#still not totally sure about lemonade's design

[disabled-battlekukku]

Y'know in cartoons when there are rival characters that are just the main characters but gender bended? I did that to the Hooligans ig

[heartthrobin]

press your tulips to mine

steven grant x female!reader

wc: 4.6k

warnings: mutual pining, steven is a shy babygirl, marc playing wingman (but he's kinda terrible at it cause he's also falling in love), no jake (the crowd is booing), no khonshu, steven still works at the museum, post mk s1, no use of y/n

an: rewatched the whole of mk last night and needed to write about my dearest stevie :)) don't forget to repost to support your fav writers

summary: Steven's apartment has become overrun with more bouquets of flowers than any one man could ever find use for, but they would continue to pile up as long as the pretty girl at the flower shop continued to melt him with that syrupy smile each time he walked in.

Steven Grant had never given much thought to flowers.

Sure, he could offer a momentary appreciation for a flicker of yellow growing out the cracks in London sidewalks or maybe if he passed a house with a particularly impressive rose bush he could smile, but beyond that flowers remained mostly inconsequential.

Steven never had girlfriends in high school, or - to be frank - thereafter either.

He’d never had to pick out a bouquet, one that he would need to consider: does this match her eyes? will it match her dress? how does it smell?

In the face of discovering that he was unalone in the occupancy of his five foot nine frame and fighting in the name of an Egyptian moon-god, Steven had less time than ever to consider his frighteningly barren love life or the lack of interest in flowers on account of it.

Isn’t life funny? In the way that we look so far beyond ourselves for answers, when sometimes they’re just around the corner.

Specifically the corner one street over from the museum.

Steven had walked the path to work plenty of times. A designated route. In the days when he still worked at the gift shop, the same route now that he’d been bumped up to tour guide.

Until one otherwise unimportant morning when construction bound his usual way, forcing him a walk further around the block: adding another four minutes to his trip and a view of the quaint shops down Little Russel street.

He hadn’t been down there in months. His last venture had been in search of a pharmacy for sleeping tablets, when Khonshu was still a nightmare and Marc nothing more than a migraine.

Steven noticed first that the pharmacy no longer stood. In fact, the previously white brick face of it’s stand had been painted a lush lemonade-pink. The Petal Parlour.

Almost immediately, in just about the same breath, Steven’s eyes found a woman leaned over a broom and sweeping the edge of the shop step. She was humming, he could just make out a Stevie Wonder tune.

The morning light flickered off your hair as if off the face of a pond out in a beautiful garden. An elderly man passed your work, uttering a greeting, and you'd perked up with a melodic: "good morning Mr B!"

Steven's footfalls stalled down the sidewalk. A man crashed into his back, strewing the contents of his messenger bag around him. "Watch where you're going, asshole!" He'd seethed at him.

By the time Steven had looked up, you'd already retreated back into the shop. He could make out your outline through the stained glass front.

There hadn't been a day since that Steven had taken his normal, considerably shorter, route to work. He got up five minutes earlier each day, brushed his teeth, made a cup of tea and let the memory of you swim behind his eyes. He could hear Marc's sighs every time.

Most mornings you were inside. Steven would deflate when he rounded the block to an empty corner, but he refused to consider it a total loss because - more often than not - he could make out your figure beyond the window fiddling with petunias on a shelf or smiling at a customer.

Some mornings, when he found himself most lucky, you'd be outside the shop. Usually clipping stray leaves off the rows of bouquets that glimmered happily at the people passing down the street. When it rained, Steven was privy to the way your hair clung to your forehead and the smudge of black mascara beneath your eyes. In the sunlight your arms were exposed from under a pink work shirt and a soil-stained apron.

It went like that for nearly a month. Between Steven and Marc's alternating schedules, he learned to appreciate the slim sightings of you he could manage. Marc didn't make it any easier, mind you, with the way he would whine and complain into Steven's ear.

"Jesus, Steven, just go up to her and say hi!"

Once or twice, Marc had managed to gain control of Steven's legs: teetering him drunkenly in your direction.

The fright would rise quickly up in Steven's chest, steering his legs back in the direction he was walking. You'd looked up one of those times, meeting his eye and spilling out a soft laugh that dissolved into a syrupy smile, but he'd rushed off before you could say anything.

Steven's face stayed red that whole day. "See. That wasn't so bad, was it?" Marc jeered.

"That was mortifying." He muttered back.

The bus rocked beneath his feet and his palm was growing sweaty around the pole he was using to steady himself. Frost was creeping up at the edge of the window he was watching out of.

"Okay, so all you're going to do is go in there and ask for ... help with something." Marc clarified again, his voice echoing around Steven's head.

He'd been bugging Steven since he was brushing his teeth before bed the previous night, something about how "I can't handle any more of this, please Steven. Put me out of my misery."

"Help with what?" Steven whispered. A woman looked up at him from her seat. He smiled shyly, turning away from her.

"I don't know ... tell her you're looking to buy some roses. Tell her it's someone's birthday."

Steven nodded slowly to himself. "Okay ... okay."

Marc had worked hard over the last twelve hours at convincing him. The endeavour was initially futile, but after Marc threatened to go in there and ask her out himself with a - frankly insulting - cockney accent, Steven was left with limited options.

He rounded the corner with wobbly legs and The Petal Parlour loomed in the distance. A bunch of sunflowers taunted him with swaying faces.

It drew ever closer and Steven's heart was beating loudly in his throat. The pink brick was crossing his vision now, his footsteps growing heavier, faster, past the floral print on the window--

"Steven don't even think about it--"

Against Steven's will, his legs knotted around each other: collapsing his body in the direction of the white painted door. It crashed open and Marc, more than Steven, caught his body before it hit the tiled floor inside the shop.

"Oh my god, are you alright?"

The shop was cramped now that he'd gotten his first glimpse inside and the three people crowding the space had their eyes on him.

As if appearing from a mirage, you pressed past the people towards him. He nodded frantically, the scalding touch of embarrassment burned his cheeks. "Yeah, yeah ... I'm fine."

Your earrings jingled from where your head was tilted to inspect him. Ringed fingers pressed down over your soil-covered apron. "Okay then, if you're sure."

Your concerned brow dissolved slowly and that syrupy smile he'd seen pointed in other's directions was suddenly overwhelming him with it's warmth. "Well then, can I help you find anything? Are you looking for some arrangement in particular?"

Steven nodded dumbly, he was fidgeting with the edge of his coat. "Yeah ... I'm looking for, uhm..."

"Birthday!" Marc called from somewhere deep in his mind.

"Birthday!" Steven spluttered loudly. There followed a quiet moment of confusion dripping between you and him.

"Jesus, Steven."

Your giggles crumbled into the space before Steven had the ability to conjure more words.

"I-- I'm sorry, I'm being rude ..." Laugher spilt between your words and your cheeks were turning a soft pink, "you want something for a birthday?"

An embarrassed smile had reached up into the corners of Steven's mouth. He liked the tinkle of your laughter, half convinced he could get drunk off the sound. A molecule of pride floated in his chest knowing that he was responsible for it.

"Uh, yes. Sorry, yes." Steven nodded, fidgeting with the bag strap over his shoulder. "Someone's birthday."

"Well, we just gotten some new arrangements in this morning ..." You turned on him, steering across the little shop to a orange, yellow and pink stacked shelf. He followed you tentatively, trying to pretend that he didn't smell perfume where you moved past him. Pretend that it wasn't making his knees buckle.

"They're pretty." He said quietly. You smiled again. You're pretty, he thought.

"Focus!" Marc's sharp voice sliced through his thoughts.

"Who's birthday is it?"

Steven's tongue lodged back into his airways. "Uhm--"

"Oh shit ... uh, say--!"

"My girlfriend's."

"Not girlfriend, you idiot!"

"Oh, alright--" Your hands fidgeted with your necklace, eyes wide.

"My sister." Steven interrupted you again, the argument in his brain between his thoughts and Marc’s voice was rattling his resolve. "I ... not my girlfriend, I don't have ... I don't have a girlfriend."

"You don't have a sister either." Marc quipped.

Steven ignored him. You were watching him with another smile flirting at your lips. "Okay, well, do you know what kind of flowers she likes? Or have an idea of what you want?"

Steven shrugged, head wobbling into a shake. "Uh no ... what kind do you like?"

You seemed taken back by his question. "Oh. Well, I like the tulips. The yellow ones, especially, but they're tough to find around here ... they have tons in Netherlands and Turkey, which not many people know because everyone thinks of them--"

Steven was sure you could see the little birds floating around his head, and how his pupils turned to tiny black hearts: maybe that's why you stopped.

You blushed a velvety red.

"I'm sorry ..." you turned back, hiding your warm face to wave your hand over the shelf of stacked bouquets. "We have some orchids and some irises if you think she might like them?"

"Yes." Steven nodded, hands folding over each other. His eyes were trailing the outline of your profile, savouring the closeness he'd finally been granted. "Those ... they're beautiful. She'll like them."

Your eyes twinkled where you nodded and it made his stomach churn. "Great."

He lingered patiently by the register while you wrapped the flowers with careful hands.

"Say," your gaze flickered up between him and the brown paper. "Do you work around here? I'm sure I've seen you passing in the morning sometimes."

Steven's breath tripped in his throat. She noticed me?

"Yes, now answer her." Marc's voice rung again.

"I-- yeah, I work by the museum actually." His voice stumbled nervously from the back of his throat.

"Oh really? That's so cool!" Your voice lilted with a pitch of interest. "I really like their exhibit on the liberation of India from English colonial regimes. I've only been once or twice though."

Chest buzzing delightfully, Steven nodded. He knew the one you were referencing, it was a couple corridors down from the Egyptian exhibits.

"Well, you should definitely come see the Ancient Egyptian section. The exhibit is huge and we have hundred year old pieces, sarcophaguses and vases and slabs of cave walls with carved hieroglyphics. I work there and it's really the most fascinating--"

"Let her respond, Steven."

But you seemed content to allow him to continue his splurge, your eyes warm and gentle where it caressed over Steven's face. He stopped talking, winding off embarrassed.

"So, uh, yeah."

"You've made a very good case. Maybe I will come visit." You nodded, fingers stroking absently at the edge of the counter. "If you promise me a tour?"

Warm blood rose up from his chest and pooled in his cheeks. "Of course. Anytime."

You handed him the flowers over the stretch of counter. "I never caught your name?"

"Steven." He said quickly, dejection gathering in his throat at the fact that your interaction was nearing a close. "G-Grant. Steven Grant."

You nodded. "Nice name. It's very James Bond."

"Thanks."

"Ask her name!" Marc poked at the back of his brain.

"Uh-- and you are?"

"Oh!" your eyes fell down to your chest where the corner of your stained apron was obscuring the sharpened edge of your name-tag. You shifted it for him to see.

Steven's eyes followed over the letters, he tried your name out on his tongue. It tasted sweeter than he thought a name ever could, rolling off his lips like a song or a bird whistling on a summer evening.

"It's ... it's a beautiful name."

You blushed, eyes moving back to the keyboard for momentary solace before paralysing him with your warm gaze again. "Thank you. I guess I'll see you 'round Stevie."

His mind whirred with how casually the little nickname slipped from you. "Yeah, yeah you will ..."

Leaving the store, Marc called from between the sludge of Steven's muddy mind.

"Good job, Stevie."

-

Steven was consumed by the interaction the whole rest of the day and when then next morning loomed overhead, he could hardly believe his luck when you were pinching together some lilacs out on the front step where he passed.

Half convinced by the nauseating twist in his stomach to just march quietly past, the decision was made for him when you glanced up from the flowers and offered him a friendly wave: “good morning, Stevie!”

His brain dissolved into a warm, gloopy mess. “… Morning.”

-

In the coming weeks, Steven’s apartment had become a botanical garden of epic proportions.

Vases and cups and pots, and whatever he could fit a flower into, lined his kitchen counters and his shelves and his bathroom sink with every possible kind of flower that The Petal Parlour had to offer.

Marc grumbled most days, in search of a coffee mug or apartment keys between what he described the “Amazon jungle in here.”

But Steven paid him little mind. It was a harmless jab and Steven noticed in the reflection of the shop’s stained glass window how Marc watched you too, eyes glazed with a soft affection. He mentioned nothing of it to Marc.

Steven had begun frequenting the shop when he could, on mornings he got up early enough or afternoons when the day’s work brought soil stains across your ruddy, tired cheeks.

He’d bought flowers for every possible celebration to be had in London, seemingly nabbing an invite to each one. Bat mitzvahs, birthdays, weddings, farewells, funerals: he’d bought bouquets for one of each kind.

Each visit would play out similarly. He’d step into the shop, maybe once a week or every other week - with Marc muttering somewhere in his mind, we’re hardly gonna be able afford groceries at this rate - and you’d beam at him from behind the counter or from beneath a brightly coloured shelf.

“What’s up, Stevie?”

The nickname made him shiver every time.

“Let me guess … Christmas in July?” You’d tease.

When he’d find you behind the counter, that was his favourite, because you’d lean lazily over it. It blessed him with the view down the slope of your nose, the smell of your fading perfume, the jingle of your clinking earrings.

“Baby shower.” It comes out almost as a question, curling upward at the end.

You’d giggle softly. “Right. Boy or girl?”

It had been long enough that Steven could just about draw out your work schedule.

Fridays you didn’t work, Sundays and Tuesdays you only clocked in the afternoon. He tracked it with the little greetings he got, or didn’t get, as he passed on the way to or from the museum.

“You know,” Marc was fronting an early morning in August, subjecting Steven to a cup of coffee. He hated the stale taste it left in his mouth. “We’re quickly approaching, if not already long surpassed, the point where you need to actually ask her on a date. You know that right?”

Steven remained quiet in the depths of Marc’s mind.

He stayed like that until Marc had cleaned out the mug and stuck a wet toothbrush into his mouth.

“Can I please just get ready for work now?” Steven muttered after nearly twenty minutes of silence.

Marc huffed, letting his eyes roll back and the toothbrush dangle from his lips.

Steven shook out his shoulders, Marc was always so tense. “Thank you.”

It was only when he’d passed the flower shop that he remembered that it was Friday. A group of school kids were expected at the museum around nine that morning.

He was almost grateful for your absence, it allowed him to wallow in Marc’s words for at least one more day. He should ask you out, god does he want to.

The day passed like most of them do.

The school children were rowdy and mostly impartial to the magnificent feats of Ancient Egyptian architecture, but he took another tour around two o’ clock with three couples and a family who were significantly, thankfully, more engaging.

Steven had just wrapped up the hour, on the tail end of explaining how do we know what hieroglyphics mean? to the man who’d asked, when a flitter of shifting fabric floated past the back of his head.

Emerging like a bottle-green wet dream, Steven's gaze found you drifting under the arch between rooms. Your eyes alight in searching, they caressed momentarily over each framed painting and encased ornate vase.

He'd never seen you in anything more than your tight pink work shirt, which - don't get it mistaken - did enough damage to his psyche on it's own, but he immediately knew he'd never recover from the little green dress that clung to your frame.

A square neckline reached past clinking necklaces, long sleeves brushed along your palm - a job Steven desperately wished was his own - and a ruffled edge that teased an upper expanse of thigh which he'd never before been gifted a view of ... and if you shifted just a little, bent just slightly over--

"Hey, thanks a lot. The tour was great."

The middle aged man's face reappeared into Steven's view: dirtied spectacles pressing down the edge of his sweating red nose.

Steven stuttered, eyes flickering between the man's face and your figure in the distance. "Y-Yeah, of course ... anytime, mate."

Your eyes found him, waving a hand.

Uninterested in letting the American tourists keep him from you any longer, Steven slipped past them towards your nearing frame.

"Stevie, hey." You beamed up at his face, hands playing with the strap of your bag: clearly unsure. "You-- well, it was my day off and I thought maybe I could take you up on that tour, but I just saw the board and it says you'd already finished your last one--"

"Hey, hey," Steven shook his head. "No, I'm ... I'm glad you came. I can take you if you'd still like, I'd love to show you around? It will be like a private tour."

He swore he could dissolve under the shine of the smile you gave him. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Oh—“ you started digging into the bag draped down over your shoulder. “That reminds me …”

Your hand emerged with a single white flower. It’s petals were wide with a barely there yellow dot in the centre.

“I thought it would match the jacket you always wear.” A hand reached out, tugging gently on the corner pocket of his grey trench coat and slipping the flower in so it stuck half out happily. “It’s a white daffodil. Nicked it last night before I closed up.”

Steven’s chest was clenching up with a tightness that felt like his last remaining decisions in this life were to either immediately faint, or kiss you until the oxygen deprivation lead him to faint anyways.

“I—“ His fingers caressed gently at the edge of it’s petal. “Thank you.”

“Give her a compliment, Steven.” Marc’s voice startled him. He was a rare presence when Steven was at work.

The idea prodded at Steven that maybe it was the sound of your voice that had drawn him out.

“You … you look beautiful, by the way.” Steven pressed out, “the dress, it’s — it’s very nice.”

With nervous hands at the edge of the skirt, your looked quickly between the dress and Steven's face. "Ugh, this old thing. Just thought it would be a good idea to get out of my work uniform for a bit."

"I agree ... a great idea." He nodded, "You wanna ... get started?"

"Of course."

Steven lead you over the same route that he walked three times a day, four times on weekends, but somehow still felt itchy between the rooms. He figured it had to do with you gaze pressing curiously over his face, it made his neck hot and he prayed you couldn't see it.

When he spoke, you leaned close into his frame: eyes flickering between his trembling lips and the artefacts he was describing.

"That's so cool ..." you'd whisper to yourself at different points, sometimes a "that's crazy" or a "that's kinda gross", and Steven was drinking in your reactions like a man parched.

The tour closed off at the spot it usually does, with the replica of the Rosetta's Stone near the West Exit. By then, the sun had already sunk behind the backdrop of summer London and Steven's nerves were downright shot.

Your perfume was sending him on a chemical high and he's sure Marc heard every one of his desperate thoughts about the way your fingers tightened around his arm when they'd bump past other visitors moving room to room.

With the dress swaying merrily at your sides, you recounted points of the tour with animated hands flying ahead of you.

"And the way they managed to get those tombs so far underground? Not to even mention the complex tunnelling systems, how much work that would actually take to figure out--"

The tiny birds had returned to flying in circles over Steven's head, Isn't She Lovely was playing absently from somewhere in the depths of his mind.

Your excited hands came to find your sides and you huffed yourself into silence.

Following beside him, Steven lead you two out under the arched gates towards the steps of the museum. The moon twinkled between streetlights, and Steven avoided its gaze. Like he could feel Khonshu’s presence over his shoulder.

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He smiled at you, a smile that just about suffocated him.

“Enjoyed it?” You laughed. “It was amazing, I mean, you were amazing.”

He laughed softly too, but didn’t respond.

The silence was beginning to turn stale.

“Now is as good a time as it’s gonna get.” Marc pestered.

“Well I should—“ you pointed obviously over your shoulder, before finding the face of your wrist watch. “My bus will be leaving soon.”

Steven nodded. “Yeah … yeah of course. I had fun, you should come by more often.”

“It was … it was very sweet. Taking me on the tour when you probably had better things to do.” Your hand curled over his forearm again, “You’re very sweet, Steven.”

“And you’re very beautiful.”

The words found the air between them before Steven even knew what he’d said.

Your lips parted slightly in surprise, cheeks brushed with a warm pink: “I— thank you, Stevie.”

Steven nodded, not looking at you and suffocating on his own embarrassment. “I’m gonna— need to go finish up inside.”

An unmistakably wounded look passed over your face. It dissolved as quickly as it had appeared.

“Sure.” It was curt. “I’ll see you round the shop.”

“Steven, if you do not stop her so help me God—“

A flurry of hot and cold feelings were chasing up and down his chest: he watched your figure turn and worked to do the same.

The outline of the museum had barely returned to his frame of vision when the cold hand of his subconscious reached out and dragged him down into it’s icy black depths: now watching the view of his eyes as if from a foggy tape recorder.

Marc stiffened his shoulders, turning to where you were bounding down the steps of the museum, heels clicking on each jump.

He chased down after you, skipping two steps at a time.

“Marc, don’t! You’re gonna scare her!” Steven was shouting now, rattling his already shaky consciousness.

He called your name where you’d just reached the sidewalk. You turned up to meet his face.

In barely fractions of a moment, Marc was able to find some sympathy for dear Steven.

Now that he was faced with you himself, as opposed to the blurry lens he’d been cursed to only peer through before, he wondered how Steven ever conjured up the courage to say more than three words to you.

“Steven?”

The light of the street-lamp was flickering in little circles off your eyes in the dim street and Marc was half convinced to abandon Steven in the darkness.

He didn’t.

Rather, he slipped back down into the shadows where he felt Steven surpass him again.

Your brow bent deeper in confusion, “Are you alright?”

If he had time, Steven might have taken a moment to huff at Marc for not even bothering to turn away when he forced himself back to the front, spared you from the sight of his eyes rolling back in their head. But no, you probably thought he was possessed.

“I, yes, that doesn’t matter—“

He could feel ice cold adrenaline pumping down from his brain. Like he did in the seconds before a fight, when the suit would crawl up over his skin.

“Your eyes,” your hand came close up to his face, hesitant enough to just float in its orbit. “They rolled—“

“Will you go on a date with me?”

You blinked up at him. Once, twice.

The silence was reaching far past the limits that it did in all the romance movies Steven had seen and his palms were growing itchy with the passing seconds.

“When?”

Steven’s head was reeling. He hadn’t thought that far, but why quit while he’s ahead?

“Now. Right now, tonight.”

The surprise was fading from your face, replaced with eyes that were glowing around the corners and a smile that made his heart skip every second beat.

“Don’t you have work?”

“You haven’t answered my question yet.”

“If you promise to still come visit the shop ... I would love to go on a date with you, Stevie. Right now.”

Warmth was flooding back into Steven’s hands. “I’ll set up a tent outside on the sidewalk …” he breathed, “you won’t be able to get rid of me.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Steven nodded. Almost tripping on the step up behind him, “I’m going to tell them that I’m leaving. Just wait right here …“

He’d already moved up two steps, legs buzzing with untamed exhilaration.

“Steven, hold on just one sec—“ when he turned, you’d surpassed the small steps separating you.

He’d barely a chance to turn all the way back around when your index finger hooked between his neck and the collar of his shirt and your lips were on his.

They were warm and soft and Steven had no idea what he was doing.

With his experience being limited to the pool of:

A. The girl he’d pecked in first grade on the swings in the playground.

B. A drunken make-out at a college party for a college he didn’t even attend and,

C. His (mostly Marc’s) ex-wife,

It was nothing short of a miracle when his hand came up to find the side of your neck. When he pulled your waist flush against his.

“Atta’ boy.” He ignored Marc.

You pulled back, Steven was pleased to notice your reddened, wet lips.

“Sorry,” you whispered close against him, voice half-drowned out by the rumbling of taxis in the street and people passing by. “Been itching to do that for a while.”

