#and i have been stuck on the last 200 pages for like a MONTH what is wrong w meeeeeeeee

[moss-hearted]

on god i will finish my reread of the goldfinch soon i promise i love this book my brain just refuses to go into Reading Mode

[v171]

My year in books, 2023

2023 was a pretty good year as far as reading went. Was my lowest reading year for the past three years with the goal of finishing 40 books, and ending up finishing 45 (finished 50 last year), but that's okay. This happened to be a very good video gaming year, so reading took the backseat a bit. Watch me nerd out about my book stats below!

I like crunching some basic metrics around my reading each year, mixing some stuff from Goodreads, TheStoryGraph, and some of my own calculations. Let's start with the basics.

God The Priory of the Orange Tree was the first book I read last year, and it feels like forever ago. I really did try to get to the prequel this year, but it fell through the cracks!

Otessa Moshfegh has quickly become one of my favorite authors. I can't wait to read her entire backlog of works. And of course I stan Ann Leckie, I'll always read whatever she puts out. Was so thankful to get to read an advance copy of a short story collection she has coming out.

Man I read a lot of sci fi this year. Usually sci fi and fantasy are a bit more balanced, but I read some really good sci fi this year, so I was stuck on it. Notably, I didn't read any nonfiction, romance, or thrillers the whole year. I usually get a couple of those in.

My book ratings look pretty good for 2023, lots of 4 stars and few 2s and 3s. Standard disclaimer, I usually stop reading books that I really don't like, so I generally don't have many one-star reviews because I just stop reading them and I don't rate books that I don't finish.

This is interesting, because in previous years, I didn't really read any ebooks ever. What changed this year was that I got on Netgalley, a site where you can read advance copies of books to provide feedback to publishers before the books release, and they generally provide an ebook for you to read. Extra surprising that I read more that way than audiobooks, which have been on a slow decline given the fact that I don't do a ton of activities that can be paired with listening to a book these days.

I read at least one science fiction book for six months out of the year. Actually pretty surprised to see so much Historical Fiction on here as well as I don't really like that genre.

Damn, I sound like a broken record, but this makes it clear how much I really enjoyed science fiction 13 of the 16 sci fi books I read got a 4 or 5 star. Surprising to see that contemporary fiction got mainly middling ratings, that's generally my second favorite genre. I know I read a lot of fantasy, but I don't actually tend to love a lot of it lol. But this looks like a successful fantasy year as far as ratings go.

Man, 100-200 page books had it rough this year. This is interesting to me, I think the 300-400 range is my ideal, and while it had a similar number of 4/5 star ratings as the 400-500 range, it obviously had some duds in there too. But I'm surprised to see how much I seemed to enjoy the really long books, usually I start to get pretty bored at the 450 page mark.

This is one of my favorite graphs because it shows the months where I rush to finish short books so I can keep up with my reading goal of the year. July seems to be particularly egregious with reading 5 books but not even reading 1000 pages total. I always start the year with the long books...

This is a new metric for me, I decided to compare my rating of books with their average rating on goodreads to see how much I generally agreed/disagreed with the average. This was honestly probably not the best year to do this as I mentioned before, I read a lot of ARCs (advanced reader copies) meaning they have few to no ratings, so my ratings of them skewed the average quite a bit, throwing this whole thing into question (I didn't record number of ratings so I couldn't put in error bars, and I'm lazy and don't know stats that much). Anyway, in this graph, the size of the bubble indicates the number of books I read at that rating during the year, so you can see the 1 star bubble is small because I didn't read a ton of books I rated 1 star. This is such an interesting pattern though, my 1 star books aren't the lowest average, but they're pretty low, but my 5 star books are definitely the best. But the 2-4 star books are a bit all over the place. I'm interested to see how this will map over time when I throw in some of the previous years in

Anyway, that's all I have. I'm going to bump up my goal back to 50 this year, hopefully I can tackle it. I'm hoping to get involved in some book clubs as well, so I hope that'll keep me honest. I don't think people actually care about these posts, but keep an eye out for some more bookish posts soon as I dive into some of the notable reads of last year. To end, here's all of the books I read in 2023

[biblical-figures]

SELFY games haunting me once more. I need to go outside. Got four games (conpeito, cocoppa, dream stylist, a recreation of dreamselfy called emselfy (original thread with GT))

every few months I get like major into playing cocoppa but the new one that launched in june I've been playing daily for almost a month now lol. Wish I had started when it launched because I've missed a few gacha items, but honestly the gacha rates are really good and it's easy to get currency. Only time will tell if it ends up being as bad as cocoppa is. That game is so bloated and money hungry but I've managed to like never spend any money on it at all lmao. There was an nft blockchain vampire selfy game they made back in 2022 (clawkiss) which lasted like a year.. good riddance, crypto shit is so stupid. I've been playing selfy games for years at this point, like... since elementary school. That's a long time now.

took this from the conpeito files, transparent image for this below

annoyingly I learned that you can't archive twitter pages through wayback, so trying to archive the media tab for the selfy account did not work. I wanted it to.

back to cocoppa... as much as I love the game, it's so much. It's overwhelming how much they have going on at all times, and the load times are also pretty damn slow usually. The events they have include really pretty items, but those are pretty much impossible to get without spending money... I don't think I've ever got higher than 200-300 in ranking? and that was once after like, a LOT of grinding on the game. I didn't touch the app for months afterwards either lol. Once you get to a certain rank, unless you either pay money for shit or are online constantly, you'll either stagnant or lose rank. A new event started a few hours ago and I'm about rank 2000 something but that'll for sure change fast once more people begin the event as well. I'm pretty sure it's impossible to actually get every avatar item in the game without shelling out tons and tons of money (I'm poor as hell and wont spend the money either way). I like avatar dressup games too much to really quit though, so I'm stuck till they eventually die off (please don't)

my super super cute show on the app...

the art is always so pretty I love it so much oh my god I had been writing some of this on my phone and going back to the still open draft tab on laptop deleted so much of what I wrote. ok. ok. ok. ok. ok. ok. fine. Don't multitask.

I'll write more later.

[cleopatras-library]

23 in 2023 Wrap-Up

So I made a list at the beginning of 2023, and did actually try to read most of the books on it! Results were mixed, but I did read a lot of books I'd been meaning to get to for some time, and made peace with many others. I won't be doing the same for this year because I genuinely don't have that many books I plan on reading. So here they all are:

Books that didn't come out this year:

Alecto the Ninth, Tamsyn Muir - I was very optimistic, but there was not in fact an official release date and there is not one now. I did read the new short story though, and it was very good!

Books I didn't start:

De Profundis, Oscar Wilde - Too stressed for something so soul-searching. Maybe this year?

Lord of the Flies, William Golding - I decided I wasn't going to put myself through this one again and let go of all my guilt about it.

War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy - Similarly, I finally came to terms with the fact that I'm not particularly interested in reading War and Peace right now.

Books I didn't finish:

Once & Future, A.R. Capetta & Cory McCarthy - Very YA, the humour was clearly targeted at a younger audience than me.

Cinnamon Toast and the End of the World, Janet E. Cameron - NOT in fact the lighthearted read its cover makes it out to be.

Beirut Hellfire Society, Rawi Hage - Not as interesting as the title.

The Personal Librarian, Marie Benedict & Victoria Christopher Murray - Might have the prose I liked least all year. The authors were telling everything, which made it very heavy-handed.

Station Eleven, Emily St. John Mandel - Too dark for me :) I regret starting this book. The prose was also a bit heavy-handed.

Books I finished that were Bad:

After the Victorians, A. N. Wilson - Written in 2005, and you can tell, because Wilson's opinions are stale as fuck. I can't really trust much of what he wrote because of that, though the chapter on crosswords was interesting.

Der Dunkle Schwarm, Marie Graßhoff - Dystopia with weak worldbuilding, and I found myself noticing plot holes, which isn't something I typically do.

Books I finished that were mediocre:

The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald - 200 pages of Nick feeling uncomfortable and also some commentary on the american dream that has become common knowledge in the intervening century. This book is for someone else.

Ships of the ‘45, John S. Gibson - Exactly what it says on the cover.

Company Town, Madeline Ashby - Interesting worldbuilding, dull mystery plot (why is it that so much interesting fantasy/sci fi gets saddled with the dullest of imaginable mystery plots?)

Books I finished that were good:

Blood Like Fate, Liselle Sambury - I liked this a bit less than the first book, but it was still interesting and unique YA sci fi! The romance was also well-written.

Legendborn, Tracy Deonn - Honestly I was mostly reading this for the (enjoyably) messy love triangle, and I would continue the series if it looked like my preferred pairing was going to become canon.

Worlds of Ink and Shadow, Lena Coakley - Wittier than I remember it being!

Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Truman Capote - Different, but just as good as the movie.

Love After the End, edited by Joshua Whitehead - An interesting short story collection. My thoughts were very much provoked.

The Sentence, Louise Erdrich - Literary fiction I found satisfactory upon reading that has somehow stuck with me over the last few months.

Books I finished that left me Changed:

Nona the Ninth, Tamsyn Muir - AAAAAHHH (highly recommend, this literally changed everything)

The Secret History, Donna Tartt - This book makes me think maybe I should be reading more thrillers? Or at the very least more dark academia, regardless of how cliche it seems for the rest of my personality.

Small Game Hunting at the Local Coward Gun Club, Megan Gail Coles - The best literary fiction I read this year.

In conclusion, go read The Locked Tomb.

[dickwheelie]

sooooooo I wrote a sequel to that love entities jmart post that got pretty popular. all you really need to know is that post mag 200 jon becomes a local cryptid and listens to people's stories about encounters with the entities to help unburden them of some of their fear. please enjoy!

_____________

Just inside the entryway of Old Fishmarket Close, hidden just out of sight of the street, there stands a shrine. It is not an old shrine of weathered stone, nor is it carefully crafted with intricate religious symbols, nor is it static, weighed down by years of collected dust. It is in many ways a living shrine; flowers bloom and wilt at its feet, while above it, against the wall of the Close, piles of paper, photographs, and keepsakes are haphazardly stacked and stuck. The shrine seems to breathe as each day passes, as innumerable and unsung hands replace its flowers and let their offerings crawl up its wall like vines.

The shrine is not marked, but everyone who looks for it, in the shadows of the entryway, knows precisely who it is for.

You arrive that day with only a piece of notebook paper in your hand. Upon it is written a short message, and not an uncommon one to see at the shrine: Thank You. A substitute, of sorts, for the flowers and other gifts that people often leave. You, like many others, are not well off, and you hope that a small note can make up for your lack of material offerings.

As you approach the shrine, a gust of wind whistles through the alleyway and rustles the pages plastered across the length of the wall. You’ve brought no adhesive, so you slip the piece of paper partially beneath a bouquet lying on the stone walkway. It’s relatively fresh, so you hope it won’t be moved anytime soon. You’ve no idea who replaces the flowers, but you suspect it’s never the same person twice. The locals all know about the shrine and the person it’s meant for, and they’ve grown protective of them both.

Dozens of other people have had the same idea before you; the ground is littered with short notes of gratitude. Thank you for listening, says one, transcribed in loving calligraphy, the i’s dotted with hearts. Thank You For Finding Me, Whoever You Are, says another. I rely lik yor hat, says one written in crayon. Another says, You’ll probably never read this, but thank you for hearing my story. There must be hundreds of them, and there are more each time you visit.

You had spent the better part of the morning trying to come up with something more eloquent to write, but you’ve never been great with words. Telling the mysterious person your story had been the only time you’d ever felt as though your words matched your thoughts, that what came out of your mouth was exactly how you felt, and that the person you were talking to understood you fully.

You suppose a thank you is better than nothing, and after one last fond look at the shrine, you turn to go.

A footstep that is not your own echoes down the alleyway. You turn, half-alarmed, but relax at once when you see who it is.

You have only ever seen him once before, about a month ago when you told him your story, but he is difficult to forget; his figure tall and thin, his posture horrendous, his features hidden entirely by a long coat and a wide-brimmed hat. He stands now at the far end of the alleyway, hands clutched before his hunched torso, giving you the distinct impression he’s staring directly at you.

“Um, hello,” you say, haltingly. You’re not quite sure how to address him, but you figure a polite greeting is universal. You gesture at the shrine. “I don’t have, uh, another story or anything. I was just leaving a note for you.”

His hat tips curiously to the side, and he shuffles forward with his cautious gait, peering closer at the shrine. The dark brim of his hat swivels towards you, as though asking a question.

“The shrine,” you say. “I just left a short note. It’s no big thing, I just—I wanted to leave something.”

The words seem to mean nothing to him. He looks at the shrine, then at you, then back at the shrine. He steps a bit closer to it, and reaches out a long-fingered, gloved hand to touch the petals from a bouquet of daffodils. After the briefest of moments, he pulls away again, hands resuming their wringing.

A thought occurs to you. “Do you . . . do you not know what this is?”

He shakes the hat once.

“This is . . . this is for you,” you say, spreading your arms to encompass the garden on the ground and the sea of pages above. “The flowers, the little trinkets, the thank-you letters—it’s for you. From . . . from all of us, who’ve told you our stories. You’ve helped us so much, we wanted to let you know how much we appreciated it. How grateful we are.”

He doesn’t react, and so you reach out and pick out a card, one that says, Talking to you about how scared I was of the dark made me less afraid of it. I sleep better at night because of what you did for me. Thank you, mysterious stranger. Much love, E.M.

“Here,” you say, handing it to him, and he takes it with a shaky glove. The brim of his hat lowers as he reads. "That’s just one of them. There are loads more just like that.” You survey the pile and pick out another. “This one’s from a kid, thanking you for helping their mom . . . And this one’s just a simple thank you note but they did cover it in glitter glue, so, there’s that . . . And this person wanted you to know that their anxiety improved after talking to you . . .”

He takes note after note from you, reading them all, silent and unexpressive as always, but there’s something in his posture that is unbearably human. Somehow it reminds you of how people stand when they hold a baby chick in their hands.

“I can’t believe you didn’t know,” you say, not unkindly. You’re both sitting on the ground now, amidst the bouquets and piles of thank-yous. “Who else would this all be for?”

As he picks up yet another note, a tremor runs through his body. He raises a gloved hand to the shadows beneath the hat, and you watch as two drops of water stain the page in his hand. His chest convulses as more tears fall, his hand moving under the hat to wipe them away, but they keep coming. Still he makes no sound.

You didn’t know he could cry. You don’t know why you’re surprised; he’s strange, certainly, and perhaps not entirely human . . . but he has heard so many horrible things, and human or not, he deserves a chance to cry.

“Are you—are you okay?” you say, not sure what to do.

The hat nods once, and then shakes.

“I . . . I know it’s probably a lot, all at once,” you say, and you reach out to touch his arm. The movement comes naturally, without much thought; you would have done the same for a friend.

He flinches at your touch, and you immediately pull away, but then he relaxes again, and nods. Tears are still falling from the shadows down onto his coat.

You touch his arm again, gently, and he doesn’t move away. “I’m sorry if it’s overwhelming. But we really are grateful, and you have a bad habit of not accepting thanks. This was one of the only ways we could think to . . . to show you.” You take a deep breath, and gaze into the shadows of where his face might be, doing your best to look him in the eye. “We don’t really know who you are, or why you came here, or why you choose to listen to us. But somehow, we know you mean well. I think everyone who’s told their story knows that, me included. That you’re trying to help us, that you want to do good. And you do. We . . . we want you to know that you’ve done good.”

His chest rises and falls shakily, and though he still makes no sound you swear you can hear a sob. He reaches out and grasps your arm in turn, and suddenly you realize what he needs.

“Can I give you a hug?” you ask.

The hat nods, again and again, and you open your arms, and he falls forward. You would have done the same for a friend.

You almost expect the hug to be gentle, but it is not; it is tight and desperate, and feels so human you do not think twice about hugging him back just as tightly. He is not terribly warm, but you can feel a heart beating beneath his coat. A few tears fall on the back of your jacket. You know that if you just looked up, you would be able to see his face beneath the hat, but you keep your eyes shut tight.

When you move apart, a few moments later, he seems a little more composed, and no more tears fall from beneath the hat. He straightens his back a bit, growing taller even in a sitting position, and you can see just the barest hint of a mouth, which is smiling a delicate, wobbly sort of smile. He brings a gloved hand up to his chin, placing his fingertips against it, and moves them towards you, once, twice.

You are by no means fluent in sign language, but you recognize the sign for Thank you when you see it.

You smile back at him. “You’re welcome,” you say.

He looks back at the shrine, at the piles and piles of notes he has yet to read. You watch as he picks up a handful more, seemingly at random, shuffling them in his hands and pressing them close to his chest. After a pause, he reaches out and slowly picks up one of the bouquets, overflowing with small blue flowers. You’re not entirely sure, but you think they might be forget-me-nots. He pulls a single flower from the bunch and tucks it, carefully, into the collar of his coat, as though for safekeeping.

He nods once, satisfactorily, and stands slowly, giving a small bow in your direction before he turns and shuffles back down the alleyway, the bushel of blue flowers peeking over his shoulder, rustling in the breeze.

Just before he is swallowed by the shadows at the far end of the Close, you call out, “Thank you! Again. For . . . for everything.”

It’s certainly just a trick of the light, but when he turns back to look at you, just before the shadows overtake him, you swear you can see the light catch on a single, twinkling eye, crinkled in one corner by what must be a smile.

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

too soon to tell, chapter t w o

You dropped your bag in the foyer of Harry’s house after work on a Thursday. It was quiet--he wasn’t home yet and you’d keyed in knowing that you’d have some time to yourself.

You felt a vibrating in your pocket when you shrugged off your coat, your visible reflection told you it was a FaceTime call, Alyssa’s name danced across the screen until you slid your thumb to answer.

“Hello, hello,” you greeted, walking to find a seat on the couch.

“Where are you?” She furrowed her brows as she took in your surroundings.

“At Harry’s--he’s out, though.”

She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “I will never get sick of you lounging in his house when he’s not there.”

You rolled your eyes at your old roommate’s antics--she’d always been the number one supporter of your relationship and when you texted her earlier saying you needed advice, she promised to call on her lunch break.

“I’m not lounging,” you informed with a shake of your head. “I just got out of work, we’re having dinner tonight.”

“Mr. Popstar isn’t too busy?” She teased, aware of the tension both of your schedules had been causing.

“Apparently not.”

She forked a bite of food into her mouth, the sun was shining through the window behind her, the walls of your old apartment were redecorated now with the art of your replacement. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“Sort of,” you leaned back and let out a breath. “I mean, it’s all connected--”

“What is?”

“I’m getting to it,” you made a face at her through the phone. “So--don’t freak out, okay? Cause I don’t even know if anything will come from it and Harry doesn’t know yet.”

She nodded and gestured with her hand for you to get on with it.

Knowing Alyssa, she was already jumping to conclusions in her head. You were pregnant, you were engaged, you quit your job, you had a huge fight with your sister. No, no, no.

“I interviewed for a job in LA...and I haven’t told Harry because all our friends have been so excited about us being in the same spot again but--”

Her eyes went wide at the mention of a US city, she did her best to hold back her smile until it faded when you said: “I don’t know. Something feels off between us.”

“Off between you and Harry? More than just being busy?”

“I’m probably overthinking it but,” you looked around his living room. Pictures of his mum, his sister, his cousins--even his manager--were tucked in frames and placed on shelves. There wasn’t a trace of you in his house except for the toothbrush upstairs and the key on your keyring.

“It feels like we’re not moving forward. And we’ve both been busy, like I’ve told you, but since we don’t live together sometimes we go days without seeing each other and it’s fine, I get that he’s busy, obviously, but--”

“But you want to move in with him.”

“Well, I don’t know--I did, sort of, I think--but then I heard about this job in LA and it sounds amazing but Jessie just moved here and no one will shut up about how great London is.”

Alyssa offered a sympathetic frown and repositioned the bowl in front of her to get another bite. “What’s the job?”

You almost didn’t want to tell her, sure she’d get excited and eager to have you back in the same country. You winced a little, bracing for her reaction. “S’with E! News,” you shrugged. “It’d be on-air.”

“Shut up! Are you serious?!”

“Yes m’serious,” you rolled your eyes. “But I haven’t told any of them because you know how they are.”

She nodded, “Jessie will not want you to take it.”

“God love her, but of course not. And Harry spends time out there, so it might be okay, but it’s not like I could ask him to go with me.”

“Why not? He’s famous, Y/N--he belongs there.”

“It’s too soon,” you whined. “He’s not my fiancé and we don’t live together, so--I don’t want to make it weird.”

“But you love him,” she reasoned.

“Yeah, but s’been weird lately!" You tried to drive home the point. "He’s made no mention of moving in and we’ve been dating for a year and a half, I’ve been in London for over a year now. He’s not even mentioned it, Alyssa, I swear. He’ll say things like ‘one day we can go on vacation,’ and ‘what should we do for Christmas?’ But he’s made no concrete plans to actually have a future with me.”

“Maybe he doesn’t think you’re ready.”

“Maybe he’s not ready,” you volleyed.

“Maybe,” Alyssa shrugged. “But you won’t know if you don’t ask him.”

“But if I ask him and he’s not on the same page I’ll look like an idiot and he’s busy with the album and now I’m thinking about moving to LA and--”

She watched you, waited for you to say more, but you were out of words. You changed gears.

“Maybe we’re just not meant to be long term.”

“Oh come on,” she groaned. “Not this again.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Your whole ‘we should have left it in New York’ shit.”

You lifted your eyebrows to demand further details.

“You were freaked out in the beginning that you’d move back there and it would be weird.”

“And?”

“Was it weird?”

“Not at first, I guess. But I mean, come on---don’t you think we should have taken some kind of step forward by now? Even just mentioning the idea of moving in together?”

“I don’t know,” she said truthfully. “Maybe it’s different with someone like him.”

You rolled your eyes--what if that’s what you were sick of?

People always said that: it’s different because of his job, it’s different because he’s on the road, it’s different because he’s famous.

Of course it was, and that was fine, for a while. But what if Harry’s job always got in the way of feeling normal? What if you couldn’t have a real wedding because of it? What if you could never send your children to summer camp because of it?

Were you willing to sacrifice your own future to live an unconventional life with someone just because you loved him?

“When will you hear back about the job?”

“Dunno--talked to them last week on Monday and they said this week at some point. S'been a while, so hopefully soon.”

You’d been keeping busy, trying to avoid your personal email at all costs and also making sure that Harry had limited visibility of your screen at all times.

“Do you want it?”

You thought on it for a second. Being offered a job at a company like E! would certainly be an ego boost, but the mere thought of having to explain to all of your friends that yes, you’d been back in London for 18 months and now you were packing up and moving even farther away than before wouldn’t be easy. That seemed to be the one certainty in the whole situation: no one would take it well.

“I don’t want to leave everyone here, especially Harry--but I also don’t want to be stupid and think that this relationship is going somewhere if it’s not.”

Alyssa nodded and let out a sigh. “I get that, I mean, of course you have to do what’s best for you. But I’d hate to see you not be with him just because things are hard right now.”

You leaned your head back on the couch and sighed. You didn’t want to break up with Harry. If anything, you wanted to move forward and move in with him and do what you’d always imagined: have a good job, have a few kids, try to be happy.

But what if you’d been naive enough to think you could have all of that with Harry and what if this is how you were finding out that you couldn’t?

Were you still stuck in your teenage fantasy of marrying the boy you'd long been crushing on?

She watched you for a second before she reassured: “you’ll figure it out.”

You smiled, glad you’d called Alyssa if only to have someone talk you off the edge a little bit. You missed waking up one room over and her love for basketball games and New York 99 cent pizza.

“Well it’s not like I have to make a decision right now,” you said. “I haven’t even heard back from them. For all I know they could never reach out again because I bombed my interview.”

She rolled her eyes at your self-deprecation and offered a few final words of encouragement before you hung up and promised to catch up soon.

Ever since you’d left, Alyssa had taken it upon herself to keep you up to date on the ins and outs of New York. New restaurant? She’d send you pictures and a 200 word review. Crazy subway rats making the news again? Articles and video proof would be sent your way in a matter of hours.

She’d gotten a new roommate to fill your bedroom and apparently things weren’t always peachy between them. Peyton was quiet and shy--according to Alyssa. She was up every morning at 6am and in the shower at 6:30. She did yoga in the living room and hated it when Alyssa left empty beer bottles on the coffee table.

Alyssa was starting to lose her shit, swearing up and down that she needed to either pull the trigger and move in with Owen or find a new place altogether. It was my apartment first, she’d say. She should leave, not me.

It had been hard that year to leave the city you’d grown to love but harder to leave Alyssa and Carly and the things that made New York feel like home. It was also, in hindsight, hard to leave the place where you and Harry reconnected and built the foundation of your current relationship.

You heard commotion from the front door only a few minutes later when you rummaged through Harry’s kitchen for a snack.

“Hi,” he called from the other room, a close-lipped smile when you stuck your head around the corner to greet him.

“Hi! How was the photoshoot?”

“Good,” he nodded, watching as you stuck your hand into a box of crackers. “What time are we meeting everyone?”

Right--Thursday also meant dinner somewhere downtown with everyone in tow.

“7pm--but Jessie said we should try to get there early since it’s a new place and no one’s ever been.”

He nodded in acknowledgement of your words but seemed distracted, like his mind was somewhere else and his body was the only thing tying him to the room.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, looking back up at you. “Just a busy day and a busy week.”

You nodded, unsure if he wanted to say more or if you were supposed to have more of a reply than a simple nod of your head.

You’d both been stammering out awkward sentences and trying to dance around the elephant in the room for a few weeks, but now, under his gaze, you felt more uncertain than before.

“Are you okay?” He turned the question around and watched you closely.

“Yeah,” you shrugged, moving to sit on the couch.

“You seem--off.”

You didn’t know what it was. Could he possibly sense the tension in your shoulders as you waited for an email either way? You got the job! We regret to inform you…

Or was he just aware that you felt awkward since it had been almost two weeks since you had any considerable amount of alone time and even longer since you were able to have a date night that wasn’t interrupted by Jeff or Erica or someone who needed something from him.

He took a few steps closer towards you, a look of concern etched on his features. “What’s wrong?”

The words were on the tip of your tongue when he looked at you, eyebrows lifted as he waited for you to spit it out.

“I guess I feel like we’ve been distant.”

He pushed his head forward, almost like he hadn’t expected that to be the issue. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, caught off guard by his pushiness. Maybe you shouldn’t have brought it up.

“You don’t know?” He pressed.

You broke eye contact with him for a minute, wondering why you had to state the obvious. “Well, you’re busy all the time, Harry.”

He let his shoulders rise and fall in defeat, looking around the room in frustration. “I told you that finishing the album would be busy.”

“Yeah, but you forgot to mention that you’d also be busy when the album is done once promo starts and then tour,” your voice was quiet, not so much angry as you were upset.

You were tired. You wanted nothing more than to spend a night on the couch with him and only him, tell him about LA and about the sudden itch you felt to see more of the world than just London.

But with Jake and Adam always around and Bryn and Jessie, too, paired with interruptions from Jeff and Erica--it felt as if there was no hope for a private or honest conversation.

He came to sit closer to you on the couch now, took your hands in his. “I know my job is a lot, okay? I know it’s annoying that I don’t necessarily get weekends off or have a typical schedule, but once the album is out and the promo is done I’ll have a bit of a break before the tour. We can go on vacation somewhere, just us.”

It sounded nice, maybe a tropical island or a cabin in the woods. But before you could nod in agreement the thought of Los Angeles popped into your head.

His album was due out in December, promo from now through the New Year, some time off in February and March for both of your birthdays and then tour. You had no clue where you’d be by then.

Would you be in LA? Would you be in London? Would you be stuck in this same spot on his couch with decision paralysis and a crushing sense of uncertainty about the future?

He knew you were over-thinking and tilted his head. “What?”

You blew out a slow breath of air, twisted a ring on your finger and then looked up at him again.

