#we did something similar last night but while drawing and it was really fun and chaotic and a bunch of us all just hung out for a few hours

[thethingything]

okay so we were gonna have a game night with the alters from our subsystem that we split last February and March, plus whoever else in the subsystem decides to join in (at this point it's big enough that there are smaller subsystems within it so getting everyone together would be a mess), which is a recipe for chaos as is, but I think we've decided on playing Wobbledogs for a while and only a couple of us have really played it, so this should be fun

- 🍬

[drabbles-mc]

Speaking Volumes

Brian Godlock x F!Reader

Inspired by @storiesofsvu's Holiday Bingo prompt: spending xmas alone

Warnings: 18+, angst, hospitals, blood/injury

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: There was no way that I was going to be able to watch Silent Night and not want to write a story about it. So here we are! Getting out of my comfort zone with this and I had sooooo much fun with this. I feel like I already want to write more for Brian and this Reader but we shall see. Anyway! Enjoy. 😌

No one had stepped up to try and stop you when you had offered to work Christmas Eve. Usually it was a lot more of a fight to get enough people volunteering to staff the hospital for the holidays. Or, at least, that’s what you’d been told. It was your first round of holidays in La Porte—you’d only moved there a couple months before. But it seemed pretty similar to the other hospitals that you’d worked in, in that regard. Volunteers were always preferable, and if there weren’t enough then they would start drawing short straws.

Christmas hadn’t been your favorite holiday in a long time, and being in a new city with no real friends yet, far away from what little family you still considered yourself close with, certainly didn’t do anything to revitalize your holiday spirit. Work didn’t really stop you from being alone on Christmas in that way. Work didn’t bring your family closer, it didn’t magically give you friends and make you close with your coworkers. What it did do, however, was give you something to do. A task. It made you feel useful. That would have to suffice until this time next year.

You were up to your nose in discharge paperwork, patients who were eager to make it home just in time for Christmas Eve. Some of them were leaving even when they probably shouldn’t have been, but there was nothing that you could do to stop them. You’d see some of them again soon, maybe even before New Years came around. Some of them you tried to convince to stay, but deep down you knew that they weren’t going to listen. You were used to that, too.

While the entire night wasn’t filled with chaos, you found yourself waiting for it anyway. There were more empty beds than there had been at the start of the day, and you were waiting for the inevitable call that would fill them all again. That was the cycle of it. The fact that it was a holiday didn’t really matter, per se, but it always felt different around the holidays. It felt more different this year when your patients were going to be the only ones that you were spending Christmas Eve with.

Just as you were finishing up notes on one of your patients that hadn’t been discharged, you heard the call. You heard the rushed footsteps. Doing one last look-over to make sure your patient was alright, you snapped their chart closed before taking off in the same direction that everyone else was going.

“What do we got?” you asked as you kept pace with the doctor who had headed off first, leaning forward just a little bit, so you could hear her answer above all the other background noise that was crinkling in your ear.

“Another shoot-out.” She kept her answers with you short and clear, or at least always tried to, which you appreciated. You never had to ask her to do it, either, and she was never condescending about it. She wasn’t warm and friendly with you, or seemingly anyone, but she was kind in a very professional way.

You were shaking your head, not at the way that she answered you but about what her answer was. The world didn’t stop for the holidays. Unfortunately, just like the hospital, crime was a business that operated all 365 days of the year. Kept you busy enough but sometimes you wished that it didn’t. “Jesus,” you muttered, more to yourself than to the doctor.

Apparently you’d said it louder than you meant to, not always the best at dialing in your own volume. You wouldn’t have noticed it if the doctor hadn’t also responded to you. It got lost in the increased volume of the sirens as the two of you came to a stop outside the door where the ambulances were rolling up.

“What?” you asked, unsure if what she’d said was something that you needed to know.

She turned so that she was looking directly at you, so that you were able to read her lips as she spoke. “Said I don’t think Jesus had anything to do with this.”

You didn’t have any good rebuttal for that. She was probably right. The two of you stood in silence as the ambulances came to a stop, the paramedics inside them instantly piling out. You were so busy looking at the two men that were being wheeled out on their gurneys. Neither of them looked like they were in good shape, but you were so busy looking at them that you forgot to look at the medics as they spoke. Their words became part of the static of the scene, the aid you were wearing only able to filter through so much. You were internally cursing yourself for not paying attention, but regardless you knew that you were still on deck to help. You knew enough about how it all went go get you through until you could talk to the doctor. Stepping towards the gurney closest to you, you tagged in and pushed it into the ER.

