your room is now his room, quite literally MC. You had to pick the shut-in…

The guy isn’t exactly poor but what human money he does have is all wrapped up in his many interests… Merch interests specifically. 

Thankfully, he won’t take up too much space. Put him in a room with a desk, bed (or bathtub), TV, and computer and he’s good to go! 

He’s not going to be a complete bum, thankfully. There’s no way that they can get him to leave the apartment, but he can run small online stores (usually anime themed) or become a streamer. Probably enough to help pay the bills, but not much more.

If they don’t mind having a literally permanent housemate, then being with Levi has its own kind fun. Lots of anime marathons, movie nights, and game nights. Really, it’s just like how he was in the House, but now transported to the human world.

Is probably going to want a pet goldfish, snake ,or lizard so prepare to house Henry 3.0.

When he does leave the apartment, it’s to take the MC to conventions, concerts, or anime stores. He always manages to get just enough money for these trips, but never says where the money comes from… Best not to ask. Could be black market for they know...

… He’s a shut-in. He’s a shut-in roommate. Hygiene isn’t exactly his main concern. If they ask him to, he’ll make sure to clean up after himself, but he may need a reminder.

Can have a fun side, but just don’t mess with his stuff too much. He doesn’t need a Mammon 2.0 around too...

Satan

He's either hatching a plan for world domination or adopting 10 cats… One or the other.

About as poor as Mammon at first, but threat not. He won’t be for very long. Satan is intelligent beyond his years (or equivalent his years maybe?) so he’ll probably net himself several degrees within a couple semesters like a certified prodigy.

At that point, there really isn’t much to worry about (aside from student loans, join our pain Satan) but he can sell himself just fine and probably get some high paying job like a lawyer or doctor or whatever… I’m not jealous…

They’ll start out in a pretty modest place, but there will be upgrades fairly quickly when he starts racking it in so Satan’s a fairly decent choice as a roommate.

He does still have that nasty habit of breaking things when he’s pissed off, but that can be subverted by getting a pet! Just hold up whatever cat you own when he’s about to rampage then declare that he’s scaring/upsetting them and he’ll stop in his tracks. Works every time!

Probably going to be the most domestic out of the brothers. He enjoys cooking (and ain’t half bad at it either), shopping is a practical necessity, he’ll take care your pets like they were his own flesh and blood, etc.

There will even to be points where he’s in bed reading in the middle of the night with tea and reading glasses like some kind of grandma so take that image for what you will.

Satan is the prankster of the household, but he does his pranks more as a way to give grief to his enemies rather than for funsies. Be warned, if you poke this bear he will retaliate for sweet, sweet revenge and he has centuries worth of pranks behind him. Good luck.

Asmodeus 

It's a new party every night, sweetie, get used to it!

Asmo is the only other brother who has some amount of money to offer from his own trips to the human world, but it's just a modest amount.

Is totally willing to work to help pay for a nice place. He wants a building nice enough to host parties!

Would go back to modeling and maybe dip his toe into acting from time to time… He gets a lot of gigs (this IS the Avatar of Lust after all) so they won't be strapped for cash. Which is good, because Asmo is a very "business by day, but party every night" kind of person. 

Do know that his shopping is NOT going to slow down either. Keep an eye on the budget.

He’s also going to make friends wherever he goes so he’s going to want for them all to hang out at least somewhat regularly.

That being said, he can tone it down some if the MC so desires, just know that they can’t keep him cooped up in the apartment for too long or he’ll start getting antsy. You can’t keep this stallion locked up, MC, he needs to run free!!

Being with Asmo is going to be like having a free pass to whatever gathering the MC wants to go to, at least. He could even get them into red carpet events with just his sheer charisma, charm, and er-… “charms.” Who doesn’t want to meet their favorite actress or singer, eh?

But oh, sweetie, please don’t prank him! Life is too short to waste on silly games (he also just genuinely just doesn’t enjoy being messed with so best not do it).

Beelzebub 

Brave choice, MC, but quick question. How in the world are you going to pay your food bills???

Beel is a real sweetheart through and through but his stomach is NOT. That thing will eat them out of house and home! (Maybe even literally!!) Both of them are going to have to work and probably some pretty looong hours (cause he’s got no money either).

Honestly, Beel would be best as a personal trainer in the human world. He’s a pretty decent combination of tough but genuinely kind and motivating. (The fact that he’s pretty easy on the eyes would help out a lot too).

But the MC won’t have to worry about Beel sneaking off with someone just looking for some “quality time.” He’d take his job seriously, though he’s not particularly versed in what the human body can’t handle so only the really dedicated (or masochistic) would stick with him anyway.

“Good work last week, April! You did so well that we’re going to go from 500 pushups to a thousand! … I can see you’re worried, but I believe in you.”

But hey, he can deadlift well over 2,000 pounds without breaking a sweat so who has the balls to argue with him, anyway?

Trying out every restaurant in town would be a must. He’d even plan out vacations for them with the sole purpose of travelling the globe and tasting the different flavors. Food trips!!

He's neat enough since he used to tidy up a lot for Belphie so no need to worry about him picking up after himself (except for the occasional pile of wrappers. Toss those out unless you want ants)

I mean, you can prank Beel if you want. He'll be pretty good-natured about it as long as it stays harmless. Just don't ruin any of his food, got it?

Belphegor 

So… Belphie makes for some excellent décor! Really he is great at laying around and looking fantastic just… he’s not that great at much else...

Realistically, choosing Belphie as a roommate is kind like having a high maintenance pet. He’s good for love and cuddles, but he’s not going to be helping with the bills or anything unless they whine incessantly about it.

If the MC can make enough for the both of them, then it should be fine. They won’t get upset and he won’t be crabby but if not… Oh boy.

Regular job Belphie is a needy Belphie. He’ll come back from whatever job he’s working, likely a night shift, and demand attention or cuddles right then and there. He needs to recharge those batteries, after all...

If he isn’t working then he's at his happiest. He can even pull off being a “househusband” of sorts. He’s not going to go above and beyond the call of duty, but he can keep the place clean, get a basic meal on the table (provided someone teaches him some human recipes), and get groceries if he needs to… You know, basic domestic shit.

They’re going to have to come to terms with the fact that, at some level, Belphie just doesn’t believe in “common curtesy” or “human decency.” If some neighbors are being too noisy for his liking, he will troll them to oblivion and beyond. He may even get sued for it if he takes it too far, so the MC will have to keep an eye on him…

He’s the House’s #2 prankster, but unlike Satan he doesn’t need any malice to be a little shit. The MC will be pranked and it will be at the most unexpected times. Be warned...

Check out my Masterlist for more!

[imagineyouandharry]

Gypsophila (H.S)

Summary: Prince Harry has been under great pressure to find a wife, and he finds his Queen in a way far more unconventional than he could’ve imagined. 

Words: 5,730

Warnings: It’s a bit strange I guess? Idk lol.

A/N: Someone requested a Prince!Harry au forever ago, and then I didn’t really have an opportunity to write for a while, and then this idea sprung up on me and I’ve been lost in this little au for the past few days. It’s like a little twisted fairytale, taking inspiration from Snow White and Sleeping Beauty mostly. Part two is already a work in progress. If people are interested I’ll even put out a little sort of world building lore post with a map of the kingdom etc (I’ve been in DEEP). This part is a bit choppy and barely edited because I was just so eager to write it and get something out, but I would really appreciate any constructive criticism and editing notes! TYSM!! Long story short, enjoy!!!

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Harry Edward Styles did not believe in true love, in fact, he thought it was the most ridiculous idea ever. Harry’s certain he’s laid eyes upon every eligible young lady, from his kingdom and the ones surrounding, and he hadn’t felt a single thing when looking at any of them. He prayed every night that he would find his love the next day, and finally be able to put his parents out of their misery and ascend to the throne. At the age of 27, Harry’s the oldest person in his family to not be married, no one every waited this long in the royal family. He would’ve had an arranged marriage at 21, though when his parents suggested that he ran away on a sailing ship for two months. One thing was clear to him: though he may not have experienced love yet, he wasn’t going to ruin his chances at true by being forced into a loveless marriage. It wasn’t only Harry’s parents, but the entire kingdom that woke each day hoping to hear that their Prince had found his Queen. They referred to Harry as the Good Prince, his subjects adored him, and lived for his acts of charity and selflessness, and they only hoped he would find a Queen that would treat them the same.

Harry’s outlook on love changed however, after his most recent hunting trip. Sundays are for family and hunting, that’s what Harry was always told. No day was for Harry, he’d come to learn that. Living under a microscope meant for very little alone time, and almost no guilt-free alone time. He and his hunting party rode across the fields and out to the dense forest surrounding the kingdom, and over the two hour journey Harry found himself agitated with the topics of conversation going on around him. He wanted a break, tired of everyone only ever speaking about royal duties or politics. Harry had discovered a fresh water lake if he went off the trail, and when he realised they were edging closer to his favourite place he decided to excuse himself with the excuse of needing to fill his canteen.

The natural spring was a hidden treasure indeed. Harry’s entire kingdom was cut off from the rest of the world due to the thick forestland surrounding it. There was only one trail in, and one trail out, and even then only experienced riders were able to make the journey. The end of the trail, in the deep of the forest, was also often lined with thieves and outcasts making it not the safest journey. This spring wasn’t necessarily hard to find, however thick trees that lined the main trail hid the spring, the gorgeous wild flowers, and clearing of soft grass either side. Harry tied his horse to his usual tree, softly parting the bushes careful to not cause any permanent damage, and stepped his way through. His kingdom was full of hidden treasures like this, tucked away in places only to be found by those adventurous enough.