-

taglist:

@pcrushinnerd @since-im-already-here @am-3-thyst @aug-ust69 @hangmanslover @suddenlysteven @nxonlights @lwjmoonchild7 @o-zenith-o @amasdaydream @may-tulip @skarrkiie @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @lxne20 @sangwoahsbat @orihimi-19 @purple-amaranthe @autismsupermusicalassassin @mt2sssss @angie2274 @dancing-pinky-flower @y2kbratzqouturr @brekkers-desigirl @its-me-ya-boi-lisa @softdvng0dness87 @venomous-ko @grilled-steak @emily-roberts @airzonaaa @yomoms-stuff @mess-of-fandom @winter-soul @insomniacrobyn

i couldn't tag some of you, just check that your settings allow for mentions :))

[fountainpenguin]

Riddle watches New Wish - Post #4

... Angela has orange eyes. Interesting... It's a good thing that 8 years ago, I didn't set up my entire magical society to be obsessed with natural orange features like hair because it's the rarest color in the magical world, ahahaha...

Cosmo hung a picture of himself on their wall.

SHE HAS A CREATURE-HUNTER FOR A DAD? Oh no, oh no, oh no... Someone call Doombringer, Crocker, and Ed Leadly- They've got a new friend!

He didn't react to Cosmo and Wanda describing the features Crocker always names as fairy traits (wands, wings, floating crowns), so he probably doesn't know Crocker.

She's so cute...

Okay, I love that Cosmo and Wanda walk backwards while bouncing. They are still not used to being human.

CRYING, Wanda literally noped out with a farewell of "We probably won't be seeing you much." That is a woman who is not willing to get dragged out of retirement and back into creature-hunting threats. I'm very curious as to how they end up with Hazel.

Hey, Hazel's indoor rug is even cooler than the one in the hall.

POV, you usually would fly across the hall but you don't have your wings out right now.

She vaporized the door, doors are STILL for chumps!!

AND WE GET CEILING LIGHTS? They thought of everything!

... Enrichment Academy? Interesting...

Okay, I love how the building design, the hills, and Hazel's schoolmates still totally belong in FOP style:

Hey, that's the guy from the story bible preview! He's getting the skateboard noises; that's cute.

And baby, we're SO back!

Cosmo and Wanda think they slick:

Hazel introducing herself to the class as "liking french fries" is a mood.

"I have an older brother! He's my best friend. He's visiting today and it will totally make up for the fact that no one laughed at my rock joke." - Girl, you are dying inside.

(He's not gonna show and that's what'll push C and W into taking her in... isn't it?)

Oh, they have swirls on their ears like the OG style! Nice. Also, I love the thin, stretchy arms and tiny legs... This is nice.

Oh no.

Yeah, this kid looks stable. Please tell me he doesn't have orange hair. Haha, I'm in danger.

HE'S DALE'S KID??? Lemonade Dungeon Boy got himself a partner? Mr. Only Shows Up In One Episode unless he's the pixie godkid implied by Da Rules' page about pixies in the Musical but he's probably not, he's just always been my leading theory and it was in Season 2?

Ohhh, boy; writers did their homework. I support him and what I can only assume are well-adjusted social skills. And yay, that gives us a timeline.

If this kid were an animal, I don't think I'd let him eat out of my hand. He's ready for collateral damage.

Hazel has been so nice to everyone, not even outing Cosmo and Wanda to her dad, and she's already ready to yeet this kid into the trash because he's not good enough to recycle.

omg, we're getting introduced to the background characters? Yesssss...

Okay, I'm cracking up at Dev introducing the ASMR guy (Whisper) as "gives me the creeps, but I respect the hustle." I'm intrigued.

Whisper was my alt name for Whistle, so I'm glad I went with the latter!

I am saving every poster I ever see.

Love how we're getting to tour more of the building. We've got stairs! And mailboxes! ... Also, Cosmo and Wanda were not her bubble charms in disguise, but that's definitely where they're going.

I like how Hazel's parents did immediate damage control when she started reacting and made sure she was expressing a healthy response in front of Antony.

I'm obsessed with Hazel. She reminds me so much of Chloe. "Running away! Not in a bad way like on TV, but in a good way! 'cuz it's me and I know what I'm doing!" They would be friends. I wonder if we'll get to see adult Chloe.

omfg, Cosmo and Wanda saw "Child running away" and they're IMMEDIATELY gunning for this child. Sir/Ma'am, please get your minds retuned for this century. Do not steal the child.

SLDKJFSDF compilation of past episodes where Cosmo has gone to space after he says he wants to go to space. Looks like the "Spaced Out" saga AND - and I am shook -

THAT'S "TERRIBLE TWOSOME," Season 9! When he's reading jokes to Poof so he'll stop blocking the sun!

Sir/ma'am, where is your paperwork to take this child?

I'm glad I got a heads up that the writers confirmed the bus driver isn't actually Timmy; I can see how that would be confusing.

Stopping here so I can do a thing with my parents. Will return later!

[korealog]

Feels to good to be true (ENG/DE) — Tuesday, 16.07.24

(ENG)

Where should I start? The best place to start is with yesterday. Well, it was pouring with rain, but that put me in a good mood all the more. I didn't get out of the house until around 12 o'clock, but that was totally fine. Then I went café hopping. Simply put, strolling from café to café & seeing what I could find. Of course, I did a lot of research beforehand to find cool and trendy cafés. First of all, I went to ‘F1963’, a beautifully designed café. Here I ordered a mint lemonade & a small chocolate bar. A dream, I tell you! After devouring everything there in peace and without stress, I made my way to visit Jimin's father's café. (Jimin is a member of BTS ;)) That was the best decision I could have made... I'll tell you why in a minute. After 20 minutes of walking I finally arrived at the café ‘MAGNATE’, my trouser legs were dripping wet & I was still super undisturbed. Once inside, I was immediately greeted by pictures & presents for Jimin. I didn't take many pictures here, because after I had ordered and was about to sit down, I was approached from the side. And in Korean! The girl who spoke to me was also called ‘Jimin’, as I found out a little later. She asked me if I had come alone and if I also listened to BTS. So we got talking and before I knew it, I was sitting next to her on a sofa & we chatted for 3 hours straight. Now brace yourselves, it was all in Korean. Don't ask me how, I'm sure my grammar was a disaster, but she understood me and I understood her!!! We found a lot in common during that time. At around 5pm another girl came into the café, also alone, so we brought her into our group. We promptly had a Konglish conversation (Konglish = Korean + English). Time flew by & none of us wanted to say goodbye, so we went off as a group of 3 and found ourselves in a photo studio after strolling around a bit. They are super popular in Korea. Unfortunately, the girl (Michelle) had to say goodbye to us as she left for Seoul today. Jimin and I were super hungry and spontaneously decided to eat Korean fried chicken in Haeundae. It was such a lovely day that we arranged to meet up again on Friday (to eat again haha). It's still super surreal that I was able to make new friends in just 3 days and that these meetings were so incredibly beautiful!

(DE)

Wo soll ich nur anfangen? Am besten mit dem gestrigen Tag. Also, es hat geschüttet wie aus Eimern aber das hat mir umso mehr gute Laune gemacht. Ich bin erst gegen 12 Uhr aus dem Haus gekommen, aber das war völlig okay so. Dann ging es los zum Café Hopping. Einfach gesagt, von Café zu Café schlendern & schauen was man so findet. Ich habe mich natürlich vorher intensiv damit beschäftigt, wo es coole und trendy Cafés gibt. Zuerst ging es für mich ins „F1963“, super schön gemachtes Café. Hier habe ich mir eine Minz-Limonade bestellt & eine kleine Schokoladenbar. Ein Traum, sag ich euch! Nachdem ich dort ganz in Ruhe und ohne Stress alles verschlungen hatte, habe ich mich auf den Weg gemacht um das Café von Jimins Vater zu besuchen. (Jimin ist ein Mitglied von BTS ;)) Das war die beste Entscheidung g, die ich hätte treffen können… Ich erzähle euch auch gleich warum. Nachdem ich nach 20 Minuten laufen endlich am Café „MAGNATE“ angekommen bin, waren meine Hosenbeine triefend nass & ich immer davon noch immer super ungestört. Drinnen angekommen kamen mir direkt Bilder & Geschenke für Jimin entgegen. Ich habe hier nicht viele Bilder gemacht, den nachdem ich bestellt habe und mich gerade setzten wollte, wurde ich von der Seite angesprochen. Und das auf Koreanisch! Das Mädchen, dass mich angesprochen hatte, heißt auch „Jimin“ wie ich ein bisschen später erfahren habe. Sie fragte mich, ob ich alleine gekommen bin & ebenfalls BTS höre. So sind wir ins Gespräch gekommen und ehe ich mich versah, saß ich neben ihr auf einem Sofa & wir unterhielten uns 3 Stunden am Stück. Jetzt haltet euch fest, das alles auf Koreanisch. Fragt mich nicht wie, ich bin mir sicher meine Grammatik war ein reines Disaster, aber sie hat mich verstanden und ich sie auch!! Wir haben in der Zeit viele Gemeinsamkeiten gefunden. gegen 17 Uhr kam noch ein Mädchen ins Café, ebenfalls allein, also haben wir sie in unsere Runde gebracht. Prompt hatten wir eine Konglisch- Unterhaltung (Konglisch= Koreanisch + Englisch). Die Zeit verging wie im Flug & keiner von uns wollte sich verabschieden, also sind wir als 3-er Gruppe losgezogen haben uns nach ein bisschen schlendern in einem Fotostudio wiedergefunden. Die sind in Korea super beliebt. Das Mädchen (Michelle), musste sich dann leider doch schon von uns verabschieden, sie ist heute nach Seoul aufgebrochen. Jimin und ich waren super hungrig und haben spontan entschlossen in Haeundae „Korean Fried Chicken“ zu essen. Es war ein so schöner Tag, sodass wir uns direkt für Freitag verabredet haben (wieder zum essen haha). Es ist immer noch super surreal, dass ich in nur 3 Tagen neue Bekanntschaften machen konnte und diese dann auch noch so wahnsinnig schön sind!

[lunaastoir]

fluff/relationships w the mondstadt crew

characters included: diluc, kaeya, and jean

gn! reader as always <3

tw: fluff??? domesticity??? crack??? ideal relationships w people who will never be real??? also mentions of alcohol!

an: so i’m back w a sequel to my “fluff/relationships w the liyue crew” since you guys seemed to really like it <3 thank you my heart is literally melting 😩 this post was getting too long so i excluded some of the characters but expect a part. 2 (more like part 3 but part 2 to the mondstadt version)! 

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

diluc

man. this MAN.

that’s it, that’s the headcanon. 

he would literally be the most doting lover in the softest ways

SUCH a soft romantic like you thought you knew love??? nah this man will show you what love is

will constantly leave you things around the winery to convey his silent thank you’s and appreciation for you putting up with him being busy for most of the day

it’s always the most thoughtful things ever too like-

you mentioned how nice it would be to have some fresh lemonade with the hotter weather outside but it was too late in the day to actually go to the market in search of fresh lemons 

the next day you walked downstairs only to be greeted with a pitcher of cool lemonade with a side of lemon bars

there was a note attached to the handle of the pitcher <3 

“i recall you mentioning how lemonade would be perfect for the warmer weather so i decided to make some for you this morning. i hope it’s still cool by the time you drink it. love, d” 

pls sir your hand in marriage

he secretly loves it when you usher him to bed after waking up in the dead of night to see him working by candlelight on reports 

soft hands on his cheeks gently whispering about how, it’s been far too long and come to bed, darling and there will be time for this in the morning

his protests are light given the dark purple hues under his crimson eyes but he’ll still make a little fuss 

don’t let this man fool you tho he’s so so touched that you care enough to check up on him and drag him to bed!!

sometimes on the days he has a bit more free time, the two of you will quickly grab your dinners and race to the highest spot in the winery to watch the setting sun

these moments are always filled with laughter, something you’ve found you’re easily able to pull out of diluc, simply because it’s you 

uncontrollable sobbing

he would let you paint his nails black like the angsty man he is 

frankly he would let you do anything to him if it makes you happy <3 

ok but wait diluc w bLACK NAILS?? AND RINGS??? i would die on the spot ⚰️

on the topic of makeup, this man is surprisingly really good w it 

i like to think he learned after practicing on kaeya when they were younger bc kaeya was really into makeup

you found out after babysitting klee one day and trying failing to draw eyeliner on the sweet girl after her “big brother ‘bedo!”

you hastily grabbed some wipes, gently wiping off the messed up design before attempting to dive back in 

diluc however, had some down time so he decided to check up on his favorite chaotic duo 

only to be met with a pile of dirtied makeup wipes, your frustrated expression, and klee’s growing jitteriness 

swiftly moving to your side, he quietly asked if you needed help 

you glanced up quizzically before handing him the eyeliner, already looking around to find more makeup wipes when this inevitably goes wrong 

to your utter surprise tho the eyeliner is perfect??? two perfect winged lines??? in less than a minute??? WHAT

you just stood there like 😦 before diluc got back up and handed you the eyeliner 

you were short-circuiting, klee was ecstatic, diluc was worried about you 

ok last thing abt diluc 

crack! warning but the both of you like lowkey pranking kaeya 

for diluc it’s revenge on his annoying brother; for you it’s good - natured sibling rivalry fun 

every time the two of you see kaeya, one of you always swipes something of his 

small things really, it could be a pen or a handkerchief

one time, diluc swiped kaeya’s spare eyepatch and from the looks of it, kaeya’s only spare black eyepatch bc he was frantically looking for it yk he’s desperate when he even asked diluc if he saw it

the two of you spent an hour nearly laughing your asses off 

all in all, life w him is so sweet 

kaeya

pretty boy? pretty boy. 

while i can’t guarantee stability, life would never be boring w this man that’s for sure

piggy back rides 🗣 piggy back rides 🗣 piggy back rides 

he LOVES it, the feel of you on his back while he’s walking around mondstadt most likely carrying you to your commission 

he finds it comforting especially since he can hear the rumble of your voice against him while you recount stories, or just babble on about everything under the sun 

he is SO dramatic so obviously when y’all reach the site of the commission he has to kill all the monsters even tho the both of you agreed to split it up evenly 

he makes quick work of his set before stealing some of yours much to your chagrin 

you scold him but can you really be mad at him when he looks drop dead gorgeous freezing the hilichurls the answer is no, no you cannot be

oh my god ok wait-

he does this thing where he tries to spook you in public 

so say you’re getting groceries at the mondstadt general store

you round the corner just minding your own business, looking around, taking in the sunshine 

and suddenly you just hear someone drop in behind you but before you can register anything you hear a soft “boo” and hands circle your waist 

you jump SIKE let’s be honest you shrieked 

meanwhile kaeya’s just laughing his ass off 

you can hear his rich peals of laughter while you attempt to regain your bearings 

he does this so often you SHOULD be used to it but you really aren’t bc mans is SNEAKY-

he cards his fingers in your hair whenever you’re speaking 

he doesn’t know why, it’s just a cute habit and he finds the feel of his fingers in your hair soothing

oH on the topic of comfort, kaeya really likes resting two fingers on the back of your neck???

ik he seems like the type to throw his arm around your shoulder which yes he totally is but during more serious conversations his hand automatically seeks out the warmth of your neck 

your neck feels amazing especially during the warmer months due to his chilly fingers contrasting with your warm skin  

he likes that he’s able to access such a vulnerable part of you and you would willingly let him 

HE GETS YOU MATCHING OUTFITS

no i will NOT take criticism on this i just kNOW he’s that type of guy

it would be those stupid “i’m his” and “they’re mine” sweatshirts like BYE 

it’s so cringy but for some reason it’s oddly adorable and you truly despise it but you can’t seem to say no whenever he asks 

you pretend to ignore the look of pity diluc throws your way whenever he sees you like this

kaeya really loves accessories so i think he would be the type to give you a promise ring or something similar to show that he truly does care for you 

he would brush it off, flirting a little like usual before handing you the ring 

with the way his cheeks softly darken though, you know he’s being genuine 

TICKLE FIGHTS ik i mentioned this for childe but shhhh

he has tickle fingers??? his hands just loOK like they’re itching to tickle someone so you’ll most likely be the unfortunate victim 

he will not show you mercy. at all. he’ll tickle you until there are tears streaming from your eyes, your face is hot, and your voice is hoarse from laughing so damn hard 

it gives him such a rush of serotonin its SO CUTE 

i feel like this goes without saying but he’s super into pda,,, anything and everything is on the table 

hand holding? duh. ass grabs? ofc. carrying you bridal style around mondstadt? why not 

ik he’s typically very playful but once the relationship reaches a certain stage, he’ll slowly start to let down the walls that surround his facade 

very very slowly show you the more realistic parts of him 

the real, damaged pieces of his soul 

he’ll be carefully monitoring your reaction though, any sign of fear or disgust will have him recoiling within himself again and you most likely will never see his true nature ever again 

SO BE CAREFUL 👹

once you’ve seen the parts of him he’s offered to you, the hushed whispers of his past, and the uncertain lines of his future, he will take off his eyepatch 

pretends like he’s not super nervous but he’s SWEATING- 

the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen though hands down 

you can understand why he covers it up but you would like it if he felt comfortable enough to take off the eyepatch occasionally when he’s with you 

also!!! sleeps with his eyepatch side facing you (in the event he wears it to bed) 

if this happens you KNOW he trusts you bc it’s his blindside <3 

anyways life w kaeya will never be boring but he is a very complicated man 

stay with him though, i promise it’ll be worth it 

jean

the key to jean’s heart is coffee and food 

GET HER COFFEE AND FOOD

i am begging you she deserves it 😭

the poor woman works so hard bc the knights are so mf understaffed, this is literally the best way you can ever show her your love and appreciation when she has work

she will MELT if you have a hot shower and dinner waiting for her when she inevitably returns later than she promised

will completely refuse at first with, “you did not have to do this, it’s too much” but shush her as you shOULD bc she deserves the entire world 

she’s the definition of “you do something for me, i’ll return the favor ten times grander”

you leave a flower on her desk bc it reminded you of her??? you’ll wake up to find a whole bouquet of the prettiest windwheel asters you’ve ever seen the next morning along with a thank you note

she’s so sweet BYE

she gets flustered extremely easily so you obviously use this as an opportunity to tease her 

when you’re in public rest your hand on her waist and inch it higher until your hand is underneath her shirt and in contact with her warm skin 

she’ll actually short-circuit its quite adorable 

sometimes y’all will be cuddling and you’ll hear whispers of her insecurities 

“am i a good grand master? will i ever be as valiant as vanessa?”

reassure her!!! tell her that she doesn’t need to be like vanessa, she’s already amazing as jean 

if you haven’t seen her in awhile, track her down and schedule a lunch date 

she never misses appointments and if it’s for you, she’ll gladly make time to see you even if she has to stay up even later than usual 

OH-

GIVE HER MASSAGES 

she has so much tension and the sorest muscles from hunching over papers and running around on errands 

if you sneak into her office and quietly stand behind her before gently pushing down on the sore tendons of her neck, she’ll genuinely fall over on her desk 

so make sure you steady her 😀

after you feel how tight her muscles are though, you drag her to barbara bc she needs a healer asap 😭

while most of your time is spent in her office - you helping out in the ways you can while jean is overseeing knight duties - you still have your fair share of life outside of the favonius headquarters

jean never likes to sit still so whenever you have free time, the both of you head off looking for monsters to clear

bouken da bouken???

adventuring w jean is seriously the funnest thing you could ever do 

it’s just non-stop you accidentally getting into trouble and her having to come help you 

even tho the both of you are dead tired after fighting, what? 20 hilichurl camps now??? the laughter and joy in your eyes shows how you both truly loved every minute of it

it’s both a stress reliever, good fun, and a work-out <3

you’re definitely prone to getting dragged to angel’s share w kaeya 

kaeya and jean sometimes hang out after work at the tavern so inevitably you’re dragged along too 

all three of you are drunk out of your minds which just makes everything a MILLION times funnier 

kaeya slurring over his words makes the two of you start cackling endlessly while diluc just shakes his head making sure to not give you more wine despite your pleas 

angel’s share ft. kaeya and bartender diluc are always the best times fr fr 

life with her literally feels like y’all are married 

so much domesticity it’s so NICE ALJDKSFH

your house is always so clean and the color scheme is impeccable bc jean has such a good eye 

you have a chore schedule 😎 but it almost never works out bc jean ends up doing everything without you knowing- 

you always confront her abt it and she’s like 😁 “i had some time so i did them! no worries tho” like i- time??? where bitc-

oH- she has amazing style so you can bet shopping w her is literally the best experience 

she takes you to all of the hidden gems some places lisa recommended and helps you pick out things 

will 100% get really blushy if you come out in something and ask her for her opinion tho she’s literally the cutest

basically jean is a sweet girl who deserves the entirety of teyvat that is all. 

thanks for reading! if you have any requests don’t hesitate to send them in <3 

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

First Date

Summary: The reader accidentally sends an angry email off to a co-worker but winds up with a date instead...

Pairing: Landscaper!Dean x reader

Square: First Date

Word Count: 1,900ish

Warnings: language, fluff

A/N: Written for @spndeanbingo​​​​ . Enjoy!

_______

You yawned as you trotted out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee in hand down to your home office. You plopped down in your chair and got on your computer, checking your email with a tired hum. You saw an email from the facilities manager and sighed.

“Oh come on,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I’m work from home now, jackass. Refund my parking pass. That was like five hundred bucks.”

You growled and typed out an angry email in response, getting so fed up when you finished you knocked your coffee all over your computer.

“Shit!” you said, grabbing some tissues and moping it up.

You saw a sent message appear on screen and you shook your head.

“No. No. No, I didn’t send that. Recall, recall,” you said, shoving the tissues aside. It’d already been opened though and the recall failed, your jaw dropping. “No! I just moved into this house! I can’t afford to get fired.”

You grabbed your phone and decided to bite the bullet, trying to dial the guy when you got an email back.

As highlighted in my original message below, your refund will show up next month along with all other refunds to staff now working from home.

You hit reply and started writing an apology, praying he didn’t report you to HR.

I’m so sorry. It was an accident. I wrote it to express my frustrations and had no intentions of ever sending it. I’m deeply embarrassed, Mr. Winchester, and apologize once again.

You bit your bottom lip and waited a minute, getting a response back.

Thank you for your apology, Ms. Y/L/N. Seeing as today is my last day and it was a mistake, I see no reason to pursue this further.

“Ah, thank you, thank you,” you said. “Now let’s deal with this coffee.”

Two Weeks Later

“So what’s the damage?” you asked. The man in the flannel and baseball cap wrote up a tally on his clipboard before looking back at the house and yard again.

“Normally, for total lawn maintenance, that includes your weeding, trimming, spring and fall clean up, etc. for a lawn this large, you’re looking at around eighty a week,” he said. “But we’re trying to break into this neighborhood so let’s call it fifty a week. We get ten yards around here, we’ll knock it down to forty. How’s that sound?”