You didn’t even have a chance to be more honest, a buzz on your phone on the coffee table in front of you both broke the room in half, the name of the woman you’d spoken to was in bold next to your email icon. You reached for it quickly, Harry’s brows furrowed when you pulled it close to your chest so he wouldn’t see.

“What’s that?”

Hi Y/N, thank you so much for your patience over the last few days. We would love to offer you a position with NBC Universal - E! News as an on-air correspondent in our Los Angeles headquarters.

You looked up at him quickly, cheeks red and heart racing.

“What’s happening, are you okay?”

“I got a job offer,” you said quickly, still holding the phone close to you.

“What?” He smiled, “why didn’t you tell me you were looking? I didn’t even know--”

“It’s in Los Angeles.”

His smile faded instantly, he blinked a few times like he must have misheard you. The leather of his couch felt cool beneath your legs, a clock on the wall ticked and for a second, you wondered if he could hear your pulse as loudly as you could.

He pulled his eyes away from you but then quickly scanned over your face. “Are you taking it?”

“I don’t know,” you said honestly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Silence, words filled your brain and crawled up the back of your throat, desperate to be said out loud, in real life, instead of just circling in your head.

Because I don’t know what we’re doing or if we’re moving forward. I don’t know where I want to live. I don’t know if I can stay in London forever. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.

Only the last part made it out between your lips. “I don’t know.”

“Y/N,” he stood up, more angry now as he looked around the room and scratched at the base of his neck. “This kind of feels like a bombshell to drop on someone.”

“I was going to tell you--but we haven’t had a second alone, I just didn’t want to have to tell everyone before I knew what was happening.”

“You didn’t even tell me you interviewed,” he said.

“The last time I saw you alone we got interrupted by Erica three times in one conversation.”

“Probably for a good reason--”

“But you seriously can’t even put your phone down lately when we have dinner, even when everyone else is there!”

“I can’t help it that my work is insanely busy right now!”

“I don’t want to fight with you,” you said this quickly, voice higher than usual and a heat on your skin that he normally didn’t provoke, at least not in a bad way. You stood from the couch and put your hands on your hips. “I don’t know what I’m going to do and I don’t even know if this job is right for me and under no circumstances are you allowed to tell anyone. Especially Jessie.”

He rolled his eyes at that.

“What’s the eye roll for?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Everyone just got back and now you might leave and--”

“I said I don’t know if I’m going to take it.”

He was quiet at that, clucked his tongue in thought but then disappeared upstairs to shower and change.

The car ride over was awkward, he asked how your day had been and you told him you talked to Alyssa, he bristled when you admitted you told her about it.

It wouldn’t be the end of the conversation, you were sure of that. You’d likely end up at his for the night and he’d apologize for being busy, you’d apologize for not telling him and maybe, you hoped, he’d ask you to stay over.

When you greeted Adam with a hug, you ignored Harry’s sour mood and opened the menu in front of you.

“My first dinner as a Londoner,” Jessie smiled, shimming her shoulders in excitement when Bryn looked over the specials across the table from you.

“This is on you, right? New job, new salary?” Jake teased.

“Maybe if I hadn’t just bought a whole new bedroom set,” she rolled her eyes.

“How’s everything with you?” Adam eyed Harry, his question veiled to avoid too many details in public.

Luckily, Harry’s ability to go out in public in London was similar to that in New York. As long as a private room or a table in the back was requested, he could typically get away unscathed if dinner was less than 2 hours and if he had his back to the dining room.

“Fine,” he shrugged, eyes still down at the drink menu.

“Fine?” Jessie leaned forward, her tone insinuating that she didn’t believe him. “You’ve been working really hard all summer and now all you say is ‘fine?’”

He glanced up at her, lips in a forced smile. “S’all good, Jess--just tired.”

Bryn gave you a look, one that asked what stick is up his ass?, before she changed the topic.

“Let’s not tell our server how fit she is tonight, yeah?”

Jake let out a snort of a laugh and sipped at the water that had already been brought to your table. “Alright, you thought the one last week was just as hot as I did.”

“I did,” Bryn agreed seriously, “but I didn’t offer my number unsolicited. How do you know she’s even straight?”

“She’s got a point,” Jessie chimed in. “Remember when you asked that girl to dance in the club when her girlfriend was right there with her arm around her?”

“I thought they were just mates!” Jake defended.

“You also have the worst radar for gay women ever,” Bryn nodded.

“When was this?” Harry asked, the hint of a smile on his face when he watched Jake adjust his napkin on his lap.

The words came out of your mouth without thought. “You weren’t here--you were in LA.”

He met your eyes when you replied, nodded, and then leaned back in his chair, effectively bowing out of the conversation without saying another word.

You weren’t trying to be short with him. You looked over to Jessie, who undoubtedly sensed the tension, and offered a smile. “How’s the flat?”

“Good,” she nodded. “Glad that all my furniture got put together without any scratches,” she reached over and patted Adam on the shoulder.

“We’re not children, Jessie, we can handle some furniture.”

“You broke my dresser when I asked you guys to move it into another room,” Bryn reminded, a look of confusion on her face at Adam’s retort.

“Only because it was already half broken and a piece of shit,” Jake said. “I love you, Brynnie, but that dresser was already knocking on Heaven’s door.”

Harry let out a laugh at that, another memory that he had missed while on a trip to a studio somewhere north of London. He excused himself to the bathroom after you placed your orders, and once he was out of earshot, Jake leaned down and looked at you.

“What’s going on with him?”

You forced a cheesy grin and blinked a few times. “He’s just grumpy.”

“‘Bout what?” Bryn asked.

“Guys,” you leaned back in your chair, hoping you didn’t have to say too much. “I can’t tell you every single thing that happens in our relationship.”

“Well, when it affects us I think we have the right to know,” Jessie shrugged, playing the typical we don’t like when our parents fight card.

“It’s not affecting you,” you shook your head, eyed her seriously over your glass of Pinot Noir.

Adam shrugged, a smirk on his face let you know he was trying to rile you up. “He’s grumpy at dinner and we’re all here and we’re all aware of it. We don’t like tension between you two.”

“Alright, leave the woman alone,” Jake waved them off. “As long as everything’s alright.”

“It’s totally alright,” you nodded, wondering when you’d gotten so comfortable lying to them. “He’s just busy with the next phase of work.”

With Harry’s album yet to be announced, you couldn’t sit around in a London restaurant and divulge details--even if you were all acutely aware of the work he’d put in and the upcoming announcements and events.

Adam let it go. “How’s work for you, Smalls?”

Another shrug of your shoulders, “s’good--I told you all about my November cover story, right?”

“Yeah,” Jessie sipped a glass of Cabernet. “But you said you didn’t know who it was going to be with.”

“Well, s’cause I had to drop the bomb on him first,” you nodded in the direction of the bathroom. “I’ll be sitting down in a few days with Ms. Gigi Hadid,” you lowered your voice and leaned forward to say her name.

Bryn’s eyes went wide, Jake grimaced.

“How’d he take that?” Adam asked.

“He’s not thrilled,” you admitted. “But I’ll talk with his team about what to avoid specifically, I guess. Her team will probably have a list of off-limits items too.”

Bryn let her elbows rest on the white tablecloth. “Yeah, but, you can’t just ignore the fact that she’s dating Zayn.”

“I also can’t just barge in and stir shit up,” you said.

Harry pulled his chair out next to you and sat back down. “Who are you stirring shit up with?”

Everyone chose to be quiet now--Adam looked down at his phone and Jessie reached for her wine again.

“Just telling them about my cover story,” you admitted, watching his face for a reaction.

He nodded, a tiny smirk in your direction. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t stir shit up,” he said, reaching to put a hand on your thigh beneath the table.

Those were the moments that made you feel less panicky--the realization that he was still choosing you and even when the tension was high and the mood was low, he’d reach over and remind you that yes, he cared. Even if he was late to dinner or distracted.

Which is why, when you got back in his car that night and headed for his house, you were surprised when his mood shifted again.

“I’ll just drop you at yours?”

“Oh--yeah, sure.”

“Did you want to come to mine?” He looked over at you like he hadn’t expected any resistance to sleeping separately.

You were quiet for a second--not if he didn’t want you there. “No, it’s fine.”

“I can’t read your mind, Y/N.”

“You don’t have to,” you said quickly, a prickly tone to your words when he made an unreadable face.

He drove in silence for a few minutes, closing in on your neighborhood when the street lamps disappeared for the sake of suburbia.

Eventually he cleared his throat and that sent you over the edge.

“What do you want me to say, Harry? Do you want me to apologize for interviewing for this job?”

“No,” he said simply. “I just don’t know why you thought you didn’t need to tell me about a huge decision like that.”

“It wasn’t a decision until today when they offered it to me.”

“Just seems like something you talk to your boyfriend about.”

You looked over at him in the dark of night, the glow from the dashboard didn’t help you see his features as he turned left onto your street.

“Well, sorry that we didn’t have the opportunity to talk about it between your work schedule and Jessie moving in and group dates--”

He slowed down on your street, put his flashers on when he stopped in front of your building. “I don’t want to keep secrets from each other,” his voice was softer now. “I don’t want to not know what’s going on in your life. I did enough of that for two years when we weren't talking.”

You sighed at this, the sentiment broke whatever anger was lurking inside you and when you looked up to see him, you wondered if you should ask him.

Are we ever going to move in together? Are we ever going to get engaged?

You figured the lead up to his sophomore album wasn’t the best time for that conversation. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and you climbed the stairs to your flat alone.

**

A few days later you sat nervously in a conference room and watched as beads of sweat formed on the water glass in front of you. Tyler had brought you in, offered you a breath mint, and promised you’d be fine. When you asked him if the whole room was hot he said it was just you and your nerves--but the droplets of water that raced towards the wooden conference table begged to differ.

You’d gotten email after email this morning: one from Jeff with the rules he and Harry had come up with and eight from Gigi’s team with requests for snacks, topics to discuss, topics to avoid, lunch request, arrival and departure time, and a few extra regarding booking her photoshoot the next day.

A text lit up your screen when you tried to smooth your your hair in the reflection of your screen.

Jake Newcomb (10:42am): In case you’re wondering what to get me for my birthday, a video of Gigi Hadid saying she loves me would be perfect!

You ignored his text and felt a pang of disappointment in your gut, you thought it would have been Harry with words of encouragement.

He was fine with you doing the interview, he seemed to come around to the idea when he met with Jeff and had a chance to mark some things as off limits.

So far, his list was as follows:

Don’t publish anything too negative about anyone in the band (if she says anything negative about anyone in the band)

Harry and Jeff got to listen to the taped interview

Harry and Jeff got to read the article before you sent it off to your editor and could make suggestions to cut things if they felt it necessary.

It seemed silly, but you’d long been used to the lingo of contracts and riders and ground rules for things like these. You knew both Harry and Jeff trusted you, in fact, Jeff was now choosing to see this as a good opportunity for press before the announcement of Harry’s album.

Your biggest concern, truly, was not looking/sounding/acting like an idiot in a room alone with Gigi Hadid. Your second biggest concern was conducting a unique interview and writing a unique article.

You knew that Naomi and Tyler were nearby for support if needed, Tyler had already walked by the conference room three times to see if your subject had arrived and likely to make sure you hadn’t sweat through your blouse. You thought the commotion in the hallway was him until you saw a group of busy-looking people with cellphones and sunglasses.

“Hi,” you stood from your chair, extended a hand in her direction and offered your best professional smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Gigi, thanks for doing this interview.”

She seemed hesitant at first, smiled a little and shook your hand. “Happy to,” she said. She turned over her shoulder and locked eyes with the woman who seemed to be the most in-charge of the group. “I’m good,” she nodded.

They hustled out quickly, you stood frozen in place and watched as she took off her coat before sitting in the chair you’d pulled out for her. Once the door was shut behind her posse, she let out a sigh that bled into a frustrated laugh.

“I could never do an interview with all of them just loitering around--wouldn’t that be so weird?”

You nodded, mirrored her smile and had to remind your body how to move. Left foot, right, breathe, sit in the chair.

You weren’t really one to get star struck, but then again, you didn’t spend too much time with celebrities that weren’t Harry or his close friends. You certainly never sat down with a model like Gigi to have a conversation that could be as awkward as this one.

She checked her phone quickly but then put it face down on the table. “I am happy to do this, I know it might feel weird for us to be hanging out--but boys are stupid anyway.”

You smiled at this, immediately relaxed when she leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs.

“Did you also get a whole list of things to not talk to me about?”

She stifled a laugh and rolled her eyes. “Zayn can be a man of few words but,” she looked down at your phone on the table. “Off the record--he had quite a bit to say when I told him you were doing the interview.”

“Off the record,” you laughed, “Harry did too. But how is Zayn?”

“He’s good--thinking about getting back in the studio at some point to start working on a new album, he’s been writing a bunch. Harry’s doing the same I assume?”

“Yes, yeah, he’s been really busy.”

“I know things might not have gone great between all of them at the end, but I don’t want this to be awkward for us.”

“Me neither. You can say as much or as little about the band as you’d like.”

She nodded, you figured it was time to give your pre-interview spiel.

“So, I’ll record us in a few seconds, you can obviously say ‘off the record’ if there’s something you don’t want me to include, but I like my interviews to be like conversations, basically. I’ll send someone on your team the recording when we’re done and a typed transcript. You’ll have 48-hours to look over it and revoke any statements that you don’t want me publishing or to clarify anything. After that I’ll write the story, send a final copy to your team before it gets finalized here, again, 48-hours to look it over and request any changes but at that time we don’t have to approve the requests. This is all in a document somewhere that someone probably signed for you--I’m sure your team is used to it, they know what they’re doing.”

You reached forward and pressed a few buttons on your phone, she watched until you looked up and told her: “It’s on now, so we’re recording and today is September 10th, 2019.”

She smiled like you were old friends. “Where do we start?”

“Is there somewhere you want to start?”

She leaned her head to the side. “We can jump right to it--”

“To what?”

“Oh come on,” she laughed. “Us talking about One Direction will make headlines for weeks.”

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “It’s funny that us just sitting down together will be a big deal, right? As if we’ve got nothing better to talk about than them.”

“Sexism at it’s finest,” she admitted.

“Do you find that a lot in your industry?”

She thought on this for a second, looked out the window but nodded. “It’s unavoidable, in a lot of ways. I think there have been a lot of changes over the last few years to at least move us in the right direction, but we’ve got a long way to go.”

“How would you want to see it change for the better?”

“Well, I’d love to have more privacy about my love life, for one,” she caught herself, looked to you quickly as if she felt bad. “Off the record, we can talk about it here, it’s fine. It’s different to talk about it with a woman, number one. And you’re you, you get it.”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” you offered.

“No, I don’t mind. Unless you plan on asking me stupid things like how amazing is it to be dating someone as handsome as him or do I find that his job overshadows mine, we’re good. We can be back on the record, too,” she looked down at the numbers on your phone, eyeing the ticking of the recording clock.

“But do you know what I mean? No one asks guys questions like that--or they’re different, at least. People just want to know everything about your relationship when you’re a woman and they view you in the context of who you’re sleeping with.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I get that.”

She smiled, “it’s hard to date someone famous, isn’t it? Lots of rules around it.”

You were surprised by the genuine look in her eyes, despite her own status and contracts and income, she seemed to be acknowledging that the two of you shared a unique experience and were now brought together under strange circumstances.

“It’s definitely hard for me--but, isn’t it easier seeing as you also have an assistant and a manager and people to, I don’t know, facilitate things? Not to invalidate how hard it still is.”

She laughed at that, “Yeah, in some ways, probably. He’s really private though, which is good for us. We focus on ourselves and do our own thing most of the time.”

“Right--you seem pretty private about it for the most part.”

“Yeah,” she shrugged, reflecting on your words for a second. “I think to me it feels weird that my relationship status can make so much news, you know? Modeling is my job and obviously that’s not your typical nine-to-five but--I like to focus on my work and when male journalists are continuously obsessed with my love life, I find that weird. I mean, you get that, right? I’m sure it’s no different with Harry.”

You bit your lip, embarrassed at how she’d managed to turn it around. She was right--you’d been getting more and more annoyed with how much your relationship with Harry was dictating your life--and for some reason, you admitted this to her.

“People are much more interested in me because I’m dating him--but they’d be just as interested in you even if you weren’t.”

“Would they?” She tilted her head to the side, another rise and fall of her shoulders as she looked around the room. “I get what you’re saying, but sometimes it feels like dating him gave my career a huge boost. I don’t know, maybe I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, I totally get it. I feel the same way. I was building my career in New York and it was going well and I was writing fun stuff and making a name for myself and then I started hanging out with him and--”

“Everyone started to care more about you?”

“Exactly.”

You thought about the headlines, the articles, the pictures in tabloids that undoubtedly helped your name spread like wildfire through London and New York. You had to ignore it, most of the time, reassure yourself that you were a good journalist and a good employee and the good things in your career were not just a byproduct of the boy who slept in your bed.

She smiled knowingly, her lips in a thin line when she looked down to the tape recorder, almost like she felt guilty for steering the conversation in a different direction.

“Sorry,” you cleared your throat, sitting up straight. “Back to business.”

The conversation bled into more normal things: the upcoming fall fashion week, how she manages self-care when she’s busy jetting from city to city, and, try as you might, the two of you wound your way back to your commonalities a few times: sexism in your industries, life as young women dating famous men.

You thanked her profusely at the end and promised that Tyler would be in touch to confirm the date and time for her corresponding photoshoot later that week. She draped a Versace leather tote over her shoulder and seemed to float out of the office with a posse of beautiful people behind her.

You stood--still awestruck--in the hallway and watched as the elevator doors slid shut.

“She’s prettier in person,” Tyler said from beside you, a notebook in hand as he stared at the air she’d once occupied. “I didn’t know if that type of thing was possible but she’s definitely one of the prettiest humans I’ve ever seen.”

“She was nice,” you turned around to see Naomi behind him, also eager for more details. You headed back for your office in a trance, they scurried behind you as you thought aloud. “I mean, I didn’t think she’d be rude--but I didn’t know what to expect with the whole band history stuff.”

“Did you talk about that?”

“Less about the band and more about--” you blinked a few times and sat down at your desk, “sexism, what it’s like to be a woman dating a famous man and how that affects your career.”

Both of their eyes went wide, a smile tugged at Naomi’s lips when Tyler put a hand over his heart in shock.

“I’m sorry, so you’re telling me that you just had a heart to heart with Gigi Hadid about sexism and your boyfriends and--”

“I guess so,” you shrugged, just as surprised as they were.

**

You gave Harry fewer details that night over FaceTime as you brushed your teeth. He was somewhere in New York, disappointed that he’d miss Jake’s birthday dinner and celebration, but he promised to make it up to him when he got back.

He lifted a cup of tea to take a sip, light shone through the window behind him on your screen and he scrolled through emails on his laptop.

You spit into the sink, an ocean between you.

“Have you thought at all about the offer? You have to tell them by tomorrow, yeah?”

You nodded, wiped at your mouth with a towel and then crossed your arms. “I can stay, I mean--if you want me to.”

He made a face at that, leaned forward and furrowed his brows together. “Of course I want you to stay, Y/N, but I don’t want to be the reason you pass on something important."

You were quiet for a second, uncapped lotion before spreading some across your forehead.

"I'm sorry I didn't react well when you told me. I'm proud of you and it sounds like a phenomenal opportunity...I don't know, it's just the timing of it--"

You cut him off, “well none of this is ideal timing, Harry.”

“Do you mean with my album?”

“I mean with any of it,” you said truthfully. “The album, the job offer--”

“Well the album existed before the job offer,” he trailed off.

Only a matter of seconds and a handful of words had managed to get you elevated and angry and ready to fight. That was happening more easily, these days.

“So what am I supposed to do? Always come second? Make every decision in my life based off of your career and your music?”

“S’not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that--I dunno--I thought you knew what you were getting into.”

Quiet, your hands gripped the counter in your bathroom. Your bare feet were on the floor and you wondered why you were trying so hard to make everything work if things were only getting harder.

“That came out wrong,” he shook his head, the look on his face let you know he wanted to take it back.

“No, it didn’t." You let out a sharp laugh. "I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Take the job,” he said quickly, like he saw you reaching for the button to end the FaceTime call.

“What?”

“Take it. If it’ll make you happy, take it.”

“And what about us?”

“We figure it out,” he shrugged. “We try.”

You sighed, unsure what to say.

"It's Los Angeles," he said. "Not Antarctica."

You blew air between your lips, looked up at him for a second. The curl of hair that dipped onto his forehead, the way his mouth pulled up in the corner like it always had.

“I love you, Y/N. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

His words didn’t offer any relief and you spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, tossing and turning and wondering how on earth you were supposed to make a decision.

Leaving him in London felt stupid. A few bumps in the road and you were ready to jump ship?

But staying and hoping for a ring or a shared address felt even stupider, somehow. You couldn’t pass up a dream job and hope that things would go well for your career if you weren’t going to work for it.

A few hours of rest came after 3am, your morning coffee was a tad bitter and the clouds in the sky seemed to match your mood. Maybe you should have spent more time thinking it over, talking it out, even calling your mum or Katie for advice.

But you couldn’t have told everyone about the job offer without a certain answer, and unfortunately, the person you wanted to talk to the most didn’t seem like he could be impartial.

You’d been upset, you’d been feeling disconnected from him, but that didn’t erase all of the good times and the happy memories you’d made, right?

Naomi and Tyler locked themselves in your office for lunch on Friday, they promised that they’d never tell your boss and they swore they supported you either way. Tyler used an expo marker to make a pros and cons list of staying in London and Naomi came up with a points system for each bullet on the list.

You stared at it, looked at the names of all of your friends, your family, your favorite cafes and restaurants in London. At the very bottom of what had become a long list of reasons to stay was his name.

And on the other side, Tyler’s poor drawing of an engagement ring sat beside a big question mark.

You didn’t know what the future held for you and Harry, and maybe that was okay. You didn’t know what would happen when you packed your life into a suitcase and moved to New York, but you’d survived to tell the tale.

They were quiet, eyes darting from the board back to you as they waited for you to say something.

You sighed, Tyler shifted on the couch in your office and Naomi smoothed out her blouse.

“I can’t take it,” you said.

Tyler’s eyes went wide, “really? You’re staying?”

“I can’t leave,” you shrugged. “I can’t leave him behind and leave my friends and start all over in a new city right as I’m really finding my groove here again.”

“Okay, I know we said we’d support you either way but I would have been fucking pissed if you went,” Tyler admitted, moving closer to wrap his arms around you.

You laughed, let him squeeze you before Naomi joined in.

“Me too,” she confessed, a smile on her face when she pulled away. “But I would have at least faked happy for you.”

You bit back the doubt and second-guessing, used their excitement to fuel a regretful email.

Thank you so much for the opportunity, but after careful consideration I cannot accept this position due to the geographical location.

Your thumb hovered over the small blue arrow, a wave of panic flooded through you when you hit send, like somehow, something inside of you knew that everything was about to change.

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tag list: @thurhomish @styles217 @ursamajor603 @mleestiles @determined-overthinker @g0bl1nqueen @hsfics @sing-me-a-song-harry @theresnooneheretosave @cronias13 @rainbowbutterflyboy @unknown7549

AN: apologies in advance for the cliffhanger......except I'm not sorry lmao

[digipaw2-0]

The newest event in Obey Me is horribly unfair to F2P players

Hello, I absolutely love this game and want it to grow and last a long time, I’ve been playing since day 1 and love it to bits. But, in the most recent events I’ve noticed a terrible trend, the events are slowly getting increasingly impossible for F2P players. 

Back in the earlier events a player only needed about 60,000 points to get past pg.1, but in the most recent event you need 95,000 to get past page 1.

This is not good and, as a game designer,  I feel I should express my concern and explain why I feel this. Under the cut you will see my reasoning and thought process. 

The event that is currently happening as I make this is the Paws and Claws event 

The cheat cards for this event are:

I’ll break down the total bonus point amounts for each card

SR Lucifer: +6 for first copy +1 every skill LV

SR Beel:  +6 for first copy +1 every skill LV

SSR Mammon: +18 for first copy +4 every skill LV

UR Satan: +36 for first copy +6 every skill LV

UR Asmo: +36 for first copy +6 every skill LV

I will also like to establish how many stages there are for each page of the event, this event has 2 pages of levels with a grand total of 26 stages

Each stage lets you play 3 times for free each day, costing 8AP each 

the player also gets 5 extra plays from watching ads, so if we take 26 x 3 + 5 = 83 plays per day, 

Then we take 83s x 8e = 664  energy needed per day to get each free play per day. 

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Now for the next section lets assume that the player did not get any of the cheat cards and only has the default 120 points per play. 

83s x 120p = 9,960 points per day

9960p x 11d = 109,560 total points during the event

109,560 is just over the final amount for the first page, getting them the SR demon card for the event. But this is assuming the player is able to do the Max amount of free plays each day which is easier said then done.

lets start by seeing how much energy the player gets during the typical day just via time.

The player gets 1 energy every 5 minutes with a cap of 100 (120 if VIP) that means that if we 24 x 60= 1440 then 1440 / 5 = 288 per day 

that still leaves us 376 energy short of the needed 664 energy.  so now lets add in the other free energy in a day

+60 from the daily 2 Beel missions

+30 from Ads

+20 from daily missions

+20 from interacting with demons after stages

potentially +50 from friends

= 180 energy from secondary sources

this gives us a total of 468 still 196 energy from the needed 664. And lets keep in mind that getting the 468 implys that the player is playing PERFECTLY doing everything every day. there are a few other ways of getting energy, such as the 30-50 energy we occasionally get in the gift box once a day, but that is not consistent, same with the energy gained from login bonuses. 

There is also the energy from the event its self which has 230 energy available on the 1st page, but it should be viewed as a last resort boost when you need it so I recommend saving them for the half part of the event. 

the way the player would be able to get the last remaining energy is from the daily flash sale where the player can get 200 energy for 10dp, but this will need the player to pay 100dp during the entire event, half of the daily intake of DP from daily missions. 

But lets assume the player does not want to spend the 10dp, or does not see the flash sale since sometimes they take forever to show up. what is the total points they can get with the free energy they are given each day? 

468 / 8 = 58.8, but we cant do .8 of a stage so 58.

58s x 120e = 6960 points

6960p x 11d = 76,560 points during the event

this will get you just above 2/3 of the way though the 1st pg, THE FIRST PAGE, so unless the player is willing to spend DP on refilling energy they are stuck without even getting the SR Demon card for this event.  --------------------------------------------------

Now lets assume the F2P player is willing to go all out with the DP they do have for this event, how far can they get while still having 0 cheat cards?

The player gets 18DP everyday for doing daily missions, and roughly 50DP from the event. 

this means they will get about 248DP during the event not counting any extras from other missions, devil tree, or potential compensation gifts.  if you deduct the 100DP from the daily flash energy flash sale that leaves 148DP for other purposes, such as stage and normal energy refills. 

it cost 5DP to refill 3 plays of a stage, so they can refill stages about 29 times, meaning roughly 87 more plays which will still only give them 10,440 more points getting them a grand total of exactly 120,000 points in this event not even the half way mark of the second page. At that point I personally don’t think it would be worth using the 148DP to get to that point, id suggest saving them or using them for the LV up flash sale since at least then you get 5 vouchers.

so to be clear, a F2P player with 0 cheat cards can only get around 120,000 points without spending money.

but this means they will be using all their DP on energy and stage refills, when I imagine most F2P would rather save for the level up flash sale for the 5 Demon Vouchers. 

This also assumes the player is playing absolutely perfectly, without missing any Energy drops, which can be very hard for people to maintain while also sleeping, for 11 days in a row as from personal experience it gets harder to maintain as time goes on. 

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What does this mean? 

I believe this is unfair for F2P players, especially when you look at past events when it  would only take about 60,000 points for the first page, each event for the past few have raised the amount by about 10,000 - 20,000 thousand points which if they keep this up it will be almost impossible for F2P players to keep up. I understand that this is a company that needs money to run and continue creating this game we all love, but making it so the game is only viable for whales is not the way to go. 

when it comes to mobile games there are roughly 3 categories of players

whales - big spenders

dolphins - people who spend some but not a large amount

Free 2 Play - do not spend

as a whole Whales tend to only make up a small portion of the player base, just look at the people in the top 10 of the current event. 