From the second you came to a halt in the ER, you were dialed in. The cacophony of noise and static got hard to sift through sometimes, but every now and then you could tune it out. There was a certain element of routine to gunshot wounds and stab wounds which helped. Care varied slightly depending on where the injuries were, how bad they were, but there was a series of steps that had to be followed for all of them. You could do that part of it without issue, without any dragged-out discussion that you had to maneuver through.

One of the two men brought in was a cop. You’d caught someone saying that at one point during the entire process. You hadn’t managed to catch any tidbits about the other man, though. And even though no one had said which one of the patients was the police officer, you had a feeling it wasn’t the man that you were currently peeling the clothing off of. Sure, he might’ve had a bulletproof vest on, but something still didn’t say cop to you. It didn’t matter. Cop or criminal or anything in between he still needed bullets pulled out of him and stitches put in and probably a handful of other things you wouldn’t know about until later.

You were working in tandem with the doctors who were staffing the ER for the night. You didn’t know them quite as well since the ER wasn’t typically where you worked most of the time, but you at least knew of them. You had no idea if they also knew of you, too.

You hadn’t heard what the other doctors and nurses had been saying about the other patient, but what you did hear was the monotonous single note that came with someone flatlining. You looked up just long enough to make sure it wasn’t your guy. When you saw the weak but still present rhythm on the monitor, you looked back over your shoulder. You saw the team trying desperately to get the man’s heart to beat. Even though you didn’t know what exact injuries he’d come in with, there was a feeling in the pit of your stomach that was telling you there was nothing that they were going to be able to do to bring him back. The other doctor was too far away for you to be able to read his lips but you saw him looking at the clock on the wall and you knew exactly what he was saying regardless. You didn’t want to have to be doing the same for your patient so you dove right back in.

He was shipped off to surgery quickly once you did your initial check and they got an operating room ready. There was nothing that they needed from you for him at that point. You stayed out on the floor, checked back in on your other patients. When he came back out of surgery, if he made it back out of surgery, then he’d be your responsibility again.

You were watching the doors to the wing of operating rooms swing closed when you thought you heard someone behind you talking to you. Turning around, you saw another doctor standing there, jacket on with her bag on her shoulder. She looked at you expectantly and you knew you’d missed the question.

“Sorry, what?”

She nodded towards the doors that were now shut. “Was that Brian?”

You shook your head. “I, um, I don’t know. He didn’t…didn’t come in with any ID.” You paused, taking in the pensive look on her face. “Who’s Brian?”

“Godlock,” she said, like it sufficed as any kind of real answer. When she saw that you were still lost, her eyes widened. “Right. You weren’t here last—” She stopped herself short. “This time last year he came in. Multiple gunshot wounds. Just lost his son. It was…horrible.”

“Oh…” You were sure that you were supposed to have something to say and you just didn’t.

You weren’t sure if she was talking to you or herself when she said, “He’ll make it.” She nodded, still not looking at you. “He made it last time. He’ll make it this time.”

She didn’t say anything else to you, or to the powers that be. No goodbye, no Happy Holidays or anything of the sort. She just kept on walking, leaving you alone once again. You turned your attention back to the closed doors. Brian. You turned the name over in your head as you thought about what he looked like. He might’ve been a Brian. Sighing, you turned and made your way back to the main floor to keep busy while you waited. You’d find out if he was Brian or not soon enough.

It turned out that the doctor on her way out the door had been right. The man who you helped wheel into the ER was in fact Brian Godlock. A name that meant nothing to you but all it took was a quick Google search to see why she would have remembered him. You thought that you were spending Christmas alone, but you couldn’t even imagine what it was going to be like for him.

When you made it to his room in your rounds, he was asleep. Stable, thankfully, but asleep. You checked his vitals, looked over what exactly they’d done to him in the OR, the extent of the work that they had to put into him. It was a waiting game now.