The sound of the running water was most prominent, however the closer he walked to the spring, the more he could hear a faint, delicate singing voice. Harry couldn’t recognise the song, but it was one he’d never forget now. It felt as though his heart dropped in his stomach, and he had to lightly scratch his arm on a branch to double check he hasn’t died and was hearing an angel of heaven sing to him. He walked closer, with quiet footsteps so not to disturb the singing. He knelt down to the edge of the spring and began to fill his canteen, looking around his eyes eventually focused on the source of his siren, standing in the clearing over the other side of the spring as she picked a bouquet of dainty flowers. Lavender, daisies, bellflowers, poppies. Her body was dressed in sage green, the simple dress showed she definitely was not from a wealthy family, but it was simple and beautiful in its own way. Perhaps she sewed it herself, it did look as if it were made for her. He could see her hair shine from here, and the features of her side profile were striking him even from a distance. She didn’t look real. The strange girl across the spring looked ethereal, like her beauty was too surreal for this planet. Had he hit his head? Was he seeing a forest fairy? He hadn’t even realised the staggering increase in his heart rate as he watched the girl, and listened.

He lost track of how long he had been watching her for, snapped out of his daydream when he heard a “Your Royal Highness! We must be getting on!” Harry heard shouting at him from a distance, most likely back where he had tied his horse. The girl had heard the faint noise and her eyes shot in Harry’s direction. His cheeks flushed with heat as their eyes met only for a brief second, before she ran away. The eye contact brought a slight curve to his lips, although she was leaving, at least he got another good look at her.

“Wait!” He called as he stood up, his hand and canteen dripping wet. His eyes softened as she simply left, looking back briefly in her stride, but he’d blown it. “God fucking damn it.” He cursed under his breath as he began to trudge back to his horse, his feet weighing heavy on the ground.

That was the most he’d ever felt, looking at the stranger across the lake singing as if it were for him, and he couldn’t help but feel like he’d just lost his future Queen. Half of him wanted to wade through the water and run after her, but Harry wasn’t a often disobedient Prince, when one of his parents or advisors told him to jump, his usual response would be “how high?” It’s ironic how for someone who’s whole life depends on finding his future Queen is given so little time to actually explore a social life, or love life himself. He was always set up with suitors who his parents found best. In the rare times he’s able to sneak away he’d gotten around, and most definitely wasn’t a virgin, but he’d never found a girl who had made him feel the way he wanted to feel about his future queen. He only wanted to please his family, and his realm, but this was the one thing where he refused to compromise.

Y/N was as far away from a future queen as it could come, or at least that’s what her step-mother wanted everyone to think. The entire town hoped to marry their daughters off to the elusive Good Prince Harry, however her step-mother only wanted her biological daughters to have that chance. When Y/N’s father passed away her step-mother sent her out to live as a recluse in a tiny cottage in the woods, she had always feared that her beauty would distract future husbands away from her actual daughters, and didn’t want to ruin their chance of being married. Each Sunday she drops Y/N off the supplies she needs, but that was the only human contact she was given. It wasn’t too bad, she managed to keep herself busy with sewing, baking, or whatever other art or craft she could think of and had the materials for. It was lonely though, and she was ultimately alone.

Well, if you don’t count forest fairies. Y/N hated being outcast into the forest, and spent most of her early months in the cottage crying to whatever wild animal she could find that day that would stick around long enough. Eventually, these wild animals started bringing their fairy friends along with them. They would spend their days with Y/N tending to fruit and vegetable gardens, watering plants, having picnics, and making daisy chains. Her life was simple, and although not one she asked, it was one she was growing fond of. Male company was something she could only imagine and long for, or read about in story books. There were dozens of fairies living in the forest, but she’d become particularly close to a group of some of the female fairies.

Each Sunday before her step mother visits, Y/N will pick her step mother a bouquet of flowers in attempt to win her over, in hopes maybe one day her sweetness will earn her way back into town. Y/N had total obliviousness towards her step mother’s plan, and towards what was going on in the city. This year, any woman over the age of 21 was to present herself to the Prince. Y/N’s 21st birthday fell on the day she was scheduled to be presented to the Prince. The letter had been delivered shortly before she was sent away to the forest, Y/N never laid her eyes upon it though. The letter outlined the royal guard would be coming to collect anyone who failed to present themselves on the day, and to Y/N’s step mother that meant the only option was to make it so Y/N never turned 21, or made it to her birthday for that matter.

Seeing the Prince most definitely did spook Y/N during that day in the field, if her step mother ever found out she’d had contact with a male there was no chance she’d ever be allowed to move back home. She did all she could think to do. She ran. She ran so fast that the petals of the flowers she had picked were ruined in her haste, quickly shutting herself inside the cottage to gather herself before her routine afternoon visit from her step mother. Sure she knew of men to be dangerous and terrible, but she feared her step-mother’s wrath more than anything any man could put her through.

Like any other Sunday, she scrubbed the house and dressed herself in whatever new garment she had stitched herself this week. The fairies had been busy this week and she’d had a great deal of time to herself, embroidering colourful flowers into the soft white linen of the new dress she had made. Her step-mother would bring her fabric and thread to sew dresses for her step sisters. It was something to be proud of, but most likely would be over looked. Little was said upon her step-mother’s arrival, but her character seemed off. Her step-mother’s eyes darted around, checking windows as she insisted on making the two of them tea. Y/N sat down at the small dining table, recounting tales of her week, ensuring to leave out anything about fairies or a boy. She watched a small bunny outside the window, forgetting to speak as awe overwhelmed her whilst she watched its tiny nose twitch. Her daydream came to an end when the sound of the ceramic mug hit the hard wood of the coffee table. “Drink while it’s warm, my love.” Her step-mother told her, sitting down in the seat at the head of the table beside Y/N. It wasn’t long after that that Y/N hit the floor, and her step-mother was shrouding herself in a hooded coat and sneaking out of the tiny cabin.

Elsie, a fairy most close to Y/N, who specialises in healing, came to the conclusion that she was only out for about six hours before the fairies found her. They did all they could over the following weeks to bring her back to life, trying as many possible rituals, potions, and spells to give life to her body once more. Nothing was of use though, and instead they decided to preserve her in a glass case in the clearing amongst the wildflowers. She had professed to them that the clearing by the spring had been her favourite place, so they saw this fit. Preserving her in the glass case was simply because the idea of her beauty decaying away made any of the fairies shriek. Fairies never communicated with humans, however Y/N was different. Elsie had always theorised that Y/N had magic in her blood. Amongst the many spells and rituals they tried to bring Y/N back, they threw in a spell that would hopefully bring her back with true love’s kiss. It was like a safety net, or a ‘what if?’ But they eventually tired and wore out, preserving her was well enough for now. They kept her dressed in the new dress she had crafted for herself, it was so beautiful after all. They had placed tiny baby’s breath flowers throughout her hair, and made sure everything was perfect. They even went as far to adorn her in delicate gold jewellery, with beautiful crystals of all colours. Her body rested upon a large rectangular slab of rose quartz.

****

Harry was dreading sitting in the throne room, while all the eligible females from the town were presented to him like livestock. It made him sick, and left a terrible taste in his mouth. All he could think of was the girl from the clearing. Is she a sign? Is he his ticket out of here? Was seeing her fate? Questions like that simmered over his mind and kept him awake at night, he had been sleeping little and finding it hard to focus on his duties. His best friend Niall was he closest confidant, the only one he had told about the beautiful girl in the clearing that day. Niall cared more for Harry than anyone, really. He didn’t just care about his fame or power or wealth, Harry was his best friend and he hated seeing his best mate so down about his love life and the pressure to marry a woman he doesn’t love. He made it his mission to find the woman, and his detective work lead him down a path he didn’t expect at all. First he went to the clearing where Harry filled his water in the spring, that was where he first noticed something over the other side of the spring that he couldn’t quite make out. He followed the spring and found an area narrow enough to cross, making his way to the structure he’d seen earlier. He didn’t know what to make of this discover, a dead girl in a glass coffin. ‘Forever at rest, only to be woken by true love’s kiss’ read an inscription on a gold plaque. He really didn’t know what to make of this. He didn’t know what to tell Harry.

Sweat lingered Niall’s brow as he made his way back to the castle to find Harry, to tell him of his discovery. “Look… I just need you to come with me and tell me what you think when we’re there.” Niall tells him, his voice somewhat breathless. Niall himself was still in disbelief, shock, his eyes wide as he shook his head. “I just- I don’t know what to tell you. You need to see it for yourself.” He adds.

Harry nods. “I’ll come immediately.” Harry tells him, his trust for Niall outweighing anything else going on in his head. Together they rode to the forest, crossed the narrow part of the spring, and towards where Niall had discovered Y/N.

“Is this the girl you were talking about?” Niall asks, however when he looks from the girl to Harry, he knows the answer. Harry couldn’t help but fall to his knees, pressing his palms against the glass as he looked inside. He noticed how long her eyelashes looked, and the freckles on her nose. His nose was almost touching the glass as he leant here on his knees at the side of her, taking her in up close.

“What happened to you?” He whispers, his eyebrows knitting together. Niall gives him a moment before he decides to mention the plaque at the foot of the structure.

“It uh, says something weird about being awoken by true love’s kiss. I don’t know if it’s true, and it’s revolting to think you would kiss a dead body for nothing, but someone has put her here. Someone made this. My grandmother in her old age would mutter stories about forest fairies and their magic… It just makes you wonder, you know?” He ponders, his eyes wandering away. It felt silly to bring up magic, it was something very commonly dismissed.