See how quickly the numbers drop from absolute lunacy to more reasonable amounts (still a lot) meaning thousands of dollars difference between the people who payed enough money to reach that point. So by appealing to only those people they are alienating 90% of the player base, which is a very bad idea. 

By alienating the majority of players they risk loosing the currently very active fan base around the game, as people get more and more frustrated and eventually give it up out of frustration. Obey me has been very lucky to attract such a large fanbase so quickly, its only about 6 months old at the time that i’m writing this and its already has a massive and active fanbase creating tons of fanwork and engaging with each other. But if people start to feel like the game doesn't care about them and only caters to Whales they will stop playing and the community will slowly start to wither.

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My Suggestions 

Several months ago Solmare listened to the feedback from players about how unfair they thought the events were and listened, they doubled the event stages allowing people to get more points then they could before, making it so F2P players could get to the end of the 2nd page if they put in the work. But by raising the point totals needed to get though the pages they are making that change completely redundant. Leaving us with events that take twice the amount of work for the same rewards as before. I understand they are figuring this out as they go and adjusting events constantly trying to work out a balance, but what they currently have is not good for the games long term as it will alienate a large section of the fan base. 

I believe that that they should either lower the total points needed for each page or raise the default point total, to make it so a F2P player with 0 cheat cards can get to the end of the first page without spending any DP

if they put in the work. Then make it so people who have summoned some SRs and a SSR cheat card can get to the 2nd page reliably, then the 3rd page+ can be for people who are willing to spend money and or are just lucky enough in the gacha. this way there is still the incentive for people to pay money if they want to, but don’t feel like they are forced to. (Although I imagine people are already spending a lot in the gacha to get the cards they want anyway)  

F2P people will still not be able to always get to page 3+ but this will also help long term for if/when they decide to do event re-runs. Since it would give players who where around for the first time something to still work for since they will likely be able to get the shards needed the 2nd time though. 

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What can you and I do?

It may not feel like we can do much about this, but Solmare has listened to the fans before. We also know that some of them do look at the content fans make and discuss.

SO talk about it, Tweet at them, share your displeasure, show your friends have them tweet it out, talk about it on the facebook page (be civil though), just kick up a fuss so they can see how much this is hurting the player base.  if you don’t know what to say to them, you can even tweet this at them, copy and past it, do what ever, just let them know how upset you are. 

Thank you for reading! and please, reblog this and spread it so others can see it. 

[wildeing-away-the-time]

the books i mostly read lately are classics. i've been stuck on the book of disquiet since last year. i've realized most classics are very long and their language and themes and structure generally require a bit more brain energy to read. meaning after a long day of uni-ing it's not the ideal thing to try to relax with and has been hindering my reading for pleasure. in french class we were discussing books because we have to write a critic and it could be on something we've read already for school or something new so i thought ok i'll search the shortest french books and try to read something new bc again all the for pleasure french books i've attempted to read are also classics and long therefore difficult to complete at my level while uni-ing. i found some very interesting short french books and that made me realize i need to change my approach to reading. i need to look for short books and challenge myself to read one a month or at least every two months. it seems like such a simple solution i could have thought of this already because it's not like i don't want to read during my free time but trying to read really long books when you only have a little bit of time is dissuading because it feels like i'll never finish and then the action take so slow. anyways

tldr: send my book recommendations for short (>200 pages roughly) books (poetry, essays are welcome too) in enlglish/french/spanish. i guess sometimes i can be very picky about what i like to read but in general i avoid fantasy/sci fi stuff

[the-lonelybarricade]

hi, I love love love your fics, why/how did you start writing? I don’t know if you talked about this before. Sometimes I feel like I’d love to start writing too but it seems so… distant? I don’t know how to explain lol

Hi love! Thank you so much, it makes me so happy you like my fics!

I haven't talked much about this before and it's a nice question! I think I might understand what you mean? But I do want to note I have adhd that's only been diagnosed recently and I do think my journey with writing is heavily tied into that

I started writing when I was 11, got realllly into Vampire Academy, discovered fanfiction, and sort of got really hyperfixated? And I wrote for years, was convinced I was going to be an author, until one day, when I was like 14, I just stopped reading and writing entirely (no real reason besides life getting massively busy and the hobby got sidelined until it kind of disappeared)

Then a few months ago (now 22) my friend recommended A Court of Thorns and Roses and I literally read all of the books in the span of like a week. And then of course I went on to read all of ToG and still couldn't get enough so I then reread ACoTaR (because I wanted to reread knowing that Feysand are mates) and something just really stuck with me about their relationship so I basically regresssed back into my 11 year old self and started reading all of the fanfics I could get my hands on. And when that still wasn't enough, I sat down and wrote the first draft of ACoFD in literally like a week and a half. This was 100% the product of hyperfocus and nothing else. I wasn't even planning on doing anything with the writing, it was just fun and I couldn't remember the last time I'd written just for the enjoyment of it.

But then 200 pages later I was pretty proud of my work and, since it was finished I decided why not share it? (I hadn't wanted to start posting anything that wasn't pre-written because I didn't trust my ADHD ass not to abandon a fic midway).

Then random people online enjoyed it and started engaging with me and I was gone, because every single comment and kudos is such an effective dopamine hit. And now I'm having so much fun letting my imagination run rampant and rediscovering this part of myself.

In that 8 year gap I thought about writing, occasionally wrote down thoughts and poems and oneliners as they came to me, but writing something full fledged did feel distant, like I was trying to touch a part of myself that didn't exist anymore (which was a lie). I think I was really in my head about needing to have an audience, when really you can just create for creation's sake.

If you're thinking about it, anon, my advice to you is to just sit down and do it. If the words feel distant, just write train-of-thought style, I think you'll find eventually the words will start flowing. And if you're really struggling to come up with something, use prompts, use inspiration from other works, use songs or whatever crutches you need to get yourself engaged—there's nothing wrong with not being 100% original. Don't stress about making it perfect or good or clever, just write for you and have fun with it. <3

[arrow-guy]

It’s a New Year, Friends

It’s about 2 am on the first of January, 2021, and I figured I’d make a little recap post like I do every year.

2020 was fucked up. I think we can all admit that. I remember thinking ECCC getting moved was gonna fuck up my entire year, but that would be the only thing that would really change. As it turns out, I was wrong! I wound up working from home 9/12 months and being stuck inside. I didn’t get to see my best friend this year and any plans that could’ve been made were completely out of the question. With COVID and all of the  natural disasters and the death and political uproar, 2020 was absolute fucking garbage. I’m more than ready to just leave it behind me.

But, that’s not to say that nothing good happened in 2020.

I went to Powell’s for the first time at the beginning of the year. I went to the aquarium on my birthday and made some wonderful friends, too. I finished Broken Flock, which had been in the works for two years prior to posting the first chapter. I’ve written more than 200 pages since lockdown started, which is probably a new personal record. I got a cat! And she’s already grown so much in the two weeks we’ve had her. On top of all that, I started a writing workshop for a discord server I’m in. (It’s open to everyone, hmu if you’re interested in joining!)

And all of that said, I want to say a few thank-you’s.

Thank you to @druid-soraka, @grffnmcelroy, @flopper289, @egirl-vrissy, @liaamari17, @lady-thor-foster, and @gaytonystark for keeping me sane. You’re some of my closest friends and I adore all of you. I’m not so sure that I’m excited about the new year, but I’m a little less scared knowing that we’re in it together.

To @thinkwritexpress-official, @carryonmyswansong, @sheinthatfandom, and Heather (who doesn’t use tumblr) for always gassing me up and supporting my weird ass ideas and tolerating my rambling I wouldn’t get half the writing done that I do without you lending an ear or an eye.

To @howdoesoneadult, @avengerscompound, @nerdy-bookworm-1998, @feelmyroarrrr, @breezy1415,  @cattfeine​, @queenoftheunderdark​, and to new and old followers alike. I don’t get a lot of consistent interaction, at least not like I did when I first started writing fic five years ago. You have no idea (or maybe you do, idk) the kind of impact your comments and reblogs have on me and on my content. It legitimately keeps me going and I look forward to reading comments and tags every single time I post something new.

Thank you, everyone, for making 2020 suck a little less than it could’ve. I refuse to make any kind of hard set resolutions in 2021 because my 2020 resolutions got completely fucked up, but I will make suggestions to all of you. Please, spend time on the people that you love, and please make sure that one of those people is yourself. You deserve kindness and gentleness, especially from yourself. Lets try to move forward into a kinder year than the one we had before and actively work to make things better.

Happy new year, guys. Let’s do what we can to make it a little better than what we had last time.

[talesofsonicasura]

Origami Dreams

Another experimental fic involving Jujustu Kaisen but with Yuji this time.

Origami, the craft of folding paper to create extraordinary creations. An art very treasured in the far East especially one specific legend. It was said if one were to fold a 1,000 paper cranes, then the gods will grant that person a single wish for their dexterous hard work. Something a lot of people gave up on from how difficult or monotonous the task was.

To one little boy named Yuji Itadori, it was a pastime he spent alongside his grandfather. For it all started when a classmate had given him a book on origami. He couldn't remember her name but he never forgot the image of fire and lightning upon the memory.

Not even the next day, his classmate had perished in a vicious car accident. To keep her last gift from becoming forgotten, little Yuji began to learn the craft of origami. First it started small like flowers or a snake, then in three months he crafted fantastic dragons, phoenixes and even an origami castle from scratch with masterful talent.

His favorite pieces of origami were simpler than all of his creations. It was a pair of sibling rulers, a king and his younger sister. They sat happily together on two thrones belonging to his origami castle, although he needed his grandfather's help to put them there properly.

Something that always brought him joy was looking at his masterpiece alongside his grandfather. You can only imagine the look of 7 year old Yuji on a day that could be described as a nightmare. A small boy with chocolate brown eyes, salmon hair sitting over almost black thin locks, and barely 3 ft tall watch his grandfather get carted into an ambulance.

The man had suffered a severe stroke which had put his only guardian into a deep coma. A tragedy that left a child returning to an empty house all alone. For a few days, Yuji barely ate anything and avoided his room where his castle lied. One day, he had found or to be precise tripped over the origami book given to him by his fallen classmate.

The book opened onto the legend of the 1,000 paper cranes. Something that gave the boy's soul fire once more. He returned to his room and began his quest to fold the finest paper cranes he could make. Searched every room for spare paper, if he ran out then he took any he could such as pages and color sheets.

Over the span of months, the little boy crafted paper crane after paper crane. Even if he missed up multiple times or lost a few cranes, Yuji never gave up. Finally on the night before his birthday, the child was crafting the last two paper cranes. Cranes crafted from various paper circles around the near 8 year old at his desk.

Slightly pudgy hands tiredly work to fold the wings of a red paper crane with the light of his desk lamp. Above his highest shelf sat a large green checkered origami castle and between its walls were two thrones which sat two origami people. They were sibling rulers for the folded crowns that sat on their sun blond hair heads.

"I'm... almost finished." Said the little boy, drowsiness slowly taking over his senses. He shakily picked up the last piece of blue construction paper and began to fold. Yuji's eyes felt heavy as fog filled his thoughts. First was the body, then came the head, and the wings were to follow.

"Only...a few…*yawn* more folds…" His head turned slightly to the castle of origami's sitting rulers. Their smiling eyes looking back at him as he was on the last two folds. Yuji needed to make a wish before folding the last crane.

It was getting harder to stay awake but he wouldn't sleep until he finished this. The salmon haired child looked at the incomplete paper bird in his hands. Vision growing fuzzy from tiredness, Yuji made the last fold and with his last bit of consciousness made a wish.

"I wish I wasn't alone…" And the boy's mind went black followed by a soft thud. Unbeknownst to the child, his wish would come true as the clock struck twelve. It wouldn't be how he expected though.

Something dull and pointy began to poke the boy's pudgy cheek. Crumbled words reaching the child's ears as his brain slowly came to life. "Hey brother! Our not paper creator is waking up! His rosy cheeks feel like pillows!" A childish young girl's bursting with excitement spoke as Yuji tiredly realized he wasn't alone.

Sleepy brown eyes slowly open to two very familiar pieces of origami overlooking him. Two people with one female and the other male. The female had blond hair with two large curls folded at the back, a folded dress robe made from yellow construction paper, peach paper forming the head with two small black strips to make little eyes, two point folded paper crown that adorn her head, white point fold arms and dark brown point fold legs.

Her male companion had pale blonde hair folded into a large curl that cover the left side of his face, a royal robe made from dark violet construction paper, a gold three pointed paper crown sat on his head with narrow black pieces paper to form eyes that were in a deadpan expression at the moment, purple point fold arms and white point fold legs.

Yuji knew who these surprisingly 1 ft and half tall origami were, they were the two siblings of his Origami Castle: Olly and his little sister Olivia. His two prized creations were floating before, completely alive almost if by magic. The 1,000 Paper Cranes magic. In seconds, the sleepiness faded away as the salmon hair boy sat up in relative shock.

"No doubt the young child is having an existential moment. He may have crafted the 1,000 paper cranes but he wasn't aware of the power that origami can possess. Particularly to those dedicated to the art." Spoke Olly who floated around the room to observe the child's work.

Olivia merely sat herself on the boy's desk to look at the various cranes that sat there. "Creator, take a few deep breaths. It should help calm you down a bit." Without even questioning her instructions, the little boy took a few deep breaths. His nerves and shell shock dissipating in little time.

"You're saying that all my hardwork brought you both to life? Does it mean that something happened to Grandpa too?" Olly flew over to Yuji upon the spoken question. "If you are talking about 'Wasuke Itadori', the hospital had made a call a few hours ago. His pulse has returned to normal and should be waking up soon. He is in extensive care, sadly. It means he can't leave without further risk to his health."

Even though his grandfather was stuck in the hospital, knowing his only family is going to be okay made the little boy happy. The 1,000 Paper Cranes had fulfilled his wish although with two extra attachments. Olly and Olivia had been brought to life. Speaking of which…

"You guys don't have to call me Creator all the time. Just call me Yuji." Yuji smiled brightly at the origami siblings. Olivia giggled before playfully patting the child's cheek. "Sure! Olly, Olivia and Yuji! That sounds like the beginning of a fairytale." The paper princess wasn't wrong on that assumption.

After that day, the little boy now lived in the once empty house with the two living origami. Something that had a lot of obstacles to face but nothing too harsh. First was money for necessary essentials, such as food and water but learning material too.

Selling origami was actually a good source of income with the presence of the two paper siblings. Olly and Olivia had magic which they used for various things but at the moment was to keep any origami Yuji sold to be immune to both damage and age. Some of his creations went from 200 yen to even 5,000 yen per piece depending on how advanced it was.

The two siblings would have to keep out of sight since any normal person would hunt them down for bad purposes. Luckily, Olly and Olivia could fold themselves to pocket size pieces that Yuji could carry with no trouble but they couldn't come to school.

Cooking wasn't much of an issue to learn although there were quite a few accidents with cookbooks and a blender that should never be told. However it appeared that there was much more to his life than magical Origami. For two years later, Yuji learned Olly and Olivia weren't the only ones who changed. He did too.

A 10 year old Yuji Itadori had found himself in a very bad situation. Sometimes selling origami creations would be difficult at some point during each year. This often led the young boy scavenging through abandoned places to look for anything valuable to sell.

He had found an old empty shack that wasn't too far from his house. It had enough scrap metal and loose change that could make up around 9,000 yen in cash alone. Problem was that there was... something living in the shack. And it wasn't friendly.

Yuji was running for his life with Olivia and Olly in his pockets. Behind the child was a blobfish-like abomination with multiple bulging yellow eyes across a gross green body, 15 deformed hands bent in unnatural ways that serve as legs and a large mouth filled with monstrous teeth along a long slimy tongue.

"What is that thing?! It looks so gross!" Olivia screamed within his shirt pocket. The monster had taken them by surprise when they were searching for more scraps. Too fast to prepare anything except to run. "I think it might be a Curse. Something about this world felt off so I did a personal investigation." Chimed Olly from Yuji's jacket pocket.

Both kept their little tirade about breaking the house rule quiet to hear what vital information that could save their life. "Curses are creatures invisible and invulnerable to those without Cursed Energy. I did come across an interesting fact, our Origami Magic can be used to successfully fight them!" Eyes widened upon Olly's explanation.

Too bad Yuji's foot got caught on a tree root which sent the child to the ground hard. "Yuji!" Olivia shot out of his pocket quickly unfolding herself to full size so she could help the boy up. None of them could prepare when the hideous Curse leapt at the two. Life flashing before his eyes, a single thought went through the salmon haired boy's head.

I want to live!

In seconds, the sound of rippling paper and a distorted gasp tore the silence to pieces. Opening eyes he didn't realize that he even closed, Yuji was greeted by an incredible sight. The vicious curse had been snared in large peach ropes of folded Origami that led to a dark blue fold. The very paper itself was the child's own arms, flesh and cloth turned into powerful origami of 1,000 folds.

Without hesitation, Yuji held the monster tighter in his grips as he raised his long origami arms into the air. "Leave us alone!!!" And the child slammed the monster brutally into the ground. It splatted but not into blood or gore. No, the creature exploded into paper confetti of its original green color.

Olly slipped out of Yuji's pocket to stare at the scene in utter shock before turning to his sister. A glowing orange symbol of a hand was on the right side of her chest which vanished upon Yuji's hands turning back to normal. "That was the 1,000-Fold Arms Technique you just did! And the...Curse turned into confetti." Olivia gawked in absolute shock.

It made no sense. Only paper or origami could use the technique and only origami would become confetti upon defeat. Not the hands of a child or a defeated monster. There was only one explanation. "Our magical presence has affected Yuji. He can use origami magic." That very sentence from male origami ruler was enough to picture how things had drastically changed.

After that day, the boy and his two paper companions learned to understand the powers little Yuji now had. It was a hard task for experimentations were needed thus led to occasional battles against Curses. Over the span of 5 years, the child had grown into a young man skilled in the art of origami magic.

There were still some spells he couldn't do without assistance from either Olly or Olivia but Yuji could defend himself against moderate strength Curses now. Although, nothing could compare for the third thing to come into his life. The Cursed Finger of Ryomen Sukuna.

It had occurred two weeks before afternoon clubs would begin at his local high school. The once small child now was a teenager standing around 5'8 in height and most of his baby fat was replaced with lean powerful bulk. Even though Olly and Olivia couldn't really grow like he could, the two happily took advantage of his new height to hang onto his shoulders instead.

Wearing a long coat or cloak on his back along with this 'koala cuddle' meant they didn't have to hide in his pockets if the weather was nice. Anyway, he had a huge cram session to deal with since there would be a big test in a few days. This meant that sometimes he couldn't cook and had instant ramen substitute for dinner.

What he didn't know was in the extra large cup of beef and pork ramen, something had accidentally got inside the package. Olly was sitting across the table looking through the stack of books Yuji had brought home. The origami prince had taken up reading and writing as a personal hobby so the teen often picked up books or writing material.

Olivia was sitting on the couch watching a cartoon on the TV. She usually spent her time drawing comics or acting out scenes from her favorite shows. In fact, Yuji made an account on the computer where the origami princess could post her comics whenever she wanted. Something that exploded across the internet as they end up getting emails to publish them on real paperback.

"Hey Olly, that stapler you wanted to buy should be in stores a few days from now. You want me to grab it for you?" Yuji questioned while slurping some noodles. "Table manners Yuji. And yes, I would like that. It's been so long since I've seen my beloved pet." The origami prince replied while flipping to the next page of his book.

The salmon haired young man pulled up something wrapped up in his ramen noodles. It was too tightly wound to take a better look but the teen could see it was dark meat of some type. Shrugging his shoulders, Yuji put the clump of noodles and meat in his mouth.

Olivia who was about to ask her brother something instantly paled at what was about to go down her creator's throat. It looked like a decrepit old rotten finger with a large claw, so old that it was dark purple and clearly toxic. "That's a crusty finger not beef!" And the finger went down the boy's throat before anyone could move.

Olly quickly flew over to the couch as the kitchen table exploded into splinters. The cause being their salmon hair roommate whose arm was held up in a swipe manner, an arm covered in intricate black tattoos and had large violet claws. Both watched as two slits that emerged under Yuji's eyes alongside black tattoos opened to reveal smaller red eyes.

Or the fact their friend laughed in a deeper more manic voice reminiscent of a psychopath. "Ahahahaha! It feels good to be alive again! Wonder what massacres I can unleash upon this age! The women and children crawling around like lambs to the slaughter!" The possessed Yuji then rips off his shirt apart to reveal even more intricate tattoos going down his slightly more powerful looking body.

"Our big brother got possessed by a psycho devil stripper!!" Olly could only freeze upon his sister's cry as four blood red orbs had now spotted them. Not Yuji stared at the two origami people behind the large plush furniture. Surprise and confusion crossing his four eyed face before he let out a manic chuckle.

"Hahaha! It seems this body belongs to a Jujutsu Sorcerer who knew how to craft living origami. Quite an interesting Cursed Technique… I wonder what I can learn from tearing you apart!" Both siblings were ready to fly away when Not Yuji suddenly froze. A familiar hand symbol emerged on Olivia's chest as Not Yuji's hands morphed into long appendages made of folded origami.

The Thousand Fold Arms wrapping itself around the possessed teen like a straitjacket much to their anger. "What?!" He shouted only for a mouth to pop up on his right cheek and the right eye's iris turning brown in color.

"Good to know origami magic can counter possession to an extent. Alright asshole, who are you? You already pissed me off since you tried to hurt my family and now ruined my study session!" Yuji threatened from the sudden transmutation. Not Yuji growled at the threat in irritation realizing he couldn't move or even retreat into the teen's soul.

This boy had somehow purposely locked him out from both the inside and outside. "No matter what age, you Jujutsu Sorcerers are still a pain in the ass! I am Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses! Show some respect you damn brat!" Howled the possessor as he struggled to break the teen's powerful hold over this body.

"Jujutsu Sorcerers??? What the heck is even that? And Curses have a king??? Then again, your crusty finger ended up in Yuji's ramen so maybe you're a gag?" Sukuna decided that he was going to tear the yellow origami girl apart first for the blatant disrespect. If he got out of this boy's grip. Her questions however raised one of his own.

"You telling me that not only do you fools don't know about me but also Jujutsu Sorcerers? Are you a bunch of dumbasses or completely ignorant?!" The King of Curses would've said more if a large blade didn't pop appear by his neck.

This blade or to be precise, blades, belonged to an inhumanly large pair of cutting scissors that were the size of a van. His three crimson eyes burned holes at Olly's own whose paper left arm was enveloped in a wild green circle depicting the tool ready to chop off his head. The prince's face burned red with rage.

"You're lucky I care about Yuji or I would cut your head off for disrespecting my family. We don't know about you or these Jujutsu Sorcerers and frankly don't care. Get out of our older brother's body now so he can study for his exam." Olly threatened, his tone similar to a lion ready to cut down intruders targeting its pride.

"Well too bad! I can't leave your little master's body even if I wanted too! He only ate one of my 20 fingers and even if he did eat them all, the boy's body will become mine! Unless you can fully pull my soul out then I'm stuck with you brats." Sukuna's words dripping with foul venom.

The information painted a very bad picture for the makeshift family of three. A psychotic demon was trapped in the eldest body and soul split into 20 pieces. Even if they could find all the fingers, it didn't mean the King of Curses would leave Yuji's body willingly.

"Then let's find those fingers." Yuji's second mouth grabbed everyone's attention. "You might be stuck in my body but that doesn't mean I can get you out somehow or someway. At best, I can make a origami body that you can possess temporarily so you won't be cooped up in my soul. And once we find all the fingers, I can get you out of my body with the 1,000 Paper Cranes."

A look of realization passing over Olivia's face. "That's right! The 1,000 Paper Cranes ritual can grant a free wish if you can make all the cranes faster than you did the first time! We can use that wish to get Sukuna out of your body! Nice thinking Yuji!" The King of Curses' couldn't help the shellshock.

These three were willing to collect every piece of his soul and use some wish making technique to make him whole again? None of them had any idea what they were getting themselves into by him or those who still seek to destroy the demon. If he played his cards right, then he will finally live once more.

"Alright you cocky little shits. I can help you locate my fingers since they're a part of my soul. Don't think we'll be buddy buddy because once I get out of that brat's body, I will rip you to shreds! Hear me?!" The pair of scissors by the two faced being's neck shrunk back to normal size before hitting the floor.

"We'll fight back when that time comes. For now, you better behave yourself. Come Olivia, let's see what paper we can use for Sukuna's origami vessel." With that said, Olly dragged his sister out of the room. Yuji's arms returned to normal once the magic connection was cut then ripped Sukuna's control over his body.

The tattoos vanished and one of the slits closed except for the right he forced open which took its original red hue. "Why haven't you fully blocked me out yet? You clearly have enough control to fully suppress me. Are you pitying me, dumb brat?!" Yuji merely ignored Sukuna's threat to grab a piece of paper and a pencil.

"What do you want your origami body to look like? It'll have a form similar to Olly and Olivia but you can choose the customization. Even give it four arms if you have the normal amount of fingers per hand like a human does." Yuji questioned, the mouth on his cheek going silent for a moment.

A few seconds later Sukuna spoke up once Yuji finished the body's outline. "Give it four arms and four crimson eyes. The clothing should be a kimono but I want different color sleeves." The salmon haired teen smiled as he got to work on the concept with the demon's instructions.

Maybe things wouldn't be so bad despite having to search for 20 fingers of a literal demon that had entered his life.

And that's it. Today's story was mixed with the newest Paper Mario game: The Origami King. Without spoiling the game to those who wish to play, it's a very fun game but the ending is very bittersweet.

I also wanted to experiment a bit with Yuji as a kid. How different this Yuji could turn out than his canon incarnation since there is new factors to his life.

Olly and Olivia will be serving sibling roles to Itadori but also taught him how to use Origami based magic or Cursed Technique. I'm taking the Smash Brothers' approach to bypass the requirement of Cursed Energy since in Smash Bros, rules are changed to allow each fighter to be on equal terms.

The game mechanics such as 1,000-Fold Arms, enemies, bosses and different locations will be incorporated into Yuji's moveset. This Yuji is also smarter due to Olly and Olivia's presence, perfect motivation to learn.

Spoilers?: Sukuna is going to get attached to the three.

I hope you guys enjoy the story! Until next time folks! Oh and have this Origami Ryomen Sukuna design! Chou!

Edit: Fixed a few spelling mistakes and grammar. Apparently me misspelling Jujutsu is pretty common in early works with this franchise. 😅

[omgrachwrites]

The One That Got Away

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky was always the one that got away but now he needs you.

Warnings: lil bit of fluff, swearing, angst

Prompt: Raining cats and dogs

Words: 1036

A/N: So this is my piece for @crushedbyhyperbole​‘s 200 follower challenge, congrats again love! This wasn’t meant to be so angsty but here we are! Hope you guys enjoy and please let me know what you think! I love you all! xxx

It was a beautiful late afternoon in the Tuscany region of Italy, the sky was the colour of raspberry sorbet and the smell of honeysuckle and lemons were on the wind. You were sitting on the patio of the holiday cottage that you’d rented for the week and you were about to pour yourself – a very large – glass of white wine but you decided against it due to your current circumstance. You sighed and looked out over the lake, watching the water ripple, it would rain soon, you could always tell as it got rather breezy.

Your laptop was open on the table, it had been stuck on your Facebook page for the best part of the day, and it was consistently getting refreshed as you anxiously waited for the pictures to go live. You had been invited to the wedding – though you thought that Steve had had a hand in it – it was the reason for your trip to Italy. It was the only thing that pulled you away from Paris. At the last minute you chickened out and didn’t go to the wedding, you figured that you would have to show your face at the reception the following day.