“Fifty for everything?” you asked. “Including the snow removal?”

“We’ll negotiate a separate contract for that but I’d call that about 350 for that season,” he said. “So. We have a deal?”

“For fifty bucks, you got a deal,” you said, shaking his hand.

“Perfect. I will have a contract written up and sent over to you this evening,” he said. He dug around into his back pocket and pulled out a business card.

“Super Natural Lawn Services,” you said. “Winchester.”

“Hm?” he said, writing something down on his clipboard.

“Name sounds familiar is all,” you said.

“Used to be in charge of managing the grounds at a local place until they decided to have their staff work from home. Ms. Y/L/N,” he said with a smirk. 

“Oh my…” you said, Dean chuckling. “I am so-”

“I like running my own business a lot better,” he said. “Besides, you apologized. We’re all good. We’ll get that contract straightened out and I’ll get a team over Friday morning to start on your landscape design.”

“I really am sorry, Mr. Winchester. I-”

“Y/N. It’s good. I promise. I’ll see you around, okay?”

You nodded and he headed back to his car, giving you a wave as he drove off.

Two Weeks Later

“Hey, Dean?” you called from your front porch. He poked his head up from where he was head first in a notebook, staring at the dirt edge around your house. “You want a drink? It’s really hot out.”

“I’m okay,” he said, sweating pouring off of him.

“You want to come into the air conditioning for a minute?” you asked. He was about to say no when he took off his hat and his hair was soaked with sweat. “Come on.”

“Alright. Just for a minute,” he said. He hopped up onto the porch and stepped into your foyer, letting out a sigh. “Okay, that’s nice.”

“You like lemonade?”

“Sure,” he said. He took off his boots and followed you to your kitchen, taking a seat at the table when you waved him down. You brought over a large glass, Dean gulping it down. “Do you have a minute? Now that your lawn is in good shape, I have a few ideas for landscaping near the house if I could pick your brain.”

“Sure,” you said. He flipped open his notebook and showed you a drawing, your eyes wide. “You drew that? It’s great.”

“Do you like that kind of style? It’s minimal upkeep but it’s not barren out there this way,” he said.

“I love it. How much does that cost?” you asked.

“It’s part of your weekly bill. I have a few other ideas in here you can take a look at and tell me which you like best,” he said. You flipped through the notebook with him, still liking the first one the most. “Alright. We’ll get that going for you then.”

“My neighbor was asking about you the other day. I gave her your name,” you said.

“Fingers crossed we get a bit more business around here then,” he said as he stood up. “I’ll get out of your hair now. Thanks for the drink, Y/N.”

One Month Later

You hummed as you sat on your front porch with your morning coffee, watching Dean across the street and walk around a yard with his team. They’d already done your yard for the week and you knew Dean was up to about six or so houses in the development. With a big stretch you glanced over to your car and saw something on the windshield. You got up and walked over, plucking off a note.

Found a problem with one of your plants. Rabbits were eating it. I’ll replace it later today.

You looked across the street just as he looked over. You gave a wave and he returned it before you headed back inside.

Four hours later you were getting home from the store to find another note stuck up against your front door.

Plant should be all good now. Enjoy your weekend.

“Hey,” you heard behind you and you nearly jumped out of your skin. “Sorry.”

“Hi, Dean,” you said. “S’alright. I got your note.”

“It was a simple fix,” he said. “I actually am looking for my work gloves. I either left them at your place or the Jones’ but I didn’t find them over there.”

“Are they black?” you asked.

“Yeah. You find them?” he asked. 

“Maybe they’re near my new plant,” you said, nodding your head. He looked over and they were on the grass beside it.

“Ah. That’s what I get for taking calls while working,” he said. He grabbed them and started to leave, pausing at the driveway. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“You single?”

“Why?”

“Cause if you’re dating someone, I don’t think my odds of getting a date will go very far,” he said as he spun around. You smiled and leaned against the porch post. “Single?”

“Why would you want to date me? I was very rude to you once.”

“You were pissed about throwing money away for no good reason. Trust me, I got plenty of emails that day. You’re the only one that apologized. Plus you may have once told the grumpy guy in the cafeteria to go do a job that makes him happy.”

“You knew who I was when I emailed you, didn’t you.”

“Yeah. I looked you up at work. You were nice back then. You always offer my crew cold water if you’re home. I just like you,” he said.

“Pick me up at seven,” you said as you spun around. “You decide what we’re doing.”

“Alright,” he said. “I wouldn’t advise a dress and heels.”

“Now I’m intrigued. I’ll see you later then, Dean.”

“Yes you will, sweetheart.”

“Hi,” said Dean when you opened your front door just before seven. You laughed when he held out a packet of flower seeds. “They’ll go great in a planter on the porch.”

“Thanks,” you said. You put the packet inside and locked up, following him to his car. “So what are we doing?”

“I figured we could do something and grab a bite after if that’s okay?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said. “Were you thinking of a movie?”

“Hopefully it’s more fun than a movie,” he said. “Trust me.”

“Okay, that is the most fun I’ve ever had on a first date,” you said, Dean chuckling as you both turned in your helmets. “I did not even know there was go-karting in this town. Like really nice go-karting too.”

“We could come back sometime,” he said. “I don’t know about you but I’m starving.”

“Same,” you said. 

“Well follow me then,” he said, walking past his car in the parking lot and headed for the street. He took your hand and you walked across over to a diner, Dean walking the two of you inside and to a booth by the corner.

Twelve minutes later you had a double bacon cheeseburger with jalapenos in front of you along with a basket of fries and onion rings. You dug in, Dean smiling to himself as he enjoyed his own burger.

“Too much?” you said.

“Save room for dessert. They have out of this world sundaes,” he said.

“If it’s as good as this burger, I’m sold,” you said. “So what made you want to have a landscaping business?”

“I get to be outside, do some hard work but some mental work too. We’re doing pretty good for our first year,” he said. “I didn’t like my old job very much.”

“It sounds like this one is working out for you.”

“It is. Probably would have taken me longer to ask you out if I hadn’t sort of known you already but I don’t mind,” he said, taking one of your fries.

“You flirt with all your customers or just me?”

“Just you,” he said. “How’s it working out so far?”

“Pretty good. Want to go catch the music fest downtown after our meal? Main act comes on at nine,” you said. “Unless you’re not into rock.”

“Oh, sweetheart. You and me are gonna get along just fine.”

_____

[scarlettriot]

Fair Festival Time!

As the summer months are coming to a close I thought it would be fun to do some Fair-specific MHA Headcanons as well as some Fair First Date Headcanons (GN Y/N)

First Dates are below the cut.

Headcanon WC: 433

First Dates WC: 1,541

Total WC: 1,974

. Mina and Denki buy the all-day rides wrist bands and are hitting up everything as many times as they possibly can and trying to bring as many friends along with them. Eijiro and Momo are the two most willing.

. Katsuki is really talented at just about any game that requires him to throw a ball of some kind. He's not in it for the prizes though, he'd win a 6ft tall teddy bear and hand it off to Ochaco without a second thought. All Katsuki wants is to watch the bottles or basket blow up.

. That being said, he gets A LOT of joy out of the dunk tank.

. Izuku is super patient with carnival games, he rules at any game where you have to memorize where things are. He brought home a bunch of goldfish that he won (gave most to Eri).

. Speaking of this adorable child! Eri just wants to try ALL THE FOOD! She walks hand in hand with Mirio and Tamaki to all of the food stalls and pointing to all the delicious treats she wants to try. They do keep an eye on her, they don't want her getting a tummy ache and ruining her fun.

. Shoto is instantly in love with frozen slushies. He wants one in every single flavor and he gets one in every single flavor! After trying them all he's decided that lemonade and orange are his favorites.

. Hanta tapes Mineta to the Zero Gravity ride when he catches him trying to be a little perv.

. Hanta then goes and checks out all the vendors with Toru, both buying some cute, locally made products.

. Circling back to games, Eijiro kills it at the strong man game. Gets giddy every time he hears that bell ring. Doesn't even need a prize.

. Mezo is really good at ring toss, even with his extra arms, he still throws them one at a time to get the most experience out of the game.

. Tsu and Koji spend a lot of time around the animals. While most of the animals tend to follow Koji around because of his quirk, Tsu has a small gathering of ducks around her at all times and she thinks they're adorable!

. Mina has gotten her face painted.

. Ochaco and Izuku got a caricature sketch done together and somehow they made Ochaco's cheeks more round and Izuku's hair more fluffy!

. Denki got lost in the funhouse, Tenya had to go get him out.

. Kyoka hangs out where the musical performances are nearly all day long. When Katsuki isn't being extra competitive, he usually joins her.

Fair First Date Headcanons

Featuring: Izuku, Katsuki, Denki, Hanta, Mina, and Eijiro

Warnings: Smooching

These are all pretty damn corny. I'm feeling sappy so this is what you get!

Izuku

. Izuku is all smiles, all day long with you.

. He wants to enjoy every minute of it so he will suggest you get to the fair early in the morning! He plans every part of the day, schedules times for snacks and when you should be indoors enjoying activities to beat the heat of the day.

. Makes sure you're putting on sunscreen throughout the day and staying hydrated! The last thing he wants is you getting heatstroke or something!

. He's not great at all the games but he still gives them all a try! Especially the ones you seem to enjoy.

. Ends up holding your hand when you get lost in a hall of mirrors. Nervously let's go once you're out but is very blushy when you grab for him again.

. Now, he had this day all planned out, so, when you're on the Ferris wheel at the end of the night and the fireworks begin just as you reach the top, you shouldn't have been surprised.

. He's holding your hand, brushing his thumb against yours when you both turn to say something to each other and your faces are just so close together.

. This time, he makes the move and kisses you.

. You two end up making out for nearly the entire show, a little startled when the Ferris Wheel starts moving again.

Katsuki

. You had to bug Katsuki pretty relentlessly to go to the fair. He didn't like the idea of the crowds and it was gonna be so damn hot but when you told him about all the games, how they were so difficult to actually win, he changed his tune real quick!

. You still compromised a bit though, waiting until the warmest part of the day passed.

. He made a b-line for the rows of brightly colored tents, holding onto your hand and pulling you along behind him.

. And, damn it, you'd been right. They weren't all easy to win! He eventually found a groove though, and learned he excelled at names that he had to throw things at.

. You had SO MANY stuffed animals by the end of the night!

. Fireworks started going off while you two found a picnic table to eat your dinner at with your massive collection of prizes.

. He'd popped a fried pepper into his mouth and you noticed him watch a little boy, struggling at a game nearby. He was sitting just so he could see the backs of the bottles and noticed they were rigged. There was no way a kid could knock them down, he didn't have the strength.

. Katsuki didn't say a word to you. He just got up and walked over to the kid. You couldn't hear their conversation but soon enough Katsuki was standing behind him and helping him throw the ball. You just barely saw sparks of his quirk propelling it forward.

. The bottles fell, the boy jumped up and down with a huge grin, accepting the massive snake plushie and hugging Katsuki's waist before he returned to you, again, not saying a word.

. You slipped into the seat beside him, kissing his cheek and telling him how sweet of a thing that was. There were grumbles of, "better not tell anyone..." Before he kissed you for the first time that night.

Denki

. Denki had no plan. He didn't even know a fair was happening until Hanta had said something about it but as soon as he did he knew he wanted to go, and he wanted to go with you!

. You got there shortly after opening, running for the ticket booth to purchase unlimited ride wristbands. And then set off!

. Hours. You spent hours riding every single ride there!

. It was only when you felt heat on your shoulders and saw the redness the sun had caused on Denki's cheeks that you thought you should maybe get out of the sun for a while.

. After filling up on food, you decided the funhouse would be a good way to stay cool! Wandering around the mazes and rooms, grabbing onto Denki as you fell into a ball pit. He didn't let you go after that.

. The sun was setting and you two were back at it with the rides! Lines are longer now than they were earlier in the day, leaving the two of you with more time to talk rather than just running around like two crazy people.

. It was after you got off the teacups. Your heads dizzy, laughing so hard your sides hurt, clinging onto one another so you could stay upright when Denki grabbed your face with both hands and kissed you smack on the lips.

. The kiss only lasted a couple seconds before you both needed air again. But, on the way to the Music Express, you both peppered each other with kisses, unable to contain yourselves.

Hanta

. He asked you a week ago if you'd like to join him, not really for the rides or anything like that, he was really interested in all the craft booths!

. You went at opening, grabbed some cold drinks, and started walking down the vendor's alley stopping at every stall and stand to admire the wares.

. You admired the way Hanta could strike up a conversation with anyone. His easy, laidback personality showing through as he gushed about leatherwork and delicious-smelling candles.

. Of course, you left with bags full of goodies!

. By the time you actually made it back around to the fair rides and attractions, your stomachs were screaming for food.

. You settled in to watch a few shows, chatting happily among yourselves until before you knew it the sun was beginning to dip.

. Finding a spot at a picnic table you were ready to watch the fireworks show but before they began, Hanta plopped a bag down in your lap, a sneaky little grin on his face.

. Inside, you found one of the candles you were in love with from earlier in the day but decided to save your money... well, two could play at that game. You dug around in your bag and handed him a small box. Inside was a necklace you'd seen him eyeing but passed up.

. Your thank you was in the form of a sweet kiss as the show began.

Mina

. Excitement buzzed through Mina all day long, the anticipation of going with you to the fair had her practically bouncing!

. While she was very eager, she also wanted to go later in the day. More people, more fun, that was her way of looking at it!

. You two were attached by the hand the moment you walked through the gate. Setting off for rides first, your heads bonking together on the tilt-a-whirl with a laugh.

. Next, she wanted to get her face painted and yours too! By the time it was done, Mina had elegant swirls of gold and red making her look like a proper Alien Queen and you had a mask designed of ornate patterns spirally over your nose and over your cheeks.

. You'd been splitting a funnel cake when pops of fireworks started exploding overhead. Stopping in the middle of the pathway to watch them.

. A few people muttered in annoyance but Mina was completely entranced, you pulled her off to the side, behind a few of the food vendors, so she could watch in peace.

. It didn't take you too long to turn your head skyward either.

. That was when Mina struck.

. The moment you were distracted, she grabbed hold of your cheeks, smudging the paint, and kissed you. The reflection was the fireworks in her eyes were as bright as her smile when you finally pulled away for air.

Eijiro

. The plan was to get there when the fair opened but you both took your sweet time, getting sidetracked with talking along the way meaning you actually arrived in the early afternoon.

. Not a problem, still left you with a ton of time!

. Eijiro let you lead the way, was your partner, rival, or cheering squad for whatever game you tried playing. But then he found the strong man game...

. It wasn't like you were surprised he could ring the bell but your eyes still went wide when he did. Grinning like he'd just taken down a group of villains all on his own when he presented you with a huge stuffed shark he'd been awarded.

. It was after you both scarfed down some food that you found a rock climbing wall and knew you had to tackle it! High up in the air, almost to the top, was when you lost your footing.

. Someone would have caught you, you both knew that but still, Eijiro's hand shot out and grabbed you first.

. After the minor scare, you found a spot in some grass to watch the fireworks that had started on the walkover. Laying back, the shark plush in your arms, your head on Eijiro's chest. You could hear his heart racing faster and faster.

. When you sat up to ask if he was okay, if he didn't like the fireworks, he just jolted forward and kissed you quickly. Not scared, just nervous. You assure him there was no need, kissing him again, before settling into his arms.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Wendy!!!! I'm so sorry for seeing the request fic so late, I thought my ask didn't go through because Tumblr ate it up, but thank you so much for the Geto semi-angst fic, it got me in the feels😭😭😭 I love your work, you feed us so many amazing contents on the daily, it's just a God-given gift (no cap). This is a PSA: Tumblr fic writers are amazing, a gift to the Universe. Thank you for existing 🥺.

Also, also, also, my friend and I have been making up all these scenarios in our heads where Geto is a Sociology professor at a prestigious university, an epitome of conformity, but, he is also an underground tatoo artist who fights for the greater cause and sticks up for the underdog.

So, can I request a Geto x fem reader, where reader is a student at his Uni, and then comes across him at the tatoo place, and after all the wildin', he ends up giving her a tatoo? Only if you are free though. P.S. the Lemonade Toji fic was so sweet😭

P.P.S: Congratulations on your 900 follower milestone!!!

I am gonna stop now, this looked like a word vomit, I hope this is not too much.

- (Your pace anon)🥀

🥀 anon, this is too sweet! I'm so glad you enjoyed Your Pace - it was actually a lot of fun to write!

I'm so glad you're enjoying the other works as well. I'm happy that you're happy with my work. (I've never gotten a tattoo done for myself [yet] but I have been with friends who got them done. And I did extra research. Now I want to get my tatt done so bad lol)

NOW, ON WITH THE SHOW!

Inked: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.2k

tw: none

masterlist

"Yo! What can I do you for?

The tattoo parlor is really... "underground". That's what Eileen had said. And you can't help but be discomfited by the sight of a bunch of men around the parlor and not a single woman, except you.

"Um..." You clutch your handbag a little closer as you walk up to the man behind the counter, his long, black nails and tattooed face making you even more nervous. "I... I was wondering if you could give me my first tattoo." He's outfitted in a black sleeveless muscle shirt, and he crosses his tatted arms, tilting his head at you.

"Got something in mind?" The man raises a brow as you shuffle around in your bag for what you had thought up: the outline of a letter with your grandfather's signature on it. When you present it to the man, he snatches it up, eyes roving over the design and then back to you. "This it?"

"Yeah," you mumble. "Eileen told me to mention her when I came in. She couldn't be here, but she said you guys would take good care of me." The sounds of uproarious laughter behind you make you flinch, and the man looks you over once, then hands you back your design.

"Listen, I don't do first-timers. Eileen knows I prefer the more... experienced clients. But let me ask around and see if someone will be willing to take on the challenge. You squeamish?" You shake your head no. "Ticklish?" You pause, thinking about all of the places on your body that tend to be susceptible to touch, then shake your head no. "Okay, I'll be back."

The pink-haired man walks around the shop, peering at some of the men who are working and asking the others who aren't busy if they're willing to work on you. A few say no, and when he disappears into a small room in the back, you fear the worst. You hoped by mentioning Eileen that they would be more than willing to tattoo you - she's a favorite for more reasons than one around this shop - but it appears that no one is willing until the man comes back up to the front desk and sighs.

"Right, so," he exhales as he spreads his hands on the desk. "I have our most experienced man in the back willing to work on you. Since it's your first time, he's going to make sure you're taken care of." You walk back to the small room with the man and past a bead curtain, facing the chair you'll be sitting in and a man with long black hair facing a computer for a second before he turns around.

When his black eyes meet yours, you gasp, and he smiles even wider, eyes lighting up with recognition. You can barely contain your surprise as you sputter out,

"Professor Geto?"

"Y/n!" The pink-haired man frowns, stepping back a little.

"You two know each other?"

"Yeah, y/n is one of my former sociology students. She sat in the second row, right next to Eileen." Your eyes are too busy taking in the vast array of tattoos your professor has, his grey shirt sleeves rolled up to his shoulders. You spot a compass, a snake, a Leviathan, a skull, a jaguar... You lose count at sixteen tattoos as the men go back and forth about his daytime career, discussing the ethics of tattooing former students, and why the pink-haired man was so concerned when he tattooed Eileen all the time, despite being her brother's best friend.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah..." The pink-haired man gripes, walking off.

"So, can I see what you've got there?" You instantly stretch out your hand and offer him the design to scrutinize. His eyes drift over the page before he turns back to the computer, beginning to sketch it over again. "Where do you want it?"

"Right below my ribcage." Geto hums, nodding.

"I got it. Give me a few minutes to finish this and then you can take a look at the design." You look around the small room as he works on the design, taking stock of the "Yellow Peril" posters and socialist rhetoric posted everywhere.

"You're a sociology professor at this conservative university... but you've got Karl Marx framed on your wall." You laugh, a little baffled at the absurdity of it all. Here is Professor Geto, handsome as hell, normally all dressed up in his black mock turtleneck and tan suit, wearing simple glasses and discussing the human condition during the day, but by night... still handsome as help but an underground, socialist tattoo artist.

"Where else should I go? The echo chamber that would be a liberal university? Or should I go out and try to expose other ideologies to people who may be open to them and sharing them with their friends?" You hum at the thought, nodding.

"That makes a lot of sense."

"Take a look at it," The man offers, turning around in his chair and handing you the sketch. You look at it - and it's virtually the same, so you nod and Geto smiles. "Alright, show me where exactly you want it."

You roll up your shirt and point to the spot, and Geto applies the stencil transfer, then peels it off, leaving the outline behind. You watch as he begins to prepare his equipment, moving methodically to avoid mistakes or mishaps. A thin layer of ointment is applied to the transfer and when he's ready, he looks up at you and you inhale deeply.

"You ready?" You nod quickly.

"Let's get this over with." The machine begins to whir, and you brace yourself for impact.

"Don't hold your breath," the black-eyed man warns. "Just breathe in and out." When the needle hits your skin, you feel a hot scratch, making you hiss in a little. Geto tuts a little, then reminds you to take a breath. "It gets easier."

While he works, he makes small talk, like what you're doing with your degree and how long you have until you graduate. You ask him about his political leanings, and why you never knew he was a socialist before now.

"It's not my job to force my political leanings onto you all. I'm just here to expose you to all of the ideas out there."

And you agreed.

The tattoo didn't take long, and once you're finished, he lets you stand and take a look at it in the mirror.

"You like it?"

You examine the artistry and turn back to him, smiling widely.

"I love it." Geto begins his speech on aftercare as he places the bandage on your tattoo, and even hands you a piece of paper detailing the exact speech he just gave. You walk up to the counter after he's done, and swift fingers ring you up for the total, which you happily pay.

"When you can, you should come to our meetings," Geto offers, sliding you a flyer and winking. "I'd love to see you there." You take the flyer and look it over, trying not to let your eagerness show.

"This looks like fun," you answer. "I'll see you when I can."

And this time - you think as you exit the shop - I'll be in the front row.

[rkgk-art]

Okay second try, so I doodled my MC for @lemonade-if 's game and I wanted to show these here and talk a bit about her :D

I had lots of fun doodling and coming up with a design, though I might still change some stuff around, we'll see.

Uh, I wanted to put it under a read more for people that don't wanna bother but it seems like it doesn't work, so I'm sorry _(:'3/ L)_

Anyways, here she is!

Her name is Hisakawa Kotone (久川コトネ), going by the stats we got told she'll most likely be:

Genuine and a tiny bit sarcastic, playful, charming, bold (general with people, shy in romance), emotional, positive and lawful.

She's friendly and respectful towards others (especially authorities and people older than her).

But she's got a foot-in-mouth personality, meaning that she talks before she thinks and may say something unintentionally dumb rude.

Academically she excels in scientific(?) classes like math and chemistry and the likes but is only average in everything to do with languages and literature.

I have no idea which club I'll make her join atm. She's athletic but I feel like you need to really commit for any of the sports clubs which sounds like a total bother. Cheering is not her thing, at all.