“Help me get this off.” Harry said as he brought himself from the ground, the soft grass had left green stains on his tan riding pants. He pushed the sleeves of his white linen button down up past his elbows, and the two men carefully lift the heavy glass case up off of the rose quartz Y/N had been resting on. It wasn’t easy, and the glass at the bottom dug into Harry’s fingers before they set the glass piece of the structure down on to the grass. “Alright. Here we go.” Harry said, in attempt to psych himself up for kissing a dead girl. She didn’t look dead though, just sleeping, you could only tell she was dead due to the missing rising and fall in her chest with her breath. “I might start walking back to the horses, give you some privacy.” Niall said, giving him a slight smile. He also didn’t really want to witness someone kiss a dead person, if she didn’t end up waking up.

“Good luck. Take your time.” He adds, part of him had no doubt it was going to work though. The stories his grandmother would tell him of the forest fairies were something he’d always held on to, those stories were amongst his most treasured memories. He’d always had some hope.

Harry waited until he could no longer hear Niall’s footsteps before he leant down close to Y/N, brushing a strand of hair back behind her ear. He took a moment, if this never worked it was going to be the last time he’d ever see her. He couldn’t fathom coming back to this spot if this didn’t work. His heart began to ache at the thought, it made his chest feel tight, and gave him the urge to rub at the spot.

“I really hope you’re who I think you are.” He whispers as he looks down at her. “This might seem like absolute madness. I don’t even know your name, but if you wake up for me, I swear to you I will be yours forever.” He began, to Harry this almost did feel like a ritual, it felt special, and the words he was speaking were amongst the most genuine he’d ever given life to. “I promise, I will protect you. I will provide for you. I will love you. I will never, ever harm you. I will love you until my very last breath, I just need you to do this one thing for me.” His voice was barely a whisper now, and breaking as hot tears welled in his eyes. He very carefully leant down, pressing his warm, puffy lips against her cold, smooth ones. He didn’t know how long to wait, but it didn’t feel wrong. It was a sweet, tender kiss. His eyes closed, and he felt at peace. It felt more than at peace. The long grass, wildflowers, and tree branches that surrounded them began to stir with wind, petals floating up into the gusts that took them. This girl had a tendency to make him feel like he’s dead and in heaven. Her lips slowly began to warm, and skin began to glow with heat. It felt like they were floating, as if the universe was made up of just the two of them. The flowers beneath him began to grow taller and more dense, and it began to feel like his heart was pulling towards hers. It felt like a tether had been formed, connecting their energy, he could feel as her heart began to pump blood again, and her energy radiate from her skin. It felt too surreal.

Slowly, Harry removed his lips to allow Y/N to breathe. He let a hand lay gently resting on her cheek as he watched her gasp for her first new breath, eyes shooting open as she looked up at him. It wasn’t shock she was met with when her eyes met Harry’s, but peace. The luminous green eyes that were gazing down upon her were like lighthouses, guiding her towards safety. So many questions began to race her mind as she came to reality, unable to decide which one to ask first. As if based on intuition, Harry decided to speak. “I uh- I’m not too sure what happened to you but my friend found you here today and brought me to you. I believe I saw you a few weeks ago, in the same spot. I’m not sure how long you’ve been out here, but there was this little plaque at the end of this thing here, that said something about a kiss to wake you up… I’m sorry for kissing you without your consent, but I couldn’t risk not taking this chance.” He didn’t mean to ramble or to overwhelm her with his spiel, but he was overwhelmed himself with everything that had just gone on. True love’s kiss. His queen. His true love. The other half of his soul, in human form. Y/N’s lips parted as if to speak, but nothing came out. She closed them once more as she sat up and looked around, swinging her legs off the side of the marble before looking back up to Harry. Her movement had disconnected his hand from her face, and they both longed for each other’s touch once more already. Her eyes began to well with tears as she began to think about how she got here, her last memories.

“I can only assume how overwhelming this must all be for you… We can stay here as long as you need, it’s just us. When you feel ready for it, I can take you back to my home and we can get you showered and fed. I don’t mean you any harm.” Harry doesn’t even need to add that last sentence though, because she can feel it. She can feel his love for her, she could almost hear it if she listened closely enough, as if his heart was now beating a song for her.

Harry stood back, as if to give the doe eyed girl some space. She looked at him as if he was the most precious treasure on Earth, he’d never felt so overwhelmed with love. This was followed by her delicate hands reaching out, taking ahold of his as she brought herself to stand in front of him. “Is it alright if you hold me for a second?” She asked softly, needing time to process things.

It had been so long since she had been touched affectionately, she couldn’t really remember it. Her father was never affectionate, nor her step mother or step sisters or anyone else she’d met. She felt comfortable with the stranger in front of her though, and didn’t have the energy to resist the magnet like force pulling her towards him.

“Of course.” He responds, his voice soft as he wraps his arms gently around her frame, pulling her into his warm figure. Harry was like the perfect, giant teddy bear… but he wasn’t really that soft. Pressed against him she could feel how chiseled his features are. Her arms wrapped around his waist as she relaxed into him, cheek against the skin of his chest kindly revealed by the first few buttons of his shirt being undone. “What’s your name?” He asks, tangling his fingers in her hair to lightly rub his fingertips against the tender skin at the back of her neck.

“Y/N Y/L/N. Yours?” She asks, looking up to the tall, broad man.

“Harry.” He decides on leaving out his royal title or last name.

“Just Harry?” She asks, her eyebrows raising.

“For now. We have plenty of time to talk about me later.” He notes, removing the same rogue strand of hair as before from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. It was almost as if her hair had a life of its own, breathing, like the other flora growing in the forest. He had noticed the baby’s breath in her hair, though her hair moved, they remained in the same places, as if growing out of their place on the strand of hair. “What do you last remember?” He asks, needing to know if whatever put her in eternal sleep had been by accident, or as an act of malice. She looks back away from his face, resting her cheek once more against his chest.

“My step-mother, Styephania came over, she made me tea. That’s all I can really remember.” She said, unable to stop the disappointed sigh from escaping her lips. Maybe she’d had a freak health accident, like a stroke. Just because she’d been mistreated by her step mother her whole life, didn’t mean she was capable of murder. She knew her step mother didn’t put her out here though, this was the work of fairies. They were looking on, hiding in the bushes as they stood witness to young love blossom in front of them, not wanting to disturb the two of them. “I look crazy, and it sounds crazier saying this, but I’m certain the forest fairies are responsible for looking after me and putting me here. The day she came over was the day I think you saw me here, and I’m not sure how I’m meant to feel but I don’t feel like I’ve been a dead body since then. I feel like no time has passed at all.” Harry avidly listened to her speak, her voice like caramel, seeping in his ears and warming his whole body. Harry wasn’t phased by her mentioning fairies, Niall had suspecting this being their work earlier. It was the only explanation Harry could think of. He couldn’t understand why her step mother would leave her here, why she wouldn’t find her help.

He didn’t want to worry his sweet girl now, he wanted to make sure she felt alright, safe, and cared for. His grip on her wasn’t too tight, but firm in a comforting way. “The plaque… It mentioned how you’d only be woken by true love’s kiss.” He figured the longer he waited to tell her the stranger it would be. His cheeks were red, as if embarrassed or ashamed to tell her about the plaque, how strange it all was. Her eyes met his, and the connection gave him whiplash. He couldn’t peel his eyes away, getting lost in the little pools. He wanted to know everything about her, what she liked, disliked, what she ate for breakfast, her favourite songs, flowers, secrets. Everything.

“I don’t know if I know what love feels like. The only men I’ve spoken to are all twice my age. I wasn’t really allowed to see boys. You’re definitely much, much more beautiful than I would’ve imagined a man to be, and I’m certain that my heart is literally beating for you now, since you woke me.” She tells him, the descriptions of heroes in stories she would read, or how she would imagine the older men to look when they were younger, were incomparable to Harry. The compliment made his cheeks flush. With each beat of her heart, it was as if it was pulling her closer to Harry, calling out for him, begging for him to love on her and soothe the ache in her chest.

“How has God made something so sweet?” He mumbles, he hadn’t even realised he’d said it out loud at first. “You’re breath taking. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes upon, and trust me when I say I’ve seen a lot of them. Even from far away, the first time I saw you… You make me nervous. You make my heart race, and my palms sweat, and I get butterflies in my stomach and nervous when I think about saying the wrong thing or not having you like me. It’s as if you’ve been carved by God himself, like he was showing off when he made you so beautiful. I wish I’d met you sooner.” Those last words burn his throat, how easier the last few years would have been if he had just been able to find her sooner.

*****

Harry sent Niall back to the castle first, having him instruct everyone to clear out the path that the Prince and his soon to be queen would take to his suite, he didn’t want to spook her with people around. The guards had to stay though, non-negotiable. He also had Niall ensure the doctor was on standby, just to check on Y/N and stay in the castle over the upcoming weeks in case anything else happened. Security was going to be increased, and tightened, and a warrant put out for her step mother.

The two hour horseback ride to the castle would give them well enough time to get to know each other, Harry and Niall had also switched horses, Niall’s being the slower of the two. “I don’t want to startle you when we get there. I also don’t know how to really tell you this. I’m in the royal family, so the guards and whatnot are something to just be ignored. They’re for your protection. I don’t know if you heard much of what I was telling Niall earlier, but you’re going to be very safe here, and we’ll find out what happened. I’ll look after you, I promise.” His eyes are ahead as he speaks, looking over the vast green fields ahead of them once they eventually emerged from the forest.