Just as you were updating his charts you saw out of the corner of your eye some movement on the bed. A tiny shift, but it was something. Turning your head, you saw him slowly starting to shift around, his eyes starting to open. You set his chart down and walked over so that you were standing closer to his head. Part of you wanted to reach out and try to offer some type of reassurance, but you didn’t. You watched him slowly come to terms with where he was. His eyelids hung low for a moment as he looked around, but when he fully recognized where he was and why, you saw him starting to get frantic. A lot of people in his position usually did.

“Brian,” you did your best to be mindful of your tone, your volume, “Brian you’re alright. You’re in the hospital, but you’re okay.” You waited for him to look you in the eyes, and it was only then that you continued. “You’re okay.”

He hesitated, staring at you for a few seconds that felt more like minutes. But then you saw it, the slight drop of his shoulders, the almost imperceptible nod of his head. You didn’t know him well enough to know if it was out of compliance or defeat. He wasn’t relaxed, not by any means, but at least he no longer looked like he was about to get up and try to make a break for it. He sunk back against the pillow and you gave a nod of approval.

“Want me to call your wife?” you asked as you stepped back to grab his chart again. When he didn’t respond, you looked over at him, saw the confusion on his face. Nodding towards the gold band around his finger you said, “You didn’t have anyone as an emergency contact, so we didn’t call anyone. But if you give me your wife’s number I can call her.”

He shook his head. You didn’t feel the expression your face must’ve taken on, but whatever it was, it prompted him to motion at you, miming writing with a pencil. Opening the drawer of the cabinet by his bed, you pulled out a pad of paper and a pen and handed it to him. He nodded in thanks as he took it from you. The breath he pulled in was ragged as he found his grip on the pencil and began to write. He wasn’t holding onto it for very long before he handed the pad of paper back to you.

I can’t talk.

Your eyes widened as you shook your head. “I’m so sorry. I haven’t had the chance to read all the way back in your chart.” Clearing your throat, you handed the pad back to him and said, “I can still call your wife if you want.”

He scribbled again. No you can’t.

The look on his face didn’t give you any clue as to why you couldn’t call. Whether he was divorced or if it was something much more tragic than that, you didn’t know. You weren’t going to ask him, either. He’d clearly been through enough without you trying to drag all of that out of him.

“You can’t talk,” you said, allowing yourself a small smile, “and I can’t hear. So I think we’ll be alright.” Looking over at him, you saw the way his brows drew together. You chuckled, turning your head a little more so that he could see your ear and your hearing aid a little better. “Been deaf in my left ear my whole life. Right ear has just been getting worse and worse.” You shrugged. “I learned sign—still learning, actually. It might be helpful for you too.”

He hesitated, and you caught it. You frowned, but you understood. You knew precious little about the man lying on the bed in front of you, but what little you knew gave you enough of a picture. You didn’t know all of the details of what he’d been through that night, but you knew the outcome, the injuries. You knew what happened to his son, and now you knew that something happened with him and his wife. Something was telling you that he hadn’t gone into the evening really planning on needing to communicate with anyone anytime soon.

“Help,” you said simply when you saw in his eyes that he was getting lost in his own thoughts. He looked at you, confused once more. “It’s a good sign for you to know for now.” You put one hand out, palm-up, and made a thumbs-up with your other hand and placed it in your flat palm before lifting both hands in unison. “Help.” You nodded at him. “Try it.”

For a moment you thought that he was going to brush you off. You wouldn’t have blamed him for it. He didn’t know you, didn’t owe you anything. But right now you were all he had, and he was all you had too. Maybe that was part of why he humored you, or maybe there was something else entirely going on in his head. Either way, he mirrored your hand positioning and motions.

You smiled and nodded. “Good. Now you at least know how to ask me for help.”

He nodded, almost lifting the ends of his lips. It was more than you expected to get from someone in his position. He grabbed the pad of paper again and wrote Thank you.

You pressed your fingertips to the front of your chin before pulling them away, letting your arm drop like a drawbridge. “Thank you.” You paused, laughing. “Not to be confused with, you know,” you brushed your fingertips along the bottom of your chin, flicking them outwards, “that one.” You smiled. “That one, everyone knows.”

The smile he gave at that looked a little more real. Still tired, but real enough to make it feel like a win, like a good punctuation mark to the entire conversation. You took a breath and walked back to put the last few details on his chart.