Art and Kotone aren't a good mix, she might be able to doodle some chibis but that's the extend of her artistic abilities. While she's sociable enough for journalism, in case they need to interview people, they better not let her handle the articles for the papers...

Kotone can play instruments tho I haven't decided which ones yet and is good at singing (though certainly no pro), but music club still sounds a bit boring to her. She wants to do stuff like that for fun, not for school.

Still, journalism or music might be the most likely to be chosen.

I forgot if it was explicitly stated in what sort of environment our MCs live? Like, a house or in an apartment complex? Though I guess judging by the example we've been given it sounded like the parents wanted to reason with their child that they moved places a lot because of commute and "rent being cheaper", so I figure money might be a topic and our MC probably lives in a tiny apartment complex now.

Does that mean no pets? My cat loving Kotone will cry.

I like giving my OCs significant birthdays (like holidays) so I decided on December 25th for Kotone. Since I also think smol girls are cute she's 161cm.

As you can see with the doodles I loved putting her in all sorts of clothes and hairstyles. She wears all sorts of stuff as long as they're comfortable and/or cute. Her go-to hairstyle is two braids and she loves long skirts/dresses which she pairs with sneakers.

Also I put her as some of my fav LINE stickers I might have a LINE sticker addiction which I thought fit her personality as well. I had more but I didn't bother drawing them all lmao. I like the smug one (bottom) and the fox the most, heh.

I'm a seiyuu lover (though mostly for the guys) so I wanted to imagine one for her too. I'm not too sure yet but I do really like Ohashi Ayaka (Angelina in Arknights) so I might go for her.

I'm a lazy ass so I usually don't make multiple MCs for IFs and just reuse my one MC for all the ROs. It's going to be the same here, but I typically have a "main RO".

I don't have one here yet because I like all the tropes the boys seem to represent (bad boy/delinquent, genki boi, notorious flirt and the kuudere stoic one) so I'll wait and see until I know more about the guys :3

While Kotone is not interested in the girls on a romantic level I do hope she can become BFF with all of them. Hopefully they can hang out a lot :D

Are sleepovers possible? She'd love those xD

I'm seriously looking forward to getting to know everyone. Not only the ROs but all the other important characters too (like Sensei).

I also can't wait to see what adventures my idiot daughter will go on Ｏ(≧▽≦)Ｏ

This story and its characters live already rent free in my head _(:'3/ L)_

To everyone that made it this far, thanks a bunch, you're amazing! I'll give you a virtual hug--as long a you're comfortable with that of course.

Also as a bonus, here's the one colored piece from above but with a different hair color. I didn't undecide yet at that point if I wanted Kotone to be blonde or pink I'm still a bit unsure I guess

But I thought pink-ish hair might be a bit TOO shoujo manga...which would actually make sense given this story's setting but still LMAO

I think that was the most important stuff I wanted to tell.

So...baiibaii!

[someguynamedstevewrites]

My Roommate is an Apparition: An Apparition A-Pink-ciation of Culture

Based on characters created by @reddpenn

From the diary of Lily:

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

When I was little, I used to talk to my stuffed animals all the time.  They were my soft, cuddly friends who were always there for me, and even though they never spoke a word, I always imagined I could hear what they wanted to say.  Even as an adult, I still treat inanimate objects like they’re people too.  In fact, everyone does at some point or another in their adult life.  Anyone who has ever argued with their car that refused to start knows what I mean.

But recently, I realized that sometimes people can do... well the opposite. That sometimes we don’t treat people (who are actual, real people) like they’re people.  It’s not something we consciously think about, but it’s more like we forget that, well, people are people.  I know this sounds really dumb, but I felt like I needed to write about this after a... well after an “argument” I had with my roommate.

I’ve lived with my roommate for a few months now, and I thought I had gotten to know them pretty well.   They like to watch cartoons (like, seriously LOVES them) and we had worked out a TV viewing schedule to make sure that we got along together.  But the other day, I realized that I wasn’t necessarily treating them like they were their own person.  I didn’t mean to do that, but it just kind of happened, and...

...well it gets really complicated because, technically, they aren’t a person.

I mean, they aren’t human; they’re an apparition.

It made me think about all those stories about monsters and ghosts.  Like a ghost used to be human, but then they died, and their spirit became a ghost.  Do we still treat the ghost like the person they were when they were alive?  Outside of a few exceptions, the answer’s a definite yes.

But what about an apparition? It’s kind of like a ghost, but it’s not. I mean, it’s not the soul of someone who died or anything. They just sort of exist. (Would Slimer from Ghostbusters be an apparition or a ghost?).

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

So anyway, reason I’m bringing this all up is because of what happened last weekend. I was channel surfing through the Cable Guide and as I’m flipping through, I pass by Boomerang (you know, the cable channel that spun-off Cartoon Network to hold all the older cartoons?) and all of a sudden, my roommate appears out of nowhere (literally) and practically grabs the remote out from my hands.

“Hey! What gives!?” I say to them.

They immediately change over to Boomerang and my TV screen is suddenly filled up with the color pink. At the same time, my roommate starts “doot-ing” along with the song and goes, “Doo-Doot! Doo-Doot! Do-Doot-Do-Doot-Do-Doot Do-Doot-De-Dooooooooo-Doo-Doo-Doo-Doo-Doooot”. I have no idea what they’re doing, but then the cartoon starts up and it’s the Pink Panther.

Rhetorically, I go, “What’s this?”

“Pink... Panther...” my roomie says.

And then I make my first mistake by saying, “Huh. Never seen it before.”

Now if I had been paying attention to them, I probably would have seen the face of shock they were making. “You... NEVER... saw it!?” They gasped.

“Nope. Must have been before my time,” which was totally true. I mean, I later found out my Dad used to watch it when he was a kid. It wasn’t on TV when I was growing up. (Why am I defending myself for not watching a specific cartoon?)

Anyway, roomie asks, “Watch... with me?”

And then I, being a total dumbass, say, “Nah. Think I’ll get some dishes in,” before getting up and walking away.

If I had stayed put for just a few seconds longer, I would have heard them asking, “...please?” (In case you’re wondering, they told me about that later.)

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

Yes, I hurt its feelings.  Yes, it was insensitive.  Yes, I am sorry.  But like I said, the thought didn’t even cross my mind back then.  As far as I knew, as long as my roommate had their cartoons, they were happy.  It didn’t occur to me that they cared about anything other than the cartoons themselves.

For the next week, my roommate made sure I knew, now and forever, that this was not true.

My first clue that they were mad at me was later that evening when I went to the living room to watch my usual shows.   It was my turn on the TV, and usually I have to pry my roommate away so I can watch what I want to watch. But that night, the instant I walked into the room, they changed the channel to what I wanted, put the remote down on the couch, and left the room without saying a word.  I thanked them, plopped myself down, and went straight into couch potato mode.

This should have thrown so many red flags in my head, but for some reason, it didn’t.  Maybe I was being too self-absorbed at the time? Maybe I was just tired and thinking, “Aww man, I gotta work tomorrow!”?  No matter the excuse, mistakes were made, and I started paying for them the very next morning.

My “haunting” kicked off with waking up to find most of my rock collection missing.  I have a particular affinity for pretty rocks and gems (I’m kind of a rock nerd) and have my favorites out on display.  But that morning, the only rocks that I could see were the pink ones.  Someone had pilfered almost every pebble from every pedestal to perturb me.   (I saw a chance for alliteration and took it! So sue me!)  I was still waking up and too tired to care about it at the time (me making excuses again) and had work, so I got ready to go and left.

Now I’m not sure how they did it, but my roommate did something to my car radio.   I turn it on and all I get are tunes by Henry Mancini.  Fifty percent of the time, it was the Pink Panther theme, twenty-five percent was the theme from A Shot In The Dark (I had to use Soundhound to figure out that one), and the rest was a mix of some of his other work.   It didn’t matter what station I tried changing it to!  Although I did learn that Mancini composed Baby Elephant Walk, so that’s something.

By now, I’d already figured out what was going on (roommate did it), but couldn’t really do anything about it because I still had work to go to.   As if the daily grind working at an art supply store wasn’t hard enough, I had to work while having the dang Pink Panther theme stuck in my head all day.  Not even the music that played over the store radio could get rid of it.  (Given the quote un-quote “music” they play over the speaker system, I eventually considered it a good thing.)

Then I came home, and that’s when things REALLY escalated.  First words out of my mouth after I walked in was, “Hey, I’m hoooOOOOOLY~!”  Every single wall in the apartment, from the living room, to the kitchen, to the bedroom, and even the bathroom...

PINK!

All of them were painted PINK!

Like strawberry frosted doughnut pink!

As I’m gawking at the interior design sugar rush nightmare, out walks my roommate from around the corner.  Immediately, the first thing I noticed was that they had feet. (Normally, they don’t have feet; they just kind of “hover” or “emerge from the ground” or something.) They had their eyes closed, head held up, and made a point of showing off these noodle legs they had constructed by skipping every other three steps.

They were doing the Pink Panther shuffle.

They walk out of my line of sight and I run over to have a word with them, but by then they disappeared.  I look around and all I see is more and more pink.  From behind me, I hear a mix of snickering slash wheezing.  Like you ever hear of this cartoon dog named Muttley?  They were laughing like him.  And of course, I turn around, and the only thing I see is more pink!

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

I knew that my roommate could be ornery at times, like that time I tried to get an idea of their daily routine by setting up a webcam, but this...

I mean, where did she even get the paint?  (Upon reading back here, I realized I referred to them as a ‘she’ even though I’m not sure if they are a ‘she’ or not.  Yeah, I can edit it to a more neutral pronoun, but something tells me I ought to point this out instead of editing it, for some reason.)

I was half tempted to get back at them by painting the walls back to their original color (they do sell paint by the gallon where I work, and I get the employee discount), but realized they’d just paint(?) the walls pink again.  Like I’d turn around after thinking I finished only to find the work I did completely undone.  I could just picture my roommate doing that and finding it hysterical.

Anyway, tacky as the pink walls were, I didn’t get too angry about them.  For starters, my lease agreement said that I couldn’t paint the walls without landlord approval.  But my lease agreement also acknowledges that my apartment may be haunted.  If the landlord ever brought it up, I’d just tell them the “ghost” did it.  Second, these pranks my roommate was pulling were kind of amusing and didn’t really bother me that much.  (I mean sure, I wanted my rock collection back but I doubted my roommate would have thrown them away.  They know how much they mean to me.)

The one thing I was putting my foot down on was that I wasn’t going to ask my roommate what was wrong.  I got the hint, sure, but I wanted them to know that if something is bothering them, they need to, y’know, actually say something instead of leaving spooky pink clues.  They were being a butt, and my hope was that when they saw how much the pink wasn’t bothering me, then they’d finally open up.  This went on for about a week with me going about my daily routine only to be surprised by the occasional pink interruption.

Like on Wednesday, I go to the fridge to get something to drink, and all I find in there is Pink Lemonade.  It actually wasn’t that bad, but I have no idea how my roommate actually got it given that they never leave the apartment.  Thursday, I get a notification saying a package arrived, and find my roommate used my debit card to order the entire Pink Panther cartoon series on DVD.  And earlier on Tuesday, I got a call from my landlord asking if I knew why someone had called in an order, in their name, to have Owens Corning insulation installed.  In case you weren’t aware, that’s the pink insulation who has “you can guess who” as their mascot.

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

So, Friday rolls around, and by now, the entire apartment is pink.  Like EVERYTHING.  The furniture, the electronics, the toilet, the sink, the appliances, the TV, and everything in between has been made pink somehow.  I’m not sure who out there still makes pink toilet paper, but apparently my roommate has either some special powers I don’t know about yet, or they got connections.

At this point, since my roommate had yet to approach me about “The Pink-ening”, I began playing the reverse-psychology card.  I came home and got to making dinner.  While some of this was a bit more expensive than what I usually spend on food, I figured it was worth it if it meant getting my roommate to talk to me.  My menu included delicious smoked pink salmon, some crab linguine with a nice amount of pink to it for a side dish, and some mashed red potatoes that turn out nice and pink if you got the right recipe.  To wash it down, I picked up a glass of pink lemonade from the fridge, and in the freezer, some strawberry sorbet.

I get down to eating at my pink table, with a pink wooden chair, pink napkins, pink silverware, pink glass of pink lemonade.  It took a little more effort to put this together, but I made an exaggerated point of showing off how good this pink meal was and how much I was just enjoying all this pink.

About halfway into my meal, I get a feeling that someone’s standing behind me.  It’s hard to put into words how you know someone’s there especially since my roommate doesn’t really eat or breath.  It’s like the hairs on the back of your neck become sensitive like cat whiskers and can just... feel that someone’s there.  Usually sends a chill down my spine when that happens, but this time, I was ready and waiting for it.

“Care to join me for dinner?” I say without turning around.  If I had, they probably would have vanished on me again like they had been doing all week.

“Looks... good...” they say in their ever so familiar by now raspy voice.

“Got something you want to talk about?” I ask between bites.  There’s a brief pause as my roommate thinks to themselves.

“...yes,” they finally answer.

“Okay.  Pull up a chair!  It’s been a while since we just, y’know, talked and stuff,” which was true.  

The instant I said that, I realized that even before the “week of pink” began, we hadn’t spent a whole lot of time together outside of our usual TV time.  I had long since figured out that my roommate wanted me to watch Pink Panther with them, but I just thought they wanted to show it to me to show off how (subjectively) good the cartoon was.  Only then did it hit me that they wanted me to watch it with them because they wanted to watch it together with me.  It was like they were hoping for some roommate bonding time or something like that.

Now, it wasn’t like we weren’t talking to each other before this.  I greeted them whenever I saw them, and let them know whenever I came home or was leaving. but we hadn’t actually talked, like... “talk-talk” in a few weeks.  Instead, the conversations over the last few weeks were like the kind of conversations a person would have with their pet cat or pet dog.  Like you’d talk to them, but not really expect an answer from them.

I had been treating her like a pet more than a person.  (Did it again!  I’m thinking I’ll ask them later what kind of pronouns they’d like me to use, or if they’ve even given any thought towards gender or anything).

My guess is that my roommate picked up on this themselves, and just like a disobedient pet who is bored, lonely, or other, they made a mess of the place.  Maybe they were thinking that if I was going to treat them like a pet, they would act like one too?

Of course, I didn’t mean to treat them like that.  I don’t think anyone really does mean it when they do.  It just kind of happens without thinking about it.  The whole reason I’m writing this down here in you, diary, is so that I can make a mental note slash reminder to be careful of doing that kind of thing.  It’s especially important to remember when interacting with other people, like my co-workers or the store customers.  (Unlike my roommate, they can’t get on my case by making my entire apartment pink.)

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

Now where was I?  Oh yeah, our talk.  I think I remember the most important bits of it.  It went something like:

“So, whaddya wanna talk about?” I ask between bites of food.

“Pink...” they say to me.  I wait a moment, expecting them to say “panther” after that, but it when it doesn’t arrive, I step in.

“Yeah!  Pretty amazing what you did with the place!  I didn’t know things could even get this pink!” which was one-hundred percent true.

“...Thank...you...” they say with a smile.  I can tell that was not the answer they were expecting as I could have swore they turned and blushed.  Although I couldn’t tell because of how pink everything else was.

“Although,” I add, “I don’t think the landlord is going to like the apartment being this pink.  If it stays like this, they might kick me out.  And we wouldn’t want that, right?”

Now my roommate, the apparition, actually looks shocked for a moment.  The thought hadn’t entered their head, and for a moment, they looked a little scared.  “N-n-n-no...” they stuttered.

“Well, I’m sure together, we can get this place back to the way it was before the next time they have an apartment inspection.  Whenever that is,” I reassure them.

“Yeah...” my roommate nods.

“Say I got some time off this upcoming weekend.  Want to watch some Pink Panther with me?”  (Oh my God, you should have seen the smile on my roommate’s face when I asked this.)  “I see I have the DVD collection now, apparently,” I say with a wink, “and we can even watch the movies together too.”

“...movies?” they ask.

“Yeah, the Pink Panther was a movie first before it became a cartoon.  It was a live-action movie, but... well some of it’s like a cartoon here and there.  Lots of slapstick comedy that I think you might like.”  They were practically beaming and agreed immediately.  

After Friday’s dinner, we watched some of the cartoons (which are actually pretty funny) and for the upcoming weekend, we’re doing a Pink Panther movie marathon with cartoons mixed in to spice it up.  I also found out that my roommate doesn’t just watch the cartoons, but actually knows a thing or two about them.  Like how Friz Freleng, one of the directors and creative minds behind the original Looney Tunes cartoons, was involved in the Pink Panther’s creation along with a new studio after he left Warner Brothers.  I don’t know how my roommate came to know so much, but it’s pretty cool.

Anyway, I got me some sweet, pink treats to snack on during the movie marathon.  The apartment is still pink as can be, but my roommate said they’ll take care of it once the marathon’s over.  Exactly HOW they plan to take care of it, I have no idea.  Oh well.  No use pinking too hard about it.

(HA!)

[milo-my-beloved]

chapter nine of stupid things!

Read on AO3 // Playlist // Buy me a coffee?

Group Chat: Double Daters

Jesper: guess where we’re going on friday

Inej: where?

Jesper: no u have to guess

Wylan: I know!! :D

Jesper: if u spoil it, i’m breaking up with u

Wylan: aw :(

Kaz: does this have anything to do with the email I just received?

Jesper: depends what ur email is about

Kaz: a ticket for a festival this friday

Jesper: ...yeah that’ll be it

Inej: why are we going to a festival?

Wylan: it’s our last friday together! I move on sunday :(

Kaz: do we have a choice in the matter?

Jesper: no

Kaz: then see you on friday, I guess

Jesper: hey Kaz you’re driving, right?

Inej laughs, sliding her phone back into her apron. It looks like there’ll be one last outing after all. She doesn’t know what she’ll do when she doesn’t have all these idiots to laugh at on her weekends, but she has an extra week to figure that out.

Nikolai wiggles his eyebrows. “Going on a hot date?”

“Shut up,” Inej whines, shoving him playfully. “We’re all going to a festival, actually.”

“Well, good luck,” he replies with a smirk. “I’m sure you’ll need it.”

{o0o}

The festival, as it turns out, is little more than a gathering of drunk people in a field decked out with a collection of speakers. Inej can’t say she’s particularly impressed, but she’s here now, so there’s no point in complaining.

“This is shit,” Kaz declares, his nose wrinkled in distaste as he surveys the crowd.

Inej smiles. “This barely classifies as a festival.”

“It’s closer to a houseparty that spilled out into the garden,” Kaz jokes, and Inej laughs.

He’s not wrong, though. Actually, it reminds her of the party where they first met.

“We need to stop being the only sober people at parties,” Inej announces, turning towards the bar. “Will you let me buy you a drink this time? I actually brought my wallet this time.”

Kaz grins, but shakes his head. “I’m the designated driver, remember? Besides,” he continues, pointing out Jesper and Wylan in the crowd. “I think one of us needs to stay sober to look after those two.”

Inej groans. “We need to stop going to parties just because Jesper asked us to.”

Kaz shrugs. “I don’t know… If we hadn’t gone to the last one, we never would have met.”

“I also wouldn’t have had to run away from a load of bouncers in my pajamas,” Inej replies, but she knows Kaz is right. “Jesper might not have been lying about the live music, though. Shall we see if we can find it?”

Kaz gives Inej one of his mischievous grins, offering her his arm, which she latches onto. “Sounds like fun,” he answers, and they head towards the crowd.

{o0o}

Jesper doesn’t remember the first time he met Wylan. He asked Kaz about it, later, but the man had just glared at him and told him that he would never pick him up from a houseparty again.

At the rate they are going, he isn’t going to remember tonight, either.

“WYLAN!” he yells over the music, slinging an arm around his boyfriend’s neck. They’ve been there for an hour or so, and thanks to the open bar, they’re both already quite tipsy. “HAVE I TOLD YOU HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU?”

Wylan rolls his eyes, but Jesper’s rewarded by a huge, dopey grin. “You should do it more often,” he suggests, laughing at Jesper’s fake offense.

“WELL, I LOVE YOU VERY MUCH.”

Wylan laughs. “I love you too, idiot!”

Jesper suddenly goes very still, like he has just remembered something. He frowns, pulling his arm back and patting his back pocket but coming up empty.

“Have you lost your phone again?” Wylan asks, concerned.

Jesper shakes his head. “NO, IT’S FINE. LET’S GO FIND KAZ AND INEJ.”

Wylan doesn’t look particularly convinced, but he nods anyway. “I saw them head towards the stage,” he says, taking Jesper’s hand in his and squeezing it.

The stage is near the bar, anyway. So far, he’s not quite drunk enough to forget that school’s over, and with it, everyone will be going their separate ways. In just a week’s time, he’ll be back in the Van Eck mansion with his father, and he might never see his friends again.

Jesper squeezes his hand back, giving Wylan his most charming smile.

If this is our last hurrah, Wylan thinks, then I had better make the most of it.

{o0o}

There is, in fact, a stage. It’s tucked away in a corner of the field behind a few tall poplars and an alarmingly large bonfire, so Inej thinks it’s totally reasonable that it took them half an hour to find it.

If anyone brings up that it’s right next to the bar… well. She doesn’t really have a good excuse for that one.

Even though it feels impossible, Inej is sure it is getting more and more crowded with every minute that passes. She lost sight of Jesper and Wylan a while ago, and the ice has melted in her glass of lemonade, leaving it lukewarm and slightly sticky.

Kaz looks like he might throw up and she doesn’t blame him, so she grabs his hand and tugs him around the bonfire, climbing up onto a boulder and pulling him up after her. Away from the crowds, everything seems much more manageable.

“Thank you,” Kaz mutters. Inej squeezes his arm in response, taking a sip of her drink.

“Let’s hope no drunk people try to climb up after us,” she jokes, and Kaz smirks.

“I don’t know,” he replies, wrapping an arm around her back to stop her from tipping backwards. “I think it would be funny to watch.”

“Kaz!” Inej chastises, slapping his arm playfully. “It would definitely not be funny. They could get hurt.”

“HEY GUYS!” Jesper yells from right behind them, startling Inej enough for her drink to slosh all over her legs.

She locks eyes with Kaz, both of them desperately trying to stifle their grin, but they burst out laughing anyway.

Jesper doesn’t seem to notice. “CAN I HAVE MY VERY SPECIAL PRESENT, PLEASE?” he yells at Kaz, wobbling precariously as he reaches out a hand so Kaz can pass it over.

Kaz looks him up and down, sizing up whether or not it’s a good idea. Eventually, he sighs, reaching into the inside of his jacket so he can pass it over to Jesper.

“THANKS!” Jesper shouts, smiling widely, before jumping back down and dashing into the crowd, presumably to find Wylan.

They both watch him go, Inej dabbing absentmindedly at the spilt lemonade on her lap. These pants are old, so she doesn’t particularly mind them getting wet.