“Still just Harry, to me.” She reassured, sensing his nerves about revealing this information to her. His shoulders relaxed at her reaction, and a smile formed on his lips when his mind began to wander into what their future may be like. His queen.

“Hey, one day that’ll be King Harry to you.” He joked, thankful that it was received with a laugh. Her laughter was almost as sweet as her songs, and for the rest of the journey he made it his mission to mine as many possible laughs out of her as he could, like little nuggets of treasure. After making their way through the fields that lined the forest, they went down a long road that served as a divide between two of the castle’s towns, and at the end of that road just past a small valley of mountains was a sight far more glorious than Y/N had imagined. Her village was a small village that contained mostly candlemakers and dressmakers, and it sat further to the east, people only ever going out there to purchase fine candles and clothing. It was niche though, and not many could afford the fineries the master crafters in her village would create. Y/N hadn’t even really seen a home larger than a cottage, Harry’s castle looked large enough as if it could contain its own little world, a complete wilderness of towers surrounded by fine gardens, protected by a large moat with a standalone drawbridge. Harry didn’t even need to announce himself, the drawbridge was already in the process of being lowered for him.

“I had Niall clear our path, I don’t want to overwhelm you. I’ll introduce you to everyone when you’re ready.” Harry reassures her, she hadn’t even thought of anyone else though, too in awe of the sights around her. Flowers she’d never seen before laced these gardens, with fine marble sculptures and fountains protruding from them.

“I can’t believe this is your home.” Y/N whispers, unable to think of anything else to say.

“Your home too, if you’d like.” Harry replies, though his words immediately shrouded him with nerves about rushing Y/N into anything. It was stupid, they were each other’s true love’s, but it felt wrong being strangers, so Harry tried his best to conceal things. He’d never been in a conventional relationship before, never mind whatever this arrangement is or was going to be. He just knew he wasn’t meant to rush things, so he tried to refrain from expressing his feelings as best as he could. Her arms around his waist tightened, Y/N needing to feel as close to Harry as possible. He held the reins in one hand, the other arm resting over hers around his stomach, holding on to her arm to make sure she couldn’t let go.

“I’d like that.” Y/N reassures, gently rubbing his side to soothe him. Harry was too caught up in his own feelings to pay attention to how calm Y/N was. She could feel his anxiety though, and continued to try to soothe him as best she could. Y/N knew very little about Harry so far, but what she did know was that he was kind, caring, and had a lot of worries. She’d never been a worrisome person, and if anything would even refer to herself as naive, it was something she’d always been almost ashamed of but in this moment felt like maybe she’d been made to be by Harry’s side. Y/N liked the idea of spending her days being Harry’s rock, a voice of reason. She’d rather a man like this than one who had no emotions, that was for sure. It could’ve been whatever was now eternally bonding them, but she swears she was feeling his emotions, able to see his aura if she really studied hard enough. She sunk into him some more, her arms around his waist, cheek resting against his back. Harry made sure to take it extra slow, giving his love enough time to appreciate the flowers. She seemed to like flowers, and his mother took pride in this being the most beautiful garden amongst all of the kingdoms. He couldn’t wait to show her all the fineries that came with his life.

[mggpleasedontlookhere]

checkmate

summary: where y/n and spencer live in a world of soulmates; but how magical can it really be when the last words of your lover are the only indication of their existence.

word count: 7,054                                                                                               reading time aprox: 26 mins

warnings: character death, angst

a/n: this is my comeback fic, I hope you like it. I made sure to make it extra angsty to compensate for my disappearance :) also this fic can be read by anyone!

masterlist

Chess is a meticulous endeavor, not only in its cold and calculated nature, but also in the player’s ability to detect insecurity flash across their opponents' eyes, the unconscious idiosyncrasies that foretell future moves, and the slow descent into hopelessness that disintegrates the former’s conviction. Most will point out the cruelty of the game, how callous it must be knowing your end eight moves before it happens. However, others will oppose this notion as it is the game; one must lose to win.

It’s all a matter of who plays their pieces right.  

Before that pivotal moment, players can only maneuver through a black and white arena. Fingertips would drum in anticipation while the other would hover over their pieces, striding across the board with purpose. Regardless of the disparity between the players’ experience or skill, there is always one factor, unmoved by player attributes, that is not a disadvantage nor luxury for either party: time.  

Even in the checkered plane, nothing will matter. The players will cease to move, forced to end the game by the lack of time. This mechanism in nature acts as a failsafe if either individual is unable to conclude the game. In other words, there are only two outcomes: winning the game by will or letting time take that will away from you.  

However, what is not noticed is the growing ache in the winner’s chest, disappointment beginning to fester inside of them because of their loss in deciding. In that split realization, the winner is placed on an equal plane as the loser, wondering if they ever really won at all.  

This middle plane is beautiful and tragic simultaneously—maybe the beauty is in the tragedy. But as my palm leaves a bloodied handprint pressed against Spencer’s chest, all I can see is the world around me turning red.  

Please be okay, please be okay for me

My mouth would silently mutter in tandem with his desperate and reaching touches, a mantra I convinced myself could surpass time, all while knowing my will was seized from me the moment Spencer uttered the words imprinted at my hip.  

-

October 27th

2 days before  

Water vapor collected around the coffee mug pressed to my lips. Although it’s ironic to call it a ‘coffee’ mug considering it was filled to the brim with scalding tea. The tips of my fingers and the skin of my palms tingled at the heat given off. My thoughts drifted to the explanation of the first law of thermodynamics that Spencer had kindly explained during the walk home from the night before.

  An unconscious smile brushed over my lips briefly, reminiscing the blissful moments of the team gathered around a bar table after finishing up a briefing about a local case. A warm cloud of content passed through my chest while a lightness traveled from the bottoms of my feet to the summit of my forehead. The herbal tea traveling down my esophagus countered the cold nipping of the autumn air, bringing a welcome equilibrium to my wellbeing.  

I shrugged the knitted blanket over my shoulders further, staring into the calming view that the apartment window provided. Across from the building was a small, abandoned park. Most of the neighbors had steered clear of the area as it didn’t meet anyone’s aesthetic standards—well, except for mine. 

 Half of the trees have lost their leaves, counting down the days to winter. The park benches were covered with tangled vines, even some lacking required wood boards. In summary, the place was an overgrown jungle that no one was willing to inhabit. In result, the once communal area was condemned by the normal folk for being ‘too dead.’ However, I would oppose those who claim the lack of life in the park considering life is not only just living, but it is to invite death.  

In my observation of the park, a soft reflection suddenly appeared beside the yellow oak trees. In my peripheral, I can see my roommate creeping up behind me with his limbs moving catlike. I bit my bottom lip to conceal the amused huff threatening to escape me, instead settling to blowing over the steam rising from my cup.  

Just before I saw his head bobble over my shoulder, arms stretched out above me, I whipped around his lanky figure and ducked under his arm. “You know for an agent; I expected a better performance.” An inaudible yelp interrupted the fit of giggles I was in as some of the tea spilled onto my blanket. “Now look what you’ve done! Do you know how hard it is to get dark liquids off cotton?”  

“Just some hydrogen peroxide will do the trick,” Spencer shrugged, insisting to pull off the semi-damp blanket off my shoulders. “Plus, you messed up my bit!”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot I was living with a five-year-old,” I teased, nudging him.

  Spencer craned his neck to the side, letting the sore tendons and muscles stretch out from just waking up. All without forgetting to let out an obnoxious yawn in addition to his exaggeratedly extended arms. “I’ll have you know that this five-year-old has three PhDs and three bachelors,” he boasted.  

“...and daddy issues.”  

Before I can find a way to defend myself, the same blanket that brought me solace previously was transformed into an unmerciful whip. Spencer chased me around the couch until I slipped and toppled over the cushions, landing on the throw pillows. I buried my head into the leather arm, shutting my eyes, while I replicated the nature of Spencer’s antics by emitting ridiculous snores. 

 “You can’t touch me while I’m sleeping,” I murmured, feigning my slow lull to slumber. “It’s socially unacceptable.” During my spiel, Spencer had playfully grabbed my ankles and dragged me to a sitting position.  

“SPENCER!” I gasped, clutching one of the pillows in hand and smacking him over the head with it. “You do not handle people like that! No wonder why you also have momm-”  

Spencer’s palm gently nudged me back onto the couch mid-sentence, leaving my frame to hit the cushions with a loud thud. A boom of laughter filled the empty space of my chest, my breath thinning as dopamine jumped from my brain’s synapses. An enchanted smile caressed the corners of my mouth mirroring the one Spencer was sporting.  

In these insignificant interactions, I would think back to the times where our comfortability was limited and reveled on how much our friendship grew over the years. There was a sense of solace that overwhelmed me knowing that introducing—and working on his—humor brought an auspicious light to the darkness that often clouded his mind.  

My lungs deflated with a hefty exhale, my arm slinging across my eyes in relaxation. Clamored feet and the rug shifting against the wood floor caught my attention. Freeing my line of vision, I was met with a raggedy-haired genius with barely a foot between us. I reached out to comb through his locks, the webbing of my hands catching the tangled curls. “You need to shower greasehead.”  

“Actually, the buildup of sebum and laloin in the gland of the hair follicles—coined as the sebaceous gland—offers moisture and protection, given that it is regulated upon its natural equilibrium.” Spencer leaned into the soft touch of my fingers, like how a kitten purrs against their owner’s affection.  

“Well, I don’t know about you almost-birthday-boy, but I don’t think you want to go into the next chapter of your life smelling like you just changed out of your first diaper.” I pushed myself up the couch, gesturing Spencer to the hallway bathroom. “This is the big 31!”  