The happy couple had pretty much rented an entire restaurant for the whole day; it was very extra, almost as extra as getting married in a vineyard. You had to see the photographs of them for yourself, it was some sort of masochistic thing, and it would feel like you were closing a book rather than a chapter. You absent mindedly scratched at the bumpy scar on the inside of your wrist that was still red and raw.

The doorbell chimed, pulling you out of your thoughts, rolling your eyes and with a huff you got up to open the door. It was Steve, his eyes looked sad and he looked at you with an unreadable expression, it was that look that caused you to vomit all of your words out.

“Look, Steve I didn’t come to the wedding, I know that and I’m sorry! I was too chicken,” Steve shook his head as you halted your words.

“It’s not about that. He wants to see you,” he said simply and you raised an eyebrow.

“Who?” you asked and Steve blinked at you with a deep-set frown, you rolled your eyes at the look on his face, “why does he want to see me? Today of all days he shouldn’t be asking for me.”

“Well he is asking for you and he needs you, you know the way to the vineyard don’t you? I suggest you get going sooner rather than later,” he attempted a small smile before he wandered back to his car.

About ten minutes later you did decide to set off for the vineyard, curious about what Steve had been saying. Unfortunately, on the ride over it started raining and when you had reached the vineyard there was but one person there, sitting on one of the soaking wedding chairs, looking at the flower arch that served to be an altar.

“Bucky? Are you okay?” you asked the man with raindrops running down his face or was it tear drops? You couldn’t tell. You sat down next to him and he spoke without looking at you.

“She left me at the altar. I don’t know why, I thought that everything between us was going so well. I guess not,” he laughed without humour and threw the wedding bands.

You looked at his handsome face, you felt incredibly sad, you knew what it felt like to lose him and it wasn’t fun. It was beyond imaginable that anyone would willingly give him up, “I’m so sorry. Nobody deserves that, have you been here all day?”

He nodded, “yeah the guys were with me but I convinced them all to go home,” he shrugged and you shivered in the cold rain, your heart was soft for him, it hadn’t been that way in a long time.

“Come on, let’s get you somewhere dry. It’s raining cats and dogs out here,” he let you take him back to your car. When you had gotten him back to your cottage you handed him a towel and a mug of tea, “sorry, you know that I don’t do coffee,” you giggled and he smiled weakly.

“Thank you,” as you went to walk past him he grabbed your hand, his gentle fingers running over the scar on the inside of your wrist, “you got rid of it, when?” he asked with a hurt look on his face as he showed you the red star on his wrist.

“A couple of months ago, it didn’t make sense to have a matching tattoo with a guy who was getting married,” you pulled your hand out of his grasp and went to sit opposite him.

You and Bucky had got matching tattoos for your 18th birthday when you both graduated from high school. Bucky looked up at you with those gorgeous oceans of blue, his hair was curling as it dried and the mere sight of him reminded you  just how easy it was for you to fall right back in love with him.

“What happened to us Y/N, how did things become so fucked up between us? I still don’t get it after all these years,” he shook his head.

“Well Bucky,” you started casually almost as if you were talking about the weather, “we survived high school and miraculously survived college even though we were 500 miles away from each other. Then when I set my sights on Paris and I thought you had too, you set yours on another girl,” you shrugged, it still stung.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, he looked it too and you bit your lip, looking at his sullen face, “I guess karma came to bite me in the ass in the end.”

“It’s okay. I’ve got a spare room if you want to use it,” you stood up and you were about to make your way to bed when he stopped you.

“We would have been happy you know I’m sure of it.”

“Well it’s too bad that we’ll never know. Goodnight Bucky.”

--------------------------------------------------

@crushedbyhyperbole​

[labellerose-acheron]

Anatomy of a Crash *** [Helle (feat. Toulouse sometimes)]

In which the Acheron family adjusts to life with twins...[takes place between December 7 and January 21]

@trip-downtheriverstyx​, @lou-bonfightme​

[tw -- post partum depression symptoms (including self loathing, anxiety, depression, disassociation) and a few domestic arguments]

MONDAY, DECEMBER 7, 2020

HADES:  It’d been a week. a week and they still didn’t have a name for Baby B.

 It was, frankly, getting ridiculous. Every time Hades returned to his list, his irritation at himself flourished brand new, both for 1. Not finding a name that was suitable before this point and 2. for apparently being so bloody picky that none of these names matched the small, quiet, agreeable baby who slept longer than his brother and didn’t squirm twice as much. He supposed part of the problem was his own expectations. Naming Opal had been obvious. Aidan had slipped into place as easily as the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle. He expected that same feeling for Baby B-- to simply look at the curated list that Belle and he had labored over for months and find one that clicked. 

Instead, he remained Baby B, which did not fit him either. 

“We need a whole new list,” Hades declared one afternoon. He gripped the bassinet and gazed down at his sleepy, sweet-faced son, blinking open his eyes after a nap. Aidan had woken up a few moments ago; it was always like that, as if Baby B had some kind of delay, had not mastered the stereotypical art of twin telepathy but instead came one second behind, always on his own time table instead. Hades actually quite liked that about him.

“We should just start all over. Maybe something Greek or Roman, in the same ballpark as Aidan. Marcus.” He looked down at Baby B.

Baby B was not a Marcus. Hades scowled. 

BELLE: Yes, they had to name their other son. Belle knew this. Belle felt badly about this. Belle, honestly, avoided thinking about this because it felt overwhelming...choosing a name. It always did. They had only chosen Opal from a dream and as a token to Hades’ mother. It was the name that child would be called the rest of their lives or until they chose something different--

So to saddle them with something they hated or that didn’t seem to fit them? It felt incredibly daunting. As daunting as taking a few steps towards the loo or even picked up the babies and holding them. 

The longer Baby B went without a name, the longer Belle looked at him and felt...hollow. He was just a baby. Not her baby. Not anyone’s. With no name for himself. 

And so--she turned away from thinking about it. Belle had other goals too: walk down the stairs. (She’d attempted it once already only to get stuck.) Take a shower by herself. Not cry for a full day. Be helpful, be useful. Finish a book. Yes, in the week since the babies had been born, Belle had not finished the book she’d been reading before they’d been born. 

It was a small book: Looking Backward. She had picked it up on a whim as part of a greater anthology of science fiction, something she had been dubious to delve into in the past. It was a thin volume, only about 200 pages and yet, it had taken Belle more than a week to read it.

The problem wasn’t that it wasn’t good. Belle actually was enjoying it a great deal. (It was a very good first foray into proper science fiction, in her opinion, because she forgot that was what it was half the time.) It was that she was exhausted. She could read only a few pages of a time before her sore body and pain medication was dragging her back down to sleep. So, she had to gobble up pages while she had the time. 

And she had the time now, in fact: she was almost finished when--

Hades spoke. 

Belle hadn’t even noticed he was in the room. 

“What? No, not Marcus. It’s too close to Maurice,” she said with a little frown, turning the page in the book without looking up. 

“Can we do this later, please? I only have two pages left. I’d quite like to know what Mr. Bellamy has to say.” 

HADES:  Hades looked up from his sleepy son’s face to scowl at Belle. Belle of course did not notice. She was not looking at all, but rather at her book, which was quite typical of her-- and actually, Hades should be grateful for that. Her recovery was slow-moving, even though the doctors reassured them that everything was progressing as it should. Still, Belle hated being in bed; she hated being tired, lethargic, and in pain; who would not hate that? Some mothers might enjoy the recovery time, might want to be pampered, but not Belle. 

So, seeing her read rather than sleep was a good sign. Very typical, stubborn Belle. But Hades was also being very typical and stubborn himself, and since Belle was up and not foggy because of the pain meds, he’d like to try to find a name for their son. They couldn’t keep putting it off. Maybe they should just pick something, anything-- 

“Who?” Hades asked sharply--and at first it was all out of annoyance, a pointed, exasperated question. He didn’t know which book she was reading, didn’t know if Bellamy meant the author or a character in the book, but either way, Bellamy was not invited into this conversation. Bellamy was not naming their kid-- 

Then a thoughtful expression passed over his face and suddenly, well, he actually would like to know the answer to the question. 

He straightened, a hand falling to his hip. “Wait, who?” he repeated, more insistently, so Belle could not ignore him. 

BELLE: “Edward Bellamy,” Belle replied, still attempting to read, though Hades’ glare was now burning her through the flimsy last page that she had. It was doing horrible things for her concentration. After she found herself rereading the same sentence twice, she huffed and lowered her book. Her eyes flicked up to her husband. 

“Honestly, Hades. Don’t you know? Looking Backwards. Utopian science fiction? It’s one of the most prolific books of American literature in the 19th century.” 

She rolled her eyes a bit and then lifted the book up again. “And I’ve only one more page. Our son’s name can wait just a moment more. I haven’t done any decent reading in almost a week.” 

Perhaps this was more dismissive than she should have been, but Belle always hated getting interrupted when in the middle of a good book, or towards the end of any book, good or bad. (Though, Looking Forward she quite liked.) Was it less allowable considering she was dismissing her own son for it? Belle did not want to dwell on the answer. Instead, she lost herself, just for one moment more, in the utopian world of 2000. 

HADES:  Yes, Hades knew who Edward Bellamy was. That was not really why he asked the question he did. He wanted to hear it in the air again: Bellamy. He wanted to hear it surrounded by context. Suddenly he did care about whether Bellamy was the author or the character. Suddenly he did care about what type of character or author that was. And he didn’t necessarily know much about Edward Bellamy besides that he was a bloke who wrote science-fiction but he quite liked Belle’s exasperated explanation of him anyway. 

He liked how very Belle it was. It was a Belle-ish name, even past the obvious shared letters in the beginning.

But that was why he had liked Aidan in the first place anyway, wasn’t it? He hadn’t known that it was derived from Hades until he read a little bit more about it. He smiled when he’d learned and instantly the name was bolder to him, bigger, more important. He’d never name his kid directly after himself...being a junior seemed to be a heavier lot in life than necessary. He still wanted his son to have a name that was all his own. 

But Aidan paid tribute. 

Bellamy could pay tribute. 

Belle deserved to have a son named after her (sort of) as well. 

“It’s perfect,” declared Hades, grinning full on. Belle looked up at him again, confused and clearly still annoyed. 

He laughed. “Bellamy! I like it, don’t you? Bellamy.” He reached down to scoop Bellamy into his arms. Bellamy only grunted once, then relaxed, not at all fussy at the moment. 

BELLE: “Better for you, better for you,” a voice within me rang, “had this evil dream been the reality, and this fair reality the dream; better your part pleading for crucified humanity with a scoffing generation, than here, drinking the wells you digged not, and eating of trees--”

Hades was still talking. 

What in the world was he blathering on about? 

The book snapped shut again in the same second that Hades began to laugh. The sound of his laughter caught Belle off guard and she gave him a quizzical look. What on earth was so delightful about Edward Bellamy? He hadn’t even known who he was, apparently. Or had forgotten, even though Belle had certainly mentioned starting the book before the babies had been born. 

“Hades, what--” 

Oh. He meant--

Belle blinked and tilted her head. And then, one corner of her lips twitched into a slight smile. 

“Bel ami,” she said, her voice lilting slightly, the way it did when she was speaking French. “It means fine friend, I think.” She smiled a bit wider. 

HADES:  Fine friend. 

Yes, it was a Belle-ish name after all. 

Little Bellamy breathed in and out, blinking up at his father’s large grin. He absolutely had no idea what was going on, but Hades imagined as he heard the name in the air that he was listening. He half-sat down on the bed, careful not to sit on top of Belle as he did, but he wanted Belle to see the name and their son up close. This was a moment for the three of them: mother, father, child. Aidan behaved by not squirming or fussing, though at this point, Hades knew that if his brother was away for too long, he would get anxious. (Interestingly enough, little Bellamy didn’t react quite the same way, though if Aidan cried, he soon would join in, as if in solidarity). 

“I think it suits him. And they sound nice together. Aidan and Bellamy,” murmured Hades. He glanced at Belle and their eyes met. A smile slipped onto his lips. After the past stretch of days with Belle either in too much pain or lost in a fog of fatigue to really talk to him, this moment felt as clear as-- appropriately-- a bell. 

The runes on his arms began to glow.

“Bellamy Acheron. And what do you think for a middle name?” he asked. 

BELLE: Hades sat down on the bed beside and Belle put her book aside, paying attention now. (She’d finished, anyway. See? Hadn’t been long.) She poked her head over Hades’ shoulder, resting her cheek against it as her hand came up to touch her son’s head. Bellamy Acheron, yes, it was nice, she thought. She did like it quite a bit. It was French and an author, though obscure enough as to not be obvious. And it was a “B” name, which felt fitting, considering he had been Baby B for so long. 

Now, he was still Baby B. Her baby B. 

“Hm,” Belle hummed. “Bellamy…” 

Her eyes flicked about the room as she thought, rifling through other French names. Her mind, of course, turned to the Bonfamilles at once. They were her tie to that part of herself, the ones who encouraged her to speak French and traded literature with her. Though, Toulouse or Berlioz would be a horrible tongue twister.

“Something short, I’d imagine,” Belle mused. Her lip twitched a bit, as she considered this was the opposite of Aidan, whose middle name was Alexander. She thought it sounded nice all together: Aidan Alexander Acheron; a nice, strong name. Toulouse had shook his head and said it was a mouthful. 

“Oh,” Belle said, lifting her head from Hades’ shoulder so she could turn to look at him. “What about Henri? For--Toulouse. If...you think he’d like that?” 

HADES:  He did think of Toulouse.

But he immediately dismissed it anyway. Not because he thought Belle would balk at the thought of it-- even before he and Lou were in this partnership, he’d been Hades’ closest friend. He had no father or grandfather or brother to whom to turn for such traditions, so why wouldn’t it be Toulouse? He dismissed the name though because he knew that not even Toulouse liked it that much. It was a heavy burden. Pretentious. He preferred Lou, did not let anyone who was not family touch Toulouse as it were. Bellamy Lou meanwhile felt rather awkward. Bellamy Louis was a terrible dilution. It barely even sounded like Toulouse at all. 

Hades had already considered all this while thinking about first names anyway, not even bothering to write any version of Lou on there. It simply didn’t fit. 

He didn’t think that Belle would think of Toulouse. 

But as soon as she did, he realized he should have. Because as dear as Lou was to Hades, he was dear to Belle too. 

The surprise flickered across his face, then, but quickly softened like melted butter. He smiled at Belle, his head turned toward hers. It was still rather an awkward angle, but their eyes met anyway and lingered. He looked for any regret or hesitation, for any sign that she was just doing this for him. He saw none of that. 

“I think he’d like it quite a bit,” said Hades, his voice as soft as his eyes. His mouth twitched though. “Well, he’ll never admit that though.”

He looked down at Bellamy again, still cradling his soft, small head in Hades’ own large hand. “Bellamy Henri Acheron has a ring to it though. I think we’ve done it, eh? We found your name.”

And Hades’ runes on his arms began to glow. 

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 11, 2020

BELLE: It was a week since Belle was home from the hospital. She was on more medications than she’d ever been in her life. There were stitches in her uterus (they’d taken the staples out before she’d left the hospital.) The incision was long and red and ugly, running the length of her pelvis, though the doctor assured her that the scar would shrink over time. She was still bleeding heavily--as if she was endlessly menstruating. She had been instructed not to lift anything heavier than her babies (so no carrying books or bags or laundry or dishes or...anything.) Stairs were to be taken only with help (and even then, you might begin to cry when it hurt and you felt too weak.) 

She was confined to the bed, drifting in and out of consciousness as sleep took her and took her. Even the cries of the babies did not wake her. The painkillers were wonderful for that. They kept her drifting as if she lived on a cloud, far away from crying babies and the stress of newborns. Except for every two hours, when she was pulled from sleep to feed the babies.  

Lou had helped them settle in the first night and then left again to give them some space, Belle assumed. She hadn’t even known that he was gone until Hades had mentioned something to her. He had said goodbye, apparently, but Belle hardly remembered. 

It was just Hades, Belle, Opal, and the babies. And right now, it was just Belle and the babies. Hades was downstairs, heating dinner. Opal had already gone to bed. It was late, the night dark. Belle had been sleeping most of the afternoon and had woken once the babies had finally fallen asleep. It was quiet, Belle actually managing to read a few pages of her book. And with the babies peaceful, Belle could actually be rather fond of them. They did look so sweet curled up next to one another, their little mouths slightly open. Perfect as anything. She had spent a few moments admiring them when she’d first woken, but soon, she’d had to distract herself with reading, lest her pain distract her from anything else. 

The first cry from Aidan went unheard, Belle engulfed too deeply in her book. The second cry was followed shortly by a third cry, this one from Bellamy. And soon, before Belle even knew what was happening, both of them had been set off, squirming in their bassinet next to the bed. 

For a moment, Belle just froze--watching them, as if she didn’t know what to do. She did know, didn’t she? Belle was already a mother. She had faced a crying baby more times than she could count. But not two. Not these babies. For some reason, that made a difference. Belle didn’t know these babies. They would be a week old tomorrow, but Belle didn’t know them. 

“Shh,” she said eventually, snapping out of her shock. Reaching over, she rocked the bassinet gently. The stretch pulled at her sensitive incision and she drew back with a hiss, her hand fluttering over her stomach until the burning subsided. The cries didn’t subside, they grew louder. They sounded like the blaring of alarms, declaring some imminent disaster. They frayed against Belle’s sensitive nerves and she felt her breath catch in her throat, the burn of tears quickly followed. 

“Shh, it’s alright,” Belle tried to say but her voice was strained. Pulling off the blanket she had draped over her knees, she moved towards the bassinet, her feet falling onto the floor so that she could lean over. But that hurt too. She grit her teeth and ignored the pull, as if she was being ripped in half. Her hand reached into the bassinet, touching one of the babies’ wet cheeks, then the other’s. This did nothing to stop the braying. 

“Please, it’s alright,” Belle pleaded quietly, putting her hand on the bassinet and pulling it a bit closer. She slid on the covers, so that her toes touched the chilly floor, bracing herself to scoop one of them up into her arms. Leaning over the bassinet, she ignored the throbbing of her stomach for the throbbing of her heart. Her hands slid beneath Aidan’s small back and even smaller head, in a move that, despite the rest, was easy and natural. He squirmed in her grasp, pushing his chest up and moving his head about, swinging his little arms as if he was afraid. 

Belle took a deep breath, which only served to irritate her incision more, and then lifted Aidan off the soft blanket and pillows. As soon as she did so, she felt the mechanics of her body more acutely than she ever had in her life: yes, her arms were doing a fair bit of the work, but her stomach muscles clenched as she attempted to lean back. The burning grew sharper and her elbows knocked against the edge of the bassinet, her grasp on the baby slipping slightly. 

She realized that she couldn’t lift him any further, unless she wanted to risk dropping him. She had to put him back. Aidan, unaware of any attempt to comfort continued to cry, his face turning red as his eyes screwed shut, his tiny fists waving in the air. Bellamy cried too, though he stayed swaddled in his blanket, tears ran over his round baby cheeks and dropped into his ears. 

Belle didn’t realize it but she started crying herself, laying Aidan back into the bassinet. She tried to fix his blankets but he kept squirming away. Her fingers trembled and her breath rattled in her own lungs. 

“Shh, it’s alright, it’s alright.” The babies took no comfort in their mother’s words. Swallowing, Belle cleared her throat and then raised her voice as much as she could.

“Hades!”

He appeared much quicker than she anticipated. She leaned back from the bassinet, one of her hands scrubbing at her face, the other holding her side. “I’m s-sorry,” she told him, her lip trembling, even as the tears subsided. “I--couldn’t--” She glanced away, curling one of her hands into the comforter. 

HADES:  They were still finding a schedule.

Coming home from the hospital had not been like the first time, when they settled Opal in her bassinet, exhausted but also exhilarated, the two of them rising to the challenge of new parents the way that Hades and Belle rose to anything. This time, although the house had not physically changed, it appeared to Hades much like an alien planet. His routine here was disturbed. Opal’s routine was disturbed. He could not find the right pattern yet, in between feeding the babies, changing their diapers, helping Belle with her care, and finding time for Opal in between it all. The first few days were an absolute wreck; Hades did not remember sleeping, and if he did (he must have) than he certainly stole the sleep from the maws of time, grabbing minutes while sorting the laundry downstairs or waiting for something to heat on the stove. Lou was a help, but Hades did not want to rely too heavily on him, of course. It was important to find their way. 

But steadily, Hades was learning-- learning not just about his two sons but about Opal as a big sister and himself as a father of three. Tonight was one of the first nights that he managed to get Opal in bed on time, with enough time for a bedtime story as was her tradition. She went to bed much easier then. He kissed her light golden hair and thanked the Fates for her peace. He hoped that it would extend through the night. An Opal waking from slumber and trying to crawl into her parents’ bed was not possible. 

He’d gone downstairs for Belle’s dinner and while he worked on that-- tried to catch up on a few Board responsibilities. He called Simba for a quick update and was finishing the conversation when the babies began crying. 

He ended it as soon as he could, of course, and then quickly moved over to the food. He was reheating a sauce on the pan as opposed to microwave and quickly had to turn off the gas before he went upstairs. 

He was half-way up when he heard Belle calling for him. He took the stairs two at a time and rushed the rest of the way.

But when he arrived, Belle was in tears. It alarmed him and he darted toward her, briefly concerned not about the sobbing babies but that something had happened to her instead. “Love,” he started, but Belle was already apologizing profusely over him.

It took him another second to understand what it could be about. Another second to take in Belle’s trembling legs and her hand over her stomach, where the incision was. And then he understood. She had not been able to stand up and lift either son. The past few days, Hades had done this for her, laying each child gently into Belle’s arms and staying close in case she needed any help. 

“What? Hey, no, don’t apologize,” he murmured. He wanted to comfort her more, but the babies were still wailing. Each piercing cry was like a claw to the heart. He had to turn toward them, and he lifted Aidan first. “Here, it’s alright. They’re alright,” he spoke softly, both to Belle and to Aidan, and then attempted to give Aidan over to Belle to hold now that he had lifted him. 

BELLE: Belle barely heard Hades’ platitudes. Not over the sound of her babies crying. They were crying for her, she assumed, and there was nothing that she could do to help them. Her own tears obscured their tiny, angry faces, which was almost a relief. It meant that the guilt could only balloon so big. Belle hardly had room for it anyway. Her heart was beating rapid fire in her chest, as if the babies weren’t babies but bombs set to go off any moment. Delicate and destructive. It hit her, full force, as Hades lifted Aidan out of the bassinet that she was afraid of them.

She was afraid to be alone with them. She was afraid to pick them up and hold them. They were so small and fragile and she couldn’t help them. They were entirely dependent on their parents. Without Belle and Hades, they would die. And they only had Hades to rely on. 

The tears wouldn’t stop, she felt them in her chest. In her stomach. Shaking through her fingers as she sat back down properly on the bed, collapsing into it. Her hands went to the mattress by her hips to steady her and keep her upright. Each shuddering clawed at her stomach until her whole torso was burning as if she was on fire.

Aidan’s scrunched up face came into view as Hades bent to hand him over and Belle flinched without thinking about it. “No, I--no, I can’t. I’ll--I’ll drop him.” 

HADES: Aidan and Bellamy’s cries climbed to new heights, shrill and sharp and confused. And as Hades’ face twisted in confusion, he understood them-- not why they were crying, but the feeling: wanting Belle and being too far away to reach her. 

Because she was quite far away now. He was familiar with these strange, horrible moments but that didn’t make it easier to cross the distance they breached. Especially at first. At first, Hades always felt like he’d missed a step on the stair. He’d come up here expecting one thing, and found something entirely different. He hadn’t thought Belle would be crying. He didn’t understand why beyond the obvious-- the babies were distressed. And it was hard not to cry along with them. There had been nights with Opal when she was sick and could not be comforted that his tears scorched in his eyes in part because he held them in and let the heat of his failure eat him up on the inside.

But this was not the same thing. The babies were tired-- or they were hungry. They were probably hungry, that was all it was. Though babies were often mysteries, these first few weeks were simpler than what was to come. They had simple requests. And Hades and Belle were prepared for them.

Belle perhaps had forgotten that? Or was just overwhelmed. With two, it was more difficult. And she was tired, and the pain medication did not make this easier, and she’d pushed herself when she should have waited.

Hades arranged all these explanations and it helped him feel better, less lost and less alone.

He still had two babies crying for their mother. 

“No you won’t, darling,” he said. “And I’m here now. Here, lay back-- it’s alright, love, Aidan’s just hungry.” He tried to remind her of this and offered Aidan to her again, as he glanced back at Bellamy. “I can get the bottle for Bellamy.” 

He needed Belle to take one though. Though Hades could use his ghost hands, that was a last resort kind of thing; it could scare Bellamy, not comfort him. 

BELLE: The babies were still crying. Their wails were as piercing as sirens, designed to awaken the instinct to care inside of their parents, or any capable adult in the vicinity. Except that Belle didn’t feel like a capable adult. She felt like wailing too. She felt overwhelmed, as if every breath drew water into her lungs and not air. Hades’ presence only made it worse. Belle knew that he hated when she got upset like this, that he didn’t understand it and felt ill-equipped to help, and Belle didn’t want him to feel that way. She knew how awful feeling helpless felt.

She needed to stop. 

The thought came to her all at once, so suddenly, it was as if she’d been driving quickly down a road and someone quite suddenly hit the brakes.

Her breath shuddered in her chest and her tears stopped all at once. She looked dubiously at the baby being offered to her, red faced and flailing.

He’s just hungry, Belle tried to repeat Hades’ words, but it only made that hollow feeling in her chest grow, as if something was carving out her insides, bit by bit. Hungry meant feeding, which meant sore breasts and the possibility that, at this point, Aidan was far too upset to even latch properly. Not that it mattered, did it? Sore breasts were a small price to pay to feed her child and keep him healthy and alive. She really had no choice in the matter.

Belle’s lip trembled, but she reached up and scrubbed at her own face with the sleeve of her sweater. Then, she moved, as quickly as possible, back towards the pillows. The pain had subsided into a dull throb again, though she moved skittishly, afraid to make it worse.

Once she was settled, she held out her arms for the baby. Her face drawn as she watched him squirm. She pulled up her shirt, flashing her red, angry wound as she lifted the babe to her breast.

To her great relief, Aidan was hungry enough to put aside his tears. Her face crumpled again when his wailing stopped, but Bellamy’s continued. Her fingers were still trembling slightly as she readjusted Aidan’s clothes, fussing so she wouldn’t have to look at Hades.

“I’m—sorry,” she said again, not even sure if the apology could be heard beneath Bellamy’s cries. “I-I’ll try harder, next time. You shouldn’t have to do everything.” 

HADES:  Belle stopped crying. It was a small relief, which Hades could not enjoy, nor did the relief last long. His sons were still crying. Though her face was dry, Belle was upset. And Hades still felt helpless and unsteady, as if he were about to tip off-balance. He did not have the opportunity or the freedom to do so. Belle could crumble, he understood the pain, the drugs, the fatigue. But Hades had to remain certain even when he did not feel certain. 

He did not feel like he was doing a good job. In fact, he felt the opposite: Belle staring hollowly through him, seeing his confusion bare on his face, his impatience one second away from cracking. If she cried again, he knew it would be his fault. 

He gave Aidan over and turned away from Belle quickly, not just because he needed to scoop Bellamy into his arms but because he needed a second, just one second, to find his own composure so he would not say the wrong thing as he often did. 

Bellamy was light as a feather. Almost as soon as Hades drew him to his chest, the volume of his cries dipped, then ebbed. As Hades rocked him, the torrent became a thin, watery trickle. 

As quickly as the noise had erupted, now it was silent. It felt like holes had been punched in the walls though, the wind whistling through the injuries. 

The echo of Belle’s apology, now, was loud and unavoidable.

He wanted to sit on the bed with her. He would like to stroke her hair and kiss her temples and rub her shoulders, if she needed it. He would like to summon the perfect string of words to quiet her shame, as holding Bellamy did now. But Hades did not have the freedom of doing these things either. If he sat down, Bellamy might start crying again.