“I’ll be back to check on you in a little while. But,” you set the chart down at looked at him, “you should try to rest. You’ve been through a lot tonight.”

He gave a small nod before pressing his fingertips to the front of his chin and pulling them out and away. You laughed, nodding before stepping out of the room to go about the rest of your business.

The rest of the night wasn’t nearly as busy as when Brian had been brought in. There were no more ambulances and flashing lights. No more sirens. It was quieter for the rest of the night than it had been, but it wasn’t as still as the start of your shift had been. You glanced in Brian’s room when you would walk by even though you couldn’t stop to really check in yet. He always looked like he was sleeping. His eyes were shut.

When you finally made it back to his room, it was with an armful of paperwork. It all had to get done and there was nothing stopping you from completing it while you sat in the chair beside his bed instead of the chair at the nurses’ station.

You didn’t hear him when he started to stir again. You were so focused on the paperwork in your lap that you didn’t catch him out of the corner of your eye, either. Brian could’ve waved to get your attention, could’ve cleared his throat obnoxiously loud as a means to the same ends. Hell, if he wanted to, he could’ve thrown his pencil at you. But instead he just watched you. Watched as you scribbled on the clipboard in front of you, flipping back and forth between the pages. Watched as you gnawed at your bottom lip in concentration, deep in thought.

It wasn’t until you were moving on from one small pile of papers to the next that you looked up and realized that he was awake. You gasped quietly in surprise, eyes widening. Your shocked gasp shifted into laughter as you leaned back in your chair. “Sorry,” you said as you placed your closed fist against your chest and made a circular motion. “Didn’t realize you were awake.”

He raised his eyebrows slightly before tapping his ear with his pointer finger. You rolled your eyes and smiled, knowing exactly what he was communicating to you without him speaking or writing it down. “I know why I didn’t realize it. I’m just saying.” You were about to get back into your paperwork when you saw him copy your sign for sorry. You would have assumed that he was just repeating your motions for the sake of learning if the look on his face hadn’t been so sincere. “Why are you sorry?”

He grabbed the paper and pencil and started writing. He held it up for you to see, his handwriting just large enough so that you didn’t have to take it from him to read it. You’re here on Christmas.

You let out a humorless laugh. “Don’t be sorry. Wasn’t really, um, feeling the holiday spirit much anyway.” You paused. “I volunteered.” Leaning forward, you propped your elbows on your knees. “Lucky for you, though, right?” It was impossible to miss the conflicted look on his face. Letting out a sigh, you said, “I’m not going to ask what happened tonight. Partially because it’s probably a lot to write,” you allowed yourself a tiny smile before continuing, “but also because you’re going to have to answer all of those questions when the cops get here in the morning.” The surprised look on his face would have been amusing if the stakes were different. “Gunshot wounds—they always have to come when there are gunshot wounds.”

He let out a deep sigh, somehow managing to sink deeper into the hospital bed, into the pillow. He shut his eyes for a moment, a long, slow blink before he stared ahead at the wall opposite of him. You thought you’d lost him for the rest of the night before he grabbed his pencil again.

You don’t have to sit here all night.

You smiled, allowing the diversion of the conversation. “I know. But we’re both alone on Christmas. So now, you know,” you settled back in your chair with a fresh slip of paperwork, “now we’re not.”

Despite all of the emotions pooling and swirling around his eyes, he nodded. He moved his pencil for a moment, almost like he was about to start writing. He stared hard at the paper for a few seconds before he let the pencil drop. He looked at the blank sheet of paper for a moment longer before he turned and looked at you instead.

You gave him a small but warm smile as he looked at you, not sure what else you could offer him, or should offer him. It wasn’t much, but it must’ve been the right thing because he let out a deep breath, settling down a bit more. He was still looking at you when you went back to looking at the paper in front of you. You found yourself settling a little bit more too, feeling a little less alone than before.

[storytimewriting]

Watching Paint Dry (HRN3)

Hi everyone!

I know it's been some time, with busy holidays, vacationing, and getting sick on top of that.

But still, I am so excited to update the HR Nightmare Series!

Here are the first two chapters if you have not read them yet, or if you just need a little refresher: Chapter 1: Perpetually Late Chapter 2: First Night at Freddy's  

Again, this is a series that I hold close to my heart. I really hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

I would love to hear your thoughts.