“Y/N, we had a party for my 30th. I think I’m good to last for the decade,” he huffed, walking towards his bedroom to grab a change of clothes.  

“That’s not the spirit, Dr. Reid!” I yelled across the room. “I swear Spence, you’re the only person who’d turn down a party... And, you even turned down Rossi’s invitation to go all out in his backyard.”

“Another year to celebrate the ever-closing gap between my time on earth and my imminent demise—oh, and how can I forget celebrating it in an open space full of ticks and pollen,” Spencer sarcastically jested, his voice bouncing off the thin white walls.  

“At least you’d know your soulmate, right? Then I wouldn’t be the only one to deal with your ‘Debby Downer’ ass,” I added on, rolling my eyes at his usual pessimistic rulings.  

“I would prefer nihilistic, but if that vernacular serves you then to each their own.”

“Hey, maybe after you die, I and your soulmate can mourn over you—bond and all that—and then I can steal them away,” I teased.  

I looked to the lightning bolts etched into the crevices of my thighs, my fingertips tracing each design until it fell onto the carved words at my hip. In a way, the stretch marks made beautiful vines attached to the faded letters, covering the obvious red scratch marks that had resurfaced from my bad habits.  

I kissed my fingertips before planting them back onto the markings, chuckling to myself of the intimate gesture. Unconsciously, I began to rub at the tattooed words once again, hating how their protrusion made my skin crawl.  

“I mean I’m dead, what can I really do?” Spencer called out, stopping in his tracks when he reached the bathroom door. He faced me as he spoke, going on about his birthday celebration tomorrow—half of his speech unheard to me—until he requested my immediate attention. “You have to stop picking at the words, Y/N. You’re going to end up hurting yourself.”  

“I know, I know,” I sighed, letting my dominant hand fall to my side. A pout fell on my lips at the loss of the small satisfaction scratching granted me. “But the words are just so uncomfortable sometimes. I mean you got lucky with the whole soulmate placement.”  

Spencer brought his free hand to his chest, thumb tracing over the small words typed on the skin. “Yeah, I guess I did get lucky huh.” A soft smile grazed over his lips while his eyes were still trained on the unknowing figure resting against the couch.  

“What does your marking read aga-”  

“Spence, what’s it say on your che-”  

I groaned in playful disbelief at the coincidental timing. “You know at this point I’m starting to think we’re telepathic, Spencer.”  

“That’s actually what my tattoo is,” he laughed. “It’s my name.”  

“Oh yeah,” I nodded, remembering the first time we brought it up in the early days of meeting one another. “Must’ve saved a lot of name tags in elementary school” I teased.  

Spencer shook his head, shuffling into the bathroom with a lightness in his steps. With the closing of the door, my gaze fell onto the marking once again. 

 Regardless of the mechanics of soulmates, I was never worried about the possibility of not meeting them. I was already at my happiest knowing shared moments like these were good enough. However, unbeknownst to my ideal wishes, an irking desire still lingered in the back of my head while fingers hovered over the imperfect skin.  

October 28th

1 day before

“Kid, you can’t sit there and tell me that finding your soulmate can be ‘scientifically extrapolated.’ That’s not the point,” Morgan amusingly shook his head at Spencer, ruffling the top of his head as he brushed past him.  

“Okay,” Spencer tutted, “tell me. What ‘is’ the point then?”

“Well, all I’m saying is that finding your soulmate—if you have one—is supposed to come supernaturally.”

“Morgan, did you just try to win over boy genius here by talking about the supernatural?” With a tilted smirk, I nursed the half-filled flute between my fingertips. My gaze flickered over to a pleased brainiac sharing the same mischievous glint found in my eyes. I let my head fall back against the couch cushions, my eyes fluttering close to the sound of grown children bickering. 

 “Alright,” Morgan raised his hands up in defense. “All I was pointing out was that things like these can’t be solved by numbers and science.”  

“The same can be said about Newtonian physics, but look where we a-”  

Morgan flung a ball of crinkled wrapping paper Spencer’s way, aiming for his head. Spencer attempted to dodge the projectile—emphasis on attempted—only to have it hit him square in the face.  

“So much for those Newtonian physics, huh?” I teased while getting up to open another bottle of champagne. Spencer slouched in his chair, the paper cone hat on his head shifting to the side. A grimace replaced the smirk he initially wore, muttering about how he was going to get Morgan back.  

“Y/N! Bring that bottle over here when you’re done.” Morgan called out as I walked into the kitchen, pausing the ongoing discussion of the case we planned to tackle. “Also, bring another juice box for Reid here!”  

A chorus of laughter followed my ears which each step, a grin finding the corners of my lips. I rose to the tips of my toes to reach for the unopened bottle in the alcohol cabinet. I made my way to the freezer, taking out the bucket of ice I stored away hours ago. When closing the appliance door, my eyes landed on a picture magnetized to the surface.  

It was a physical reminder of the time that Spencer convinced me to dress up as Amy Pond, the eleventh doctor’s sidekick, for comic con. He too was dressed up in the doctor’s attire: a brown corduroy suit, a bowtie, and a sonic screwdriver. We both had silly grins planted on our faces, it seemed like nothing could tear down the joyous bubble we were in. Upon reflecting on the memory, the kitchen door swung open revealing a merry Spencer.  

“Hey, I was supposed to be getting you that juice box,” I joked.  

Spencer shook his head, pushing past me to get to the cupboard. “Very funny,” he droned, sarcasm dripping off his words. I leaned against the counter, setting the bucket of ice to the side. I analyzed his movements, noticing how often he fidgeted with his fingers or how his legs would clumsily turn inward at times.  

“You know,” he paused, turning around to face me, “In some countries ruled by military dictatorship, staring could be deemed as a call for execution.”  

I crossed my arms, challenging him. “Well last time I checked; we aren’t in any of those countries. Is that right, Dr. Reid?”  

“Unfortunately,” he chuckled. “Did you need anything?”  

“No, why do you ask?”  

“Well, by the way you were checking me out, I would think you needed something.” He sauntered over to the opposite counter across the kitchen, hoisting himself up on the granite. I watched as the casual smirk fell off his face after failing his initial attempt to sit. The second attempt proved to be better, although that didn’t stop me from rolling my eyes at his impotence.  

“You know,” I repeated his words, grabbing the champagne and ice bucket as I began to stroll out of the room. “I’m really starting to think you have a better chance at ‘extrapolating’ your soulmate rather than finding them.”  

“Wait!”  

I whipped around to face him with furrowed eyebrows. I nodded for him to continue, watching as a sly expression reappeared on his face. “You forgot my juice.”  

I sighed, setting the items back down on the counter before reaching for the fridge. “You are a grown man, Spence,” I gesticulated at the boy. I grabbed Spencer’s favorite sparkling water and left it aside. “You couldn’t get your own?” I raised my eyebrows at him, ducking out of the refrigerator door.  

He crossed his legs, still propped up on the counter. “Well, you did call me a five-year-old and it is my birthday,” he argued, shrugging his shoulders tauntingly.  

“I said that the other day, and considering it’s your birthday, that would mean you’d be old enough to conduct yourself,” I countered.  

“Actually, it’s grammatically inappropriate to say, ‘the other day’ when the event in question occurred yesterday,” he began to ramble. With an unimpressed nod, I began to slowly back away from the scene until I was abruptly stopped once again.  

“Wait!”  

“What!”

“You forgot to put it in a cup,” he meekly suggested, his face evident of mischief.  

“You’re clearly enjoying this aren’t you?” I groaned, shuffling towards where he was. “I’ll give you something to enjoy...” I whispered to myself.  

With a plan set in motion, I sauntered over to where Spencer sat. Once I was in front of him, I made sure to give no indication that I was moving beside him. Instead, I leaned forward, letting our chests press together as I reached up for a mug. I would be lying if I denied the faint blush warming up the apples of my cheeks or the tightness of my throat from this proximity. In a nervous hash, I could’ve sworn hearing Spencer’s breath hitch as my chin brushed against his neck.  

Feigning a confident disposition, I dropped back to the heels of my feet, finding myself to be inches away from the enamored and naive genius. “You need this?” I murmured, trying to maintain a collected tone of voice. However, Spencer did make it difficult with the intensity of his penetrating gaze or the way his breath fanned over my sensitive skin.  

For a lasting moment, I began to dissect the small specks of hazel hues in his eyes and how a dark pool of brown surrounded his irises. The tip of his nose was flushed in crimson and his mouth hung in what seemed like anticipation and hesitation battling it out. “Uh, yeah... thank you.” His Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped, linking his fingers with mine to take the mug.  

Without breaking eye contact, he set the mug aside and away from view. I opened my mouth to say something, but I soon discovered a dessert residing in the back of my throat. Slowly my composure unraveled, leaving me and Spencer in a purgatory of uncertainty and elation. I heard my heart thump against the walls of my ribcage as my eyes traveled to the parting of his lips, his tongue ever so often swiping against the skin.  

I shook my head out of the trance we were in, popping the hypnotic bubble forming around us. With a trepidatious smile, I gestured to the living room, suggesting going back out there. “Do you want to...” I tied my hands behind my back, stepping away from him slowly. He nodded in response; his mouth tightly pressed into an awkward line.  

With less than obvious movements, we both tiptoed our way back to the liveliness of the other room, soon forgetting about the juice and cup all together.  

-

“Bye guys, thank you for coming! See you tomorrow.” I politely bid everyone a farewell, sending them safe wishes home as they excited through the front door. “Pen, are you coming with us tomorrow?” I received a tipsy nod and a few stumbling feet, but nonetheless confirmation for the case. Spencer was to the left of me doing the same, enduring some last-minute birthday teasing from Morgan before he made his exit.  