“No, don’t apologize. It’s alright. This is what I’m here for,” Hades said as he shook his head, his brow furrowing. “We’ll get better at this, both of us. It’s just--” 

His words evaporated. There was not a single one written that was big enough to encompass the weight of their days. 

“--A lot. Right now. But we’ll get better,” he repeated helplessly. 

BELLE: Perhaps Hades’ words should make her feel better. Belle knew that was their aim, but they only made her guiltier. She could hear the struggle in Hades’ voice: the exhaustion, the frustration, and the concern. He was clearly struggling too. And why wouldn’t he? With three babies, a useless wife, a shoppe to run, and a town to lead? Belle only had one of those things—the babies—and she couldn’t even handle that. 

If this was, at the moment, an equal partnership, those things would be much relieved. He would not sound so exhausted or frustrated or concerned. 

Belle knew that Hades loved the babies and enjoyed taking care of them. This was what he wanted after all. What both of them had wanted, though Belle sometimes found it hard to remember that she’d agreed to all this. (Though, they’d never imagined two.) That didn’t mean it wasn’t hard, especially since he’d been counting on her help. They had Toulouse, of course, but he couldn’t feed the babies the way Belle could. As was her job as a mother. And he had his own life and things to attend to. 

So, yes, Hades’ words were hollow. Belle wasn’t even sure that he believed them. And Hades was always so sure in his beliefs. 

She looked down at the baby at her breast and stroked a hand over his soft head. 

“Yes,” she agreed, her voice reedy. “I suppose you’re right.”

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 20, 2020

BELLE: It had been almost a month and Belle hardly felt better.

She could walk a bit more, it was true, but not horribly far. She still felt pain taking the stairs. She was still bleeding. It felt horribly hopeless, like she would never feel like herself again. It had been so long since she had felt capable, considering that even before the babies had been born, she’d been so large that she’d needed assistance with simple tasks. It had been so long that Belle was surprised she still had tears left, though she had gotten better at hiding them. Crying only when it was just herself—or herself and the babies. 

At least they couldn’t judge her for it. Belle hated feeling Hades’ and Toulouse’s eyes on her, watching her every moment she was in their presence, as if she were going to come apart at the seams. All she wanted was to be capable, but it felt as if she couldn’t be. She knew that in some ways she was healing, but in other ways, it felt like everywhere she hit a roadblock. If it wasn’t healing from her surgery, it was exhaustion from having to wake up every time the babies did and robotically feed them, like she was some sort of milk dispenser, instead of a person. That was what it felt like to her. There was no closeness there, for the most part. Sometimes, she watched the babies at her breast and thought them sweet and loved them, but usually—she only felt a bitterness, as hard as a fruit pit in her stomach. She wanted sleep, or she wanted to read, or she wanted to not be in pain, her breasts sore and swollen and several times, she’d been afraid she’d gotten an infection they’d hurt so badly.

Her body felt battered and bruised, like a horrible, bloody battlefield that had been forgotten to history. Belle just wanted to rest. 

It was late at night or early in the morning, depending on how you looked at things, the babies having woken Belle and Hades both. They had run out of breastmilk...again. Which meant Belle was feeding one, whilst Hades rocked the other, trying to keep the mewls quiet, so they didn’t wake Opal too.

Belle had her head back against the headboard of the bed, her eyes fluttering open and shut with every tug on her sore flesh. There was no way to sleep when every few seconds felt like part of your skin was being pulled off.

And to think—there was six more months of this.

“What time even is it?” Belle asked blearily. “I feel as if I’ve only been asleep for—ah—” she winced, “—ten minutes.”

HADES:  It had been a month, and it wasn’t getting much easier. 

That was not entirely true, he supposed. There were little victories every day. What was hard for Hades was noticing them and being satisfied with them, because all he saw was his own failings and the things he hadn’t completed that day. He’d barely gone into Chapter Three this entire month, only coming to close, balance the register, check inventory and then file the orders. Even this he was behind on; even worse, he’d accidentally duplicated an order and came in with twice the shipment from Bloomsbury that he was expecting. Hades did not make mistakes like that-- the careless, expensive kind-- but here he was, floundering like a piss-poor university student who didn’t know how to use his own software. And that was just the biggest of his mistakes. He had a list of them. He could write them down or recite them methodically, if asked.

No one asked. Sometimes Lou looked at him too long and then offer more help. Hades was grateful for it. But these days, he accepted with gritted teeth. It should not be necessary. Hades should simply manage his time better.

He had gotten Opal to bed on time tonight and had looked forward to a few coveted hours of sleep before the inevitable alarm bell of his sons. But they were not so kind. It was not their fault. At least in the dead of night, Hades’ own sleepiness was as familiar to him as his magic, or Belle’s company; the wails of his sons the same as the wails of the ghosts. He had been here before.

He cradled Aidan, rocking gently. Aidan would start to whine again if not. He was much harder than Bellamy, who suckled calmly. Aidan kept making little whines around the bottle, pulling away as if unsatisfied, only for Hades to coax the bottle back into his impatient little mouth. 

He was playing that game when Belle’s voice tugged his gaze upward. “Hm?” he hummed so low, he doubted Belle heard him. He swallowed and then glanced at the clock on the wall. “Nearly 2,” he said. “And they got us up at midnight so. Two hours, ten minutes. All the same, eh?” He tried for a tired smile, hoping for a laugh.

His worry tugged at him though and his smile vanished as quickly as it came. “Are you alright?” 

BELLE: No, Belle was not alright. She was totally and utterly exhausted. Opal nor all night study sessions nor hours upon sleepless hours researching ways to free Hades from the Underworld had made her feel so tired. It felt as if she did not get a proper night’s sleep, she may crumble into dust. Her bones hurt, her blood felt sluggish, her head dizzy. She hardly trusted herself to be able to function well enough to take care of the babies. If she was recovering from her surgery, it was hardly noticed—that was how tired she was: she felt as if she was constantly being ripped open, all of her insides pulled out. 

She gave him a withering look to communicate all of this. It was a stupid question. His humor was not appreciated. Maybe she should be kinder. Maybe she should laugh and expel all the hurt inside of her for a moment so she could replenish her stores and continue onward. 

But, she couldn’t do that. The thought of piling more hurt into herself felt impossible. Her chest was a wardrobe full of secrets, stuffed to the brim with everything she had been feeling the past few weeks. Every tear she cried alone, hiding from Hades, from Toulouse, sloshed at the bottom. Every ache and physical pain a grain of sand that became so heavy, Belle was sure if she weighed it, it’d be more than both babies combined. All of her horrible thoughts were sharp and vicious animals that prowled through her mind, waiting for a moment of vulnerability so that they could explode from that wardrobe and chew on the chambers of her heart before retreating. 

These were the worst beasts of her burden. They hurt the most. The thought that she regretted ever having the twins, that they couldn’t possibly have come from her womb, that she did not know if she loved them at all. 

Moments like this, when she was delirious from lack of sleep and sore from her recovery and the nature of having babies that needed to constantly be fed, Belle was most vulnerable to these thoughts. 

Breastfeeding was supposed to be a time of closeness and bonding. Belle remembered that feeling with Opal: looking down at her and never feeling more proud of herself or her body than for the work it was doing. And Opal’s little eyes and her dark eyelashes and her tiny fingers. Her heart bruised with love. 

Right now, her flesh was the bruise and all she felt was that sharp pain. There was no room for tenderness, except for the tenderness of her flesh. 

“I am exhausted,” Belle said, and she did not have the capacity to even let her voice go watery and wet. Her voice was hollow as a reed. “I hate this.” 

She was specifically referring to this: waking up every two hours, no matter what, in order to breastfeed—or pump milk if the babies weren’t actually hungry, her breasts sore and heavy. And yet, there was more truth to her words than she’d care to admit. 

HADES:  Hades did not know what to say.

Belle did not say anything he did not know (though this was not true; he did not realize just how deeply it was untrue). Belle was strong, but she was not invincible. She knew how to bear pain, but that didn’t mean she could hide it, entirely. He saw the exhaustion, saw it in little ways that caused him to fret when he was away from Belle, as he turned small moments into larger moments when turning them over in his own thoughts. Like their chess game-- they always had this chess game running, you see, and each of them would come and move some pieces when they had the time. There used to be a regularity to it that Hades depended on without realizing he depended on it. He’d wake up in the morning after Belle and find she’d made her move; he’d make his own before leaving for Chapter Three. They’d continue the game in the afternoon, and always make several more moves before it was time to go upstairs to put Opal down.

Hades had moved the chess game to their bedroom when Belle first came home from the hospital. It had been several days since Belle touched it.

This small irregularity gave him pause, when every day he woke up and found the board in the same position as it had been before. It felt like he was stuck in his own bloody Groundhog Day. It felt like he was holding his breath while waiting for Belle to join him. 

But he could not press her, because it was so small and she was so tired and things had to change, at least for the time being. 

Still, it was the chess game he thought of as Belle said I hate this. 

She’d never said that before. 

Quiet. A second passed, then another. Hades grasped for a word, the right word, this conversation having transformed from an after-midnight ramble into a crossword puzzle. Belle’s clue was baffling. It only obscured the answer from him. 

“I--I’m sorry,” he said after that long pause. “This part is always hardest. It was hardest with Opal too.” 

Or at least he thought it might have been. Opal’s first few months felt like a lifetime ago after the past few days. 

BELLE: “This is harder,” Belle said bluntly.

She wasn’t looking at Hades, nor at the baby at her breast. Her gaze was on the far wall, her brow furrowed, as if she could see the movement of spectres there. Memories of what it had been like with Opal. She remembered it being tiring, but she also remembered that the entire time, Belle had been so grateful for her daughter and, despite her exhaustion she had not been nearly as exhausted or in pain. She could remember walking Opal around in the nursery, singing to her softly. She could remember taking care of her by herself. Yes, she had been sore and unable to ride, but there had been little else that had confined her. 

Now, she was stuck in bed, in pain. While she was healing and could lift the babies now and even walk a bit with them, she was almost afraid too. She couldn’t find her limits, the edges of her strength. There was always a chance some sharp pain would spike through her or her arms or legs would begin to tremble. And she was terrified of dropping the babies or hurting them. 

Not to mention there were two of them and still Opal to take care of. 

“It’s so much harder. I’m--not even doing anything and it’s harder.” Belle shook her head in frustration, which caused Bellamy to unlatch and then whine--still hungry and now confused.

“Oh,” Belle huffed and reached up to rub her forehead before she tried to coax the baby back. “Come on, Bellamy.” 

HADES:  Hades did not know how to respond to that. 

He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to. Belle’s tone was a fist, shutting down conversation (he wasn’t even sure if they’d been in a real conversation). It did not invite Hades to comment. In fact, it warned him away. It told him what Hades had always known: you do not know what you’re talking about. 

And Belle was right, even if that was not what she said. He did not know what he was talking about. He could hold the babies and feed one of them, but he had never held one to his breast. The babies had never needed them the way they needed Belle, whether 2 in the afternoon or 2 in the morning. Though Aidan drank greedily in his arms now, for a second he felt like a type of crib: swapped out easily with another model (hell, switch him with Lou, and would Aidan even tell the difference?)

It was a quick feeling, but a sharp stab of a feeling nonetheless. His mouth tasted sour now. He closed his lips, eyes dropping to Aidan, letting the silence seep into the room like a poisonous fog. 

His chair creaked as he rocked back and forth,  back and forth. 

He only looked up when Belle spoke again, the edge of her tone having dropped off for the frustration and fatigue again. He still didn’t know what he was supposed to say, but got that feeling that now he was supposed to say something. 

So he said something very useless, but the only thing he knew how to: “Is there...anything I can do to make it less so? Or Hera, or Robbins? There...certainly Hera would have ideas…” 

BELLE: “What are they going to do?” Belle scoffed. And here in those in-between hours, exhausted and frustrated, her self-consciousness and self-doubt were stripped bare, laying loose her tongue. There were no boundaries between her bitterness and her words. 

“They cannot give me back the sleep I’ve lost. They cannot give me anything to sleep more or the babies won’t be able to eat. They cannot speed up the healing process more than they already have. They cannot give me anything more to help was the pain, lest it hurt the babies.” 

And what could Hades do? Nothing. (And this was not because he wasn’t doing anything, but because like Hera and Robbins, there was no more he could do.) She would not say that, though. Mostly because she had focused on something else. The fact that, in this moment, all of her problems felt as if they centered around one thing:

“I don’t want to breastfeed anymore,” the announcement came out as an unfiltered revelation. One that for just a moment, Belle clung to as if it was a bright angel come down to her. The idea was actually thrilling and she burned with the relief of it. No more waking up every two hours, no more tender breasts or worries of infection. She could take stronger, better pain medication and heal faster. 

Belle didn’t even think about the babies and what it might mean for them. Nor her relationship to them. She had forgotten the delight of breastfeeding, left it easily behind for the freedom just on the other side of it. 

HADES:  Belle did not mean to. Or maybe she did. Either way-- Hades felt instantly scolded. 

His gaze dropped and he took it because if Hades had a job, it was this. He had other jobs too, of course. He changed the babies, he handled so much of Opal’s care, he kept running the shoppe, he helped Belle with her recovery. But those things felt like nothing in the dead of night-- or in these unforgiving, cruel morning hours, when the world held its breath and the babies wailed. Instead, he was left with the things he could not do, and Belle pointed them all out now. Hades could not give Belle back her sleep, nor help her sleep more, nor heal the damage from her surgery. He could not take her pain, even though he had thought about it-- wondered about magic and pain management and if there couldn’t be some kind of way, through sorcery or even through some hidden ability in the Underworld. After all, Death ended suffering. There was no feeling in that world at all, which was its other form of suffering but-- didn’t it track that if Hades had the powers of that world, he could silence pain, even for a little?

What wishful, idyllic thinking. Death could not be peace without finality; what kind of loophole would that be? 

And so he could only listen. He could wake with Belle. He could lose sleep beside her. But she was right. He, and Hera, and Robbins, had nothing else to give her. 

And so when Belle said what she said-- how could he argue? 

He looked up right away. There was a short pause as he stared at her, as if he hadn’t heard her correctly. But he just didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t speak on this. It was Belle’s body and-- if she didn’t want to, then-- plenty of women did not breastfeed their babies for various reasons and it was not fatal to the babies or to the mother… 

“Are you sure?” he asked after that beat. “If that’s what you want, that’s-- fine. I understand.” 

BELLE: “Yes, I’m sure.”

As soon as she said it, she knew it was true. It was the answer that had been staring them in the face the whole time. Even with Opal, Belle hadn’t breastfed her for the entire six months. She’d stopped early so she could go back to school and not have to worry about pumping every few hours. This meant that she was going to be able to rest and heal properly. There was no hesitation in her voice. Even the doubt on Hades’ couldn’t dissuade her. Nor her own worries about being a good mother. 

She would be a better mother this way. That she was also sure of. It would make everything easier. It was such a simple answer, how could she have not seen it before? 

“I’ll call Hera tomorrow and ask her the best way to go about it.” And she was smiling as she said it, feeling genuinely for once, excited for the next day. 

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 25, 2020

HADES:  It was Opal’s first real Christmas. In some ways, it was Hades’ too. 

He remembered only a few other Christmases from his childhood, before his mother passed and before Hades was too old and belligerent to see the holiday for what it really was. When he woke up this morning and carried a wiggling Opal down to the humbly decorated Christmas tree with the stuffed stocking and presents underneath it, those memories came back to him. He remembered waking up to the smell of cinnamon rolls. He remembered a fire in their little fireplace. He remembered his mother stirring hot cocoa with a peppermint stick. There had never been many presents under their tree, but they’d had sweets and stories and music, and those were the brightest ornaments in Hades’ memory now. 

So as  Opal gasped and squealed “Santa-magic!”, Hades heard Persephone laughing, and it was like she was here again. He let his daughter down and she went tearing toward the tree. She crawled under it immediately like a little squirrel, flat on her belly, grinning up through the branches at him. 

“Make sure she doesn’t climb the thing,” he told Lou. And then-- “Merry Christmas,” he said, his hand falling on Lou’s back for a moment.  And then went he up to help Belle down. 

It took a while, as it must with Belle still recovering from her surgery and so many moving parts to attend too. But soon the twins were in their downstairs bassinet and they were all gathered around a glimmering blue fire in the fireplace. They gave Opal her stocking first and she tore through it, pulling out little candies and small trinkets. She fixated on the ribbons and clips that Lou had bought their daughter. “Pretty!” she said and then went crawling up on the couch next to Belle. “Maman, one for you!” 

Hades chuckled a little, but smiled fondly at his daughter. He hoped she’d be so generous with her brothers when the time came. 

TOULOUSE: It felt strange, spending Christmas morning without his family. 

Though, he supposed that statement wasn’t entirely accurate. It felt strange spending Christmas morning without Marie and Berlioz. They had been with him every Christmas elsewise in his life. His parents had been revolving--either his mother or his father, depending on the year. His siblings he could always depend on. He had spent Christmas Eve with them, of course, and spent the night at the manor with Marie and he was due over to his brother’s cabin around lunch time for presents and dinner. 

Morning was for the Acherons this year. 

He had come over early, around the time that Opal usually awoke, so that he could be there to see her open her presents, many of which were from him. The pile had been steadily growing throughout the month. And, despite the car, there were a few other things for Belle and Hades as well. Nothing quite as large, of course. Small things: jewelry, clothing, books.

And he was--excited to give them out, even though he was sure that Hades and Belle had gotten him nothing and that they would be exasperated at him for the extra gifts. They had given him plenty of gifts this year anyway, he was perfectly satisfied.

Everything about the cottage was warm: Opal’s rosy cheeks, the flickering fire, Hades’ hand briefly on his back. “Merry Christmas,” he murmured back and then cleared his throat, glancing towards Opal.

“Opal, don’t give the ornament to the cat,” he chided her as Hades climbed the stairs.

Vincent, who had been investigating the wiggling branches zipped away behind the couch. 

Eventually, everyone settled and Opal tore into her gifts. Lou sat on the floor with her, to help facilitate handing out gifts. He took a sip of his tea, which was on the edge of the coffee table as Opal handed a barrette to her mother.

“Oh, thank you,” Belle said and put it in her lap. 

“No,” Opal said and touched the side of her head.

“Would you like me to put it in?” Belle leaned forward to do so, gathering some of her daughter’s fine hair.

“No!” Opal said, more forcefully and Belle drew back, her face baffled.

“I think she wants you to wear it, ma cherie,” Lou told her, his voice light. 

“Oh,” Belle said and then sorted. “Alright.” She lifted the clip and caught a bit of her hair in it, so that it pulled it back from her face. “There.” 

“Pretty!” Opal said before waddling towards her father, handing him a clip too. “Daddy, pretty!” 

Then, onto the bassinet with determined footsteps.

“Opal, no, the babies can’t have those,” Belle said, catching her hand before she could drop the choking hazards into the bassinet. 

Opal’s brow crumpled and tears sprang immediately into her eyes. “Babies! No!” she demanded.

“Caillou,” Lou called, distracting her. “What about mine?” He held his hand out. She looked between the bassinet, her mother, and her Tonton, before moving over to him and dropping a clip in his hand. “Merci. Now, you take this, alright?” He handed her another gift before reaching beneath the tree and handing over other ones to both Hades and Belle. 

“Toulouse…” sighed Belle in exasperation as she took her own wrapped gift.

HADES:  Hades took the clip with a slight chuckle and he slipped it into his hair without fanfare. As he did, he felt like one of the Fates, previewing his future. This was the beginning of Opal’s dress-up games. He shouldn’t be surprised. They brought Opal a wide variety of storybooks (as many as they could not featured Magicks by Magick authors, though the list was slim). From unicorns to enchanted toy soldiers to witches to regular kids of all races and genders...but Opal’s favourites were the princesses. She picked it herself. She loved any book full of colour with fantastic illustrations of dresses and castles. Persephone had never been like that, and from what he knew, neither had Belle, so he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t somewhat disappointed and perplexed by the choice but-- well, it was Lou actually who told him not to be a pissy boy about it.

Considering Marie as Lou’s sister, the criticism made sense. And Hades would not keep Opal from her ribbons and sparkles and clips, if that’s what made her smile and dance across her bedroom, hosting her very own balls. When invited, he’d participate. Like now. 

Sparkly clip firmly in his hair, he glanced at Lou and was about to thank him for buying something like that for Opal, something Hades could never pick out-- when he saw the package. 

He grimaced at once. “Oi, we said you could get presents for Opal,” he said, but he took the package anyway. It did not feel that heavy; he had no idea what it could be. Perhaps clothes? He would not be able to turn away clothes, not picked by Lou’s hand.

Despite his principals, a little guilt for not purchasing something for Lou as well squirmed in his stomach. 

“Dada, Santa-magic!” cooed Opal. She clambered back toward him, trying to crawl onto his lap. 

“Want to help open it?” 

Opal did not answer, just reached with those insistent, curious hands. She tore at one side while Hades slid his finger under the wrapping paper under the other. He peeled off the bow and handed it to Opal and she once again went toward the crib. 

“Opal…” Hades warned. 

Opal switched courses to stick it on Belle again, reaching up to try to put it in her hair as well. 

Meanwhile, Hades opened a box and-- yes. His eyebrows raised at what looked to be an expensive, designer blouse of some sort. “Jesus. This is from the Vuitton Fall line, isn’t it?” He shook his head at Lou but was smiling anyway 

TOULOUSE: “Oui,” he told Hades, smiling too and feeling rather pleased with himself. 

“I hope these aren’t for me…” Belle said, holding up a pale cream onesie with floral patterns. Opal still had her hand on her mother’s knees, stretching her arm up with the bow. 

“Well, the twins certainly can’t open their own gifts.” Lou went to reach under the tree for a gift properly for Belle. 

“Opal, no. This will pull out my hair.” She took the bow and set it to the side, along with the box and wrapping paper from the gift she just opened. Opal’s eyes immediately became wet again but Belle just folded the onsies carefully, avoiding her daughter’s watery gaze. 

“Caillou, here,” Lou said, holding out a gift for her. An etch-n-sketch, but fancier—it was digital and you could screenshot and print out any of the different drawings. 

Opal plopped down on her bottom and started ripping through the paper. 

“Here, this one is for you,” he told her, handing her a small box. He then handed Hades another gift as well. 

HADES:  Hades glanced at Belle, his eyes lingering as she folded the onesies and returned them to the box. He had not had a moment alone with her yet and now it felt like a misstep on his part. He should have lingered in bed with her, kissed her awake if only for a few moments to see how she was feeling. Instead he had risen as quietly as he could and tried to intercept Opal as early as possible, wanting to give Belle peace and as much sleep as possible. He’d thought it all wrong though, and wondered-- worried-- the way he knew that was annoying to her. 

He looked away if only so she wouldn’t catch him and get annoyed all over again. He’d find another moment for them. As it was now, he shifted as he accepted the gift from Lou, so he was sitting closer to her, his thigh brushing against her own. 

This package was heavier, though not necessarily heavy. He opened it as Opal opened her own, Opal once again tearing through it much faster. Honestly, he suspected she would rather play with all the paper and bows and ribbons than whatever things that Lou had bought her. 

This was confirmed as she eyed the fancy etch-and-sketch and seemed to not really know what to do with it.

“Opal, darling, it’s for drawing. What do you say to your Tonton?” 

“Thank you, Tonton,” Opal quickly piped up and she crawled toward him to try to get into his lap and-- indeed, came with another bow in her hand so she could stick it to his front like a present. She smiled very prettily at him before smacking a kiss on his cheek. 

Hades opened his box and his eyes lit up. “Ah! Picturebooks!” He tilted the box toward Belle so she could look as well. There were several in the box, some very clearly for Opal but others he suspected Lou thought might be for the twins. 

TOULOUSE: For the first time, Toulouse understood how his own parents had always been able to put aside their anger in order to do Christmas. He wasn’t religious, but he believed in the subtle magic that laid like a blanket of snow over the house the mornings of Christmastime. As if they were pockets of the universe that nothing bad could touch. He had never understood it, but now he did. 

It was Opal’s smile. The absolute delight on her face as she crawled into his lap and kissed him and made him a present as well. Lou’s cheeks heated slightly, that feeling soft and tender inside of him. Embarrassing in how bright it burned as he smiled back at Opal. 

“De rien,” he told her, smoothing her soft curls. 

Hades’ exclamation had her turning her head toward her father. She plopped down in Lou’s lap, looking attentively at the box. Belle looked at it too, her eyes roaming over the titles and the covers. Lou watched her just as attentively. He was always so nervous buying books for the children. He always made sure to read them a few times through, to make sure there was nothing offensive in them. That they were inclusive and all the things that Hades and Belle felt important. But these were not the things that he grew up thinking about, which made it difficult to tell.

She smiled at him. “I was looking to buying a few of these, thank you, Toulouse.” 

“De rien,” he said to her as well. 

“I’m sorry we did not get anything--”

“No, don’t apologize. It’s nothing, really. This is...enough.” Lou’s smile twitched and he glanced down at Opal for a moment, not wanting to look at either of them. “Just a--good Christmas morning, I mean. That’s all I need.” That was not all he meant, but it was easier to swallow. 

HADES: This was his family. 

The twins in their bassinet, Belle by his side, and Lou who still held Opal in his lap. There were only a few moments when they were all together like this, in a moment where Hades could see and appreciate it. Otherwise one of them was at Chapter Three, or they were in separate rooms, passing the children back and forth as they tried to fit all their various duties into one day, as if playing a very complex game of tetris. Life was so fast. The days whirled by. And so Hades was thankful to Christmas for the chance to slow down-- and he saw the point, suddenly, of all those pointless holidays he had never made time for. 

Maybe that would change too. 

He would try to take this day slow, then. There would still be plenty of juggling, but he imagined finding time for him and Belle to complete the chess game they’d been playing for several weeks now. He imagined leaning over Opal’s shoulder with Lou and showing her how to properly use the etch-a-sketch. These would be the presents he would give himself.

For now, he’d do his best to give his own gifts. “I’ll start breakfast for us all, eh?” said Hades. He smiled and stood up, though leaned down to brush a kiss against Belle’s forehead. “Merry Christmas.” 

SUNDAY, JANUARY 3, 2021

BELLE: Belle was trying to study. 

This was a doomed idea from the start, but she was being stubborn about it. Since school was out, Pride University’s library was closed and because it was Sunday, so was most of Main Street. She could go to Hatter’s but there was nowhere that she could really spread out all of her textbooks and notes and the like. 

So, she was trying to study at home. She sat on a pillow in front of the coffee table in the living room. Hades, Toulouse, and all the children were in various places too. Lou on a chair nearby, reading. He was on twin duty, making sure that neither of them cried and disturbed their mother while she attempted to work. Hades was off in the kitchen, playing with Opal, trying to keep her entertained while also attempting to make lunch for everyone. 

Belle didn’t mind a busy environment, but did feel a bit...claustrophobic. Several times, Opal had snuck off from Hades and tried to come see what her mother was doing, which meant putting her sticky fingers all over expensive textbooks and flipping pages or slamming her fingers down on  Belle’s laptop. 

This had not happened for an hour or so but something new and worse took its place:

Opal started to whine. Her voice high pitched enough that Belle looked up from her book with a frown. She couldn’t see what was going on from her spot on the floor but she turned towards the sound anyway. For a moment, she just waited to see if it was just a fluke, but she knew better--

The whine climbed until it turned into a hiccuping sob and then a loud wail. 

“Hades,” Belle snapped sharply. “Just--give her whatever it is she wants before she works herself into a fit.” 

HADES:  Opal was in a mood.

She was in more and more of these moods lately. Hades did not blame her, but rather himself. There were some nights she woke up because of the babies, and Hades could no longer coax her back to sleep with lullabies or another round of storytime. This had been the case last night, and Opal was grumpy for it. In fact, Hades felt like she was punishing him specifically, testing the boundaries in a way that she hadn’t before, because she realized that there were boundaries now. Boundaries that had to do with Belle, and bedtime, and her brothers. 

He needed to put her down for a bloody nap, but that was off schedule too-- she’d only wake up later tonight and ruin tomorrow. 