“What’s his ‘very special present’?” she asks, fishing in her bag for a tissue. She comes up with an old Subway napkin and stares at it for a second, before mentally shrugging and trying to make it look like she hasn’t wet herself.

“Unless he manages to completely fuck it up, I think you’ll know soon,” Kaz answers cryptically, but he has a fond smile on his face, so Inej doesn’t worry about it. She trusts Kaz to tell her everything she needs to know in his own time, and she isn’t going to push when she has bigger problems.

“I’m going to see if the bar has any more napkins,” she declares, twisting around so she can slide off the boulder. “Want anything to drink?”

“A glass of water would be nice,” Kaz replies, smiling down at her.

“A glass of napkins and a wad of tissues,” she confirms, nodding as she drops down onto the crowd. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Don’t get lost,” Kaz jokes, leaning back into the extra space.

Inej just laughs, the noise disappearing into the night as she is swept into the crowd.

{o0o}

Jesper has the best plan in the entire world, and he’s absolutely sure the sober version of him would approve of it. That’s what his dad used to tell him - if you think you’re about to make a bad decision while drunk, figure out what sober you would think.

If he’s being honest, Jesper doesn’t think the sober version of him would be this calm about the plan. Sober Jesper would probably have put more than ten minutes of thought and more than three steps into the plan.

Luckily for him, Sober Jesper isn’t here.

Besides, it’s not like he has a history of making terrible decisions while drunk. Okay, sure, there have certainly been some… unfortunate accidents, shall we say, but nothing irredeemable. And, if you’re considering the bad things, you have to look at the good ones too; Kaz and Inej may never have met without him drunk dialing both of them, and look how happy they are!

(Well, happy is a relative term with Kaz. Jesper has seen him smile more than once a month, which - for Kaz - is an absolute win.)

Jesper’s favourite drunk decision is somewhere in the crowd, probably getting them both another drink. He feels bad about leaving Wylan on his own, but the first two steps of the plan require total secrecy, and it’s only for a few minutes. He’s sure Wylan can manage for that long.

With step one (Retrieve The Goods) complete, it’s time for step two of Jesper’s master plan.

He heads towards the stage.

{o0o}

There are no napkins at the bar. Inej doesn’t really know what she was expecting, considering the biggest infrastructure at this entire ‘festival’ is a few people stood on a unstable platform with some speakers next to it, but she’s still a little disappointed.

A little bit of looking around confirms that there aren’t even any toilets for her to grab some loo roll from, so she’s stuck with her one soggy napkin, Kaz’s glass of water, and not a lot else.

“‘Nej?” someone asks from behind her, and she swirls around to find Wylan looking a little dazed.

“Wylan?” she asks, concerned. “Are you okay? Where’s Jesper?”

Wylan shrugs, his entire body wobbling with the effort of staying up straight. “He said he had to go do something and that he’d be back in a minute, but now I can’t find him.”

Inej mentally curses him. “Did he tell you where he was going?”

Wylan pouts, considering her question. “The stage, maybe?”

“Okay,” Inej says, looping her arm through his so they don’t get separated. “Let me deliver this to Kaz, then we’ll all go find him together, okay?”

Wylan nods, looking pretty put out. Inej isn’t sure what he’s been drinking, but if the blue stains on his shirt are anything to go by, it’s a weird mix of something probably designed to get you drunk fast.

The bar is fairly close to the boulder where they were sitting, so it only takes a few moments to get there. Inej lets go of Wylan’s hand, making him promise to wait where he is for a minute, before clambering up the rock one handed so she can pass the glass of water to Kaz.

Only, when she reaches the top of the boulder, Kaz isn’t there.

“For fuck’s sake,” Inej mutters, looking around to see if she can spot him, but finding nothing. She carefully balances his glass of water on top for if he returns before dropping back to the ground beside Wylan.

“Kaz isn’t coming?” Wylan asks, sounding unreasonably upset by the news.

“He’s not there,” Inej explains, grabbing Wylan’s sticky hand so he doesn’t wander off.

“Oh. Can we find Jes now?”

“Sure,” Inej says gently, pushing her way through the crowd so they can head towards the stage. “‘Don’t get lost’, you said,” she mutters as they go. “What a load of horseshit.”

{o0o}

When Kaz spots Jesper clambering onto the stage, he slides off the boulder and heads towards the stage in record time. Sure, he had agreed to help when Jesper had told him about his plans, but he never thought he’d go through with them drunk.

Only a special kind of idiot does that, and Kaz had been stupid to think Jesper didn’t qualify.

A few elbow jabs and well-placed ankle whacks later, Kaz makes it to the stage. Jesper is up there, whispering something to the guy on the drums, who starts to smile and nods enthusiastically.

Kaz climbs onto the platform, grabbing Jesper’s arm and yanking him back down. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Jesper blinks at him slowly, like he’s trying to comprehend Kaz’s question. “STEP TWO!” he exclaims, grinning.

Kaz briefly considers kicking Jesper in the privates, but refrains, satisfied with just the mental picture. “What?”

“Kaz!” a woman’s voice yells from the crowd, and he turns around to see Inej leading a very drunk Wylan behind her. “Where’d you go?”

Before he can get out a response, the song finishes and the lead singer steps up to the microphone, tapping it a few times to get everyone’s attention.

“Hey everyone! Thank y’all so much for coming out here to show your support, it means a lot to us! Now, before we go onto the next song, we have a very special announcement to make…”

The crowd lets out a collective ‘ooh’, everyone’s eyes on the stage.

“Is there a Wylan in the audience with us today? Come on up here, we want to meet you!”

Kaz watches as Wylan hesitates at Inej’s elbow, hovering for a moment before making his way up to the stage. He’s too drunk to climb up by himself, but the singer just seems to find his clumsiness endearing, and gives him a hand to help him up.

Inej comes around the side of the stage to stand with Kaz. “What’s going on?”

Kaz shrugs. “I would like to officially state that I didn’t know Jesper was going to do it this dramatically.”

“Okay everyone, here’s Wylan! Now, Wylan, your lovely boyfriend over here - Jesper, he’s called - he wants to ask you a question up on stage, if that’s alright.”

A heavy silence hangs over everyone in the crowd as Jesper steps up to the microphone, seeming more sober than he has all night. He swallows nervously, fidgeting with something behind his back.

“Wylan… I know we haven’t known each other very long,” he begins, his voice unsteady. “But I love you much very and I think you are really cute.”

Wylan blushes, apparently not noticing the fact that Jesper is barely speaking English.

“I just wanted to tell you that you’re the best, and…” Jesper pauses for dramatic effect, waiting a few seconds before dropping to one knee and holding a ring out in front of him. “D’ya want to be the best with me forever?”

Wylan is far beyond words - Kaz is pretty sure he’s crying - but he launches himself at Jesper and they both topple to the ground in a laughing, crying heap.

“Is that a yes?” the singer says, stepping up to the mic. “I think it is! Congratulations, guys!”

The crowd explodes into cheers, everyone now personally invested in Jesper and Wylan’s relationship. The two of them still haven’t managed to successfully pick themselves up off the floor, their arms wrapped around each other as they kiss.

“We’re taking them home,” Inej decides, grinning widely, and Kaz isn’t about to complain. They’re both absolutely pissed, and he isn’t about to spend hours scouring a field tomorrow when they inevitably lose the ring. “And then we’re gonna cuddle on their couch and watch a movie.”

“The deal is the deal,” Kaz says, both of them grinning as they remember the night they met. “Let’s get these two idiots home.”

{o0o}

Jesper wakes up many hours later to a bursting bladder and his head feeling like it is about to explode. He sits up, gently disentangling a drooling Wylan from his side, when he spots the ring on his boyfriend’s hand and he stills.

“What. The. Fuck,” he whispers to himself.

Instinct has him reaching to his forehead, and sure enough, Kaz has been kind enough to leave a note taped to him. On it is printed a single word: Congratulations.

Jesper smiles. Maybe proposing while drunk was a stupid thing to do, but his life is made up of a million stupid things, and he wouldn’t trade a single one of them for the world.

[key-to-my-heart]

🌈RH POSITIVITY🌈

DISCLAIMER: you do not have to agree with the following writing. you can believe in these pairings romantically or platonically, however you’d like to interpret them! these are personally written to be in a romantic way, as ships, so please at least acknowledge that! you don’t even have to like any of these ships! if you are still into shipping but don’t ship these pairs, that’s completely fine! you are not obligated to agree. this is a post about positivity.

FEATURING:

Jade x Skyler

Poppy x Skyler

Ruby x Bella

Sunny x Poppy

Bella x Sunny

Skyler x Violet

Bella x Amaya

💙SKYLER X JADE💚

i haven’t really thought of a ship name for them, but i’m getting nature vibes (blue like the water and green like the earth) so idk! maybe something elemental? i have no clue haha.

anyway this ship is so underrated! one of their most iconic moments (in my opinion) is the way they look at each other in the fashion studio commercial. ofc, there is more to them than that. i like how in tune these two are with their emotions. they feel them on such powerful levels. i feel like they can really connect this way, even when there’s a misunderstanding going on (episode four) i love how they made up. usually jade is the one to focus hard on projects, even if it’s in a sarcastic manner, but the roles sort of switched with skyler thinking about the project and jade being caught up in her emotions. i love how they made up & bonded at the end of the episode, too!

🧡POPPY X SKYLER💙

i also don’t know if these two have a ship name. maybe Blue Butterfly? or SkyFly? or Popler? i have no clue! but i do know that these two are super underrated! i have been shipping them from around episode three because they are just so cute! they definitely seem to have a close bond, especially being complimentary colour gals along with being roommates.

i feel like even though skyler gets very emotional, she is still pretty grounded & realistic. i think poppy gets caught up in her feelings in a different way than skyler does, so i imagine skyler could be someone who helps bring poppy back to her senses. i also imagine they are supportive gfs who give each other tips & advice from time to time. i feel like one of skyler’s fav things about poppy would be her sense of silliness as well as her skills with music. i can imagine poppy would often talk and brag about skyler to all of her friends.

❤️RUBY X BELLA💗

i haven’t really seen an established ship name for this pair nor have i come up with one for myself. i’m thinking of something along the lines of Valentines, Roses, Strawberry or Sweet Cherries! but i think this pair is very overlooked in the series.

they are definitely close, being roommates and all. they are both very amazing gals, impulsive in any way possible, and always there to help hype a friend up. i feel like they share a common interest in getting the job done, no matter what the cost is. ruby needed to prove her point to violet, even if it meant contradicting herself. bella wanted to take a photo of her set design, even if it meant losing her spot at rainbow high. i feel like this duo could accomplish a lot together, and they’re definitely smarter than they appear. i feel like they would do amazing things together!

💛SUNNY X POPPY🧡

i have seen Sunset used at this pairs ship name! i personally use Citrus but i think Sunset is just adorable! i feel like this is yet again, one of the most underrated duos in rainbow high

i love how poppy just knew her music would cheer sunny up when she was feeling down. i also love the chaotic energy these two hold. they simply share one brain cell. i feel like my top three scenes of theirs would be when they were dancing together in episode two, when they were trying to read the words behind the mirror in episode four, and when sunny was trying to stall from poppy entering her dorm room in episode twelve. i just love the goofy energy this duo radiates. cheerful girlfriends! i feel like they would have very little complications in a relationship together and would always come to mutual understandings.

💗BELLA X SUNNY💛

i personally refer to this ship as Pink Lemonade and i haven’t seen another ship name for them! but ive never really seen content about this duo. they haven’t gotten too many scenes in the series so it’s understandable. but of course, i see potential in them!

i feel like they would possibly be a thinker x feeler duo, so i already sense a sort of balance between them. they’re both very considerate and caring. i feel like sunny, with her naturally sweet and convincing personality, would be able to successfully handle bella’s impulsive decisions and i feel like bella would make sure sunny gets the care and support she deserves! they were both very caring of skyler and ruby’s whereabouts in episode six, and i feel like they would have fun working on projects together.

💙SKYLER X VIOLET💜

i don’t talk about this duo as much as i should! i refer to them as “Skylet” and they give me mega rarishy vibes! (from my little pony)

honestly, i think they aren’t so bad. ofc, there’s the factor that violet showed absolutely no care whatsoever for skyler’s breakup and really only wanted to stream it for her channel. i like to think that behind the scenes, violet realized that and apologized for it, and skyler was understanding and thanked her. i feel like the more developed version of violet pairs well with skyler. violet is another one of the impulsive, aggressive characters in rainbow high. she does what she wants when she feels like it. with skyler being someone who usually sees both sides to a situation & gives extremely helpful advice, i feel like she could ground violet when needed. that is, if violet were able to consider her words. i also think this duo would just generally be very soft! vi would totally give support to sky when she’s feeling v emotional.

💗BELLA X AMAYA🤍

okay hear me out. this duo has potential. of course, i can only really run off of headcanons and theories with my thoughts on this ship, since they lack content in the canon series. but i feel like they have potential. i kinda wanna call this ship Strawberry Marshmallow but idk haha. maybe there would be a cooler name that is kind of in reference to the episode 7/8 drama

i feel like bella, being considerate in the way she is, would definitely make sure amaya feels included during group tasks. they both play leadership roles and would honestly make a great power duo in that sense! another thinker x feeler ship in my opinion but they still share common personality traits that i feel wouldnt clash. of course, they have a misunderstanding going on in canon, and last we knew, bella wasn’t real fond of amaya. but she doesn’t know amaya personally so who is to say that wouldnt get along if they did!

[haec-est-fides]

“What have you done?” : Why Riordan’s Handling of Triumvirate Holdings Sucks

I put my thoughts under a cut to make it easier to avoid spoilers and to save you all from a long post,,,like a really long post.

Basically, I think it was inevitable that Riordan fumble Triumvirate Holdings. He simply designed a villain network too powerful and too extensive to ever be handled properly by the heroes. He did try to address,,,some of it, but in the end I think he just made it worse.

I. Let’s talk about Triumvirate Holdings.

The way that Riordan established the origins of the Triumvirate and the extent of their power made it too big to handle from the beginning. The emperors have been around for centuries. It’s mentioned countless times how much property they own, how much money they have, and how many businesses are actually under their control. Rachel says it well in Hidden Oracle: “They make my dad’s company look like a kid’s lemonade stand.” Nero brings it up again in Tower of Nero: “What you don’t seem to realize, Apollo, is that you can’t destroy bank accounts with a bow and arrows. All my assets, all the power I’ve built up for centuries -- it’s all safe.” Think of what Caligula did to Piper and her dad, how deep that ran and how many people were involved. Think of how the Triumvirate funded both Luke and Octavian. All of this goes to show how deeply rooted Triumvirate Holdings is, especially -- unlike other villains -- in the mortal world.

This never really gets taken into account. For instance, Apollo does wonder if Meg will inherit Nero’s tower, but it seems as if she doesn’t, nor do any of the other imperials who go with her to Palm Springs. They live off of the Sibyl’s tarot card business, which strongly implies that they took nothing from the tower -- or the company -- at all.

Apollo also mentions Camp Half-Blood getting the weapons and Greek fire from Nero’s tower, but that is so poorly thought out that I want to scream. Nero had designed special holding tanks for the Greek fire, tanks that Rachel pointed out could be mistaken for a water-treatment facility. And we’re transferring it to a summer camp? Yikes.

Beyond the question of the material, there’s the question of personnel. Mortals, demigods / legacies, monsters, Germani, etc. were all involved with Triumvirate Holdings. I’ll address the Germani in a moment, but the sheer numbers involved make the fall of the company either impossible or devastating. It is conceivable that the mortals, business people and mercenaries alike, could move on and the Mist would do its work. Still, that’s thousands of people jobless. The unemployment rate just skyrocketed. Further, the monsters once under Triumvirate control are now presumably free to cause havoc as well.

Before moving on entirely, multiply all of that by three. Commodus and Caligula employed mortals and monsters as well, and who knows what happened to their material possessions. (Besides the fifty yachts in San Francisco Bay, ofc. Millions of dollars, minimum, at the bottom of the ocean.)

What I’m most concerned about, however, are the demigods / legacies, especially those raised by or who spent considerable time with the Triumvirate. An experience like that shapes people, and not for the better.

II. Let’s talk about the Imperial Households.

Starting with Nero’s household, I think it’s clear that Riordan brushed over the imperials to have his wholesome ending, which is entirely understandable. Even so, he creates such a conflicting view of them that his “they all moved to Aeithales and Healed” bit is so shallow. Apollo’s views in particular cause this problem.

Initially, the fact that the imperials are enemies puts them in this strange category where they’re minors and people (like Meg) but them being harmed or even killed,,,isn’t a bad thing? Chiron, directing new campers during the Greek attack on the tower, yells, “Try not to kill enemy demigods or mortals! Okay, well, from now on, then!” It’s given the weight of a throw-away line. Apollo later goes so far as to think, “I wondered where the other three missing adoptees had gone -- if they’d been captured or had fallen in battle to Camp Half-Blood. I tried not to feel any satisfaction at the thought, but it was difficult.” (Emphasis mine. Oh, and if anyone is interested, this is almost an exact parallel to what Apollo says in Tyrant’s Tomb about Octavian’s death.) I’m not saying that Apollo hasn’t really changed or that heroes have to value the lives of their enemies, but this isn’t the best foot to start on.

In Nero’s throne room, when Meg gets her imperial siblings under control, Apollo comments on how close they are to siding with Nero: “[Meg] reminded me of one of Hades’s dog trainers working with a pack of new hellhounds. ...any sign of weakness from her, any change in the temperature of the battle, and they might break ranks and slaughter everyone in sight.” Even after Nero’s death, the imperials break down. Raging, sobbing, catatonic -- whatever the case, not exactly the best candidates for a smooth adjustment to ordinary life.

Apollo and Meg briefly chat about how the household will need support to heal, but Apollo still notes, with some real hesitancy, “There were no guarantees. The imperial demigods had dealt with so much for so long, some of them might never be able to come back from the darkness.” A short while later, at Aeithales, Apollo observes that the imperials “seemed determined to garden, as if their sanity depended on it, which perhaps it did.” While Cassius, at the very least, seems to be adjusting well, who’s to say that the others are? They can’t garden forever. I just can’t picture this ending as well as Riordan leaves it.

All of that is bad enough, but we know that Nero’s “household” is larger than just the twelve demigods he adopted, and it’s likely that Commodus and Caligula had similar households. Remember Marcus, Meg’s escort in Dark Prophecy? Whether he was one of Nero’s twelve (and got replaced) or not, his existence is evidence that there are far more demigods / legacies involved than the series’ focus would make us think at first glance. We do see members of Commodus’ household in Dark Prophecy, in the stands of the stadium and in the battle against the Waystation -- “a few dozen” even. Interestingly, Caligula is the only triumvir who doesn’t seem to have a household at all, as they’re never mentioned aboard his yachts. That may be exactly as it seems, with him preferring not to have a household out of paranoia. However, I still think it’d be more reasonable to assume that he had some kind of household than to assume otherwise.

Nero’s household appears to have been the most imperial and the most like a family, but that doesn’t mean we can brush off the other households as a non-issue. Considering the lack on information on the subject, it’s entirely possible that the other two emperors did adopt kids. In any case, we can’t judge the loyalty of these unknown demigods / legacies, and they certainly seem to have fallen through the cracks. It’s doubtful that Nero’s children will be able to “heal” even with Meg’s help and a place totally removed from their old life. If the others don’t have any kind of support system? If they’re left to their own devices? That’s a recipe for disaster. They’re likely to cling to the system they know in whatever ways they can.

As a bit of a thought experiment to drive this home, consider: what would Octavian do if he were part of Triumvirate Holdings when the news arrived that the emperors were all dead? I think it’s clear than the answer is not “go live a normal life and pretend the Triumvirate never existed.” It would be naive to think that not a single person in the Triumvirate’s sphere is willing to step up and take over.

III. Let’s talk about the Germani.

Riordan actually explained this well, but then proceeded to fuck up.

I had questioned why the Germani -- ordinary legacies / humans -- could be turned to “monster” dust once resurrected and put in an emperor’s service. What kind of afterlife did that mean they had? Thankfully, Riordan touched on this! As @triumvirateds pointed out on my older post, the Germani -- like most ordinary monsters -- did come back in a day or two after being killed. This apparent immortality, we find, is tied to the Triumvirate’s power, symbolized by each emperor’s fasces. When the Germani were revived, however the Triumvirate accomplished that, they became removed from any usual afterlife until released from the Triumvirate’s service and made “regular people” again.

(This does raise some technical questions. Were each group of Germani tied to a specific emperor? Meaning that the troops on the West coast were “released” when Commodus’ and Caligula’s fasces were destroyed? I’m fairly certain that they still turned to dust during the final confrontation with New Rome. That would imply that their loyalty was tied to the Triumvirate as a whole, and their bond transferred to Nero’s fasces with the power of the other two emperors.)

However, I can’t believe Riordan decided that the Germani would simply be regular people after Nero’s death. Throughout the series, Apollo often remarks that the Germani are a threat because of their loyalty. Remember when the Germani were described as “sensitive about insults to the Imperial person” and nearly killed Apollo for looking at Nero wrong? Well, now Apollo says, “I supposed none of them loved the idea of staying loyal to the cause of a dead emperor.” I’m reminded of when, after Commodus and Caligula were defeated in New Rome, the army ran away and was never mentioned again. In both cases, the Germani are brushed off as disloyal / uncaring and no thought is given as to how they’re supposed to integrate into modern society.

“But wait,” you might argue, “They’re mercenaries. Many of them, like Luguselwa, probably don’t care about the emperors.” Sure. There’s definitely a long history of mercenary troops not being the most loyal, especially when there isn’t a clear leader. However, I have to bring up the fact that when Nero died (in actual history) the German guard was disbanded by one of the following emperors due to their perceived loyalty to Nero, even in death. (Also, because the guard was disbanded for their loyalty, which was a major insult, the entire tribe revolted.) That’s a bit of an oversimplification of ancient history, but with the constant reminders we have in the series about the Germani’s loyalty, this ending just seems like a cheap move by Riordan. He might as well have had them all turn to dust one last time with the dissolution of the Triumvirate’s power. Also, if you even entertain the possibility that someone could step forward to take control of Triumvirate Holdings, I feel that the Germani would serve whoever that was.

On the purely practical side of things, please try to imagine thousands of (possibly illiterate) barbarians adjusting to modern life with zero help. I’m not saying it’s impossible, considering the amount of time they’ve been around (and how they seem to legally exist, as evidenced by Luguselwa being Meg’s legal guardian), but it’s still a stretch of the imagination with how Riordan characterized them throughout the series.

TL;DR

To wrap it up, you just can’t make villainy this pervasive, throw out some guesses as to how things will work out fine, and pretend the world can just move on. Triumvirate Holdings isn’t a snake that dies when you cut its head off; it’s a hydra. The life that almost everyone involved in Triumvirate Holdings lived makes them who they are. Not everyone will end up like Meg, especially considering the sheer number of people impacted. I know that all of this isn’t really Riordan’s concern, that he couldn’t have covered even half of this if he wanted to, but gods does it bother me.