With the slow creaking of the door, I leaned against the wood, letting my legs slowly slip down the floor until I was sitting. I tilted my head up, staring at an exhausted Spencer before making grabby hands at him. He snorted at the childlike request, aggressively pulling at my wrists until I landed into his chest.  

“Alright birthday boy, just because you’re older doesn't mean you can get all strong on me,” I warned, nuzzling my heavy head onto his shoulder. A pleasant silence surrounded us, our bodies maintaining an equal balance as we leaned onto each other. On another note, it reminded me of Newton’s principle of force that Spencer explained to me a few months back. How Newton’s cradle, a simple office trinket, exemplified conservation of momentum and energy. In this fragment of space, it felt like that with Spencer—it always felt like that: a comfortable momentum.  

“Hey Spence?”  

The quiet continued to spread throughout the atmosphere.

“Spencer?” I pressed my chin against his chest, feeling his arms find their way to my lower back. He hummed in response, his eyelids resting at a closed position. “I’m sorry about that thing in the kitchen... I was just messing around.”

  He took a while to react before sighing and pressing a tired kiss to the side of my head; with that, I knew things were okay. “Oh! I didn’t give you your present yet.”  

I melted away from his arms, scurrying off to the couch. In an exaggerated reveal, I pulled a small parcel from beneath the cushions, glee filling my eyes as I watched the bow on top spring out. I extended my arms towards Spencer, eager to have him open it.  

He walked tentatively towards me, taking purposefully leisurely strides. At one point he began to act like he was in a slow-motion sequence, causing me to threaten the integrity of his present. With raised hands, he sat next to me on the couch and gently pried the gift from my hands. “What did you get me this time? Let me guess. From the size and shape of his package here,” he turned the box around in his hands, shaking it up, “and the sound to force ratio-”  

“Just open the damn thing, Spence.”

He smiled at my usual impatience, letting his fingers glide against the edge of the parcel. Finally, with gentle hands, he picked apart the wrapping paper, careful not to rip the heart sticker that held the presentation together. He gathered the bow in his palm, and gently pressed the sticky side of the accessory to my cheek.  

I cringed at the feeling, but that soon dissipated hearing the mollified chuckle escape Spencer’s mouth. With a determined huff, Spencer pulled the last pieces of wrapping paper from the box and was left with a frayed book in his palm.  

“The Parliment of Foweles...” he whispered; an unreadable expression crossed his features.  

I curled into my own body, anticipating some form of reaction. “I... I remember you told me the first time we really sat down and got to know each other that your mom used to read that to you when you were younger.” I picked at the stitches on the couch, a lump forming in my esophagus as my tongue swelled. “It’s first edition...” I smiled, insecurity beginning to conquer my excitement from before.  

“Sorry, if you don’t like it... I was just-”  

A pair of arms pulled me into a secure embrace while a tender hand came around to cup the back of my head. An inaudible expression of gratitude was lost in between babbles of endearment and soft caresses. Spencer pulled away with pools of adoration, he clutched the book in hand as he pulled me under his arm. He ran his thumb along the deckles that adorned the sides of the pages, his palm tenderly feeling the roughness of the old woven spine.

To open the book, he singled out a random page and lightly flicked a few pages to the side before I halted his movements completely. “Wait!” I requested. “I want you to read it after the case so we can do it together,” I sheepishly tucked a hair behind his ear, hiding the careful blush on my cheeks. “If that’s okay with you.”  

“Yeah...that’s fine with me,” he breathed, his eyes locked onto the soft curves of my face. I pulled my hand away, tugging my sleeve further down my arm. “Oh! That reminds me.” Spencer places the book behind him and headed over the coat rack next to the front door. Sliding his hands through various pockets, he finally pulled a small box from one of the compartments.  

He tentatively approached me, turning the object in hand. “I know it’s my birthday, but... I wanted to do something because you’ve made everything better in these past years,” he confessed, fidgeting as he came closer. “Being with my mother always felt like home, and I just... you became that for me, so thank you.”  

My fingers reached over to his open palm, approaching the velvet box as if it was fragile. I glazed over its general shape, turning it a few times between my hands. “Spencer...I don’t even know what to say.”  

“Well, you can start by opening it,” he smiled.  

I shook my head, gently prying the box open. Inside laid a beautiful heart-shaped necklace with words etched into the metal. Once I read the words, a heavy breath escaped my lungs, and my shoulders lost all tension. “Spencer...”

  “I thought that it would be easier to have the words of your soulmate above your heart rather than you tracing over your hip,” he professed. “I also know that even if you deny not having any connection to this soulmate thing, it often brings you comfort when needed.”  

My attention went to him the second he uttered those words. “How did you know,” I mumbled with an enamored chuckle.  

“Well, whenever we’re in the field, I could tell the times you get nervous or need reassurance by the way you subtly touch your hip.”  

“I thought staring was punishable by death,” I joked, referring to his argument earlier today.  

He brushed it off with a wide smile, combing his hands through his hair. “I know we have a hefty case tomorrow based on what Penelope showed us last briefing, so I hoped that this would make you feel better,” he confessed, shrugging his shoulders and leaning back into the arm of the couch.  

“Thank you, Spencer...really,” I wrapped my arms above my head, trying to attach the unlocked chain around my neck. “Can you...?”  

With gracious hands, he lifted the chain from my fingertips and wrapped it around my neck. The skin of his fingers would occasionally brush the back of my neck, sending euphoric chills down my spine. I felt myself squirm under his touch slightly, although it wasn’t enough to be obvious. Lifting my hair to the side with his wrist, he clasped the necklace together, letting the cold metal kiss the skin.  

I turned around, appreciating the trinket in my hands. I shook my head in disbelief, watching as some of the moonlight that seeped through the window reflected off the metal. “Thank you, again, Spencer.” I nodded, bringing him into a meaningful embrace. My head rested in the crook of his neck, an aroma of pine, vanilla, and old books surrounding us. “This really is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever possessed.”  

He scoffed, gently wrapping his hands around the small of my back. “Everything pales in comparison to you.”  

-

October 29th

...

I twirled the metal heart in between my fingers as Hotch’s words failed to reach my ears. I would look up occasionally to see the pictures, but we’ve been dealing with an unsub who showed no mercy to anything morally reprehensible. I sighed, swinging my feet under me as I pretended to be enveloped by the case file in my other hand.  

“Since we’re dealing with a L.D.S.K-”  

“A long-distance serial killer,” Emily intercepted, nodding towards the team.  

“We’ll have SWAT patrol the surrounding rooftops. Emily and I will stay with the defense team here.” Hotch pointed to the house of the unsub’s target. “Morgan, Y/N, and Reid will go through the floors of the apartment building with the strike team—witnesses stated that he was located on the 5th floor, but we have to be ready for anything.”  

I looked over to Morgan with a determined expression. His face hardened at the words and his lips was pressed into a tight line. In my peripheral, I could see the way his veins would constrict against the skin as he clenched his fists.  

This case hit him particularly hard considering we couldn’t save the unsub’s last victim. It was a 4-year-old little girl, and we were misinformed about her possible location. By the time we got to her, she was faced down into a park well with a single bullet hole above her heart. I watched the slow diffusion of her blood, and how the water turned to a murky black. I couldn’t imagine Morgan’s guilt considering he was so sure of himself when reaching a breakthrough with the unsub’s whereabouts. The parents of the child would soon blame Morgan for his ignorance, spewing derogatory slurs in their distress.  

“We’ll get him Hotch,” Morgan assured, “This time, we’ll get him.”  

Spencer noticed the certitude in his voice, sharing a look with me to give extra attention to Morgan out in the field. I smiled at him, warmed at the concern that the genius had over his friend.  

“I’ll be working with local PD to hold a press conference to keep the public on the lookout,” JJ expressed, crossing her arms.

“Since...last time, we figured that unsub finds enjoyment in toying with us or singling us out. So, keep each other in check and make sure to report back in your earpieces every five minutes.” Hotch himself seemed perturbed by the unsub’s earlier actions considering he had his own toddler to deal with. “Penelope has sent the coordinates to everyone. Remember the profile, and don’t leave yourselves vulnerable. We’re dealing with an elusive unsub that won’t stop at nothing to satisfy himself,” Hotch spoke with a quiver in his voice.

  I bit the inside of my cheek and breathed heavily through my mouth. My hands began to drift to my hip but momentarily stopped as I remembered the chain around my neck. I slumped into the chair as Hotch dismissed the team, sending them out for their respective assignments.  

“You, okay?” I whipped around to the sound of JJ’s voice. She leaned against the doorframe with an expression full of concern. Looking behind her, she noticed Spencer noticeably pacing through the bullpen waiting for a specific someone. He attempted to disguise his eagerness by counting tiles on the floor or squares on the ceiling, but to JJ he was easily discernable.  

I let a dry laugh, shaking my head. “After what happened, I’m a bit worried—not about me—but Morgan and Spence.” I swiveled around in the office chair a few times until I landed in front of JJ.  

“You know you fidget the same way as Spence,” she pointed out, grinning at the similarity. I shook off the oncoming warmth that flooded the skin and looked elsewhere. “You’re right to worry about both of them though. But you know how stubborn and determined they are.” As she began to walk out, she left a lingering message that soothed my nerves. “Plus, Spencer may have that IQ of his, but we all know runs things between you all.”  

She wasn’t wrong. I’ve always kept a watchful eye over the both of them—maybe Spencer a little more—but nonetheless, I deeply cared about both of them. It was relieving to know that Spencer’s circle of trust exponentially grew from Morgan to JJ to me. It symbolized the growth that Spencer was mostly oblivious to, but it meant more to me than I can explain, seeing how he opened himself up to happier possibilities.  