I plan on updating more frequently than I have been! Working on the next chapter as you read.

(word count: about 5.7k)

xx gwen <3

________

HR Nightmare (3)

Watching Paint Dry

You were getting more comfortable in your new job. If you were this comfortable in three weeks, you’re certain you’ll feel at home once you hit a month.

You’ve had a few projects since the last one you worked on with Elle. None of them were anything major, just small designs for advertising and websites mostly, but you loved it. Getting paid to do something you love was a dream come true.

You went to Freddy’s with the same group of people last Friday as well. It seemed as though it was going to become a routine for you and your new group of friends to go out together on Fridays to unwind from the work week.

The more time you spent with these people, the more you learned about them. You were actually starting to feel close to them. You finally felt like you had friends at work.

Nothing has really changed with Elle. You felt more comfortable around her, but that just means you’ve started to get used to her teasing and attitude. For anything you say, she has some smart remark ready to throw back at you. It still gets under your skin more than you’d like to admit, but you’re starting to learn how to deal with her.

It’s Tuesday when Mr. Cooper calls you into his office.

“Yes, Mr. Cooper?”

He holds a finger up to you as you stand in front of the door you closed behind you, telling you this will only be a second. The finger points at the couch against the wall, so you take a seat while you wait for him to finish the phone call.

“Yes,” he speaks into the phone. “Yes, we can do that, too. Of course, we keep all our departments in house.” You can’t hear the person responding on the other side of the line. “Great, just send me the written instructions. We should have it done by the end of the week.”

You fiddle with your fingers as you wait for him to finish. You’re not sure why he didn’t just wait until he was off the phone to call you in, but he looks at you and smiles throughout the conversation, almost as if you were both in on some joke together. You didn’t know why he was smiling.

He throws out a quick goodbye into the phone before hanging up. He laces his fingers together and places his hands on the desk in front of him, smiling wide at you.

“Are you ready for another collaboration?” he asks.

You laugh at his demeanor. Some people think of this man as a hard ass, but from what you’ve seen, he’s quite the softy.

“Of course, sir. Who with this time?”

“Anthony,” he watches your lips twitch upward at his name, then continues, “and Elle.” His smile widens.

Yours drops, but you try to cover the displeasure. He notices anyway and laughs.

“It should be an easy project,” he assures you. “Anthony designed a new website for one of our clients, and they’re looking for someone to add graphic designs.”

“Oh that sounds like fun,” you gush, but quickly your face fades into confusion. “Wait, what does that have to do with Elle?”

“They need a good first blog post to draw attention, and they asked specifically for her to write it. They saw the work you and Elle did with the coffee project, and wanted a similar look to their website and blog,” he explains.

“Okay, that sounds great. When do they want this by?”

“The end of the week. It should be simple enough, but there are quite a few graph designs they want. Both Anthony and Elle will have the details, so they can each direct you through what they need.” He shuffles some papers around on his desk, opens his drawer, and places them in a file. “You can start with Anthony in the conference room since he’s already had a start on the project.”

“Yes, sir,” you smile, then turn to leave.

“Elle will join the two of you shortly. I’m sure she’ll want to assess everything herself before she works in a group,” he tells you before you open the door.

“Okay, thank you Mr. Cooper.”

You leave his office, grab your tablet and laptop from your desk, then walk to the conference room. Anthony has his head buried in his computer and his finger between his teeth as he studies whatever is on his screen. He only looks up when you shut the door. When his eyes meet yours, he smiles.

“Cora,” he cheers. “I’ve been dying to work with the best graphic designer in this company- don’t tell Mark I said that,” he adds quickly.

You laugh. “Of course not. So what are we working on?”

“Mr. Cooper didn’t tell you?” His head tilts with his question.

“He gave me a run down, but he told me you and Elle would fill me in on specifics. I know you designed a new webpage for the company, but I don’t know exactly what graphic designs you’re looking for.”

His eyes stay trained on yours as you speak and he nods his head in understanding. “Ahh,” he waves his hand at you, calling you over. “Let me show you.”

You take a seat next to him, placing your tablet and computer in front of you. He tilts his screen towards you, where you can see a mostly completed webpage. There are a few empty boxes that you assume to be placeholders for where your designs are meant to go.