[call-me-rei]

Party Animal

Friday nights on a college campus were everything the movies made them out to be. They were loud, unsupervised, crazy, and full of questionable decisions. No one was complaining though, especially not the students.

After a long week of lectures, labs, and all-nighters due to an overwhelming amount of assignments, students on campus wanted to let loose before it all started over again on Monday. And what better way to do that than with a wild party?

Tonight’s party was brought to the students by a fraternity brother who had just rented a house off-campus. He had finally set everything up and made the space available for a housewarming party. It was originally supposed to be for his fellow brothers and some of the members of their sister sorority, but word spread quickly around campus and soon people who didn’t even know the guy were making plans to show up to his house. Those people didn’t even know his name, but that didn’t matter.

Students got out of class and did what they needed to do to prepare for the event. Some rested after being in lectures all day, others pregamed with shots of various liquors to let loose before heading to a random person’s house.

Vic Fuentes, though? Vic fantasized.

Vic had heard about the party while he was in astronomy class. Actually, he always heard about parties in astronomy class. It was his last class of the day and by that time lots of information about the school’s social gatherings had been made known. It also helped that some of the most popular kids at school (the athletes) were in his class. They knew about all the goings-on whether they were meant to be in the loop or not.

It was 2:55 PM and Vic was sitting in his seat waiting for class to start. He liked getting to his classes early so he could socialize with his friends before the professor started the lesson, but he didn’t have any friends in this class, so he resorted to texting them. He was getting frustrated though since no one answered his latest message that he’d sent almost fifteen minutes ago. Their last classes ended earlier than Vic’s, so they should’ve at least read the message. What could they be doing?

He was distracted from sending another message when a loud group of students entered the room.

Vic rolled his eyes to himself before looking down at his phone and switching to a different app. It’s not that Vic didn’t like these students; he just didn’t appreciate the peace of the room being disturbed. Everyone who was there was minding their own business, having a quiet conversation with the other people sitting at their table before these guys entered.

Vic tried to ignore them, but he couldn’t ignore the name that one of them had spoken.

“Hey, Kellin, you going to Blake’s party tonight?”

Kellin. That name had Vic’s ears perked and ready to eavesdrop.

Vic had a huge crush on Kellin Quinn; he’d liked him since he saw him in their English class at the beginning of the semester. Kellin was slightly taller than Vic with dark black hair that often fell in front of his face, bright green eyes that pulled him in, and tattoos that covered his arms and legs, making him look like a total badass.

He was way out of Vic’s league.

While Vic was the quiet, standoffish type, Kellin was a social butterfly. He’d made friends with almost everyone in English and astronomy, which would explain why he was hanging out with the loud kids. Vic didn’t mind though. He didn’t really talk to Kellin so he’d bear the chatter if it meant he could hear his crush speak.

“Yeah dude,” Kellin replied, “it’s gonna be sick! Nine o’clock, right?”

“Yeah. I’ll text you the address.”

That was as far as their conversation went when their professor entered and asked everyone to get to their seats. Vic tried his best not to stare as his crush took his regular seat in front of him.

The lesson started and Vic tried his best to focus on lecture on the moon, but Kellin was so distracting. It was obvious that the raven-haired boy wasn’t too interested in whatever was being taught. Science wasn’t Kellin’s strongest subject. Well, any subject that involved numbers wasn’t Kellin’s strongest subject. He dreaded his math and science classes with a passion, but he had some friends in those classes that made it all bearable.

However, Kellin hardly acknowledged Vic. They had two classes together every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and they sat near each other in both of them. Kellin knew who Vic was, but other than having a face to put a name to, he didn’t have much information on him. He did know that Vic was a nice guy who loved making music. They’d talked about it once in English class when they were deciding on a subject for their ethnographic research project.

Kellin leaned his head onto his hand as he listened to his professor drone on about how to calculate the motions of Earth and the moon.

The professor gave the class a chance to work with the members of their table on the latest assignment. Kellin faced forward and looked at Vic who had already started on the worksheet.

“Hey,” Kellin whispered. Vic looked up in an instant. “Do you understand what’s going on right now?”

Vic couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, let me help you out.”

The two worked together for the remainder of class. Vic was a good tutor and had actually helped Kellin understand the lesson he hadn’t paid any attention to. Maybe that was why Kellin asked him, “You going to the party tonight?”

Vic was intrigued; he’d never been to a college party before, nor did he ever have the intention to go to one. But when Kellin asked he figured it was time to step out of his comfort zone, especially if it meant he’d get to spend time with his crush.

“Sure, but I need an address.”

“No problem. I’ll text you.”

Vic nodded and watched Kellin as he left the room with the group of boys he walked in with. He let out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding and pulled his phone out of him pocket to send a message to his group chat:

Any of you wanna go to a party tonight?

Hell yeah!

He shook his head, not surprised that that was the message to receive a response.

***

Vic was uncomfortable. This wasn’t his scene. Why the hell did he come?

His friends were having way more fun than he was. In fact, they were having so much fun that Vic hadn’t seen them in almost an hour. He’d made them promise that they wouldn’t leave him alone since this was the first college party he’d ever attended, but obviously that was a lie.

He was standing in the kitchen of a stranger’s house with a bottle of hard lemonade in his hand. He wanted to take it easy since he was designated driver. It was a unanimous decision among his friends from the moment he texted them.

He had some really horrible friends.

Vic leaned against a counter and looked out into the living room. Furniture was pushed against the wall to make room for dancing, the television was on playing music from the host’s phone, and people were all over the place drinking, playing drinking games, and socializing. There was a group outside smoking and there were definitely couples in one or more of the bedrooms hooking up.

This definitely wasn’t Vic’s scene.

He’d only agreed to come to this party for one reason, and that reason was nowhere to be seen. He was ready to call it a night, find his friends, and go home. He’d only been there for an hour, but he was bored and nothing going on piqued his interest. That was until…

“Oh shit, the life of the party is here.”

Vic looked toward the entrance of the kitchen and saw an acquaintance, Gabe, walking in with a friend and a smile on his face.

“Who’s here?” Vic asked.

Gabe chuckled in response and pointed to the front door. Vic looked and felt his heart thump harder seeing Kellin Quinn walk into the house. He was wearing a black band tee with the sleeves cut off and rips in it, and black skinny jeans with holes in the knees. His hair was disheveled, as if he’d run his hand through it all day. He looked good.

Vic continued to watch his crush as the young adult said hello to people in the living room.

“Have you been to a party with Kellin before?” Gabe asked, taking Vic away from his staring.

“Uh, no,” he stuttered. “Why?”

Gabe chuckled again and grabbed a plastic cup from the counter, filling it up some ice and spiked punch the host had made. “There’s a reason why we call Kell the life of the party. If you’re gonna be hanging out here for a while just keep him away from the strong stuff.”

Vic looked at him in confusion, to which Gabe explained, “He gets a little out of control when he’s drunk.”

That just confused Vic more. “Out of control how?”

Gabe looked to his friend and laughed. “He just gets really crazy. He kinda forgets he’s in public and does some…questionable things with people.” He walked over to Vic and patted his shoulder. “Just make sure he doesn’t put on a show for everyone tonight. We can’t go through that again.” With that the two boys left the room.

Vic stood there still confused but now a little intrigued. To him, Gabe’s warnings sounded very suggestive. Was Kellin more promiscuous when he wasn’t sober? Did that mean Vic had a shot? He obviously wouldn’t take advantage of the guy, but if it meant that he had the slightest chance of getting closer to Kellin and finally making his move then he’d go for it.

***

Kellin was an interesting drunk, but not in the way Vic thought or had hoped.

Kellin had gone into the kitchen after talking with his friends for a few minutes and greeted Vic. Then he filled a cup with some spiked punch that had way too much alcohol in it to be considered legal and left. Vic, not wanting to miss out on drunk Kellin and his chance to flirt with him, followed him out into the living room. He sat next to his crush on the couch against the wall and sipped his drink along with the other people in the room.

“You guys are boring!” Kellin complained, his words slurring together. At this point he’d gone back to the kitchen for two more refills and was certainly feeling the effects of the drink. “Does anyone wanna dance or something?”

Without a second thought Vic looked at him and answered, “Sure.”

Vic didn’t know if Kellin was into guys, but when he didn’t reject the offer, he took that as a sign that he had a shot at some sensual moves.

Boy, was he wrong.

Vic quickly learned what Gabe had meant when he said Kellin lost control when he was drunk. The raven-haired boy was almost completely out of it and his dance moves showed that. The music that was playing was upbeat with more sexually suggestive lyrics. Vic assumed Kellin would try to grind on him or something. No, instead Kellin was a blur of arms moving back and forth, head bobs, and hips swaying, and not in a sexy way.

The song ended and changed to a faster one and the boy looked like he was being tased. He was sipping from his cup and moving his shoulders and elbows like he was trying to fight his way out of a crowd. Vic had no choice but to stand back and watch to avoid getting hit.

The other people on the dance floor didn’t seem to fazed by it; they’d been to parties with Kellin before and were used to seeing him like this. Vic was just so shocked. Every time he’d seen his crush around campus he was so cool and collected. Now he looked like he needed to be tied down and tranquilized to avoid hurting someone.

Vic slipped away from the scene and back into the kitchen to get Kellin some water. He knew Kellin would need something to lessen the effects of all the alcohol. But then he saw Kellin filling his cup with the spiked punch for the fourth time and he knew it was time to go.

“Nope,” he said forcefully. “I think you’ve had enough for one night.”

“Aw, you’re no fun,” Kellin pouted. It took everything Vic had not to comment on how his lips looked so inviting.

“Yeah, I’m the worst,” he said dismissively. “C’mon, I’ll take you back to your dorm.” Kellin didn’t object this time, so Vic texted his friends telling them what he was doing and asking if any of them wanted to go with him. All of them told him they were going to stay; his friend Austin told him to use a condom.

Vic refused to reply to that message and led Kellin outside to his car.

The ride to Kellin’s dorm was an interesting one. Kellin couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

“You have such nice hair,” he said as he twirled a lock of Vic’s hair in his fingers. “It’s so soft and long and pretty.”

“Thanks,” Vic mumbled, trying to focus on the road in front of him.

“And you have really pretty eyes. And you have really nice arms. And your voice is hot.”

What? Vic didn’t know how to respond to all of that.

“I know someone who has a crush on you. They think you’re really hot.”

“Is it you?” Vic asked jokingly. He wasn’t prepared for the answer he got.

“Yup.”

His eyes went wide. He looked over to Kellin in hopes to keep the conversation going, but Kellin had engrossed himself in the streetlights they were passing. He was enjoying the “pretty colors.”

A minute later they pulled into the parking lot of Kellin’s dorm building. With much effort Vic was able to get the boy out of the car, into the building, and in the elevator to the third floor where his room was. He took Kellin’s key and unlocked the door.

“You wanna sleep in your bed or do you think the couch would be easier for you?”

“I’ll sleep with you.” Vic rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the shiver that went down his spine when Kellin winked at him after that sentence.

He helped Kellin into his bedroom and got him some water, painkillers, and a trash can in case he needed them. He said goodbye to the boy as he was getting undressed for bed, but not before admiring him without a shirt on for a few seconds.

Vic walked back to his car and shook his head. Well, tonight didn’t go as planned at all, but at least he learned he might have a chance to make up for it.

***

Kellin felt like shit. He’d woken up with a splitting headache and a horrible taste in his mouth. He wasn’t sure how he got back to his bedroom, but he assumed his roommate, Jaime, had dragged him home at the end of the night.

It was quite surprising when he checked his phone and saw a certain message.

Hey Kellin. I don’t want you to freak out when you wake up so I’m sending you this. You got pretty drunk last night and I couldn’t leave you there like that so I took you back to your dorm. There’s water and ibuprofen on your nightstand if you need it and hopefully you found the trashcan. Let me know if you need anything or if you wanna talk about the other night. See you on Monday.

Kellin couldn’t help but smile. His crush had taken care of him when he needed it. That was so-

Wait.

Vic had seen him drunk? Oh no. Vic had seen him drunk. This new revelation led Kellin to emptying his stomach in the trashcan by his bed. He groaned when he was done. I’m never drinking again, he thought as he took the ibuprofen and leaned against his pillows. He did get up to shower and brush his teeth after some time, still regretting his actions from the previous night. He felt the need to apologize to everyone who’d seen him, just like he felt after every party he went to.

So he texted Vic and asked to meet up with him at a nearby coffee shop.

***

Vic couldn’t help but chuckle at the look of embarrassment on Kellin’s face. They were sitting across from each other sipping their coffees and having small pastries. Kellin had asked Vic about his actions the night before, and Vic had told him everything minus his confession that he had a crush him. He didn’t want to embarrass the boy more than he already was.

“I’m so, so, so sorry that you had to take care of me.”

Vic waved him off. “It’s no problem. How are you feeling?”

“I’m alright. I felt like shit when I woke up though. Thanks for leaving the medicine and water.”

Vic nodded and sipped his coffee. They sat in a semi-comfortable silence with Kellin still obsessing over his dancing. He never wanted Vic to see him like that, but now it was out in the open and he was mortified. He was more than positive that he’d lost his chance with the brown-eyed boy.

But Vic still found Kellin to be ridiculously attractive, and last night just made him fall harder than before.

The two eventually threw their trash away and walked out of the coffee shop.

“I’m sorry again,” Kellin said. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. We all do and say things we don’t mean when we’re drunk.”

“Yeah, but you-” He stopped himself. “Say things? What do you mean by that?”

Vic blushed and shook his head. “Forget I said anything. I’ll see you in class on Monday.” He turned away to head to his car, intending to leave it at that. But that line had sparked something in Kellin’s memory and he gasped.

“Wait!” Vic stopped and looked back at Kellin who was now standing on the sidewalk with his eyes wide open in shock. “I…I…Did I…”

“Yeah,” Vic answered with a nod, “you told me.”

“Fuck.”

The tan boy walked back over to Kellin who was silently freaking out. “Hey, it’s okay. Don’t sweat it.”

Kellin shook his head. “It’s just…” He didn’t know how to explain his feelings. He expected Vic to be more nervous knowing that a guy had admitted that he had feelings for him, but Vic had gotten over that over the course of the night. Kellin didn’t know that and assumed his reaction was because he didn’t feel the same way.

“Are you telling me not to worry about it because you feel bad for me or because you don’t feel the same way and you’re trying to be nice.”

“Honestly?” Vic stepped closer and reached out and grabbed the taller boy’s hand. “Neither.”

Kellin blushed, unable to say anything other than, “Oh.”

Vic, now feeling some confidence after seeing his crush embarrassed, smiled. “How about we start over? We can try this again, but without the alcohol.”

Kellin couldn’t help but chuckle. “Sure.” The two stood there, probably looking weird to passers-by, but they were enjoying the calm, quiet moment of looking into each other’s eyes and wondering how far their relationship could go.

“Wait,” Kellin gasped when a new thought occurred. “So you’re saying you weren’t turned off when you saw me dance last night?”

Vic shook his head with a laugh. “I mean, I was really hoping you’d grind on me, but no, I wasn’t turned off.”

“Really? I thought I did grind on you.” The two shared a laugh. “I think it’s better that I didn’t,” Kellin continued once they’d settled down. “I can grind much better on you when I’m sober.”

Vic bit his bottom lip, his eyes darkening at the thought. “Oh really?”

“Yeah. You wanna find out?”

-----

Yo! This is my first ever one shot so let me know what you think! And if you have any other prompts you'd like to see me write please comment or message me.

Shoutout to my friends in The Kellictive™ for giving me this idea and encouraging me to write it 💜

[anonymous0writer]

The Third Rule II Kiara Carrera

Summary: Kiara is finding it hard to fit in at the Kook Acdemy, but quickly finds solace in the beautiful Sarah Cameron. She finds more than just solace, but when a certain member of the Cameron tribe find out, it scares Kiara away from the people she loves most. Which leads to the third rule of the Pogues pact that begin used.

Author: @anonymous0writer

Word Count: 4,629 (I know, I’m sorry but I’m not sure how I feel about this?? This is probably the longest fic I’ve ever done)

Pairing: Kiara x Sarah, Kiara x Pogues, 

Request: A platonic pogue imagine where kie and rafe have a history. lots of people think they had a past and rafe has a soft spot for her but i think he did something to her/hurt her because of how mad jj was when he called her hot. so i was wondering if u could write an imagine where something bad happens between them during her kook year and then when kie returns to the pogues they find out what happened which sparks the tension between the pogues x rafe?

A/N: I’m sorry it’s 2am and I just finished it and I really want my anon to read this on their trip!! And I’m sorry anon, I just realized my fic isn’t totally based off your request, but I really hope you like it because I’m kinda of proud of it?! Also, Rafe is homophobic towards Kie but I swear it’s only once. Also this blog and myself fully support anyone and would never stand for homophobia. If you do, please get off my blog.

Warnings: Typos probably. Cursing? A homophobic Rafe (we do not agree) and I think that’s it.

Rule Number One: No Pogue on Pogue macking.

Rule Number Two: Never leave a Pogue behind.

Rule Number Three: Pogues= Family. Families love each other no matter what.

Kiara Carrera was a lot of things. Her friends, the group of ragtag boys that somehow roped the girl into their little family, would call her fun. Plain and simple, she fit the word. Fun to be around, fun to hang out with and to cause trouble with. She would weedle free food from her dad and feed them, clean up after them and make sure they kept out of serious trouble. Though Kiara was quite like a mother to the three boys, she was just like them. A surfer through and through, knowing the flick of the waves and the adjustments she needed to make with her board to master them. She also loved the music the boys cared for, and was often called on to DJ their car trips. But most importantly, she would keep up with them.

Kiara matched their energy, and was possibly the only person on the island that could handle them, and all at the same time. She was good with Pope when he talked about his dream job, nodding and keeping pace with the brainiac and able to string together a somewhat intelligent sentence or question to fire back. Kiara was able to keep up with JJ, with his ideas that spun wildly out of control, or the days with his dad. She wasn’t bothered or flustered by his never ending flirts, knowing it was just JJ begin JJ. And she knew John B. Kie could figure out his moods and help him out of the dark places he went to when his father didn’t come back, and she matched his lust for adventure.

To her classmates at the Kook Academy, she was different. Too Pogue to fit in with the pristine halls and designer bags and expensive laptops and gadgets. Sure, Kiara had the money, but that didn’t make her a Kook. Not when all her time was spent on the Cut with the dirty lowlifes nicknamed Pogues. And to Kiara, the money was her parents. If she was asked, she was a Pogue with parents that got money. Which was in part true, her father originally from the south side of the island, which might have sparked Kie’s distinct loyalty to the certain side.

To other Pogues, the other throwaway fish and lowlifes, Kiara Carrera was sun. Bright and cheery, she lit up everything around her. Her straight, easy going smile was infectious, making everyone, no matter what mood give a smile back. She was warm and kind, caring and thoughtful when the Pogues were thought of as rough kids from the wrong side. And her outfits reflected her personality, bright with swirling patterns and stark colors. Her outfits were always envied and her unruly curls were often admired. Kiara was beauty and light in one and often became fast friends with any person who set their feet on Kildare’s sand.

But one thing Kiara Carrera wasn’t, was easy. And no one knew that better than the notorious Rafe Cameron. The Kook was drawn to the newcomer for some reason no one but the universe knew. Not even the boy knew his reasons for attraction to the pogue. It left him utterly confused when he saw the girl in the halls of his gilded house, smiling like there wasn’t a care in the world. But no matter his confusion, his eyes were glued to the girl as she giggled and followed his sister, and his breath left his lungs when she passed him, a soft smile gracing her features as her smell washed over him. The strange girl smelled like coconuts and the sea, which was all the more intoxicating.

Though Kiara Carrera wasn’t easy to win over with his cerulean eyes and his devilish smirk, he didn’t give up. He wanted the challenge of having to work a little harder for a girl. And Rafe Cameron wasn’t one to be refused, and he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

————————

Kie’s first year at the Kook Academy hadn’t been the picturesque landscape of manicured lawns, pretty and popular students and good grades. While the experience wasn’t the best, it wasn’t the worst and Kie knew that. She also knew that the ‘Kook Academy’ was much better than Kildare County High School and her fussing mother made sure she would never forget it. But as the weeks progressed and Kiara felt increasingly lonely at the school, the girl was finding it hard to appreciate the school.

For one, she was missing her boys terribly. Missed when JJ cracked a joke in the back of the class, his comment made the whole room erupt into a fit of laughter as the aggravated teacher tried desperately to calm the students. She missed the way John B.’s smiles eased her worrying about a test or the way he’d fling notes on her desk as Mrs. Higgin’s droned on. Kiara also missed the way Pope would ramble with his answers, eventually getting too flustered and putting his hand down. She missed the way he’d leave books in her locker, the pages littered with little notes and comments about the passages. But perhaps most of all, Kiara missed the way she was with them. The boys were her true home, not even the comfort of her pillows made her feel as safe and loved as she did when she was hanging out with the three. At lunch, they’d rush out of class, meeting at Kiara’s locker as she took out her lunch, handing JJ her apple, and debating with John B. at which item of her lunch he’d steal today. Pope would grab his own lunch as they bickered and the four made their way to the quad, settling in the grass with their bags. JJ leaned back, a fresh blunt plucked from the waistband of his cargo shorts. Pope took out his books as he tried to take notes but failed miserably as he countered John B.’s B.S and returned conversations. It was impossible for the boy to focus around his friends. Kiara would crack a joke and spread out her healthy alternatives to bad foods and snacked quietly on them while her phone belted out Marley into the grass.

————————

She missed the days JJ wouldn’t be seen in class and would interrupt her classes by poking his head in and saying, “Hey, Kie! Emergency meeting.” And with that, the two slipped away to meet with the other half of their group. The four would move off campus to an abandoned parking lot and smoke and drink their worries away.

But no matter how much Kiara missed her boys, they weren’t going to show up. She was stuck, lost in the gilded halls and drowning in a sea of nasty boys and fake girls. Kiara was desperate to escape but couldn’t find a way to get out. Kiara was ready to give up. On the school, the people and, quite frankly on life.

That is, until she met the famous Sarah Cameron. The blonde practically strode through the halls, her loaded boyfriend and the illustrious Scarlet by her side. Her dazzling smile and pretty brown eyes landed on Kiara. And as soon as Kiara returned the pleasantries, the two became fast friends.

And soon enough, Kiara was invited to the massive Cameron residence. Kiara has already gotten the tour of the property and was following her best friend when she ran into Rafe Cameron. The eldest of Ward Cameron and the famous Kook around the island, known for his suspicious resources when it comes to drugs. Kiara knew the rumors, every one did. But she still smiled and walked right on by, giggling as Sarah held her hand and shut her door.

————————

Since their unofficial first meeting, Rafe had been persistent. Flirting shamelessly with the girl constantly in his house and ignoring Sarah’s grumbles and mocks. Kiara has refused his advances and shook her head as a little laugh escaped her throat when Rafe asked her out. She had to give it to him, he didn’t give up.