A sharp exhale left my lungs while my lips formed into a sly smirk. Without another minute to wait, I left the round table behind JJ, leaving Spencer to stop dawdling. “You ready genius?” I walked out into the hall, not sparing a glance at the figure trailing behind me.

“With you? Always.”  

-

“Nothing here,” a voice confirmed in my earpiece. My gun hung low in my hands while I tiptoed through the floor of the apartment building. “You know Y/N, if I knew that the unsub was going to the pick a building in the area we resided in, maybe I would’ve considered having the party at Rossi’s instead,” Spencer joked.  

I bit the smile growing on my lips, focusing on the assignment on hand.  

“Maybe after the case, instead of reading that book in our apartment we can go over to that small library/cafe we’ve been meaning to go to,” he continued to drone, forgetting about the connection of everyone’s channels.  

“Reid, if all you’re gonna do is flirt with Y/N, leave the damn channel,” Morgan warned. Hearing the worry in his tone, Spencer straightened up, coughing to cover up his soft apology. Being separated didn’t help the irrational thoughts that built up in the back of my conscience; I can’t even comprehend what’s probably going through Morgan’s head.  

“You good?” I mumbled into the com; my eyes straightforward while I advanced towards the hall. Morgan didn’t respond, an inaudible huff coming through the speakers.  

“I’m moving up to the top floor. Y/N and Reid, go back down to the basement and see if we missed anything,” Morgan broke the awkward silence with an austerity in his words. The silent hum that came afterwards was worse than earlier. I turned off my earpiece, sensing a conversation about to ensue between the two gentlemen.

The thickness in the atmosphere was similar to the air that surrounded me and Spencer when competing in recreational chess. Whenever I attempted to put his king in check, he would block the move by maneuvering another piece in front of it. This would lead to a game of cat and mouse until I would figure out that the entire time, Spencer had been deluding me into false security while checking my king piece. Ultimately, I would lose to Spencer. However, there were games where I’d outmaneuver him or win by dumb luck.  

I’d like to think that I developed some sort of intuition for his behavior from playing against him, but he’s deemed unpredictable every game. He was always sharp, eight steps ahead and aware of all possibilities. I guess that’s what make him an effective profiler, always thinking in the future.

I ran down the stairs, still armed, when Penelope’s voice ran through the earpiece. “Updates! Updates people.” The joy in her voice always relived me of the gloom that usually surrounded me in the field; hopefully she has the same effect on Morgan.  

“Hey, Pen.” An invisible grin was evident in my words, knowing she’d pick up on it.  

“Hello, my love, seems like at least one person is happy to see me,” she verbally jabbed at the lack of response from Spence and Morgan.  

Still no response.  

“Sorry, they’re working out their marriage at the moment,” I teased, hoping for the usual distasteful comment I usually get from Morgan.  

Still nothing.  

An unnerving feeling crept up the back of my neck. “Penelope, can you check if their coms are still workin—shit.” Before I could finish, a long buzz of static came through the speakers. The only comprehensible words that were picked up was the beginning of my name before cutting off.  

I bit my lip, pulling out the small piece of technology and tapping it a few times. “Come on... dammit.” After playing around with the earpiece, I grew frustrated with it and stuffed it into my pocket.  

I paced in the small landing between the stairs, thinking of a new gameplan. I ran my fingers through the ends of my hair, feeling the split ends prick at the skin. I felt a mountain growing in at the bottom of my stomach, leaving my esophagus constricted without air. “What would Spencer do,” I mumbled to myself, gripping onto my necklace.  

“Spencer...Spencer...”  

Before I could finish the mantra, a shot rang out from above me, and the crashing off glass followed. In the split moment, my legs grew a mind of its own and sprinted to higher ground. Suddenly, the sweat perspiring off me turned cold, and my heartbeat slammed itself into my spinal cord as I ran. My feet forgot its exhaustion while my mind devoured every irrational thought, and combined it with adrenaline.  

The single thing that drove me over my limits was knowing that the person who fabricated and would shoo away these thoughts was somewhere I didn’t know I could get to in time.  

-

Spencer’s POV

I tiptoed into a vacant suite of the building, still antsy about the scolding I received from Morgan. The conversation after didn’t help considering it was all a reminder to be aware and focused on the task at hand. I knew Morgan was filled with the need for redemption despite the team forgiving him of his ignorance. So, I shook off the creeping feeling and abided by his instructions.  

Deciding to update Y/N and Morgan about my whereabouts, I spoke into the coms only to have static come out of it. I tried once again but failed to reach anyone. The room around me shrank as a sharp exhale left my lungs. I swallowed the buildup of saliva in the back of my throat, feeling uneasy about not knowing what’s to come.  

Seeing at the area was clear, I looked out of one of the windows. Initially I cringed at the accumulated dirt and grime in the glass panes, but that all dissipated when I spotted the quaint park that Y/N loved. No one else had any interest in the community lot, seeing as people would coin it—or what Y/N would tell me—the park of death. But to her, she saw the opposite as she always does.  

The light feeling of reminiscing my interactions with Y/N soothed the disconcerting atmosphere, keeping me grounded. Although the sentiment ended as soon as it started when I spotted one of the apartment walls was spray-painted with black letters.  

Zugzwang

A blaring shot rang out and glass shattered into the room. I ducked into the floor, shutting my eyes. My head spun as the boom impaired my hearing. The window was forcibly open, the shards resting beside me. Left disoriented, I groaned, only feeling the after wave of vibrations on the ground. However, I soon found out that the quake of the floor wasn’t from the initial shot, but the rapid clobbering of feet inching closer to the suite and a shadowy figure preceding it.  

Y/N emerged from the doorframe, panting. Eyes were laced in fear while they bore into my own. My stomach twisted into knots from previous events while I contemplated what had occurred. The presence of Y/N wasn’t even strong enough to relinquish the egging feeling crawling in my skin. I anticipated Morgan to appear, considering he was closer to the scene.

Where was he?

Another thing I didn’t anticipate, a second shot.  

“Spencer?”  

-

January 3rd

Three months after

My thoughts antagonized one another while I stared out into the world from the eerily quiet apartment. The living room was cold and empty despite the array of furniture scattered about and the broken picture frames lining the walls. The vapor rising from the cup of tea drifted into the air, vanishing into nonexistence. It’s funny how that could happen in a matter of milliseconds.  

The pain the lived inside the chambers of my heart was no match for the burning of skin I felt when holding onto the steaming cup. The only worthy adversary would be the rush of self-resentment that coursed through me when picking up the book. I deserved it though. I deserved the spikes through my stomach while my fingers trailed the deckled pages, reminding me of the first time I held the book, its previous owner present with me.

I would remember our time together.  

I would remember the promise shared between us.  

I would remember the bloodied handprint pressed against my chest.

Now all I had was the physical manifestation of what’s left: the necklace. As cruel as it was for me, I kept it in the book, using it as a bookmark while I lost myself into poems. After a while, the inked words lost their meaning to me, becoming an empty cacophony that encased the jewelry.

Every time I grasped the chain in my clutches, a numbed ache would make itself known at the pit of my stomach. It clawed at my intestines and made the entirety of my body system obsolete. With that, I was abandoned with the sinister hauntings of my own mind—a part of me that I was once praised for. 

 A genius. A prodigy. Hidden behind the real mess of a guilty man.  

I ignored the smashed chess board and pieces that laid still at my feet, concentrating on the snowflakes that littered the park across from the building. The grounds looked beautiful, covered in layers of pure white. I sipped at the tea once more letting my mind deteriorate with a sophisticated nonchalance. 

 What a tragedy it was to know my soulmate, especially right under the tip of my nose. What a cruel joke life had played.  

I wished I had more time.  

It was easier to let the guilt consume me rather than pondering on what I lost—who I lost. Had I lost myself too? Maybe, it didn’t matter. In some masochistic way, I enjoyed the guilt because it was a way to remember that at one point someone made for me existed. I used it to relive the moments I could never get back.  

All that remained was an empty shell of a man, staring out into a dull world, wondering how time took everything away from him.  

-

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[secondhand-trash]

Decadence

A/N: I felt a sudden dash of inspiration at 2am and this is the result lmao

Descrption: Fushiguro Toji was like a cat, came and went as he pleased. It never really provided you with a reason to let him back in each time, yet it had become a habit of yours to leave a window for him in the times he was away. 

Pairing: Fushiguro Toji x reader

Warning: slightly suggestive, if you are reading a toji fic I’m just going to assume you have read the manga, smoking, mentions of drinking, not exactly a happy piece of writing 

Word count: 2620

Playlist:

Cigarettes//Russian Red

-

Sometimes you just laid there and stared at the ceiling after you woke up, the tender rhythm of your breathing echoing back to you through your eardrums reminding you that you were still alive no matter how much it didn’t felt that way.

They said there’s a weight to your soul, but right now you just felt nothing.

There was a special type of letting yourself go called waking up when the sun was shining bright outside, the blinding shine breaking through your cheap curtains. You had just woken up but you wanted to go back to sleep again, yet the heaviness in your head almost alluring to what having a fever felt like forced your eyes awake. 

You had no choice, or rather, no motivation to do anything but stay put right where you were, on the thin mattress that you took from the previous tenant who lived next door (”What?” you clicked your tongue at the above you man who paused as he slammed your back down on the bed, it was not comfortable and he most definitely felt that one spring stabbing at his knee, “it’s free.”). There was a stain at the corner of your tiny room, probably because the kitchen fan forcefully installed on the wall was not doing its job. The greasiness lingered in the air every time you tried to cook anything, making you sick in the stomach when you buried your face on your pillow that was just a few steps away from your stove. 