“It’s for a skating company,” he begins. “They used to be specifically branded for skateboarding, but they want to expand to reach a wider audience. That’s why they’re basically rebranding themselves,” he explains.

“That makes sense. So what kind of designs are they looking for?” You look up at him when you ask.

He holds eye contact with you, a friendly smile painted on his face. Anthony is handsome. Soft brown hair and pretty eyes to match, it makes sense that he would be with someone like Elle. It’s on the tip of your tongue to ask, and you nearly let it slip, but you manage to keep your composure.

“Well, they’ll be adding roller-skates, bicycles, and scooters to the products they sell, so they want the designs to reflect products that all people can buy,” he points to the different sections of the webpage on his screen as he speaks, where you assume the corresponding design would go.

“Did they give you specifics on how they want me to do that?”

“Honestly, not really. They left a lot of room for creative freedom.” His head snaps to yours and his eyes widen slightly. “But they want the overall style to match- they were very clear about that.”

“Okay, so they want a skateboard,” you point to the first blank square on his screen, “roller-skates,” you point to the second, “a bike,” the third, “and a scooter,” then the fourth. You look up at him for confirmation.

He rubs the top of your head endearingly. Generally, an action like this would annoy you, but coming from Anthony it is actually quite sweet. He acts on his emotions, always coming from a good place.

“You catch on quick, kid,” he smiles.

“We’re the same age.”

“Actually, I’m a year and three months older than you,” he corrects.

You shake your head at him. “Okay grandpa,” you tease, “I’ll come up with a few mockups for you to approve of before I start the final designs.”

“Works for me, but you may want to wait for Elle. She’s much more picky with her work than I am, so you probably want to match the designs to her demands,” he warns you.

You sigh. You know he’s right.

“So it’s not just me she’s like that with?” you ask. You nearly cringe when the words come from your mouth. You didn’t even realize you were saying them.

His eyebrows crease slightly, but not in anger. The rest of his face remains soft. “What do you mean?”

“I- well it’s just,” you stumble over your words a bit, not wanting to insult Elle to one of her best friend’s faces. “She’s just not very patient with me. I was scared it was just a ‘me’ thing.”

“Ahh,” his mouth opens in understanding as he nods his head. “No, that’s not just a ‘you’ thing. She can be a little…” he pauses, searching for the right word.

“Harsh?” you offer.

“She’s just a perfectionist,” he corrects. “She doesn’t mean to be harsh, but she’s just always that way with her work. I don’t think she realizes the pressure she puts on other people- or herself, for that matter.”

“What about outside of work?”

“Huh?”

“Is she like that with people outside of work too?” You know you’re pushing boundaries now, but you can’t help it when you’re finally getting the answers you’ve been yearning for.

A knowing smile crosses his face. At the same time his mouth opens to speak, so does the conference room door. Both your heads snap to look at the person walking in.

“Elle, baby,” Anthony calls out. “You miss me so much you gotta come see me on company time?”

“You wish,” she rolls her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitch upward.

She closes the door behind her and walks further into the conference room, taking a seat on the other side of Anthony. She places her laptop in front of her and opens it.

“Did you finish the blog already?” His entire body leans over her, looking at her screen and effectively blocking her view of it as well.

She pushes his head out of the way softly, but he allows himself to be moved. “I got the assignment twenty minutes ago. I’m good but I’m not God,” she shakes her head.

“You’re basically God,” he admits.

He looks at her as though he genuinely believes the words coming from his mouth. Your fingers toy with each other as you watch them interact. You don’t feel you have a place to speak. Honestly, you feel like you’re interrupting something just by being in the room.

That is, until Elle makes eye contact with you. “Have any mock-ups for me yet?” she asks.

“No, I- well Anthony just explained the project to me, but I thought I’d wait for your demands for the designs before starting. I know they’re all supposed to be the same sort of theme, so I want to make sure they’ll match,” you ramble on, offering more information than needed.

Her eyebrows lift as you speak and she attempts to muffle a smile- she’s amused. You’ve gotten much better at reading her.

“Probably smart.”

Her compliments are subtle, and few and far between, but you soak each one in like water.

“So-“

“I have an idea for the blog,” she cuts you off. “But let me see the webpage first,” she pulls Anthony’s computer in front of her to scan over the work he did.