————————

“Why don’t you want to go out with me?” Rafe asked one day, as the Cameron siblings and Kiara lounged on the deck of the Druthers. Rafe towered over Kiara’s lounge seat, casting a shadow over the girl.

“Rafe, I’m just not into you.”

“Why? Am I just,” He paused, still unwavering from where he stood- much to Kiara’s dislike. “not your type?”

The statement made the girl glance up, the sunglasses perched on her nose sliding down as she looked up at the boy. “I don’t dig blondes, Rafe.”

The elder boy scoffed, but left the conversation as Sarah made her way over, two hard pink lemonades in hand.

“Get lost, loser.” She huffed and Rafe nodded and left. He missed the way his little sister cuddled up against the Pogues side and quietly asked, “You still dig me, right?” The boy also missed Kiara’s immediate reply as she laughed. “Of course I do.” So the Kook walked away, blissfully unaware of what was really unfolding. Kie’s words still rung in his head. But for some reason, he didn’t believe that the only reason the curly haired girl kept turning him down was just because of his hair color.

————————

The next time Rafe asked, he got his real answer. His sister and Kie were getting ready for Midsummer's in the room a couple doors down, their laughter floating through the halls. Rafe listened to the muffled voices of his tongue sister and the girl he’d been strangely pining over for half the school year. They were laughing and Kie’s signature music floated down the hall and into Rafe’s bedroom. Kiara was going as Sarah’s date because she had cheated on her boyfriend again. So the girls decided to couple up.

Sarah leaned forward, the brush coated with soft gold painting swiftly over Kiara’s eyelids. Sarah leaned back and smiled, satisfied with her handiwork. Kie laughed and shoved Sarah’s hip lightly to see herself in the mirror. Sarah grinned and moved so she could continue curling her friend's hair, her hips swaying with the music. Kiara laughed at Sarah’s antics, admiring her in the mirror.

“Beach waves,” Sarah mused, deciding what to do with the front parts of Kie’s hair. “It’d frame your face.” Sarah leaned down, her breath fanning Kie’s ear as the blonde put her hands on Kie’s shoulders. “You’ll look so pretty, baby.”

Kiara beamed at Sarah’s comment, trying to hide her blush. Sarah was a natural flirt, so the fact that she said that wasn’t a surprise, but the pet name made Kie blush. Even in their secret relationship, Sarah hadn’t far breathed a whisper of any affectionate name other than ‘Kie.’ The dark haired girl giggled at her girlfriend and shifted in her seat to crank up the music. Soon the rise and fall of Bob Marley’s voice filling the carefully decorated room. Neither of the girls heard the eldest Cameron shuffle around in his room, his footfalls heavy in the hall as he approached Sarah’s door.

“You could kiss me, you know.” Kie smirked, taunting Sarah with her brows in the mirror. They locked eyes and it was Sarah’s turn to blush, her cheeks already dusted a pink. But she complied, spinning her girlfriend in her chair and pressed a heated kiss to her lips. Kiara hummed and reached up to cup Sarah’s face, not able to hear Rafe as he pushed open the door to his sisters room, a question on his tongue.

“Hey, could you-“ He stopped dead, eyes trained on his sister and the beautiful girl he’d been trying to get, lips locked. “Holy fuck.”

The girls broke apart, eyes wide and mouths popped open in surprise.

“Rafe!” Sarah screamed, rushing forward to push her brother out of her room, hands shoving at his back and slamming- and locking- the door shut.

Rafe stood shell-shocked outside his sister's room, mouth agape. Kiara was kissing his sister. Kiara was gay.

————————

The three; the two Cameron siblings and the pogue that they practically adopted, didn’t talk about the incident for exactly two days until the subject came bubbling to the surface. And in typical Rafe Cameron style, it was raging and messy.

Rafe glared, eyes trained on Kiara as she giggled at something Scarlet said as they leaned against their lockers. Rafe hadn’t seen Kiara since the incident, ignoring her at Midsummer’s and never coming out of his room the rest of the weekend, but now, Monday morning, he was beyond furious and disgusted. Not only did the girl shoot him down so many times, she lied. Of course he wants her type, he wasn’t even the gender she was attracted to. A shiver ran down the boy's spine as he thought about the curly haired beauty liking- kissing- his sister. He hated it.

“Kiara,” He barked, hand gripping her just above the elbow rather harshly, hard enough to bruise. “We need to talk,” He hissed in her ear as he hauled her away from Scarlet and into an empty classroom.

“Rafe!” Kiara huffed, stumbling into the classroom, free of his death grip. She stared at the boy, wondering briefly if he was high. Rafe Cameron was addicted to the powder he snorted at parties, so it wouldn’t surprise Kiara if his eyes were red and he seemed even more violent than usual. But his eyes were normal, and he seemed fine.. just furious. “What the hell are you on?”

“You're gay.” Rafe spit like it was the foulest word on the planet. Kiara’s eyes went wide. She never said the words out loud, and quite frankly, it scared her a little. With Sarah she didn’t have to hide who she was. But with everyone else, her parents- even the Pogues- she had to hide. But with Sarah it was fun, easy. Sarah got it and Kiara couldn’t think of a better person she wanted to be with.

Kiara fumbled with her words, the infinite possible combinations of words and sentences getting clogged in her throat, so she just stood there, gaping at her girlfriend’s brother as he seethed. Rafe glared, brows slanted over his darkened blue eyes. His eyes reminded Kiara of the waters when a hurricane ripped through them, dangerous and fury born.

“You're disgusting. You turned my sister into one!” He spat, making Kie’s heart clench. This was her nightmare. People finding out and their face recoiling in disgust when they heard the words, “I’m gay.” And maybe that was the reason Kiara never uttered them, not even to herself, perhaps fearful her own face would do the same in the mirror.

But no matter Kiara’s inability to defend herself, she defended the only girl who accepted her as her. Even though her gut pinched at the thought that Rafe looked at different sexual orientations as a ‘disease’ which was nowhere near true, it still hurt nonetheless. “It’s not a bad thing, Rafe. And Sarah’s bi!”

Rafe grimaced, and by the way his face warped, Kiara could tell he didn’t have a clue of what it meant. Kiara swallowed, the sudden fear of Rafe’s knowledge crowding her thoughts. What if he told the rest of the student body? What if he told her parents? What if he told the Pogues? The last thought sent a shiver down her spine. Even though she wasn’t officially out, she didn’t care if the student body found out. Not really. Her fears were about her parents, and if they’d react as badly as Rafe had or worse. But the Pogues? If they acted even a bit like Rafe had, her heart would break and Kiara would lose them. And that thought scares her the most.

So she leaves Rafe, ripping out of the classroom to race toward the bathroom, knowing her tears will spill soon. She cries over the bathroom sink, hands gripping the counter as she sobs. The first period bell rings, but the girl doesn’t trust herself enough to clean up and head to class. Instead she sniffles and glances up at the mirror. By now, her thoughts have turned into horrendous scenarios of the Pogues freaking out, convincing her that the boys aren’t going to accept her. So as she makes eye contact with herself in the mirror, Kiara takes a deep breath; if I leave first, it’ll hurt less.

————————

Kiara was wrong. She couldn’t tell, but it hurt probably even more than if the Pogues left her. She hopes, keeping the flame small, that the three troublemakers will come knocking on her door, asking why she ignored and blew them off for the whole week. But they’ve never set a foot inside her house, and now will not be the time they start. So she locks herself in her room, red eyes and Disney movies on an endless loop to try and block out the pain of letting go of not just the Pogues, but Sarah too.

When Sarah found Kie crying in the bathroom in the middle of the passing period, Kiara couldn’t find the words to tell her that her brother was a homophobic piece of shit that scared the living shit out of her. So she shook her head, passed it off as a mean joke someone said and brushed past her, trying to keep her shaking hands under control as she made her way to class.

But that was a week ago, and Kie’s phone had been blowing up with texts and missed calls on Monday, but slowly tapered off by the time Saturday rolled around. Kiara secretly hoped Sarah would just barge into her room, demanding to know what was wrong and would kiss away her worries, but Sarah wasn’t showing up and the number of missed calls from the blonde had started to dwindle.

But even if Sarah wasn’t a knight in shining armor, someone was.

————————

Kiara glanced up, brows furrowing over her dark eyes as the knock on her door sounded again. Her mom had already come by to try and coax her out of her room for lunch, so it couldn’t be her, the older woman quickly finding it best not to bombard her daughter.

“Kie?”

She would recognize that voice from anywhere. Pope. He’d come to save her, and Kiara’s heart soared at the thought. She clumsily made her way off her bed, knocking off some tissues in the process, but made her way to the door, cracking it open to reveal not only Pope, but all three boys. Kiara’s eyes widened as she took in the boys- her boys. She choked on a sob as she widen the crack of the door, letting the boys shuffle into her spacious room.

“Got a nice place here, Kie.” JJ commented, and Kie was thankful for JJ’s jokes even as her heart throbbed at the sound of his voice.

She really did miss them, and she knew seeing her for the first time in a week like this- dressed in dark blue and white checkered sweats and a white crop top with a wave of messy hair to top it off- wasn’t the best thing. All three of them turned to look at her, and Kiara was hit with the sudden need to apologize.

“I’m so sorry,” She croaked.

Popes dark eyes widened at her exclamation, the first real thing she said to them in almost a week. John B. started, unsure of what to say, but JJ reached out, hands wrapping tightly around his best friend.

“Don’t say that ok? You have nothing to be sorry for.” The blonde murmured, a soft kiss pressed to her hair as he held her. Kiara buried her face in his chest, too overcome with emotion to speak so she cried softly. John B moved quickly to add to the hug and soon, all four of them were in a big group hug.

They pulled back, and Pope slipped his hand in Kie’s to reassure her that he was there as John B. spoke to his movements.

“Kie, we’re always here for you. You know that, right?”

The girl nodded, still unable to meet their gaze. But she sniffled, and nodded, hairs falling into her face as they came loose from her behind her ears. They stood in silence, not knowing where to start with all of this. So Kiara said the thing that started it all.

“I’m gay.”

The words hung in the air untouched before all three spoke at once.

A soft, “Kie, that’s perfectly fine.” came from Pope.

JJ nodded, blonde hair falling into his eyes as he murmured, “That makes so much sense.”

“We support you no matter what.” John B. confirmed with a half smile.

Kie stopped, the responses unlike anything they said in the wicked scenarios in her head. Her mouth popped open into a surprised ‘o’. But her face split into a sad smile as she made eye contact with her friends. At the realization that they supported her and loved her for it, a happy sob bubbles up from her throat. Kie’s dark eyes lit up as she threw her arms around the rest of her heart. They hugged her back, John B’s arm thrown around her shoulders as Pope squeezed her hand and JJ hugged her waist.

“I love you guys,” she sniffled, pulling back with the first genuine smile of that week. They grinned back at her.

“We love ya too, Sunshine.” JJ’s familiar dimpled smile warmed her heart as his hand came up to ruffle her hair affectionately. She missed his smiles and his nickname for her. He called her that since the first hour they met, and it stuck ever since. Kie smiled at the surfer and quietly thanked him.

“Did you really think we were gonna cut you out?” John B asked, his honey colored orbs gazing lovingly down at her. Kie leaned into his chest, his arms tugging her close. “You know we could never do that, bubs.” He soothed, restating his chin on top of her wild curls.

Kiara let her eyes wander to the boy yet to speak. Pope stood there, unmoving as Kie smiled at him until he jumped with a realization. “Oh!” He exclaimed and immediately started patting himself down in search of something. Within the confines of his cargo shorts, Pope pulled a tiny book with a worn cover but displayed it with pride, extending it to his friend. “Here, for you.” When Kie sent him a questioning look as she took it, Pope rambled on. “A recent poem book I read. And I.. well I pretended to be JJ when I wrote notes in it.”

Kie’s laugh was sudden and stark, but made Pope grin at her reaction and the other two boys smile at the happy sound. In the beginning, when Pope first gave Kiara a book he read and thought he’d enjoy and she returned it with lightly written notes about passages on it, Pope immediately started the tradition of giving Kiara a new book with his thoughts every month. And as Kie would go through the chapters she’d write her own thoughts and then discuss them with the boy. But once Kie placed the book down in front of him as they hung out at the Chateau, brows furrowed in confusion. “What is this?” She asked, pointing to the notes Pope made in the top corner. Confused as to why she was asking, Pope leaned forward and reread the note, laughing. “Oh, well, I had a thought about JJ reading the book and figured to do the whole book like JJ wrote it.” So it then became an inside joke between the two.

Kie flips the book in her hands, fingertips tracing the outlines of the small cover. She particularly loves the months where Pope gives her poetry books because partly, he gives her a new collection on them each week because she goes through them fast and secondly, because poems are her favorite. She admires the slightly yellow pages and the soft sketch of Pope’s handwriting.

“Thanks Pope. I love it,”

She closes her eyes and feels at rest- almost. She finally got her boys back. Kiara finally got home. Back in the arms of the three boys who hold her heart equally. So she agrees when John B. gestures to the screen displaying the laziest Disney movie she watched- Beauty and the Beast- and suggests a movie marathon. Except JJ somehow got a hold of the remote as they climbed onto her bed and settled in. The surfer quickly changed the theme from Disney Princess to Horror Night. Pope rolls his eyes and John B. cheers as Kie gasps at the choice he made. It’s ‘Silence of the Lambs’, old but still a classic that’s not too scary for Kie and one of her favorites. The four friends curled up and soon they were too invested in the movie to remember why they were even here in the first place. Kie smiled and admired her friends, grinning as JJ caught her eye and winked. She was back home.

But there was one thing left unsolved: Sarah Cameron.

————————

The Cameron residence never seemed so daunting as it did right now, looming above Kiara in its glimmering windows and architectural beauty. Kiara swallowed, knowing no one but the girl she loved was home but still getting anxious when she thought about the boy who lived under this roof.

The doorbell rang twice before the grand doors cracked up as Sarah answered it. Sarah opened the door with a bounce in her step but stopped as she lay eyes on who rang her doorbell. Her throat went dry and her mouth fell open. Kiara admired her girlfriend- unsure of the title they still had- who was dressed in white shorts and a pale blue tank top of Kie’s that had three small hearts in the middle. She was gorgeous.

“Kie?”

“Hi,” Kiara swallowed unsure of how to proceed. “We need to talk.”

Sarah nodded, wordlessly opening the door wider to allow entry to the dark haired girl of her dreams. Sarah had been lost without her girlfriend. Kiara seemed to drop off the face of the earth after Sarah found her in the bathroom. The blonde called countless times, but each ‘Hi! This is Kiara! You know what to do!’ broke her heart a little more. Sarah couldn’t tell you how many times she showed up outside of the Carrera house, hand poised to knock only to have her doubts make her turn back. Sarah was deathly afraid she’d done something to Kiara unknowingly, but after her brother spat in her face about her preference of lovers, she understood exactly what happened. Which is why when Kie stepped into her foyer, she blurted,

“I’m so sorry about my brother,”

Kiara was taken aback by the outburst, but glanced down at her feet quickly before nodding and meeting Sarah’s sadden gaze.

“I’m sorry too. I should’ve told you right away, I just-“ Kiara struggled with the words, shrugging slightly. “I was scared and was so stupid to push you away.”

Sarah took a tentative step forward, aching to touch the breathtaking girl before her. She smiled softly. “I needed you and you pushed me away,” It was true, Sarah struggled about her sexual orientation and how and if she wanted to come out. And she needed Kie there, but the girl had refused to answer. “But I need to know you won’t do that again if I’m going to let you back in.”

Both girls knew that Sarah was gonna accept her back with open arms either way but Kiara nodded, stepping so they were toe to toe.

“I promise I won’t ever do that again.” She whispered, voice a little broken as she pressed her forehead against the blondes.

And with that, Sarah surged forward, lips attaching to a Kie’s in a loving apology from both sides. And within the kiss, Kie found herself truly at peace.

————————

Tag list

All: @jayjaymaebank​ @rudys-pankow​ @maaybanks​ @everydayimfangirling​ @outrbank​ @thelocalpogue​ @lyricalimerence​ @ahhireallydontknow​ @never-ever-too-many-fandoms​ @kylosleftbuttcheek​ @insanitysparkles @mcarignan​ @copper-boom​ @haharudy​ @x-lulu​ @pit-zuh​ @socialwriter��� @alwaysasadaesthetic​ @jjmaybanqs​ @magnuolia @bellaguarneri​ @diverdcwn​ @diverrdown​ @drewswannabegirl​ @drew-starkey​ @mahleeyuh​ @divcrdown @youfookendonut​ @dpaccione​ @starkeymarkey​ @outerbanksbro​ @jjs-housekeeping​ @teenwaywardasgardian​ @traumaflavouredjuulpod @ad-infinitums​

Kiara, Rafe, Sarah & Pogues: @talksoprettyjjx​ @manicmee​ @notaninstagrammodel​ @oxmaddy​ @obx-direction-sos​ @newhopenessie​ @alternativehp​ @obxmxybxnk​ @sarapage89 @emsma11 @fangirlvoice​ @danicarosaline​ @timmyswrld​ @gmwlover100​ @bxbyyyjocelyn​ @teamnick​ @jjmbanks​ @thesurfingsnail @lulubutton34​ @obxsummer​ @katiaw2 @yeehaw87​ @poguecollins​ @jessica-1120 @yxseminx​

[dashielldeveron]

Viper VIII: Inter Vivos

*author slaps bumper sticker across ass that reads I BREAK FOR QUARANTINE* 

Summary: You have a thought that only Steve Urkel and black-out drunks can have: did I do that?

Warnings: swears, the law. Murder/death. Stupid internet comments.

Show (3719) Comments on “There is Nothing New Under the Sun, But You Are New in Your Conglomeration.”

skellingtonbabey: thanks for putting all of the *gestures vaguely* into historical context. no one’s ever bothered to explain this shit to me, especially in such simple and thorough language. it’s like every other resource i try to learn from is stylistically designed to make me more confused.

readyplayer69: Just because it’s from the 60s and is racist doesn’t mean that it doesn’t have intrinsic value based on the goal towards which it was working. You’re a fucking lunatic. I have a degree in political science, so I know what the fuck I’m about. Though some of the protests may have excluded the minorities you’re talking about, it doesn’t mean that they weren’t ultimately working towards good fucking policies for everyone involved. It’s not like they were doing anything important then anyway; white people had to be the mouthpiece for…Read More

volcanolesbian: bro have u seen the incels freaking out over this???? it got linked in their cursed forum and they SO BADLY wanted u 2 hate women now. like you can regress from being a feminist once you’ve woken up. they’re giving u shit bc you called out the racist terrorists who were active in their community lmao. i can post screenshots if u want. But bruv it’s like they haven’t read anything you’ve written before lol

mozARTsexandviolins: I get when you say that ingenuity spawns ideals for the greater good, but don’t you think tradition has its place? How do we know if the new can spawn the greater good? How do we judge ourselves? Who watches the watchers?

simpleplan2eatthedirt: cool cool nice nice.  protesting is awesome, but be sure to get out there to fucking VOTE, people!!! Here’s a link to register to vote.

EaterJohn: Hello. It is nice to hear from you again, Epiales. Always a treat. Very insightful commentary on modern and past protests. I didn’t know about all of the revolutions in Europe 1848. I’ve send this to my co, and it’s already sparked a good conversation about who we are as a protesting people as we stand in history. Again, sorry to bother you, but I was wondering when the next article in your “Aeneid Autopsies: Current Crimes Reflected in Ancient Times” series was going to be released? It’s my…Read More

horneyvulcanbasterd: @mozARTsexandviolins Is that a Star Trek reference? Bc if so the answer’s Starfleet Command lol

MrsKatsukiBakagou: epiales. you have watered my crops and harvested my fields. thank you for the food.

mightiestavengereatmyass: eat shit and die, commie scum. your just a hired propagandaist for the fucking alt-left, aren’t you? You have no right to be running your collum in a real newspaper or on this fucking website. sending u anthrax in the mail would be too cool a death for you. I hope your so-called terrorist groupsfind out where you live and fucking murder you in the middle of the night. fukcs like you are the reason the country is going to shit the police have a total constitutional right int aht jurisdiction to enter. They had a no knock…Read More

fuckyouit’sjanuary: @readyplayer69 [image attached] [image description: blonde woman with caption reading, “I can tolerate racism, but I draw the line at looting the local target]

saltnpepa!!diner707: Hi. I’m trying to cite this piece in an essay, but your publisher isn’t listed on your website. Would you suggest using the NYT as the source in my bib? If it helps, this is due new week; idk if this will run in the NYT by then. Thanks

“I’m sending someone on a grocery run this morning,” said Tom, thumbs tapping away on his phone, “Do you need anything? Want anything?”

You glanced up from your laptop, closing it as much as you could without the light dimming. “I think I’m good, unless you used the last of the shredded cheese at some point.”

“Shredded…cheese,” he said under his breath, typing, “You mentioned capri-suns the other day.”

“Yeah, but I can tolerate the nasty, new flavour. No rush. Here’s a wild idea,” you said, and you waited until he looked up from his phone, a couple of ungelled curls falling over his forehead. “What if—now, don’t dismiss me as crazy; hear me out—what if we went to the store ourselves?”

“Again, no.” Tom grasping his coffee by the round of the mug, despite there being a perfectly functional handle. “Stop pressing me for it.”

“I’m not asking to go to a damn Broadway play. I’m asking to go to the closest 7-11,” you said, jiggling your leg and then making a conscious decision to stop fidgeting, instead scooting your chair closer under the table so that the arms slid underneath.

Tom hummed, his eyes not leaving his phone screen, but when you didn’t continue, he raised an eyebrow as he scowled at you. “Broadway is shut down because of the bomb threat.”

“Fuck off; you know what I meant.”

“Viper,” said Tom, and he locked his phone to set it on his napkin. “Do you want to get assassinated?”

“The term assassination implies I’m getting murdered for political reasons instead of the copious other crimes you’ve had me commit. So, I invite it.” Put your hands on the table where he can see them; it makes you seem more trustworthy. “Does 7-11 have an open carry policy?”

“If it’s any consolation, the renovated office should be waiting for you when you return.”

“It’s not.” You lifted your mug to your lips. “Working from here only makes me feel like a damn bureaucrat. Like I have no stake in the matter. I don’t want to become detached from everything; I might make a callous decision and send people where they can’t come back.”

“Keep watching yourself. If you stay on guard,” said Tom, running his middle finger around the rim of his mug, “then you won’t stray from me.”

“I’m useless here.”

“Then maybe you should become accustomed to the idea of being useless.”

Swallowing, you stared down into your tea. “There’s only so much I can get done through answering emails. Not to mention I hate answering emails. That’s how you get more emails.”

“Harrison has been telling me that your schematics have been more thorough since you’ve been holed up in here.” Tom tipped his mug all the way back to get the last of his coffee. “You’re still being just as productive, if not more methodical.”