And so there was no winning. Hades had tried to keep her occupied now with some colouring books, her brand new etch-a-sketch, but what she wanted was not material at all: she wanted attention. 

“Not that simple, Belle,” said Hades, also sharply, as he turned down the heat on the oven and then turned around-- 

Opal was putting her crayons in her mouth. 

“OPAL!” he barked at once as his eyes went wide. “NO!” 

Instantly, the crayons yanked themselves out, spitting across the table. Hades hadn’t thought about his powers-- they’d just reached out from the shock of it. Opal gasped and her face flooded with tears, cheeks red as though she’d scribbled all over herself after all. 

She started to scream.

And of course-- as she screamed, the babies in the living room woke up and began to cry too. Opal went tearing out of the kitchen, shrieking, running straight for Belle. 

“MAMAN!” she howled. 

BELLE: The house erupted into chaos. 

Everyone’s crying was ringing in her ears and Belle froze, suddenly overwhelmed by the cacophony of sound. The whole house filled with it. The babies, crying, Opal screaming, Hades shouting. Belle froze and then felt a burst of anger shatter through. This was impossible! How was she supposed to get anything done?! Her test was in two months! 

Opal came tearing towards her, calling her name and Belle saw a split second before it happened, Opal’s sticky feet tearing across the books she had sprawled out on the floor. Expensive textbooks. One of the pages ripped as Opal stumbled across them, her arms held out for Belle.

“Opal!” Belle snapped, holding her own hand out in front of her so that her daughter couldn’t get any closer and ruin more of her work. God forbid she get her hands on Belle’s laptop and somehow delete all of her notes.

Opal’s chest smacked into Belle’s hand and she came up short, her big blue eyes confused. The crying cut off as suddenly as it started as mother and daughter both stared at each other, both shocked. Opal’s arms were still opened out towards Belle, but she recoiled from them, feeling something twist inside of her. 

The toddler, realizing, perhaps for the first time that she was not going to get the comfort she sought, tilted her head back and screamed even louder. Her little fingers curled into fists and she kicked at the book she had already torn the page out of so that it’s cover slammed shut, losing Belle’s place.

Lou, to his credit, had quietly gotten up to attempt to tend to the twins, but the babies were both wailing indiscriminately. 

“This is ridiculous!” Belle shouted above the din, throwing her hands up. 

HADES:  It had to happen sometime: a proper temper tantrum. 

Opal had kicked, whined, screamed before, but never like this. They always intercepted in time. Perhaps that was part of the problem. Perhaps if they had ignored Opal more earlier, she would know that such fits would not get the attention she wanted. Even now, Hades’ instincts told him to sweep in and do something, while in the back of his mind, the books said otherwise. They said to ignore her.

He didn’t have the luxury though. If Opal kept screaming, then Aidan and Bellamy would never stop screaming too. It was a circle of cascading dominos that somehow kept resetting itself.

And so Opal fell on top of Belle’s books and she pounded her fists and howled and howled. 

Hades swept in and grabbed her around her squirming middle. He tried to keep his voice calm “Opal. Opal, no kickin--” his daughter’s foot slammed into his chest anyway. She shrieked even louder. 

He glanced up and saw Lou struggling. He’d taken one of the babies out-- Aidan?-- but that only meant Bellamy would want to be held.

“Belle, please-- get Bellamy will you--” said Hades as he pulled Opal away from all the books. 

BELLE: This was ridiculous, Belle had said, and she meant it.

Meant it in the way ridiculous was supposed to be meant: deserving or inviting derision or mockery. How stupid Belle had been, thinking that having another child now was a good idea. Not when she was in the middle of trying to get certified as a lawyer! Which was only more urgent now that Alice had killed someone and needed a proper defense. One she trusted Belle to give her. How stupid it was to have twins. How stupid c-sections were. How stupid motherhood was.

Every scream of her various children made Belle want to scream too. She felt it building inside of her, something that she couldn’t stop. If she didn’t, she thought that she might explode. 

In the middle of her brain tuning to an improper radio station and filling with static, Hades had the audacity to ask her to pick up one of the children? The children that were currently screaming. The ones who were putting her nerves on edge.

Belle didn’t think. She just slammed her book shut so hard that Opal’s screams hiccuped for a second as she stopped squirming in Hades’ arms.

“No!” Belle snapped, closing her laptop next. She pulled her backpack towards her and began angrily stuffing her belongings into it. “I need to study. I don’t have time to deal with this.” 

Toulouse was standing by the crib, a baby in one arm, his free hand on Bellamy’s chest. His face was pinched, clearly trying to calculate how to pick up both babies while Bellamy continued to squirm in the bassinet. 

“If you could just--” he ventured, his voice quiet and calm.

“Toulouse,” she snarled, not looking at him as she continued gathering her notes with shaky fingers.

HADES:  Suddenly, Belle was getting up.

But she was headed the wrong way. Instead of going to the bassinet, she was grabbing her books, packing her bag. Hades’ eyes widened even as Opal continued to squirm and kick out her heels. And everything narrowed to that point-- to where the noise seemed to revolve around Belle, as if she were the eye of the hurricane. The centre, the calmest point, but also where all the chaos came from.

She slammed her book and it was like a gunshot going off. She’d aimed it at Lou. At Hades. At her own children. Opal slumped in his arms and whimpered. 

Where the hell was she going? What the hell did she mean, she didn’t have time for this? 

None of them had time for this. There was no such thing as enough time when you had one baby, let alone three. But that was because time no longer belonged to you. Your life didn’t follow the rules of clocks, calendars, and deadlines. Your children set the time. You ate when you could feed them; you slept when they slept. And when they wailed, your world stopped, until you could calm their earthquaking, and get the world spinning smoothly. 

“Belle, Jesus, just one minute!” Hades exclaimed-- incredulous but also desperate, as if one minute was a rope he was holding onto. If she just held Bellamy for one minute, then they could calm him and Aidan and Opal. One minute and everything would be the way it was.

Belle ignored him. 

“Fine, take Opal!” he said as he hoisted his daughter higher in his arms and approached her. 

BELLE: Belle’s things were packed. She stood with her bag swung over her shoulder and turned, just as Hades stepped towards her. It was instinct--something deep inside of her that she had no control over, that made her flinch backwards, away from her red-faced daughter. As if the little girl was a monster, not a child. Her child. Her heartbeat stuttered erratically and she tightened her grip on her bag, as if someone would try to take it from her.

“Hades, stop!” she snapped at him, as if she was a wounded animal, backed into a corner.

That was how she felt. Even holding her books in the bag hanging over her shoulder pulled at her sore, tired muscles. She could not take Opal. Not right now. Not without preparing for it, as she had to do any time she attempted to lift her daughter these days. Opal was heavy and Belle was so, so weak. Belle had had her body nearly wretched in half and for what? For screaming? 

“No. I can’t--” Her chest rose and fell in staccato. “You’re the one who set her off. This isn’t my problem!” Her shout bounced around the house, making Lou flinch. Belle saw him from over Hades’ shoulder.

“I’m going to Berlioz’s,” she announced.  It was better than standing there, staring, wide-eyed, at her husband--who looked so lost--and her daughter--whose pain seemed to mock Belle’s. Or maybe parrot it, as if Belle was the two year old, screaming because she didn’t know how else to communicate her fears and frustrations. 

She didn’t wait for a response or an answer to those existential questions that she was never going to get. Instead, she turned on her heel and fled the house without looking back. 

SUNDAY, JANUARY 3, 2021 (AFTERNOON)

HADES:  The dust from Opal’s tantrum had settled hours ago, but Hades still felt like he was in the middle of its aftershocks.

The house was much too quiet now. Opal had finally gone down for her nap. The twins had just eaten (from the bottle). And Belle was no longer here-- having fled the scene hours ago, spitting Hades’ way that she would be going to the Bonfamille-Lyons to study, and that was all. He hadn’t heard from her since. He’d texted her a small update about Opal, which was rather unnecessary, but he hoped would be the digital version of pushing open the door to talk. Belle saw it but didn’t respond. She didn’t necessarily have to respond…

But he wanted her to. And if he were honest with himself, this was not the first time he felt like he was waiting for Belle to talk to him. He’d been waiting on a response for the past few weeks, in all these little ways. But she sidestepped his questions or answered him with a word and got annoyed with him if he pressed. He had been telling himself to be patient. He had been telling himself it was the medication and the pain and the stress. Those things were still true.

But after this morning, after Belle had fled like she was running from a war and not her own children-- he worried that it was more.

He went down the stairs after putting Opal down to find Lou in the living room. He would be heading out soon to check in on the store. Hades did not want him to go yet. For once, he did not want to be alone. This silence should be peace, but only felt like silence. 

“Lou,” he said. Lou looked up at him. “I…” 

He paused, like he was peering over the side of a cliff, watching a rock fall, waiting to hear it hit the ground. 

I think something’s wrong with Belle. 

Do you think something’s wrong with Belle?

Do you think it’s something I did? 

“Do you think Belle’s angry at me?” 

TOULOUSE: Something was definitely wrong with Belle.

The scene this morning had more or less confirmed it. Though, it was not his place to say anything. The last thing he wanted to do was jeopardize his precarious position within the household. He didn’t even really know what that position was, but he did know that he didn’t want it to change. And he knew that if he said something to Belle, or Hades who then told Belle he had been the one to say it first, Belle would barr him from the house. Or, at least, he assumed this was the case. Especially with her being as volatile as she was.

It was selfish, Lou knew. Especially considering how Hades had ratted him out, time and time again when Lou had been sick and self destructive.

But, as he sat on the couch with Bellamy on his lap, watching his little face twitch as he drifted off into sleep, Lou was alright with being selfish. Wasn’t it better to have someone who actually wanted to take care of the babies looking after them right now? 

Was it better? (Lou didn’t think he could replace Belle, but suffice to say mothers who ran when things were difficult was not an unfamiliar sensation to Lou. And he knew anyone being there was better than nothing.) 

He was stirred from his thoughts at the creak on the stairs and looked up as Hades approached.

At his question, Lou’s eyebrows immediately raised. “Angry with you? No, I--what makes you think that? What happened earlier had nothing to do with you.” He didn’t say it unkindly, but to him, it was simply the truth. 

HADES: He didn’t really think that.

Hades had asked the wrong question. Or rather, he was asking a different question entirely, one that he did not have the language for or that he was too embarrassed to ask. If something was wrong with Belle, then Hades knew it was his fault. The doctors had discharged her to his care. He was the one who looked after her, who followed along with the checklists and took her back to the doctors and kept her as honest as he could. And so if along the way, he had missed something…

No, it wasn’t an if. Hades knew that he had. He missed something and now that something had snowballed into today. 

He itched to check his phone. He wondered if asking Belle when she would be home would be hovering. He hated that he was so self-conscious to even wonder that in the first place. 

“No, I--I know that,” said Hades and he heaved a sigh as he plodded into the room and then let himself fall back onto the couch. He leaned into it, feeling the weight of all those hours he hadn’t slept. He rubbed at his own forehead for a moment, but it did nothing to relieve any of the worry. 

“It’s just-- she’s been...don’t you think she’s seemed...off? Not just today but for the past few days or…” Or longer. “I mean, I know she’s tired-- I’ve been telling myself it’s all to due with the recovery and her licensing exam and, well, everything-- there’s so bloody much.” He sighed a second time, this one out of frustration. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know if all of those things are the reason or if it’s something else.” 

TOULOUSE: The couch, which was not large, jostled as Hades sat down. A more accurate description was that he collapsed as if he was suddenly several pounds heavier than he’d been before. Bellamy shifted in Lou’s lap, blinking his eyes open at the sound of his father’s voice. His small fingers, which were curled around one of Lou’s grasped a little tighter. Lou bounced his finger a bit unconsciously as he listened to Hades. 

There was a small frown etched on his features. Apparently, Lou had also been affected by all of this: sleeping on a horribly small couch most nights, waking with the babies when they cried, helping at the shoppe--Lou was not used to these things. Looking at Hades, seeing his fatigue, it made him feel his own, deep in his bones.

And for a moment, he was not concerned about Belle, but about Hades. He was, in fact, a bit peeved at Belle. It seemed Hades was always worrying over her and she hardly seemed to notice. It was a surprising feeling, Lou cared for Belle a great deal. He hardly had ever been upset with her and hadn’t even known that maybe he...was now. 

The feeling sat uncomfortable in his chest. 

“I think,” Lou said, very carefully, “that it is both.” 

The words stuck in his mouth and felt like a betrayal. He looked down at Bellamy, whose gaze had shifted to him at the sound of his voice. 

“You are both overwhelmed and Belle, well, she could be...experiencing things a bit more intensely than we--you--originally realized.” 

HADES:  Lou was probably right. 

Things were never simple. Hades knew that, even though right now he wanted things to be. He wanted to be the cause of all Belle’s suffering. Put the blame on him; he’d be ashamed, but he could fix it, couldn’t he? If he bore the burden, he’d also be the one in control. Tell him the solution, or let him figure it out himself, and like a puzzle, he’d solve it. 

But Belle had always been a puzzle to him-- one he could not solve. When he thought he had solved it, the puzzle simply evolved and became more complex. This was why Hades loved Belle, of course. She drove him mad, but she pushed him too, made him grow in areas he never thought of as weaknesses before she prodded them and showed him that they were. 

So there could be no fixing. No solving. And truthfully, one word smarted more than any that Lou said, even if he didn’t meant it: you.

Was that tiny correction an admission-- that Lou had noticed something off much, much earlier, and Hades had missed it completely?

His jaw ticked. And he sat up, but looked away from Lou for a moment, knowing that if he snapped at his friend, that anger would be as misplaced as the blame Hades so desperately wanted to take.

“Should we--I--talk to her, then?” he said after a beat and now he did look at Lou. His brow remained creased and worried. “I mean, I-- that’s a stupid question, I know I should. I’m just rather shit at talking to her about these things. I don’t want to upset her further or make her think she’s doing something wrong, or that I’m--I’m hovering again.” He scowled. He hated that accusation. “What should I say to her?” 

TOULOUSE: This was exactly what Toulouse had not wanted Hades to ask him.

He knew that the answer was of course Hades should talk to her, because if he didn’t…

Lou didn’t think Belle was a stupid as he was. She wouldn’t kill herself, but she might run away. He could see a future where Belle was much like his own mother. Beautiful, wonderful, and untouchable. More like a dream than a real person. Perhaps that was projecting, but considering the fact it had been hours, and she had not returned home--Lou could see those hours stretching into days and miles. 

Yet, he saw what could happen if Hades did say something: it was the exact same thing. Belle running, Belle insisting nothing was wrong and withdrawing even further. Again, this was projection, but Lou was not so aware of that part of it. He just saw the pattern, or what was beginning to become a pattern--and he worried that there was no right thing to say or right thing to do. It would be Belle’s decision, in the end.

And how could her decision be anything besides her family? Looking down at Bellamy’s sweet face, Lou couldn’t imagine any other choice. 

He also was quite sure that Belle was not thinking clearly. Whatever decision she made now was not reflective of the Belle that they knew, but one that was, potentially, sick and struggling. 

The only thing that stayed Lou’s tongue was the sense of betrayal that was lodged between his ribcage, because Lou knew what it was like to not want to be told that something was wrong. To know, in some part of yourself, that you had lost control, but feeling free in that loss and not wanting to gain it back. Someone trying to shove you back into that box only made you resent them, the way Lou had resented every single person that had tried to help him.

How vicious he had been. Lou did not want to turn Belle into that. 

“You might do all of those things,” Lou said softly. He wasn’t looking at Hades. Couldn’t look at him as he opened his mouth again to speak. “She--there is something wrong and she might not want to hear it and she may fight against it, but that doesn’t change the truth of it.” He paused again, reaching up to stroke at the baby’s soft head. “Speaking from experience, there is no right thing to say. Either she listens...or she doesn’t.” 

HADES:  Hades knew there was no magic answer. He knew, but for a split second, he still hoped that Lou would at least know better than Hades ever could. He did not see Lou and Belle’s situations as equal, by any means. In fact, he wasn’t thinking about Lou’s bipolar disorder or all his breakdowns in the past at all. 

To him, Lou was kind. 

To him, Lou knew how to understand what Hades always struggled to. Perhaps because he had both Berlioz and Marie to look after. Or maybe it was his mother, who was an emotional, often irrational woman, who looked on him for support. Maybe his various exes or enemies might disappear, but to Hades, Lou was quite emotionally intelligent-- when he wanted to be.

And so certainly he’d know at least where to begin. Hades could muddle through the rest if only Lou told him how to start. 

But Lou’s answer was not sufficient. It was not an answer at all. It didn’t even try to give Hades hope. Hades paused for a second, letting the conversation dip into the quiet, and he stared at Lou, like he was expecting him to go on. There had to be more. But there wasn’t. 

Hades felt just as lost as before. Just as confused. 

“Right. Maybe-- maybe I should talk to Hera first then?” Hades tried a new route, as he blinked through his own frustration. He needed some expert to tell him what to do, goddammit. 

TOULOUSE: “You could,” Lou said, looking over at Hades. He was frowning, thinking about people talking behind his back. He knew it was different. Lou didn’t have a husband. Or a doctor. Who, he supposed, were the best people to talk about you behind your back. That didn’t make it any better. Not in his opinion. It made him uncomfortable, just as it made him uncomfortable talking about Belle, himself. It almost felt like gossip. 

Lou knew it wasn’t. He wouldn’t tell anyone else what was going on with Belle on pain of death. This wasn’t Lou gossiping with Hades about Peri’s asinine new boyfriend (which he had certainly done, mind you.) This was because he cared, because they both cared, and because Belle’s temperament was declining at a rapid rate. 

“I don’t think Belle will appreciate it, but—well...you could not tell her.”

Lou leaned back against the couch, his shoulder brushing Hades’. He turned his head to look at him, eyes searching his face for a moment. 

“Just—remember it’s nothing you’ve done. It couldn’t possibly be. Childbirth and motherhood comes with its own challenges, many of which are outside even Belle’s control. Her recovery, of which she may not ever fully be on the other side of—residual pain lasts in 15% of ceaerians. Hormonal imbalances. Emotional distress. PTSD,” Lou listed off. Of course he’d done research. That’s always what he did when something like this happened. It made him feel better to have the facts on hand. However, applying those facts towards Belle felt somehow alien. 

“You’re a good partner, Hades. Better than most. Belle needs help, but you’ll find a way to get it for her. It just may not be easy and she may resent you for it. I know I did, but—I don’t, anymore. I’m grateful. And she will be too, on the other side of it. This is Belle we’re talking about, after all. She’s stronger than any of us.”

HADES: Lou started listing off facts. For some people, these facts would be cold and alarming. But not for Hades. Hades did not come to Lou to simply talk about his feelings and his frustrations. He wanted the advice. He wanted something concrete. And the facts were. He repeated them to himself-- residual pain in 15% of ceaerians, hormonal imbalances… PTSD.

That last one was alarming. Labour should be something happy in the end. Painful, yes, but at the end of it they had their sons, and Hades still remembered the relief and joy, the love that bloomed in him like an entirely new garden. He hadn’t considered that it could have been different for Belle.

But he should have. It had been traumatic. The before-- Belle’s water breaking in Chapter Three, and the complications, and the surgery in the first place. It happened suddenly. She hadn’t even had complete control. Hades had been the one to say yes. 

He was stupid, forgetting all that in the face of his sons. 

What this conversation told Hades, then, was that part of it was his fault-- or, if he could not take blame for Belle’s condition, he could take blame for not being more prepared. He needed to fix that, and then -- then he could talk to Belle, once he was sufficiently educated himself. 

He nodded slowly then and his gaze drifted back to Lou. The quiet between them felt intimate and warm, like a blanket. Hades wanted more, though. It was rare, this...this certain kind of wanting. Most of the time it was enough to sit close to Lou, or to sleep next to him. Maybe he wanted something like that even now. Just to hold Lou or be held. 

He wasn’t sure how to ask for that, especially with Belle not even here. 

“Thank you,” he said. He reached out, his hand drifted over Lou’s thigh. “I--you’re right. I know she’s strong, I just...I’ll find the right way to support her.” He nodded and then let his hand fall away, as he stood up. “I ah--I’ll go get started on the dishes then.” 

THURSDAY, JANUARY 14, 2021

HADES:  It was just past the six week mark. 

Earlier in the week, they’d returned to Robbins for what would hopefully be the last time in...well, a long, long time. It had not been a long visit, and it had ended with good news-- a clean bill of health, which meant that Belle could get back to the way things had been, or at least, as close as possible when one had two newborn infants. Robbins advised Belle to “ease in” anyway. Belle had a glint in her eye that told Hades she really had no intention. Still, on the daily Belle wasn’t rushing off to fight demons so he hoped that Swynlake might give them some peace and this news was what they were all waiting for-- what Hades, actually, had been banking on ever since speaking with Lou a week ago. 

Everything will get better now, he thought. And they left the hospital with Belle smiling, really smiling, and he really believed it. 

It was now a few days later and for once they had a smooth evening. The twins went down quite easily. Opal didn’t fight them when it was time for bed, either, climbing into her own bed and curling up as Hades and Belle read her from one of her newer books. They read it twice, and were half-way through the third reading (on Opal’s insistence) when her head nodded and she began to snooze. It reminded Hades of before-- because this was always where they had ended up at the end of the day, even when Belle had classes and Hades had two days of dishes to work through. They’d always read to Opal together, trading voices back and forth, making their daughter laugh. 

He clambered into his own bed tired, but happy. Not just happy actually-- he felt-- peaceful, for the first time in a while. 

He looked toward Belle, and he missed her. 

So he twisted toward her, their covers slipping over his hip as he slipped a hand onto hers. He kissed her shoulder lightly. “So that was fun, eh?” he murmured. “Your Robot is improving.” 

BELLE: Belle had a clean bill of health and a lift of spirit to go with it. Of course, it had not lasted very long, because Robbins saying she had healed did not magically mean that her body had suddenly snapped like a rubber band, back into place. She was still sore and weak and, worst of all: carrying some heavy sadness that she couldn’t seem to put down. It weighed on her and in the moments when it did lift, Belle could feel it waiting patiently to attach itself to her again. 

That was not to say it was all bad. Belle was relieved that her body was healing. That she’d be able to call Merida and start training again. That she could walk into town without feeling winded. That she could pick up the babies without any pain. The sharp spikes of pain happened more and more rarely which meant some of her nervousness around Opal had dropped away. She could enjoy her daughter’s presence more now that she wasn’t worried about Opal accidentally kicking her incision, which was nothing more than an angry red line above her pelvis, hidden mostly by the sag of her skin. 

It meant that she wanted to make time for stories and the routine of it put her at ease, so when she curled up into bed and Hades turned towards her, she smiled at him, pressing her socked feet against his legs. She was glad to have a moment with him. Belle knew that she’d been distant and mean and sad. And that Hades knew all of this and that he worried and that he probably blamed himself for it. As if she could somehow be mad at him for taking care of the children and the house while she did nothing but lay in bed. 

“My robot is perfectly fine,” she scoffed at him. “Opal likes it better than yours.”

It felt nice to tease. The house felt so tense these days. Belle knew that it was her fault. She was hostile. On edge. And she still felt that way, even as she lay in bed and smiled. That deep, aching sadness she sometimes mistook for anger still hulked behind her. She felt it there, even as she kept her eyes on Hades and refused to turn around. 

HADES:  The scoff did not feel the way other barbed remarks and sneers had. This felt closer to them, didn’t it? Back before-- even before Opal, when most of their relationship appeared like an argument when it really was a chess battle, one of wits and strategy. A scoff could be a pawn moving into place, setting a trap. Hades was eager to fall into it, if it meant getting a little bit of that spitfire back. 

He wasn’t misinterpreting, was he? He wondered, but only for one second. Belle did not pull away, after all. This felt lazy and normal and comfortable, Belle’s body soft under his fingers, the smell from the shower still lingering on her skin and hair. 

He kissed her shoulder again. “Hmmm, really? Did she tell you that herself?” His lips moved upward and he kissed softly at her neck, then right below her earlobe. 

BELLE: Hades’ breath skipped across her chest, his lips following the path. 

Belle blinked. She hadn’t expected that. Those kisses felt like questions, Hades testing the waters towards something that suddenly ballooned in front of Belle, pushing between them. She didn’t know why that was the reaction. She missed Hades. Sometimes, she resented the babies simply because it felt like there was never time for a chess game, or for Hades and her to sit quietly with each other--for their conversations to meander so long that they stayed up late into the night, not out of necessity, but because they wanted to. Because they enjoyed each other’s company. It all felt so complicated now. Their relationship was more about the babies than each other; Belle buried under the rubble of it all. 

At this point, though, removing any of that rubble could be deadly, the way crush injuries could be deadly. All those toxins that had stayed hidden for so long would all rush out at once. 

But, Belle missed Hades. And maybe this wasn’t what she thought it was.

So, she stayed very still, letting Hades’ lips tickle over her skin, her heart beat picking up slightly.

HADES: These kisses were questions. They used to be something different-- riddles or puzzles, but mostly challenges. He and Belle were not the types to kiss without reason, and for the most part Hades was certain he and Belle did not mind that. They showed their love in different ways, from book recommendations to cooking together to chess games throughout the day. But every now and then, this did feel important, a reminder that their love was one of desire, even if it was a quiet kind. 

Even Hades forgot that these days. Now he stirred that part of himself and felt the ache more plainly that ever. He had missed this. It was important. He wanted Belle-- wanted her to kiss him and murmur in his ear and wrap her arms and legs around him. 

It had been a long time since they were that close. Sex wasn’t something they did for anyone but themselves, and Hades wanted to be selfish. 

So his lips brushed over her ear and she didn’t move-- didn’t turn toward him either-- and so Hades wasn’t sure of the answer, but he had hope. 

“Hey,” he whispered and his body pressed flush against her own. She was as warm and soft as he remembered. He kissed her neck again. “I missed you,” he murmured. 

His hand drifted from her hip around to her stomach, pressing gingerly, waiting for at least a little reciprocation before moving any lower. 

BELLE: It was what Belle thought. Hades moved closer, the sheets whispering over his body as he shifted. His chest pressed against hers, his leg slipping between hers. It wasn’t all bad. In fact, Belle wanted to slip her arm around his back and hold him, fall asleep that way. That was what Belle wanted: sleep. Not Hades. Not anything but that. 

I missed you.

His words made tears crawl up her throat, though she wasn’t sure what they were a product of: her guilt, her utter exhaustion, or the aching sadness that was between them, that--apparently--only Belle could feel, even as they were flush together. Belle just couldn’t see past all of that.

Hades’ hand trailed downwards, still a few inches from her incision--which was more just a scar now, though she could only think of it as the incision. Her stomach tensed and before she could stop herself, she rolled over onto her back, his hand slipping off of her. She curled her fingers into the covers, pulling them tighter around her. Her words were stuck in her throat as she stared at the ceiling, her heart beating wildly in her chest. There were few times Belle actually ever rejected Hades like this. They understood this language with each other and only ever approached the other when they felt on the same page about it. Belle was bad at saying no, anyway, because Hades normally woke up a want in her that she hadn’t realized was there and she liked to please him, when she could. 

It had been so long. Belle knew it had been. And there was no reason not to-- 

Except the idea of it only made Belle want to cry. She felt awful. She wished Hades had never asked. 

After a moment, Belle just sucked in a wet breath and rolled onto her other side, away from Hades. Her back a wall between them.

HADES: The kisses had been questions, and Belle’s answer became clear in a split second: no. 

It should not be shocking, but it was. It should not be painful, but it was. Belle shifted under his fingers, and as she slipped away, the impact of the rejection was like falling from the roof and smashing into the ground. Sudden, instantaneous, crushing. He blinked, temporarily frozen in place as if he could not stir movement in his limbs. 

Actually, it was not shock at all, but the last flicker of a dying hope that Belle would turn the rest of the way toward him. He did not need her to reciprocate the kisses, he did not even need the sex. It was not sex his body had craved, but acknowledgment, and warmth, and intimacy. She could simply squeeze his arm or touch his cheek or tease him back. Tell him she was too tired but kiss him good night. All of these things would soften the blow and fix what had just snapped so suddenly.