“You like it?” Anthony asks. He leans back in his chair and throws an elbow over the top of it. “I know, I do good work,” he pats himself on the back before she even has the chance to agree.

She side eyes him and shakes her head lightly. “Yeah, yeah. So obviously they’re expanding. I want the blog to speak directly to the potential new customers, without shutting out their initial clientele. I think the designs need to match that- like softer, brighter colors, but I think it would be cool to keep the graffiti look in all the words.” Her eyes drift from the screen, to Anthony’s, to yours, and back.

The two of you stare at her in awe. You’re not sure how her mind comes up with the entire basis of a project so quickly. You almost tell her she should be a graphic designer, but you hold your tongue, scared the words may insult her somehow.

“We know they need to follow a general theme, but it might be smart to add some variation. I mean, they want to bring in varying customers, so we’ll have the designs reflect that.” She looks at you expectantly, and you realize she’s waiting for your confirmation.

“Oh, yes- right- that sounds good. That makes a lot of sense actually,” you clumsily respond.

“Well, yeah. I thought of it,” she says smugly.

“You have to be careful when you compliment this one,” Anthony speaks up. “If her ego grows any more we won’t all fit in here,” he nudges her arm with his.

“Oh shut up,” she laughs.

Was it that easy to soften her up after acting like a smartass? Why couldn’t you change her mood as easily as Anthony does?

“Okay, so should I start with the basic designs for the mockups? Then you both can tell me if there’s anything you want changed,” you offer.

“I’m sure it’ll be Elle who offers critiques,” Anthony says.

She rolls her eyes and pushes her chair back, standing up. “I’m leaving,” she announces. She grabs her laptop, and turns to walk away.

“Oh, come on, Elle,” he whines. “I was only kidding.”

She continues walking towards the door, and doesn’t turn around as she speaks. “I have to work on the blog. If you finish the mockups, send them to me.” She opens the door, steps out, and closes it behind her.

Anthony runs his hand over his face. “Man, I gotta stop doing that,” he grumbles.

“Doing what?”

“I just push her a little too far when I tease her sometimes.” His hands drop from his face and back to his computer. “It’s fine,” he reassures himself.

“Was she upset?” you ask. From what you could tell, nothing seemed to upset Elle. If anything, she always seemed like she couldn’t care less.

“She’ll be fine,” he says instead of answering your question. “Anyway, I have to work on the other pages of the website.”

The two of you work in silence together. You had never spent so much alone time with Anthony, but you can see why people would like him. He’s sweet and comforting and conversational.

You start your designs by drawing the skateboard, and quickly get sucked into your work. This happens often, as soon as you start drawing, it’s like you’re transported into another world.

You finish a few different skateboard and roller-skate designs, and look up to find Anthony with his head still buried in the computer. You bounce in your chair, waiting for him to look up at you, but when he doesn’t, you tap him yourself.

His head snaps to you and he smiles. “Yes?”

“Wanna see what I finished?” You smile proudly. Every time you finish a new design, you can’t help but be excited.

“Of course, Cora. Show me what you got.” He rolls his chair closer to yours to look at your tablet with you.

You hold your tablet in your hands, tilting it towards him. You start with the first skateboard drawing. “Okay, so I have four different skateboards and three different roller-skates to choose from. Tell me your favorite.”

You slide through each skateboard drawing, and Anthony “ooo’s” and “awe’s” at each one. You can’t tell which he likes the most because he is just as excited by every drawing you show him. The same thing happens when you go over the roller-skate drawings.

“These are all so good, Cora. I cannot believe how good you are at this,” he gushes when you finish.

You laugh. “They’re only mockups. They should be even better when I finish the real thing.”

“You should show Elle,” he tells you. “She could probably give you better advice than I can. She always knows how to personalize these projects for our clients better than anyone else.”

You admire how he speaks about her. You honestly can’t blame him. Despite Elle being cold towards you, you still had a lot of respect for her. She was obviously extremely talented, not just at her job, but at everything. She could step over into your field and know exactly what you needed to do or change to make the project perfect.

“Yeah,” you agree as you stand up. “I’ll go do that now.”

“Actually,” he stops you, placing his hand over yours as he pushes his seat back and stands as well. “I have to go discuss something with Mr. Cooper, so I can tell Elle to come in here.”