“Did you mean obsessive? I have—I’ve had too much time to think. I’d rather not be alone with my thoughts, if I can help it.”

***

You could only read so much before losing your mind. You could only deal with so many of the same exact problems over and over again for lower level soldiers. You could only chart so many stars. You could only read so much fanfiction (if your identity thief were tracking your phone, he’d probably be baffled as to why you kept reading fic for fandoms you weren’t even a part of due to the desire for new ideas).

You could only give Glory Pham so many excuses as to why you’re not with her in person at the Museum of Natural History.

Sucking in through your teeth, you hovered your fingers above the keyboard.

Dear Ms. Pham,

Glad to hear John Mulaney’s signed on. Next step would be to ensure de Blasio doesn’t directly interact with him, given their history. Perhaps I should proof his set beforehand?

Unfortunately, I regret to inform you that I cannot attend the briefing in person yet again. I am currently indisposed, seeing as I am currently in hiding at my hot boss’s house, due to how dead I might be should I leave it (thus the basis of its appeal). Not to mention that if you criticise my blazer choices again, I shall peel the skin off your perfectly made-up face. Get fucked; getting your eyeliner tattooed on was a hell of a decision.

You shook your head, backspaced the last few lines, and stretched towards the wicker end table to grab your glass of pink lemonade, and you stole a glance at Tom’s work as you did so. A couple of files spread across his white wicker lounger (two blue files [socials of the family], two green [recent bids], a yellow [Manhattan locations], and a brown [requests from politicians, upper East side]). The pink sticky-notes had your and his written exchanges and edits on certain papers, and his laptop was open, the screen dimmed, while he copied something into a notebook with his cell phone held between his shoulder and his ear, just listening to the computerised voice.

He had joined you on the back porch to work remotely, claiming he couldn’t go into the city today due to the absence of news on Zendaya—if any information arose, he’d said he wanted your diagnosis immediately.

You wiped your forehead with your sleeve as a sweat drop slinked behind Tom’s ear. Even Tessa wouldn’t run in the heat; she’d curled up by the porch railing, her tail slapping against her water bowl. In an experiment to see if she wanted to spend some time outside, you’d slid the glass door open for Trout, to which she turned around to retreat to the bedroom.

Not all of the clothes you’d ordered had arrived yet, so you were stuck wearing autumnal clothes with long sleeves. To exacerbate matters, you were constantly moving—jiggling your leg, tapping your fingers—you couldn’t sit still for very long anymore; you had taken to pacing the porch when you couldn’t concentrate on the stars.

(Once, Tom had come out at night to check on you, wiping the sleep out of his eyes and sitting in silence with you. He’d made you go to bed after a while, claiming you’d run yourself into the ground if you kept this restlessness up.)

When your phone beeped, the both of you jolted at the sound. Tom hung up on the robotic voice as you scrambled to your phone, and he bent your way. “Is it Zendaya?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you shook your head. “No. Looks like it’s a jailbreak.”

Tom sighed, his shoulders heaving as he eased back in his seat. “Where from?”

“I don’t even care,” you said, letting your phone fall to your lap. You slumped back in your chair, shielding your eyes from the sun with your arm. But you straightened yourself again and checked. “From Central. They don’t even know who’s all escaped yet.”

“It’d be too much of a gift if New York City would fucking relax for five minutes.”

“It seems like it’s in more uproar than usual lately,” you said, sipping through the reusable straw of your pink lemonade. “Do you suppose it’s our fault?”

Tom took a moment to pluck his damp t-shirt away from his chest. “I don’t think we’re instigating. If anything, we’re simply reacting to chaos.” He stood up and stretched, raising his arms above his head—his biceps strained at the sleeves, and the hem rose above his v-lines. “Unless you’re doing something I don’t know about.”

Ah, casual suspicion. “You’ve caught me,” you said as he approached Tessa and crouched next to her, “I’ve been running a koi smuggling gig on the side.”

“Why koi?” He held out his hand for Tessa to sniff, and she readily accepted his hand for pats. “Are they hard to get?”

“I don’t know,” you said, shrugging, “but I’ve been wondering if they’d be able to survive in your grist mill pond. You look through that water straight to the bottom, nothing living in your way. Just rocks and old equipment.”

Tom sat against the porch railing with a jittery Tessa partially in his lap. “Should we get some?”

“Oh, fuck off, Tom,” you said, grinning, a sweat drop falling onto your mousepad as you shook your head, “You can’t entertain every little pipedream I have.”

“Watch me. What do you want for Christmas?”

You ducked your head, biting your lip. “Promise me something.”

“Provided it’s not my head on a stake, I will,” he said, scratching Tessa behind her ears and cringing a bit when she stretched to lick his face.

“Then we’re going in person to the pre-opening fundraising gala for the Gawain Diamond.”

Tom narrowed his eyes. “Viper.”

“Bitch, I got John Mulaney to sign on to do the opening monologue, and he’s probably gonna roast de Blasio again. I’m not missing that.”

Your phone blared an alert again, and both of you held your breath as you unlocked it.

“Got a list of prisoners who escaped. Small group. Delores, Larson, Duncan, Mays, Selvin,” you said, “There’s more, but I don’t know them. Tell us something important, by God. Anyway, we’re going. I didn’t say I was going alone, did I? You’ll be there. I’ll be safe, and you’ll be safe.”

His jaw shifting to the side, Tom stilled his hand on Tessa’s back, and then he lifted it to flick sweat off his neck. “How many of us maximum can you get in?”

“It’s a fundraiser for idiotic rich people; if there are too many people without a name, they’ll be noticed.”

“It can’t be just us.”

“Why? Afraid you can’t protect me on your own?”

“Now, don’t start that.” Tom herded Tessa off his lap and onto her outside bed. “I’m not falling for it.”

“Yes, yes, I’m fully aware you’re capable of ripping me in half,” you said, draining your pink lemonade, the airy suction coming through your straw (almost loud enough that you couldn’t hear Tom’s sputtering over it—almost—and his phone beeping). “Want me to get that?”

“Bring it here,” he said, and you snatched it while he sat on the railing, dangling his legs off the side.

“It’s,” you said, eyebrows shooting to your hairline as you read the little notification, “It’s a tweet from Zendaya.” You tossed it to him to unlock and leant on the railing next to him, arm grazing his thigh with a heightened awareness of how close you were to his sweaty, sweaty abdomen. No! No time to thirst. Friend time.

Tom unlocked his phone and held it at your eye level, turning it horizontally as he pulled up the tweet.

ZENDAYA (@ZendayaMedias): Felt cute. Might delete later.

[video]

Tom pulled up the clip, waiting for it to load. “Why didn’t she post it to instagram, then?”

“The finer details of social media are an enigma. Do I look like I know,�� you said, and his thumb hovered over the play button.

He cranked the volume up before pressing play, having to try twice due to how slippery his fingers were. “I wonder if Haz has seen this yet.”

A vertical shot of a murky, grey sky from the bow of a boat and dark ocean as far as the camera can see. It pans across the starboard side, and this boat is the only one in sight.

Only the sound of waves striking the boat.

The camera tilts down. Zendaya’s writhing on the deck, furiously straining against rope bonds that line up the entirety of her arms and up her calves; she’s yelling furiously at the person behind the camera through duct tape.

Scuffed, black boots roll Z to the starboard gunwale. She’s still fighting, still shouting.

The camera trucks to the right; before, the pair of cinderblocks attached to her feet were concealed. It returns to her face. A glove grabs part of her hair to show the weights tied into it. She bucks up to headbutt the camera; he avoids it.

Tom clenched his free hand on his thigh. “We’re running another scan for that black-stubble bell jackass from her instagram; did we have any fucking leads at all? What’s his fucking motivation? So he slept with her, allegedly; did she say no to a second time? Doesn’t fucking merit—”

The boot kicks the cinderblocks off the boat, and the camera tilts down to follow the trail of bubbles.

It’s quiet.

But then the camera pans to portside, where the guy in the picture with Zendaya is similarly tied up, but he’s openly weeping and shaking his head. He’s got something drawn on his forehead in black marker. The cameraman steps closer to focus on it: it’s a circle with an upward curve resting on top of it.

He’s still wearing the bell necklace.

Then the cameraman backs away and raises a gloved hand, in which a gun is aimed at the other’s forehead.

The bullet goes through the circle, and the bell rattles as he’s kicked off. Fewer bubbles.

Then the camera tilts up to show off the boat’s surroundings: a black and barren ocean, as far as the eye can see.

When the video started to loop, Tom switched his screen off, his phone hanging loosely in his grip. You released of his thigh once you noticed you’d grabbed onto him, and the evidence of your touch faded as the fabric relaxed.

His eyes glossed over at the blank screen, and his mouth opened before closing again, running his tongue over his lower lip. Tom brought a fist to his mouth and furrowed his brow, his hand hardly concealing the growing tremble of his jaw.

You took a step away from him, rubbing your arms as you ducked your head. “I’m going back inside,” you said, hoping Trout felt like being clutched to your chest, “I’m cold.”

***

The next morning, your mouth felt heavy and dry. You sneaked out as the sun was rising to go hide in the woods surrounding Tom’s house, but you talked yourself out of it. He would make too much of a fuss if he couldn’t find you—but you could delay the inevitable conversation even further. Both of you had separated and kept to yourselves the rest of the evening. Kept quiet.

So you rounded the outside of the house. You’re not camping out in a fucking copse. When you reached the pond, you scanned it for a dry place to hide, but nothing really held any appeal, save for the rounded platform where the mill wheel used to spin, its spoke notches overflowing with moss. You managed to get to it after scrambling alongside the stones for a few minutes, and though it didn’t look like you could get down the same way, you settled against the wall, scraping some moss out of the notches so that your feet could rest more comfortably in them.

(Dr. Prine called ten minutes after you sent her the email. “Did you send me the correct article?”

“Yeah,” you said, rubbing your face wash onto your cheeks, “Considering it’s the only one I have ready, and I can’t bring myself to write anything. I tried. I just fucking can’t.”

“I don’t think you want this published at this point in your life.”

“I don’t fucking care. Whoever’s using my pen name probably knows who the fuck I am in general. Just publish it.”

“Honey,” said Dr. Prine, her voice softening (and fumbling, like she was holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder), “You should probably rethink this. It’s going to connect Epiales you back to Viper you. Get some sleep; eat breakfast. Call me back then.”

“It’s an appropriate article for the political climate.”

“Not for your personal life.”

“I don’t fucking care,” you said between splashing water on your face, “I don’t. It’s a good fucking article, and hopefully, it can affect people for the upcoming election. Fuck self-preservation. Send it to the Times already.”

“Did I dial the wrong number?”

“Hilarious, Dr. Prine. I know it’s not the smartest thing for me to do, but I can’t—absolutely can’t—write anything. I don’t know for how long, but for now, at least.” You blotted your face dry. “I’ve got to meet standard deadlines if I’m keeping my column. It’s really only dangerous if Tom reads it and makes the connection, and his brain is offline right now.”

And so Aeneid Autopsies: Current Crimes Reflected in Ancient Times, chapter twelve, “The Political Tradition as Mob Rule,” would be published on Saturday. It’s a little too in the know about the mafia, but hey, you had written it on a whim a month ago, and you were known for your extensive research, anyway. It most likely shouldn’t be too different from your other exposés, though they weren’t on topics that were deliberately misleading the public by what information was out there.

The more you thought about it, it was almost like you wanted to reveal yourself, wanted to get stabbed while you were sleeping, because there’s an overwhelming question rolling around in your brain like a mis-weighted shooter marble: is this—)

“It’s not your fault.”

With crossed arms, Tom leant against the stone wall, his leg bent back for his bare foot to rest flat against it. He glanced sideways at you, sitting on your mill wheel perch almost halfway across the pond, but closer to the far side than to him.

He’s got major bedhead, his curls just fucking flopping about out of his part, and even from where you are, his face burned red amidst wet tracks trailing down it. Still, thank God for little mercies—his biceps were fucking straining the sleeves of his white t-shirt, and those idiotic, blessed grey sweatpants were low on his hips.

You lifted your head from your knees but still clutched them to your chest. “You’re not going out, then?”

“Of course not,” Tom said, and he wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Can’t be crying during a meeting, yeah?”

“Been boxing?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Not really.”

He ran his tongue over his lower lip and sighed, and then he slid his hands into his pockets, his eyes glossing over while he watched the moss you’d picked off float in the pond.

You’re not going to fucking cry. Tom came out here for a reason. He has a purpose. All you have to do is wait.

Eventually, he said, “You’re avoiding what I said.”

You tilted your head.

“Listen, I know you’re beating yourself up about it. It’s not your fault this happened. None of this is your fault. Hey.” Tom tapped the wall, the travelling reverberations making you look up at him. “Whoever’s doing this is doing it of their own volition and not because of you. You hold no culpability for this.”

“Bruh,” you said, “One of your best friends is dead, and you’re comforting me? I thought I was the masochist.”

Tom scowled, his brow furrowing. “Viper—”

“I can’t interact with someone without putting them in danger, at a disturbingly high rate. You want me to enumerate where I’ve stuck my nose in not my business and people have gotten killed? Senator Hernandez, Isadora,” you began, holding up two fingers, “The nine men guarding Isadora, Maccabruno, Polson—”

“Don’t you dare do that to yourself.” Tom took a step forward, his foot almost curving into the pond. “You didn’t use the knife. You didn’t pull any triggers.”

“Yeah, but I sent them there. And a good many of them went because it was their job.” You sneered and propped your chin on your knees again.

“And it’s part of your job—”

“Yeah, whatever. Your friend is dead, and I have no home. I’ve stopped contacting the few people in my circle on the chance that they get dragged into this—Grace, Adrien—he’s the lights specialist guy, in case you don’t remember—I’ve got to email Glory, but that can’t be helped. And Dr. Prine only—fuck,” you said, dragging your hands down your face. “I don’t want anything to fucking happen to Dr. Prine. Or your family, for that matter.”

“Everyone not involved in the business is currently in hiding upstate,” said Tom, eyes narrowed as he glared at you. “If you like, I can ensure the same—”

“Stop acting so damn calm, Tom.” You let your legs dangle off the platform, hands clenching the edges. “I don’t have any strings left to pull. And fucking hell, I know that it would be extremely and absurdly conceited of me to believe that this series of crimes is aimed specifically at me, because how deluded, how arrogant could I get—but goddammit, this stuff feels a little too personalised. It feels like this person knows me.”

Tom clicked his tongue. “Don’t you think it’s worth something that Glory Pham has been left alone? He knows how to get into Crosscreek, yet Glory hasn’t been touched. Is that not worthwhile?”

Your eyes watered, but you ducked your head so that he couldn’t see—but you released a dry sob (Fuck! Now is not the time for crying! Now is the time for being badass! Frown, or something!).

Tom spoke so quietly you almost didn’t catch it. “Do you want to leave?”

God, no. But it would make you feel like less of a burden. “Let me find an apartment first.”

“No, not like that. Hey, V. Look at me,” he said, and he tapped on the wall again.

You wouldn’t. Not like this. Not when your nose was running and when you didn’t have a plan.

“Please look at me, Viper.”

Glowering, you raised your head, lifting your chin higher than normal to seem confident, and oh, God—his eyes were wide and gentle; he’s leaning as far as he can over the pond, still unable to reach you.

“What I meant was if you wanted to leave the mob.”

It rang through your head like a distant cathedral bell, chiming through a deserted town—but then you were farther, out on the mountains, still listening to faint clanging.

“You’d have to kill me,” you said, shaking your head, “Don’t you remember?”

“Fuck,” Tom was saying, sucking in through his teeth, and after glancing at the water, he started jogging around the pond.

“I swore. I bled. And then even after that—then you knighted me.” You inhaled sharply when he reached the stones you’d climbed. “I’ve let you down.”

“Viper, get the fuck down from there and come here,” he said, and he withdrew, winching, when he stepped on a sharp edge.

“We shouldn’t have met,” you said, looking over your shoulder at him, and Tom froze, his hand partially gripping a hole in the stone wall. “I shouldn’t have taken the job. I should have gone to a different city. I should have—”

“Wasted your life away in the shadows? Just shut up and get down here.”

“Ah! The fuck?” You swatted his hand away when it grazed the platform, and when he climbed up another step, you pushed yourself off the platform and into the pond.

The first thing that struck you was how quiet everything was once the bubbles dissipated, and then you noticed how clear the water was, even from within it—glancing down, you could easily see your feet treading water above the broken grist mill wheels that had sunken to the bottom.

Before you could take it in to feel the emptiness in your chest, bubbles filled your vision again—and then his hands were grappling for you, grasping at your clothes, and pulling you towards the surface.

“I wasn’t fucking drowning,” you said, sliding a hand back through your hair, while Tom shook his head to flick off excess water. “I was fine without—”

“I know you weren’t.” Tom gripped your waist tightly enough to be painful, and he slid his other hand up between your shoulder blades. “I know. You wouldn’t die on me, and I’m not letting anyone else lay their hands on you. C’mon, arms around.”

He guided your arms around his waist, and once you had a good grip (hands sliding up his back), he kicked off to swim to the stone wall, backing you into it. Your toes skimmed the bottom of the pond, but Tom kept your head above the water, his thumbs circling your hipbones through your wet clothes.

Tom closed his eyes, his eyelashes heavy with water droplets. “There’s no solution to this where you die, got it?”

“Shucks.”

“I mean it. Talk to me. Tell me what you can.” Tom let out a breath slowly, and he bent to rest his forehead on your shoulder. “Please,” he said once you tensed up, his breath hot through your wet shirt, “Won’t you let me in?”

(Fuck fuck fuck fuck his chest is flush against yours; he’s so warm, so damn warm all over, and the water’s chill only makes you want to cling to him more, fuck.)

“You won’t like me,” you said, tentatively lifting a hand to curl your fingers into his hair, pulling slightly, “I’m not whom I’ve presented to you. I don’t have it under control.”

“I don’t expect you to.” Tom turned his head towards you; his lips almost grazed your neck (you relish their warmth anyway). “You wouldn’t be human, otherwise.”

“I don’t know an awful lot. Some days it seems like all I do is guesswork.” You grimaced but kept the slim distance from Tom’s mouth. If he wanted to, he would. “I’m lost completely on whoever the fake Epiales is. I keep looking for a pattern in everything, even—even so far back as to—”

You stuttered. Tom had pressed his lips to the base of your neck.

“There’s no consistency,” he said, nuzzling his nose against the spot where your neck met shoulder, “but there’s got to be a larger plan. I get it. The whole case is like a hydra, and we’re chopping blindly at the heads.”

(Oh, my God, he kissed you? He kiss the neck? He?)

“Oh! I forgot to tell you.” Tom pulled away to look you in the eye, and your mouth hung open of its own accord—come back! “I made myself watch the video again.” His jaw shifted. “To see if I missed anything, and I did. This time, I recognised the symbol on the guy’s forehead.” Tom lightly traced it onto your forehead with his middle finger. “It’s a zodiac symbol. It’s the one for Taurus.”

You nodded, still not really thinking at full capacity. “Great. Another piece of evidence that I won’t be able to make fucking sense of. Goddammit. I’m so useless. Goddammit,” you said, dropping your hand from his hair into the water with a splash. “Tom, I don’t talk to my mother much anymore. She doesn’t know where or who I am, and to be honest, I don’t know who I am, either. I don’t know where the truth is.”

You nearly slapped him when you cupped his cheek, like you were desperate, like you had to be touching him, skin on skin, that instant. It’d be nice if he would close his eyes and lean into your touch, maybe kiss your palm, but Tom simply stared at you in shock, eyes wide, brows raised, mouth pinched.

Don’t tell him, you whore. You built this fucking kingdom with its walls and bastions so that you would be safe when the outer defences crumbled. You’ve set aside parts of yourself into neat little boxes so that you can throw any of them away at any time and escaped unscathed. Don’t you fucking dare screw that up. Tom doesn’t know about Epiales so that you can expose and destroy him if you’re on his chopping block; it’s insurance for when everything falls.

Bitch, since when do you want to be honest and raw and vulnerable around anyone?

You can’t let him in.

“You’re still a woman of honour,” Tom said, and—oh, God, oh, fuck—he’s easing his hands down your body, his chest pressed against yours again, and he’s sliding them down your thighs to hook underneath your knees, and he’s hitched you up against the wall, the definition of his muscles real and palpable through the wet clothes, warm, warm, warm—

“I should apologise,” you said, turning your head to the side while he steered your legs around his waist, “I can’t imagine what you must be feeling right now.”

“You can’t?” Tom shifted you upwards, and that’s it; your heat is directly against him; you can feel every pull and tensing of his tendons, and if he keeps moving the way he is, then you’ll—

“I’m so sorry for making this about me when Z was closer to you. We shouldn’t waste time on me; we need to be searching, arranging a funeral if we can’t find anything.” You scrunched your eyes shut.

“You’re deflecting.” Tom let out a shuddery sigh. “I’ve lost too many people. Don’t make me lose you when you’re right in front of me,” he said, and he pressed his lips right below your ear.

You flinched away on impulse but tried to relax into him, blinking profusely.

Tom pushed against you (not localised enough to qualify as a thrust), and he cleared his throat before pulling away from your neck. “Listen, please. Please.” He shifted your weight to one hand and gripped your chin with his freed one. His eyes flickered to your mouth before he moved to rest his hand on your cheek. “You’re invaluable. Irreplaceable. You are no burden and are not at fault.” He clenched his jaw. “But I know you’re keeping something from me, and I will make the answer fall from your lips soon.”

Your own chin was shaking, and he was too close. If you put aside separate-self-as-insurance for a moment, let’s consider Tom did find out about Epiales. Would he control you through it? Would he use you to influence those he couldn’t reach? Would he grab hold of Dr. Prine? He might squeeze your life and time through his fist, and your freedom would be gone. Epiales was your freedom, your space to create and connect.

He was too close.

“You’ve got to promise not to hate me,” you said, and when he raised an eyebrow, you made your decision to lean in.

“No,” he said, and—and your lips met his cheek.

He’d turned his head.

After all that, he’s going to turn his head?

“No,” he said again, taking your chin again and leading you away, back to leaning against the stone wall, “I don’t want our first kiss connected to the memory of mourning. I can wait a bit longer.”

Tom released your legs, letting them sink. “You once told me that if you let yourself be vulnerable, you didn’t want an audience. I think,” he said, frowning, “I think you still see me as an outsider. As a member of that audience. And again, you said that you didn’t want it if it weren’t real.” He stepped away from you entirely, and he started wading towards the edge of the pond. “I’m going to hold you to the same standard. I’ll wait until you’re ready to be real with me.”

Tom slinked out of the pond, flicking away what excess water he could, and he squinted into the sun on the horizon. He shook his head, water flying, and he glanced back at you and scoffed. “Easy, sweetheart. No need to wear your heart on your sleeve now.”

His voice trailed off as he rounded the corner towards the door.

The sun is rising, and you feel rather cold.

***

inter vivos: between the living

***

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