But Belle did not move, until she did. And when she moved, it was to move away. 

Hades thought about Belle dashing out the door all over again. That was how it felt: she was running from him. He had done something wrong. His hands were weapons. He had not intended them to be. 

With nothing left to do, he had to retreat himself. Hades rolled over so his back and Belle’s back faced each other and slowly let out a breath before his eyes flicked up the lamplight still on. 

He blinked, and the switch flicked, plunging the two of them into a silent darkness. 

MONDAY, JANUARY 18, 2021

BELLE: The twins had been colicky all weekend. They couldn’t tell if they were sick or if they were just trying to kill them. Okay, that second one was Belle’s personal theory as to what was going on. She was furious, because she had thought that most of this was behind them. The babies were almost two months old now. By this time, Opal had been on a routine like clockwork. She had been excellent. The twins threw everything off. 

If one cried, the other would start, as if they could feel each other’s emotions. Or were just annoyed by each other. And if they were both fussing, it was almost impossible to deal with Opal too, who had taken to throwing fits if the twins were throwing fits, as if she wanted to be included in the hullabaloo. Which meant that it took even longer to calm everyone down. And then it felt as if things were only quiet for a few moments before someone else began throwing a fit.

Belle’s teeth were on edge with all the crying and the lack of sleep and the utter disregard for routine. She needed sleep and routine right now. Belle’s test was at the end of March and she needed to pass. Not just because of her insane amounts of expectations that she put on herself, but because now Alice’s future was hinging on Belle getting her license (and then somehow making a deal that proved self-defense and got her off with community service, something that had seldom--if ever--been done for a werewolf.) But, because of the lack of sleep and the disregard for routine, it was entirely possible that Belle would not pass--because she did not have the time. And then Alice would get a lawyer who did not care as much and who would make a terrible deal and--

Belle just wanted a break...so she could study.

And get away from her family. Just for a little while.

It was later in the evening now. Toulouse was at the shoppe, closing up for the evening and then he would be home to take the nightshift so Belle could perhaps squeeze out a few hours of sleep. (Though, doubtful because despite not actually wanting to deal with the babies, they still woke her up with their crying or Hades woke her up getting out of bed.) Opal was already in bed, after a fight. They hadn’t been able to read to her, because the babies had been crying, which had caused a fit, and now it was an hour later: Opal having cried herself out, and now Belle placing Aidan in his crib after he had done the same. 

Hades had had more luck with Bellamy and was already in the bedroom, unable to take a shower because the sound of the water in the pipes would wake the babies again in this horribly old house. Which meant he was probably a bit grumpy, the way Belle was a bit grumpy. 

She walked into the bedroom, rubbing at her eyes. “Aidan is finally asleep,” she announced, though her voice was far from triumphant. Instead, she just--was devoid of emotion. There was no way to hold it along with the exhaustion. 

“Not that it’ll last for long,” she scoffed as she moved towards her wardrobe and opened the drawer to dig around for t-shirt to change into, considering the one she had planned to wear to bed had spit up on it now, after Aidan had cried so hard he’d made himself throw up.

HADES: The shower-- or lack thereof-- was the worst part.

Everything else he was used to, at this point. He had fallen into routine. Or, he had fallen into the routine of no routine, of loosely organized chaos, held together by six hands-- Belle, Hades, and Lou, of course. It was not perfect, it was not near to what Hades wanted, and there were times he got frustrated and went on a rabbit dive into his parenting books or the Internet in an attempt to find new strategies for coping, but then he gave up because, well, fuck all those sites and books, because they didn’t have his children and his partners and his magic and his bloody workload. 

And then he went back to work, because that was something about having three kids: you did not get to mope for long. Hades’ frustrations were miniature, private explosions he wore all on his own. Sometimes, if Lou was with him, he’d let out just a little of that steam with him. 

Anyway. Of course the twins were collicky. Of course Aidan went on crying again. Hades was annoyed, but not surprised. 

He just wished he could take a shower, yeah? He could no longer stay in as long as he used to, but he usually made sure to snag ten minutes from the jaws of his demon-children. Just ten minutes for him, thank you. 

How he’d let today go by without those ten minutes, only to be trapped now by the late hour and his childrens’ sleepiness, well, that was his biggest failure of the day.

But he was making a plan for tomorrow. Maybe waking up earlier, or maybe he could go into work later. That would probably be fine. If Chapter Three opened up fifteen minutes later than usual, who cared? Of course, a Hades before twins would have cared deeply. He would have killed himself to make sure the store opened at the exact right time.

Now, his priorities had shifted. Probably for the better. 

His brain was full of shower fantasies, shower-strategic-planning, when Belle came in. He looked up from his sudoku. It had been two days, doing the same puzzle, but he would finish it tonight. He snorted along with her. “Well don’t say that. You’ll tempt the Fates. I’ve decided to blame this weekend on them, you know,” he said casually, filling in a number. 

BELLE: “I blame the children,” Belle said, and her own words were much harsher than Hades’ were. Her expression was concealed, her back turned to him as she pulled her soiled shirt over her head, but it was not one of amusement nor even frustration. It was struck with anger. She felt it boiling just below the surface of her skin. 

Belle was so exhausted, she was surprised she had the energy for anger and sure enough, it sizzled out by the time she tugged her new shirt over her head. She just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for a hundred years. Not that she would even get a hundred minutes, most likely. 

It didn’t even occur to her to feel ashamed of saying it. In her mind, there was no one else to blame. The Fates, perhaps, in an abstract sense. They were the ones who had cursed her with twins in the first place. It felt too easy to blame them when the children were the ones screaming and crying and keeping the whole house awake and on the tip of the knife.

Sighing, Belle turned towards the bed and climbed into it. She pulled the covers over her lap but she just crossed her legs under the sheets and leaned forward, putting her elbows on her knees. Her fingers ran through her hair as the tired settled into her bones. It wasn’t later than nine, but she felt as if it was midnight. Three in the morning. She just wanted to sleep, but her body was still wound tight, worried that as soon as her head hit the pillow, the babies would start again. 

HADES: I blame the children.

Hades blinked. He did not look up from his puzzle, but he was no longer seeing the numbers either. He was simply frozen, not sure what he was supposed to say to something like that. It wasn’t-- commiserating about the children was a normal thing for couples to do. How often had Hades and Belle both joked about Opal being a little demon or a little monster, conspiring to get the better of the both of them? It was important to have humour as a parent or else you’d never survive-- certainly not when sleep deprived. 

Yes, that was all this was. A moment of humour. Belle did not sound like she was joking, but it was simply the exhaustion talking.

Could Hades blame her? He was exhausted too. He was a little pissed off too. He’d wanted his shower, was sulking to himself about it. No, no, he was… Belle did not really mean it. She knew that kids were kids. They were chaos embodied, sure, but they also could not really be blamed. 

“It does feel like they are conspiring against us,” Hades decided to try to joke along then. He lifted his eyebrows. He glanced at Belle. “We’ll have to figure out our battleplan.” 

BELLE: Hades cutesy talk about it all was--not amusing Belle. In fact, it was just pissing her off. Her annoyance rising and then flickering out and then rising again. It was like a flickering light, something shorting out. She didn’t want to be angry, but that was all she felt these days: angry and panicked. Angry, because she was panicked. Panicked, because she was angry. 

“It’s not about a battleplan,” Belle snapped, scowling at Hades. 

“It’s--it’s too much.” 

Yes, that was the way to explain it. Too much. Too much crying, too much exhaustion, too much frustration...too many babies. The realization hit her all at once. If there was just one baby, Belle could imagine a completely different life for them right now. One where Belle hadn’t been sick, had been able to carry the baby to term. Born in the early hours of New Year’s, Belle’s body the battleground, but one she was familiar with and healed much more quickly from. There would only be one and three pairs of hands to take care of it. 

Yes, if there had only been one, life would have been so much easier. 

“We cannot have another, Hades,” Belle said abruptly. She sat up some and her features were awakened slightly. Not--happy, but sharp with determination. “No more.” 

HADES: Hades stared at Belle, like she’d slapped him.

It wasn’t what she said. It was how she said it. It was how she snapped at him, and scowled, glaring at Hades like he had said something foul and offensive. It was how she demanded-- no, she told Hades, she ordered him, she forbade him. For a second, Belle’s intense reaction convinced him that he had. It wasn’t like Belle to just yell at him without a reason. There was always a reason. Hades deserved it plenty--

But it took him about half a second to do a mental stock of his own actions in the two minutes since Belle entered the room and he found no fault with himself. 

“Jesus christ, why are you yelling at me?” Hades said, almost as sharply as Belle. His own eyes had hardened, his body stiff in his bed. “No one said anything about having more babies.” 

BELLE: For just a moment, Belle felt relieved. 

For just a moment, Belle felt as if she’d found the key to everything: her exhaustion, her dread, her anger, her resentment. No more children. That put this experience in perspective. It was the last time she would have to do any of this. If they could just muddle through, there was now a light at the end of the tunnel. 

Then, Hades spoke and his words were harsh. She felt him shift in the bed and she stiffened herself.

It could be like this with them. Both of them combative. Both of them stubborn. They were flint striking against each other and Belle was defensive at once. His words barely registered, because all she could hear was her greatest fear: how could you be so selfish? I want more…

“I’m not yelling,” Belle argued, her voice still clipped and icy--it sounded as if she was sliding down a slippery slope, losing her thin sense of control she had managed to momentarily obtain. “I’m telling you. I can’t. I won’t. It’s too much. I don’t want to go through this again.” 

HADES:  And where the hell do you get off telling me anything? 

This was an irrational thought because Hades did not actually want to argue this point. He had only ever had one sibling. Two seemed like a lot. Honestly, these days, he thanked the Fates that he didn’t have more than he did, because three was taking all the combined efforts of Belle, Lou, and himself, with very little leftover energy to spend on anything. Three was quite enough. They’d never be lonely, they’d always be there for one another, and wasn’t that all that Hades had wanted?

But Belle telling him made Hades want to fight. Belle telling him made Hades feel disciplined, like a greedy dog trying to sneak treats out of the cupboard. 

He was not a dog. He would not be told what to do like a dog. 

“I never said I wanted more kids,” he said as coolly as Belle had. “And I don’t, by the way. But the least you could do is pretend like you care about my opinion.” 

BELLE: I don’t. 

The response came so sudden and so violent that all Belle could do was blink in surprise at herself. Because, she did not sound like herself. That response jarred so significantly against who Belle was that she was left feeling the reverberations of it inside of her, like a chime struck. 

Belle did care about Hades’ opinion. She cared about it a great deal. His was the only opinion she really cared about in the grand scheme of things. 

So why would she want to say that? 

There was silence for several seconds. Belle’s expression cracked, eyebrows collapsing like a bridge giving way. 

“I—” she said, her voice warbling and thick. Her expression cracked again, as if it was a fragile egg that someone was squeezing in their hand. Her heart felt the same, cracking and cracking, all the fissures leading to more and more. It hurt. “I’m sorry.”

Belle turned her face away, shaking her head. She reached up to run a hand through her hair. She cleared her throat and when she spoke again, her words were not cool, nor were they warm. They came devoid of anything but the truth. The truth that crushed her heart until it cracked down its center. 

“It’s just—awful. All I can think about is how awful it is and how I don’t want to go through this again.”

HADES: As quickly as the clouds had gathered, crackling with tension, they dispersed again. The air was no longer thick and hot. But in the absence of the fight that had not really started, there were just holes-- all these empty places where the words they should have said were, but now never would. 

Hades felt it all now, felt itchy and unsatisfied and at the same time, miserably guilty for raising his voice at Belle at all. He should not want to yell at her. He should not want to fight. 

But god, the way she talked. His guilt tripled, and his worry deepened. He should have talked to Belle before all this. He should talk to her now, since she seemed less hostile. His eyes darted to his book, to the pattern of numbers, the incomplete grid. His brain could not register them. It was like looking at gibberish.

Now was the time to talk, but Hades still didn’t know what to say.

“It’s not supposed to be awful,” said Hades. He closed the book around the pen stuck between the pages. “I’m sorry that it has been for you. I’m doing my best, but I--if you need something from me, you need to tell me. I can’t figure that out on my own.” God, because that was what he missed. He needed a partner, someone to bounce ideas off of. That’s what Belle was to him. 

BELLE: Belle’s shoulders tensed at Hades’ words. Her guilt spiking again.

It’s not supposed to be awful, Hades said.

I know that, Belle wanted to snap.

Wasn’t that the whole problem? Belle knew that this shouldn’t be awful. It would be hard, yes. No one denied that. But it was also supposed to be good and happy. She had two healthy sons, a wonderful family. Belle should be overjoyed. She had what so many people yearned for. What she had always yearned for. (Well, the children were a surprise, but she did want them too. Had wanted them.) And it only felt awful. 

There had been moments peaking through. Moments of happiness, she supposed, though if you asked her out right, she would not be able to name them. She knew they existed. It was not all bad. And she did love her sons, but--

It felt like that love was buried under an avalanche. The rest of the horror and exhaustion and frustration and resentment were several layers thick and frozen over, making it impossible to get to the love below and that love was being suffocated.

How was she supposed to explain that to Hades without him looking at her in horror? Betrayed. 

So badly did she want to tell Hades what she needed. Even without looking at him, she could hear the confusion in his voice--the hurt. How lost it sounded. But Belle didn’t have any of the answers. She could only feel the distance between them that felt impossible to surmount. It felt awful, that distance. It was the same distance that she felt towards the babies. As if she was some animal in the zoo, with a thick pane of glass between herself and everyone else.

Belle breathed in a shaky, wet breath. With her face turned away, she reached up and scrubbed at her face with the blankets gathered in her lap. 

“I just--need to sleep,” Belle said helplessly. She turned back towards Hades and reached for his hand, laying on the top of the sheets. Her cold fingers curled around his warm ones and squeezed once. “You’re brilliant and the babies are lucky to have you.” 

Her hand slipped from his just as quickly as it came.

HADES: Belle reached out for him for the first time in what felt like...weeks. Maybe longer.

They had touched. Hades used to never think much of those touches. They were small and asked for nothing-- a squeeze of the hand, a kiss on the temple, Hades’ hand brushing through Belle’s hair or sweeping down her back. Belle touched him in similar ways, but now, as she reached out to squeeze his hand, he couldn’t remember the last time she had done something like this. It had always been Hades coming to Belle. Bringing her tea while she studied and dropping a kiss on the top of her head. Giving her a gentle side hug when they put the twins down. These moments had barely registered; they were like breathing.

But now Hades felt them burn inside him like torches lit, keeping his love for Belle shining.

And he felt the shadows they cast, where time and time again, Belle had never reciprocated.

And so when Belle reached for him, his body ached-- the touch like the first rain after a long, long drought. He yearned to twist his body in the bed and move closer to her, needy in a way he hadn’t been since childhood. He didn’t want sex, just something-- anything more--just Belle’s lips on his forehead or her arms around him, his head on her breast, for just a moment.

But her hand slipped away too fast. 

And Hades remembered the earlier rejection from days ago.

He swallowed. Belle was right here...the closest she’d been in weeks in more ways than one. But still, he missed her more intensely. He had no idea how to bridge the gap. 

Starting that conversation now, when Belle was tired and irritated...it was a bad idea, wasn’t it? Or was Hades too much of a coward? 

He swallowed, unsure, but the opportunity fluttered away. It was too late; his hesitation had made the decision for him. I’ll talk to her soon, I will. On a good day. Yes, he’d just wait for a good day. One would come soon. 

“They’re lucky to have you too, love,” said Hades. “But yeah, uh-- I’m tired too. Let’s try to get some rest.” And he leaned over to kiss her temple, lighting another torch, before twisting away. 

THURSDAAY, JANUARY 21, 2021

BELLE: “Alright,” Belle said as she finished zipping up her bag. 

It was early in the morning, especially for Hades, who was usually only awake sometime after eight. But, of course, the babies had been restless again last night, so no one had gotten much sleep. Belle was just about at her wit’s end with it all. How was she ever supposed to pass her exam in this state? Before, it would’ve been fine to push the date. That was before Alice had come to her doorstep, confessing to a murder. Now, it was not an option not to pass. Belle had almost considered just crashing at Berlioz’s for a month until it was done. He wouldn’t judge her. He would understand. That was a last ditch plan, though. Belle was trying. 

“I am going to study.” She stood up straight and turned towards Hades, reaching back to tighten her ponytail. “I will be there all day. All day. Until the library closes at midnight. I have to split my time between my exam and starting preliminary research for Alice’s case. So, call me if absolutely necessary. Someone is dying or some such. Otherwise, I’m keeping my phone on silent and will not be replying to text messages.”  

HADES:  Hades was also at his wit’s end. 

But not with the babies. He got frustrated with them too, yeah, and he was tired as fuck, and felt greasy after not getting a shower again last night. But here he was, getting Opal all settled in her high chair. She was thankfully cooperating this morning. She’d only thrown one of her shoes, and more like a joke than an actual tantrum (at least, she’d been giggling and hadn’t done it again when Hades strapped it back onto her foot). 

No, he was at his wit’s end with Belle.

He understood her pressures. Belle made sure that he understood her pressures, talking about her license and Alice’s case endlessly as opposed to discussing with Hades about, oh, their kids or, bloody hell, about his day (which to be fair had to do with their kids, most of the time). He tried to be patient. He tried to show her that yes, he was trying to prioritize these things for her too… besides their kids. 

Every now and then, his temper flared though. He felt it here again, or at least, the inklings of it burning around its edges. 

Did she have to talk to him with that kind of tone? Scolding him, like Hades had done something wrong already? 

He breathed in. Don’t pick a fight, he told himself. Truthfully there was no time to, as he put Opal’s breakfast down. Because Opal was his priority. Because he had to go feed the twins after this. He had to check stock at Chapter Three today. He had to get groceries at some bloody point--

Actually. 

So he didn’t argue, just said: “Right. Wait--before you go, I’ve-- got a list of groceries you can grab on the way home,” said Hades and he went to the counter to grab the list. 

BELLE: Belle looked at the piece of paper that Hades held out to her like it was some cipher he was asking her to decode. As if this would be the most complex thing she did all day. Her brain couldn’t compute it. Looking at it short circuited her.

You see, her snippish tone had not been any annoyance at Hades. It was anxiety. She felt like a livewire, frayed and ready to spark. To avoid this, she organized her day to the minute and ignored everything else. Her feelings, Hades’ feelings. Toulouse. The children. She didn’t have time, she told herself, to absolve herself of the guilt. There was only her license. Only cracking Morgana’s grimoire. Once these things were done, Belle could be a mother. Yes, that was all it would take. 

A grocery list broke through every defense she had. That one offending piece of paper ignited every terrified nerve in her body. 

“Did you not hear me?” Belle asked, her voice high and tight as a violin string. “I told you I wasn’t coming home until later!” She took a step back. In a blink, her eyes were surprisingly wet. She sucked in a sharp breath. 

HADES:  Oh Hades heard Belle, alright.

The real question was whether Belle had heard Hades. Was she even listening to him? Because the way she snapped at him suggested that she wasn’t. He had demanded very little of her. He had asked for one small errand at the end of the day, when she intended to return home anyway. The market was open until 21:00; this was enough time for Belle to study all day, have dinner out, but come home without disturbing the children. 

Had she forgotten that, eh? She didn’t expect to stay out later than 21:00, did she? They had two bloody infants and a very grumpy toddler-- who would want her bedtime story from her mother.

And Belle was snapping at him.

He turned back around, and the scoff escaped him before he could catch it. Well, fuck holding that in anyway. “I said on your way home,” Hades repeated, trying not to get too snippish, but already feeling his hackles rising. “It’s just a few things, Belle, it’ll take ten minutes. You can take ten minutes so I don’t have to keep running around.” 

BELLE: “By the time I come home the market will be closed,” Belle told him. 

In the grand scheme of things, grocery shopping was not a laborious task. But, stacked on to her already impossible mountain of things, Belle couldn’t possibly take it on as well. Why couldn’t Hades see that?

Probably because he was so absorbed in the children that he’d forgotten that they were people outside of their duties to their children. Belle had a duty to herself and the career she was trying desperately to begin, after so many years of setbacks. Belle had a duty to the town, to help the other knights and bloody King Arthur!

And Hades had these other duties too. To the town, the shoppe, the Underworld. 

Their lives did not revolve around the children and Belle needed this time for other things. The children would not starve. Not for want of food or affection. 

Belle hoisted her bag up onto her shoulder. “Get Toulouse to do it. That’s what he’s here for, isn’t it? I don’t have time to argue this.” She checked the time on her phone. “The library opens in twenty minutes.”

HADES:  That’s what he’s here for, isn’t it? 

No, that was not what Lou was here for. And among everything else, this stung and confused Hades the most. Thank god Lou was at Chapter Three right now, opening up so Hades did not have to. If he heard that-- if he knew that was how Belle felt--

That could not be how Belle felt. But for a moment, Hades only saw the cruelty, aimed at his best friend, his Toulouse, who was more than the nanny Belle made him out to be. 

“Lou is not our errand boy!” Hades snapped, his voice truly rising for the first time. “And I am not your errand boy either. Just get the damn groceries! We need your help!” 

BELLE: “No, you don’t! You’ve not needed me this whole time, so why start now?” Belle shouted back. The volume of her own voice surprised her, though it only rose up to clash with Hades’.

It surprised Opal too. Belle caught the look on her daughter’s face but of the corner of her eye--her big blue eyes wide, her fingers paused halfway to her mouth. Opal’s eyes darted between her parents, watching intently. 

Belle hardly paid her any mind. She couldn’t. She--had somewhere to be. She had to leave. 

“Figure it out, Hades. You are more than capable.” 

With that, she turned on her heel, heading towards the front door. She turned the handle and opened it. The cold morning air stole some of the heat from her anger as soon as it burst into the cottage. Escape just across the threshold.

HADES:  Belle began to run. Again.

She turned in a whirl, her hair whipping with her. Hades’ eyes widened and he didn’t think-- his powers simply lashed out and the door that Belle held slammed itself shut. Its lock twisted with a sharp click, the loudest sound in the room, louder than any no. 

But that was what the locked door meant.

No. No more. Hades grit his teeth and met Belle’s glare with one of his own, though like always, he was steel and ice. 

“I am not doing this alone anymore!” he snapped at her, but the anger was more fragile than it had ever been-- like broken glass, jagged and completely see-through. Good. For once, he wanted Belle to see him for how pathetic he felt. “You don’t get to tell me this is my problem. This is our problem! I do need you, Belle! I’ve needed you this whole time, so stop fucking abandoning me!” 

BELLE: The door knob yanked out of Belle’s hand and slammed shut. Belle just stared at it for a moment in utter bafflement before she remembered Hades and his powers. Powers he hadn’t turned on her in years. Only one other time, really, had he ever done so. 

Then, it had scared her. 

Now, it infuriated her. She whirled around, ready to let loose her fury like an arrow. 

That anger was cleaved in half at the stricken look on Hades’ face. Her own expression faltered, cracking. She felt her stomach swoop too, as if she had been punched. Tears welled in her eyes and she felt the panic break over a dam somewhere inside of her. 

She felt trapped and hurt and confused. She wanted to lash out at him but for a moment, the words wouldn’t come. And when they did, they were choked. 

“Let me out,” she warbled, a bird caught in a mess of thorns, only tangling itself more in its desire to be free. It wasn’t what she had meant to say, but her voice wasn’t her own. It was ruled by her terror. Her voice climbed higher: 

“You cannot keep me here!” 

From her high chair, Opal began to cry. The sound was like sandpaper on Belle’s skin and she began to cry as well, rubbed raw by the sound. 

“I cannot do this anymore! Let me leave, please.” 

HADES:  Hades did not want to keep Belle anywhere. He was not her keeper, he was her husband-- and that title had only ever meant equal. Partner. But over the past month-- no, even longer-- she had turned that title into a synonym for something worse. He felt like he was not just parenting Opal and the twins, but attempting to corral Belle in similar ways. And he’d tried to be soft with her, and he’d tried to be patient, and he’d tried to be firm--

But Hades did not want to be Belle’s guardian at all.  He just wanted his Belle, the one who knew her daughter’s moods like she knew her own, and one who never passed their chessboard without pausing to consider making a move, the one who cared enough to stop in Chapter Three on the way home. 

He didn’t know who this person was in front of him, who treated him like a prison guard. 

And he knew he was doing this wrong. But he could not keep quiet anymore. 

“I can’t do this either! I can’t keep begging you to stop leaving me. Belle, please--” He crossed the room, coming toward her. He felt like the villain again; his whole life, he’d been a villain. Belle once convinced he could be something else, but now he second-guessed even reaching out for her.

“I don’t know what is wrong, but I know there is something, I know--I want to help but you need to help me too.”

BELLE: Hades came towards her and Belle bristled. She bristled against his anger and also against the comfort he offered, because she did not want it. She did not deserve it. He represented that safe, warm place that she probably needed, but also all the things that Belle was not: a good parent, a good partner. 

What is wrong. What is wrong. A day ago, a week ago, a month ago--Belle wished that she had answered that question honestly. Now, it felt too late. Her emotions were a pressure valve which had been squealing dangerously for weeks now, an explosion imminent. And she was trapped now. Trapped between the door and Hades, trapped with her emotions rattled, Opal’s crying in the background from her highchair. She wanted to keep it in, the shame and the fear and the aching, horrible sadness, but it wanted out. Her heart beat against her chest wildly, as if trying to break her ribs and spill her secrets. 

Belle’s mouth opened and it poured from her.

“What do you want me to say, Hades? Do you want to know about how I hate being a mother? That I am trying so hard and I’m terrible at it?” Her words choked and she took a stuttering breath. “This is me--trying as hard as I can and I-I can’t--” she shook her head, her hand rubbing against her own chest. She felt overheated in the several layers she was wearing, preparing to go out for the day. 

“I can’t do it anymore.” She pressed her shoulders up against the front door, bracing herself against it. Yet, her hand reached out towards Hades, catching the hem of his shirt and clinging to it. There was a part of her that wanted to tell him to go or let her go--the hard scar tissue of her heart that had formed sometime in the last two months--but, there was a soft part of her too that felt as frightened and lost as a child left behind in a store without a familiar face. 

HADES:  Hades heard Belle through a great expanse of space between them. He was right in front of her, but the words traveled slow. They traveled soft. They had come from very far away, though Belle had been shouting them for what felt like a very very long time-- like she was a star imploding, sending out her SOS into an uninhabited darkness. 

He had known everything she had said for a very long time, but he had shut his eyes, or looked away, or tried to puzzle the truth into something they were not, because he didn’t want to believe it.

Actually, he still did not believe it.

I hate being a mother, she gasped at him, like she was choking on her words. And the words hit him in the chest. He felt them and he heard them and he couldn’t be shocked by them, but no-- they still couldn’t be true.

This isn’t Belle, he thought to himself and it was his first clear-eyed thought in weeks. That doesn’t make sense. Because that had been the other part of Hades’ problem. Just as he tried to twist and break Belle’s actions into a different shape, he had been trying to imagine Belle as she always was. But she simply wasn’t. It wasn’t Belle who had turned away from him in bed. It wasn’t Belle who refused to pick up her sons. It wasn’t Belle now, sobbing, telling him she hated being a mother.

He’d spent almost two years with a woman who was very different, who laughed when Opal got smeared jelly in Belle’s hair, who loved reading to their daughter, who posted sweet pictures of their family because she was proud. And she was still that person-- that woman reached for him, her fingers curling in his shirt.

It was perhaps this more than anything that gave Hades’ new confidence. He still had no fucking idea what the right answer was but-- he could gather Belle into his arms, which he did now, pressing her close to his chest. 

“Then we’ll get you someone who can help. We--we’ll get help, together,” he said. His hand cradled the back of her head. “You aren’t a bad mother, Belle. You’re a brilliant mother. We’ll figure this out, alright?” 