You gave up cooking soon entirely, it was not like there was anyone you could eat with anyways.

Fushiguro Toji came and went as he pleased, showing up at your door with a few cans of beer and a pack of cigarette whenever he was in the mood like he did not disappear without a word after the last time you saw him.

You didn’t ask where he had been or where was he before he was here at your place, you knew this was why he always came back to you. 

Just like how you never asked him, or yourself for that matter, whether any of this meant a thing.

“Don’t smoke here,” you said with your arms crossed in front of your chest, your back to the door as he tilted his frame to pass through your doorframe that seemed ridiculously small with him under it, “took me days to get rid of the smell last time.”

Sometimes he came every few days, mostly you would see him waiting under the lamp post at the corner of your block every other week. There was one time when you did not see him for a good few years. You were certain he had died, he had business enough people for it to not be a surprise to anyone. You could not say a word when you came back and saw him crouching in front of your door with an unlit cigarette between his teeth, toying the lighter in his palm. He was staring ahead but not focusing on anything, looking so out of place in the middle of the thin corridor of your apartment building.

It was also the one and only time you had felt the urge to ask him if he was okay, you refrained.

instead, you gave his frame a push with your heel. He did not budge, like you did nothing but gave him a tap on his shoulder and looked up. “You look like shit, Zenin.”

Where have you been? You swallowed the words that were so close to the tip of your tongue back down to your stomach together with the knot at the back of your throat.

He only shook his head as he stood up, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and took a breath that would have been a drag. “No,” you had no idea what had gotten into him, “Fushiguro.”

He did not sleep with you that night, but you did let him smoke in your tiny little flat.

To this day, you still had no idea what made him show up at your door again.

“Hm,” you were not sure if he was really answering you when he slummed down at the foot of your mattress. It was a talent how he acted like he had never left, like this was his spot as he leaned back with one palm holding him up and cracking a can of beer open with another. You always had a fascination with how easy he made it look, one crock of his index finger and you could hear the foam rushing out, “you want one?”

The smashed cans were still laying on the small table at the corner of your room. It was your dining table, writing desk and bedside table all at once, you hoped you did not spill anything on it last night. The half-gone pack of cigarettes was next to your bed, the joints sliding off of each other in the stack it was in. 

There was an ashtray next to it and it was really just a centerpiece when Toji was not here. You had refused to get one for the longest time, but gave in after you realised the only difference it would make was that the burnt out tobacco would be in your kitchen sink or somewhere it should be. The one he had lit up when he finally crawled off of your tired body begrudgingly was roughly put out on the glass, bent into half and somewhat intact.

Shamefully, you did not have nearly as much distaste for his addiction as much as you protested it. You could not deny that it was a picture when he leaned against the only window in your flat, his back to you in all his glory as the spark lit up and cast a warm glow to your ceiling. He sounded calm when he took the first drag, a soft hum following the inhale as white smoke blended into the dark of the Tokyo sky. It was never really quiet out there, and sometimes you would hear the cars running by the highway at a distance or the people with a home they refused to return to shouting down the streets. All with the swirls coming out of his lips, his shoulder easing down slowly with each puff.

Sometimes you wondered if you should be like the girls you saw in films, reaching out for the brooding man looking out their window and ask them to come back to bed sweetly. Perhaps you should act more lovable, like someone that would giggle into their lover’s chest when they did come back with a gruff.

The thought made your skin crawl, and you turned to your side until you could not see his frame before poking your tongue out in disgust.

That was not the way things worked with you two.

You had no idea what time it was but you guessed that it could not be early. The shadow that cut diagonally on the wall had already gotten defined, the sharp black border moving slowly across the oxidized wallpaper. Occasionally, in midst of the silence, you could it each time a train drove in and out of the station. The railway being near your apartment was the only thing good about it, but it also meant that each click on the tracks pounded into your ear like piles driving into your brain.

Tuk. Tuk. Tuk.

The room was starting to feel stuffy and hot, the body next to yours on your crowded mattress did not help at all. Toji usually left first thing in the morning, either that or he would not stay the night at all. You could not remember when was the last time you woke up next to him, but it was almost always followed by a long period of him being out of your sight. The thin blanket felt tiny trying to cover his large frame, the fabric pulled taut with you refusing to give up on it. It was your blanket on your bed in your house, who was he to hog it? 

You felt the temptation to reach out and trace the faded cut slashed down his lips with them parted just slightly, a rare serenity on his face. His lashes were long, that was another thing you had picked up on as you just watched. You could imagine him to be a beautiful man, before the scares and the scrawl and the smell of smoke lingering in his breath.

Fushiguro Toji was like a cat, came and went as he pleased. It never really provided you with a reason to let him back in each time, yet it had become a habit of yours to leave a window for him in the times he was away. Do not ask where he had been, the only thing you would get is your own reflection in his eyes. He was not your cat, never. You doubted that strays could truly adapt to domesticity.

Or rather, you never had the guts to see what would happen if you trap them down.

Instead, you watched, watched as the cat elegantly yawned and stretched its limbs out like the tyrant it was.

The blanket slid off his chest when he moved, showing you the many scars littering all over his skin. Scratches did nothing compared to all the other ones that darted over his frame like badges, you gave up trying to leave a trace anywhere on him a long time ago. One hook of your leg around his waist caught his attention and he yanked you by the arm to place you on his chest, not forgetting to slide his palm down your waist under he was cupping the swell of your hips.

‘Tsk’, you wanted to snicker, ‘skillful.’

“You wanna fuck again?” he quirked one eyebrow up, his tone sounding more like a question than an invite by any means.

“Huh...” the nasal in your voice was apparent as you laid your head on his firm muscles. 

And it was not like you had never wanted to make him stay past the few moments he was with you in the rare hours of daylight you spent together, you were just certain things would get messy whether he did as you asked or not.

Afternoons in bed were lazy, slow, sticky and hard to peel your hands away.

That just wasn’t what this was supposed to be.

“Don’t you have anywhere to be?” you asked, as always.

“I do, actually.” 

You lifted your head to look at him in, “But the horse races are not open today.”

He gave your ass a slap, and you gasped before trying to hit him back.

“Surprise, surprise, I’m working again,” the corner of his lips tugged up into a lazy smirk at your irritation, “someone contacted me, I’m going to see what they are offering today.”

You blinked.

“Are you taking it?” you asked, carefully.

He shrugged, before giving where he smacked down a condescending pat before sliding you off of him. 

“Who knows,” he rolled his arms back, the defined edges of his biceps flexing as he cracked his neck, “depends on how much they are paying me.”

So he would be gone for god knows how long again, lovely. You gave yourself a subtle nod of acknowledgement at how you saw this coming. 

He strode to the side to pick up his clothes that were littered across the floor, and your gaze followed him as he went to your table last.

If he was just a regular man you happened to bring home, you would roll your eyes at him for not at least shoving the beer cans into the trash as he took his shirt from the pile.

You tucked your arm under your pillow as you watched his fingers took one out of the box swiftly, feeling your body sink down the ill-quality mattress.

It was always at this point that the rush to ask him to stay would surface. But you would never try to do that, obviously.

‘When will I see you again?’ you were almost tempted to ask when he had one hand on the doorknob, but you weren’t sure if this was something he could give you an answer to.

So you said what you always say when he was about to disappear from your life again, with a smile as you bury your face deeper into your pillow.

“Try not to die.”

-

There was a daunting feeling that this was it. 

But again, the thought always plagued you during these blank periods.

Something at the back of your head told you that something went wrong. Maybe he died, you savoured the taste of these words on your tongue as you laid flat on your bed. After all, no one could say it was a surprise if he truly got killed on the job out there. He never really told you too much about what he did for a living. You figured out the gambling part on your own, and the scars on his skin warned you against asking further. 

Your relationship, if there ever was one, relied heavily on neither of you caring about each other enough to want to know more than the way he liked you to take his shirt off for him and the spot behind your ear was sensitive. There was a moment when you wondered if you had, or ever was in love with Fushiguro Toji. Back when he was still Zenin Toji, or when you felt the drop of your heart as he casually told you the change in his family name. 

It would be a travesty if you did.

The pack of cigarettes he forgot to take with him was still laying exactly where he left it, together with the lighter that was tugged into the cap. You had never smoked, one thing that he always made fun of you for. You did not like the smell and could barely imagine what it tasted like. 

You only liked it when you were the one watching him do it.

The tiny stick felt strange on between the pads of your finger, and you awkwardly mimicked the way you had seen him do it all these times. A forceful shove of the window sent a current of wind into your flat, the breeze tickling your cheek as you let your head fell back and took a deep breath.

Like someone waiting for their cat to come home.

Your body hung out of the window with one arm on the frame. The lighter did not work until the third click, and you stared as the end of the cigarette slowly started to glow under the flame.

The pungent smell made you furrow your eyebrows together and you clicked your tongue. The sun was starting to sink in a distance and the white smoke was all the more visible under the bright orange sun. You lifted your hand up to the sun, and tipped it like you would at a toast.

This was for you.

One inhale sent you coughing, and your eyes teared up at the unfamiliar sting at the back of your throat.

“Fucking hell,” you hissed, slamming down on the window frame as you sucked in a deep breath to wash the feeling away.

If he ever showed up again, you thought to yourself as you violently put off the cigarette on the ashtray, you were definitely questioning him what was so good about this.

-

You did not see him for a long, long time after that.