BELLE: It wasn’t about being a bad mother. That insecurity had faded, if only because this new monster took its place. Uglier, louder. That she didn’t like it. It made sense then, why she had thought she was a bad mother. If you disliked something, you were surely going to be bad at it simply because you did not put in the effort. 

Even her memories of Opal were twisted. She did not think about the good things. The unconditional love that her daughter showed, how she had once smiled whenever her mother came into the room or when she buried her face in Belle’s chest to fall asleep, or made her play games with her that made Belle feel ridiculous but made her laugh. Those things had all faded. There was only heaviness. Reluctance. Opal a burden, making all the rest more complicated. Opal hardly asked Belle to play games with her now. Belle could not remember the last time. 

She was bone-tired and she did not recognize herself or the loathing that burned in her chest. She hated herself for it. How could you not when you hated what you were? Hating being a mother felt as unnatural to Belle as she imagined it might feel if Hades hated being the Ambassador. It was not a part of herself that she could change. She could only hate it for what it had done to her. 

With her face pressed against Hades’ chest, she sobbed. She wished she could say all this, but she didn’t want to. She felt as if she had already said too much. If she told him he was wrong and explained how much she meant what she had said, she was afraid he’d pull away from her. That was her biggest fear, now that she had realized her children’s love meant so little to her. 

There was still the quietest, most rational part of Belle’s brain that survived the onslaught of her depression that knew exactly what this was. She had read about it, of course, but never thought—still didn’t think—it could ever be something that applied to her. 

She wanted to protest: what if we don’t figure it out? What if I’m like this forever?

“I want help,” she confessed, the words just as hard to say as the rest. Her fingers curled into his shirt. “I don't want to feel like this. I-I don’t know how to stop.” 

HADES: Hades knew he was supposed to have a better answer than the one he had, but-- for a long time now, he’d been holding his tongue because of that fact. He thought he had to be more prepared to deal with Belle’s depression. He thought there had to be some moment, where Belle was just cheerful enough, when the children were peaceful, when they were alone, that he would take Belle’s hand in his and gently explain his suspicions and provide her with a solution and all the proper support that she would need. 

But there had never been that moment because their lives had never made room for easy, neat, or quiet. Even Hades himself was mostly too tired to think of bringing up the conversation. He fell against his mattress, turned his face into the pillow, told himself that he’d try tomorrow. 

Enough of that. Hades would never be prepared and their lives would always be a mess. They needed forward, or maybe they just needed different-- not necessarily right. 

At least Belle was speaking to him now. That was something. Actually, no, it wasn’t just something. It was everything. Hades had been so lonely and scared, faced with Belle’s silence. Belle confessing her fears was better than turning her back and pretending-- like Hades had-- that nothing was wrong.

“I know, I know,” Hades murmured. “You don’t have to figure it out all on your own though. We’ll-- talk to someone. Someone impartial, with more experience with depression.” He spoke the word out loud; he felt like he had to, or else it would remain an unseen monster lurking underneath their bed. Name it, though, and they could defeat it.

“I can go with you, too, if you want-- whenever you want. Whatever you need. I promise.” 

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 260: GOD IS A WOMAN

Previously on BnHA: Virtually all of the known pro heroes in existence split into two big groups (each with its own weenie hut junior subgroup) to launch a massive surprise attack on the League of Pliff. Endeavor’s group, in Jakku, stormed the hospital where Ujiko works, which amazingly seemed to catch him completely off guard, so I guess we’ll see how that goes. Meanwhile off in the woods somewhere, Midnight’s group (ostensibly this is Edgeshot’s group, but I call it like I see it guys) prepared to attack the villains’ main HQ at the Overlook Hotel, while my infant son Kaminari Denki complained too loudly about being stuck on the front lines. Meanwhile the rest of 1-A (sans Tokoyami) is either tucked away safe in the woods, or perched just outside of Jakku ready to begin the citizen evacuation. I suggest that everyone enjoy this brief period where the good guys appear to be safe and victorious while it lasts.

Today on BnHA: MIRUKO!!! Okay lol. A lot happens in this chapter. Aizawa uses his quirk on Ujiko, who immediately starts melting away into a crispy-fried old man because apparently this motherfucker had the immortality quirk all along. And then Mic and Aizawa yell at him, and the other doctors are all “pardon us but what the fuck” and the heroes are all “NO TIME TO TALK, HE’S EVIL” and then we find out that Ujiko is a fucking Twice clone, so that’s just great. And the real Ujiko is of course down in the basement, along with LORD EVEN KNOWS HOW MANY HIGH END NOUMUS, and for a moment it honest to god looks like we’re screwed. But then MIRUKO, YOUR NEW FAVORITE CHARACTER, KICKS DOWN ALL THE FREAKING DOORS AND FLATTENS POOR JOHN-KUN AND IS ALL “BOOM, YOU LOOKING FOR THIS?”, and let me tell you guys, FOR A MOMENT I SAW TRUTH. Anyway so next chapter she’s probably going to have to fight zombie Jeanist or something, but for now? Life is good. REMEMBER THIS DAY.

so just like last week, before I get started I’m gonna do a quick follow-up on chapter 259. really, Viz’s version wasn’t all that different from the fan scanlation this time around, so this will mostly just be reactions to things I didn’t notice and that other people pointed out

first off, a couple people mentioned that the thing Mic is holding up appears to be some kind of throat spray. which seems to track, so I’ll just say again that I have a very morbid curiosity about whether or not Mic could actually kill someone with his quirk. and this curiosity has only intensified since my google search

so yeah. will we ever get to see something like this?? STAY TUNED

also, I got a couple of conflicting answers about Naomasa’s quirk. someone said his quirk was lie-detecting, but another person said that’s actually his sister’s (LOL I HAD NO IDEA THERE WAS A NAOSIS, I REALLY SHOULD JUST READ VIGILANTES) quirk. and I never actually followed up on that lol sooooo. let me just do that real quick

okay so he doesn’t have a quirk listed on the wiki, but it says that his codename (??) is “True Man.” so that does seem to imply that his quirk is similar if not identical to his sister’s quirk, which is indeed a truth quirk (Polygraph). although the “she can’t detect a lie if the person is relaxed” seems to call this ability into doubt a bit. still pretty powerful though I guess

moving on now, last but not least let’s discuss the most relevant and controversial thing that happened this past week. (incidentally, I added an ETA about this to the previous chapter recap a couple hours after I first posted it, so in case you don’t what the asks below are referring to, it’s that.)

so... I have mixed feelings about this. thing is, after reading up on it, it seems like the fans who were most upset were those from China, Korea, etc., which is actually completely understandable given the historical context. Japan doesn’t exactly have a great track record with being sensitive about all of the horrific shit their military got up to during WWII, so while I still believe that Horikoshi wasn’t intending to be disrespectful, I can understand them not being inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt

that being said, I keep thinking about this tweet by aitaikimochi:

and despite what Horikoshi said in his apology tweets (about how he didn’t intend for the name to be associated with that particular historical connection), I still can’t help but think that he absolutely did intend to reference Unit 731, with the intent of (a) linking it to this vile, disgusting piece of shit character as a commentary, and (b) perhaps subtly pushing some of his Japanese readers who have never heard about this particular part of history to learn more about it. like, I know he offered up some dubious explanation about it being a reference to Ujiko’s rotund nature, but that seems really iffy to me tbh. that’s one hell of a coincidence if that’s really the case. idk

and you know what else -- and here’s where I’m really whipping out the conspiracy goggles -- I also can’t help but suspect that the decision to go back and change the name in the volume release is coming more from Shueisha (who I half-suspect weren’t themselves aware of the “maruta” name association until this blew up) than from him. because unfortunately this seems to be the standard Japanese PR response any time this subject comes up -- offer a vague statement of regret, and immediately proceed to wipe any mention of the subject from existence. because god forbid people actually talk about this or acknowledge that it happened

and so ultimately, while I do empathize with those who were upset by the name, I think it’s unfortunate that this is just getting swept back under the rug so quickly and will no doubt be forgotten about within a couple of months, because my gut feeling is that Shueisha was ultimately more concerned about what their Japanese readership might think about the controversy than what the Chinese and Korean fans thought. I could be wrong about that, and maybe also giving Horikoshi too much benefit of the doubt, but meh :/

anyway! so now that we’ve gotten that topic out of the way, let’s see how many pages it will take before the heroes finally realize just how much of an “oh fuck” situation they’ve gotten themselves into!

so the cover page is Hawks and Endeavor, but more importantly (to me), it establishes that this is indeed a hotel/resort and not a mansion, as the readheroaca team randomly translated it as last week. like does that look like any mansion you’ve ever seen. come on now

anyway so now my question is what happens if someone actually tries to stay at this hotel. do they just book that shit on trivago and enjoy a week up in the mountains surrounded by very strange but seemingly nice people, and just never suspect a thing? like, Gigantomachia lives in the basement here. I’m just saying. how dense can these hypothetical travelers be

also the hotel is apparently 80km from the hospital, or about 50 miles for us troglodytes who still use the imperial system. so pretty safe to say neither team will be able to provide backup to the other in this case. I will try not to think about this

so now Ujiko, the man without a name, is screaming while Endeavor and his group just STAND THERE LIKE TWENTY FEET AWAY. what the fuck

I swear to god he looked so much closer in the previous chapter. WHAT ARE YOU GUYS DOING. HE’S GOT NOUMUS IN THE BASEMENT!! CAN YOU FUCKING ARREST HIS ASS ALREADY

YESSSS AIZAWA

what are the odds that the next panel features Aizawa Shouta looking more pissed off than we’ve ever seen him. oh my god. it’s probably going to be hot af. I’m not sure I’m ready

booooooo

that is more or less the opposite of hot af. Horikoshi why you gotta do me like that

well well WELL!

you mean to say Mr. Innocent Quirkless Philanthropist isn’t actually quirkless?? even though he wasn’t actually innocent?? and he wasn’t actually a philanthropist either?? well I am just SHOCKED. who saw this coming. how could this happen

also for real this is creeping me the fuck out though

it does make sense though. I just can’t picture AFO entrusting so much of his operation to this dude if he actually was quirkless. because he’d view someone without a quirk as being lesser/inferior. so Ujiko almost had to have something up his sleeve. although it’s possible he could have been granted a quirk, rather than being born with one I suppose

!!!!

DO NOT TELL ME THIS MOTHERFUCKER HAS THE FUCKING IMMORTALITY QUIRK. WHAT THE FUCK. IS HE JUST GOING TO SHRIVEL UP INTO NOTHING. NO FUCKING WAY HE GOES DOWN THAT EASY WHAT THE HELL

(ETA: and does this mean that if Aizawa ever visits AFO and uses his quirk on him, AFO will also instantly age like 200 fucking years? could that actually kill him?)

duuuuude. Nao’s speculating about whether the Noumus’ regeneration ability actually stems from this quirk. ...but that can’t be the case, can it? otherwise AFO would have been able to heal his injuries from the battle with All Might. we know for a fact he’s known Ujiko for at least 15 years. but still, either way it’s still one hell of a powerful quirk

which now seems to be unraveling before our very eyes. uh...

anyone else getting Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade vibes? “he chose... poorly”

oh MY GOD!!

do it Mic do it do it do it

oh my god. well he’s not killing him with his voice, but instead this is happening

nooo Mic. I need you to be less anguished and more murdery. I don’t want feels yet!! goddammit

I mean it’s not asking for too much, is it? I just want a teensy little bit of satisfaction before the shit hits the fan. just torture him a little bit. just a little!

oh hey some doctors are intervening because the heroes look like psychopaths right now

s2g if one of these fuckers gets in between Ujiko and Aizawa’s line of sight and he fucking gets away -- !! oh my god. I can’t fucking take this. ffdffjjjk I’m so anxious you guys, I could never be a hero the stress is too much

so instead of explaining it to these rightfully concerned people, the heroes are just pushing them aside and telling them to stand back. and like, on the one hand I get it. they’re on the clock, they have to eliminate John-kun before the hotel villains get wind of the attack, and they don’t have time to explain an entire series’s worth of backstory to everyone who asks about it. but on the other hand, I also just want them to shout “HE EXPERIMENTED ON CHILDREN AND CORPSES AND CREATED THE NOUMUS!” or something. just so they know. I need them to know goddammit

but at least the patients seem to all be pretty chill about it lmao

-- holy shit. okay, three things

that panel with them moving the beds is my favorite

the panel with Tora holding this one guy who’s suddenly IN LOVE is also my favorite. oh man. Tora you are the manliest

combat with the WHAT DID YOU SAY NOW

so they knew?? well that sure fucking explains why Endeavor made the executive decision to keep his son and the other kids as far away as possible. but also, what? so like they must not realize that there are more high ends, then. right? or else they surely would not be so casual about this

holy shit?!

just how thorough was this investigation?? I really need to stop underestimating the heroes huh. should have learned my lesson after Kamino. these guys do their homework. it’s just that there’s always some one last thing that they failed to account for

so what is it going to be then in this case? Tomura is the one controlling them now? shitttttt

oh god. yeah, Miruko’s just casually kicking down the mortuary door and she’s all “we know who’s controlling them!” so I assume they believe that it’s Ujiko. which is honestly what I myself assumed up until about ten seconds ago, so fair enough

SDKFJLSKHGLK THERE IT IS

hot. a. f. just like I said. excuse me sir but there are laws against smoking in a hospital. because you’re smoking. get it. ...it’s because you’re hot. ...yes sir I’m sorry sir I will stop now

so Ujiko is sobbing and screaming “let me go!!” and okay but where is Present Mic? do you see, Mic. this is what I wanted, okay. but it’s all right, I understand that you were upset

ohhhhhhhhhh ffffuuuu

Endeavor with a worried look and lots of dots followed by an exclamation point, and then a closeup of Ujiko’s mouth looking surprisingly sinister as he reiterates for them to let him go. I’M SURE THIS IS ALL FINE. WE’RE ALL FINE. THAT’S OKAY HORIKOSHI, YOU CAN END THE CHAPTER HERE, IT’S GOOD. WE GOT LIKE WHAT, EIGHT PAGES? THAT’S PLENTY, REALLY

FUFFFFFFF NO MIRUKO DON’T GO FLYING INTO THE VOID! THE VOID IS BAD

HOLY SHIT

jesus christ. Miruko does the exact same thing as Katsuki where she sees a wall and she’s all “FUCK YEAH.” goddamn. it honest to god gave me a boost of confidence even as I watched her announce that THE NOUMU ARE DOING THE EXACT FUCKING THING SHE JUST SAID THAT THEY WOULDN’T BE ABLE TO DO

and also that is 100% a black Noumu there on the right side. so confirmed, the big guns are here too

HOLY SHIT TIMES TWO

THIS FUCKING HOSPITAL REALLY HAD THE FUCKING ASTEROID WORM FROM EMPIRE STRIKES BACK IN THE FREAKING BASEMENT, AND YOU ALL COULDN’T FUCKING DETECT THAT?? GET BETTER DETECTING TECHNOLOGY YOU DUMB HEROES

but nice save, Aizawa!! I personally would not have had such quick reflexes upon being confronted by a giant monster lunging out of the floor to stick out its multipronged DRILL TONGUE WHICH IS ALSO ITS BRAIN, haha. can someone please check on Horikoshi to make sure he is doing all right. I have some concerns about the mind that drew this

holy shit the drill tongue Noumu is actually drilling into Ujiko. like there’s blood and stuff

-- SHIT

THIS IS WHY YOU HAVE THE DAMN GOGGLES YOU ASSHOLE!! “BUT MAKESTE YOU WERE THE ONE WHO WANTED ME TO TAKE THEM OFF SO THAT I COULD LOOK HOT.” WELL JUST LOOK AT HOW WELL THAT TURNED OUT! THIS IS WHY YOU SHOULD NEVER LISTEN TO ME

(ETA: well it turned out not to matter BUT STILL.)

lmao Endeavor looks so fucking mad

“THIS IS WHY YOU HAVE THE DAMN GOGGLES YOU ASSHOLE.” I know, right?!

...aaaaaand this is happening

lol. good job @blessedgirthma​ you called it. it’s a clone! hahaha, fuck

and so the bad man lives to see another day. bets on who will eventually be the one to take him out? just remember how long that list is. lots of enemies, Ujiko. you’ll get yours

but right now I guess we have some other things to worry about

by the way we best pray to god that it was Twice who made that clone and not Ujiko himself, because if Ujiko has managed to replicate that ability on top of everything else, we can truly kiss the world goodbye

but anyway! so that’s Noumu!Tomura confirmed then, in my book. and there are the 11! does this mean they’re not at the hospital?? all I know is they had better not be out on the outskirts of the city where my babies are

also is Ujiko talking to himself here. it almost seems like his words are coming out of the clone’s mouth. but Twice doesn’t have that kind of clone puppeteering ability. so then who is this guy bragging to. -- oh my god can he see us

lmao he’s plopping into his science chair and zooming halfway across the room

don’t misunderstand me though, one panel of being super relatable does not make up for a lifetime of horrific and nauseating crimes

-- THERE ARE MORE VATS!!! HOLY SHIT

THERE ARE MORE VATS. THERE ARE MORE VATS

there is at least one more row than I recall seeing in that previous chapter way back when. so even more high ends. in addition to the 12 (11 considering Endeavor subsequently fried one) we previously saw

and also I just realized, he did say “this” hospital. meaning he is still in the basement? so these guys are still right under their noses, then? oh god oh god so much to process and all of it is terrible god

GAAAAAAASPPP

MILADY!!!!!

holy shit. you guys. what the fuck. the hell was All Might thinking going to U.A. to pick a student successor when Miruko was right fucking there. like I’m just saying??

and also, fuck me he is getting away

OH MY GOD

SHE FUCKING MURDERED POOR JOHN-KUN JUST LIKE THAT WHAAAAAT. YOU GUYS I CAN’T BELIEVE MIRUKO IS THE NEW MAIN CHARACTER OF BNHA, TIMES ARE WILD

lmao and that’s the end of the chapter. holy shit. all I need is for her to say “I am here!” and I’m set. I leave it in your capable hands. why was she not in charge to begin with. number five hero my ass!! smdh for real though guys lol

[the--highlanders]

some sketchtober thoughts

- word count ended up being 46k! would’ve liked 50k but I definitely started flagging on the word count towards the end. it’s not the biggest deal in the world though

- absolutely cracks me up that I get a wips page sorted and immediately turn around and do this. I will be getting on with some of the stuff listed on the wips page now though - definitely the shorter ones. the longer ones are a bit more intimidating (and I need to find time to finish researching one of them, which I might have time to do now)

- I also think it’s funny that I go in phases of what I write about. inexplicably there’s a bunch of desert fics in the middle of the month. guess I was just feeling the aesthetic

- the main takeaway from this month is probably practicing just sitting down and writing. before this I was stuck in sitting there staring at the screen and ending up writing like, 200 words a day, but I was doing 1000+ a day for a while with this. been using fighter’s block which was really helpful honestly

- I don’t actually like doing these sorts of posting-a-thing-a-day challenges asfjgkd. I did something similar in february last year iirc and it burnt me out for ages. doing this went better, but it still stressed me out at times. I expect by this time next year I’ll have forgotten that and I’ll see an october prompts list and think ‘oh that would be fun :)’

- if you’ve interacted with my sketchtober fics in any way and especially if you’ve commented then thank you.... I owe you my life & my motivation. not sure if I’ll be writing for the next week or so (I’ll either take a break or feel weird without having a writing schedule) but normal intermittent programming should resume soon. like I said I want to work on the two longer fics I have planned but I want to keep writing shorter fics to post while I’m working on them

[caffeinatedtimdrake]

40, 17, and 53 with Jason Todd. Love you!!! You deserve way more than 200 followers.

love YOU!!! sorry this is so late! 1.6k words of Jason x reader fluff in which you’re stuck in an elevator. 

17.“Did you just… agree with me?” “Oh, I wish I could take-““Nope! You said it! No take-backs!”

40.“You’re a psychopath.” “I prefer creative.”

53.“I hate you.” “Why? I’m lovely.”

In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t such a wise idea to take the elevator during a raging storm, but you could only be so functional after a three-hour British literature final exam. 

Massaging the palm of your hand and gnawing anxiously on your bottom lip, agonizing over your concluding paragraph, you hit the down button with your elbow and had barely half a mind to acknowledge the torrential downpour outside the walls of Gotham Academy. 

The elevator dinged dismally and you trudged inside. 

Wordsworth said to fill your paper with the breathings of your heart but you couldn’t stop worrying that you dumped the jumbled thoughts of your mind onto the lined pages. You were fretting so intensely that you barely heard the pleas to keep the elevator door open. 

“Wait! I need to catch the elevator! Pretty please!” 

You startled and moved to press the open button, but a body barreled in through the doors and hit the wall with a slightly concerning bang before you could do so. 

The figure was broad and sinewy from behind, a backpack hanging off toned shoulders and veiny arms showcased thanks to a snug black t-shirt. Something about that admittedly nice butt was awfully familiar, and then the human canon turned around. 

“Oh. Hey, Y/N.” 

You stiffened and braced yourself, though you were unsure what you were bracing yourself for. “Hi, Jason.” 

He cracked a smile, slow and warm, and your heart skipped several beats before settling into a panicky rhythm. 

Oh. That was why you braced yourself. 

He quirked an eyebrow and nodded to your hands. The fingers of your left dug into the palm of your right so hard, your knuckles turned white. “Still recovering?” 

You dropped your hands. “In more ways than one.” 

Something about Jason always had you on edge. You two were notorious for getting into heated debates regarding humanist theory and the best Romantic era poets, and you’d nearly lost your mind when you worked together because the professor assigned partners for a literature analysis presentation – he pushed your buttons excessively. 

Maybe it was because he was so hard to read, but he was able to read you with startling clarity. You didn’t know much about him, only that he was a few years older, enjoyed blasting Bobby Brown, had strong opinions on bread, and knew Keats better than his own name. You had known him for four months, but he already knew that you despised untied shoelaces, snapped a rubber band against your wrist when you were nervous, and owned two cats. Your guard was highly fortified because people who’d known you for years barely knew one of those tidbits; who did Jason think he was, waltzing into your life and making you self-conscious every time you exhibited a nervous tick?

Your unease around Jason Todd might also have to do with the fact that he was so beautiful, he left you flustered and babbling angrily much more often than you’d like. 

“How’d you feel about it?” 

“About…what?” 

Jason laughed and you blinked in surprise at the sound of sunshine on this rainy day. “About the exam, Y/N.”

“Oh. Uh. I wish I felt better about it. You?” 

His shoulders lifted in a dismissive shrug. “I’ve been through worse.” 

“Who’d you focus on for the last question?” You asked as the doors glided shut with a groan. 

He snorted. “Coleridge, of course. Who else?”

You frowned. “Barrett Browning.” 

He shot you a dubious look. “Is it because of Sonnet Forty-Three?” 

Flummoxed, your frown deepened. “No…” 

“Mmhhmmm,” He nodded, mouth sliding up into a playful smile. 

“Well. Maybe a little.” 

“Quite the hopeless romantic, aren’t we?”

You opened your mouth to retort defensively but betrayed yourself; you locked eyes with him and suddenly found yourself lost in a sapphire ocean. “Yeah,” You sighed in resignation. 

His eyes widened, eyebrows raised in bewilderment. “Did you just…agree with me?” 

You blushed deeper. “Oh, I wish I could take –”

Jason waggled a finger accusatorially. “Nope! You said it! No take-backs!” 

You jutted your chin out and crossed your arms over your chest. Maybe you should have been concerned when the elevator groaned a little in dissent, but you couldn’t hear much above the little voice at the back of your head scolding you for not being more vigilant around him. 

“Fine.” 

His smile softened, gentle like the Caribbean, and much to your dismay, so did you. “It’s not a bad thing.” 

“I-I guess. I don’t know.” 

You did know when the lights flickered and died with a buzz and a few concerning sparks. 

You also knew when the elevator jolted and dropped a few feet, bouncing unevenly because it pulled a shriek from your throat, and you flung yourself at Jason Todd. 

He stumbled back a little with an “oof” but didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you. 

He smelled of jasmine and old books and some kind of spice. You were in the middle of a third deep inhale, safe in his arms, when the elevator groaned again, reminding you where you were. You wrenched yourself out of his embrace and slammed against the wall opposite of him with a jolt, pressing the help button frantically – but to no avail, it looked like the whole array was shot.

The elevator made another agonized noise and panic seized your lungs. 

“Well. I think the elevator’s stuck.” 

“It still m-moves. What if – what if it falls all the way d-down? We’re gonna – oh, fuck, we’re gonna die in here, aren’t we?” You warbled, slowly sliding to the ground. 

Jason’s brow furrowed, shadows dancing against his skin beneath the dim emergency light. “We’re not going to die in here, Y/N.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut when thunder rumbled irately, practically shaking the walls. “You can’t guarantee that.” 

“We’re probably not going to die in here.” He simpered, taking steady strides over to you and the buttons. 

You had to choke back whimper when the elevator tilted slightly. 

You heard him shifting slightly, setting his backpack on the ground and kneeling next to it. 

His knee bumped your knee and your eyes snapped open, but he continued shuffling around in his bag, unbothered by the physical contact. 

You didn’t want to die before you could find out who scored higher on that exam, but you refrained from voicing this aloud. For the moment. 

“So, you’re scared of centipedes and dying in an elevator. What else?” He asked in a low voice. 

In spite of the slightly dire situation, you flushed, reminded of the unfortunate insect incident in the library a few weeks ago. 

The answer left your mouth before you could swallow it. “You.” 

You were unsure of how serious that response was and maybe he was too, because the corner of his mouth quirked up into a smirk. “Me? I’m harmless.”

As these words left his mouth, he unearthed a daunting piece of technical equipment from his backpack. 

You wanted to tell him that he was actually quite harmful to your emotional stability, but instead you asked, “What the hell is that?” 

His smirk grew into something even more dangerous, setting your heartbeat awry again. “Our way out.” He pressed a button and what might be a laser flashed and buzzed menacingly. 

“You’re a psychopath.” 

“I prefer creative.” Jason told you cheerily, turning away from you to wiggle the suspicious tool beneath a panel near the bottom row of buttons. 

There were some more unsettling buzzing noises, but he must have known what he was doing because several moments later, all of the lights blink on. 

He pressed the help button with his knuckle, and it rang shrilly in acknowledgement. 

“Now, we wait.” He scooted back a little so he could sit in front of you, cross-legged and almost boyish in the way he looked at you expectantly, more like a patient puppy than a muscly twenty-something with threatening equipment and novels in his backpack. 

You felt your face heat up again. “Oh. Great.” 

He leaned forward a little, one dark brown arched in inquisition. “Are you really scared of me?” 

Your stomach flipped a little because he was striking up close, pink mouth and strong nose framed by handsome angles, earthy olive skin littered with storybook scars, and eyes that whispered the most tragic of poems in a language you couldn’t quite understand. 

“I’m trying to figure it out.” 

“You must not be completely petrified because you seem quite calm, considering we’re in a confined space together. Also, you threw yourself at me.” 

You gaped at him indignantly. “I hate you.” 

“Why? I’m lovely. At least three different people tell me on a daily basis.” 

It was your turn to arch an eyebrow. “By people do you mean drooling college girls?” 

That smirk returned. “Old ladies crossing the street and soccer moms occasionally, too.” 

You crinkled your nose in distaste. “Bleh.” 

“Beauty is meant to be appreciated.” Jason stated, fixing you with a look of saccharine reverence that made you think, perhaps, he wasn’t referring to himself through the eyes of appreciative grown women. 

Bashful, you broke away from his gaze, finding sudden interest in your sweaty hands and playing with your fingers. 

“That’s why poets exist.” You muttered. 

“Shakespeare, sonnet eighteen.” 

You narrowed your eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Now, his smile was all sunflowers and chirping birds on a summer morning. “It means you’re beautiful and I want to compare you to a summer’s day. And take you on a date when we get out of this elevator. If you’ll let me.” 

It took a few moments to shake you out of your daze. “If we can get out of this elevator and avoid a Shakespearean tragedy, sure.”