You nod your head in agreement, sitting back down.  

It’s only a few minutes before Elle walks in, closing the door behind her. She takes a seat next to you, but doesn’t say anything.

“Okay, so I haven’t finished all the mockups yet, but I was hoping you could tell me which you like most so I can try to mimic that style throughout the rest of the designs,” you explain.

“Alright,” she says simply.

You pause for a moment, waiting for her to say more. When she doesn’t, you tentatively pick up your tablet to swipe through the designs. She hums softly at each one, but doesn’t offer her opinion. You almost miss her insults. Her harsh critiques on the first project were what pushed you to create such good designs.

Slightly irritated, you sigh, putting down your tablet. “Are you gonna say anything?”

Her eyebrows pinch together. “What?”

“You always have something to say and now, when I’m actually asking for your critiques, you don’t want to say anything,” annoyance lines your voice.  

“Yeah because you’ll throw a fit if I do,” she bites back.

Confusion crosses your features. “What?”

She rolls her eyes. “Play dumb, whatever,” her arms cross over her chest.

“I’m not playing dumb-“

“Oh that’s right, you were just born that way.” She leans back in her chair, chin tilted upwards so she can look down on you.

You want to respond with an insult to match, but manage to contain yourself. “Look, I don’t ‘throw fits’ or whatever you think. Can you just be your usual bitchy self and critique my designs?”

She glares down at you for a second, eyes drifting around your face, assessing you. She sighs. “Fine. Show me again.”

You start at the beginning, with the first skateboard drawing.

“This is too similar to their original look. We need to put our own twist on it,” her tone is bitchy, but you find comfort in it. She sounds like herself.

You swipe to the next design.

When you see your work in front of her, it’s much easier for you to pick apart. It’s like you know exactly what she will and won’t like.

“Are you showing me the same drawing twice? What’s even different about this one?” Her nose scrunches with her questions.

“The wheels are different,” you defend yourself.

She looks at you flatly. She doesn’t even have to say anything for you to know to move on. You swipe to the next image.

“Okay…” she says hesitantly. “I can see the vision more with this one. It is a bit softer, but almost too much now. This style might work with the other drawings though. I just think the skateboard should be a little less soft than the rest of them.”

A smile graces your lips but you do your best to shield it from her. “Okay, I think you might like this one then,” you swipe to the next image.

“Yes, exactly,” she says excitedly. She quickly covers it up with a snarky remark, “you should’ve just shown me that one first. Could’ve saved me some time.”

You roll your eyes. “Anyway, now the roller-skate drawings.”

You swipe to the first one and as soon as you see it, immediately brace yourself for her critiques. You can already tell she is not going to like this one.

“Is this an ad for a preschool? Why does it look so childish?” They’re rhetorical questions. The cadence in her voice always reflects how she feels. 

You sigh. “I know, fuck, ignore this one,” you lift your finger to swipe to the next drawing.

“Wait,” she stops you. “Why did you draw it this way?” Her tone is softer this time.

Your finger taps the back of your tablet while you contemplate your answer. “I’m not sure,” you admit. “I just thought about all the new customers they would want to bring in, and I figured some would be children, so I think I just drew this one more childlike subconsciously.”

She hums as she takes in your words.

“It looks stupid, I know,” you quickly add.

“No, no,” her eyes stay focused on the drawing. “It just gives me an idea for something else. Can you send this to me separately?” Her eyes meet yours when she asks.

She looks almost sweet this way. Her entire face is relaxed- she doesn’t seem like she’s on the defense for once. Her head tilts slightly to the left, her eyes stare at yours expectantly.

Too caught up in the details of her, you nearly forget she’s asked you a question.

“Oh- yes- yeah I can send this to you.” You curse yourself in your head.

“Thanks,” her eyes continue watching you. Her head straightens back up, one side of her mouth lifts into a smirk. “You can swipe to the next one now,” she encourages you, eyes flicking from yours to the tablet and back.

You break your stare from hers and shake your head. “Right.” You swipe to the next design.

“I like this one. It matches the skateboard we agreed on, but it’s a little softer. I think you should make the colors on this lighter than the skateboard when you do the real piece.”

You appreciate the advice she offers. Truthfully, it saves you time in the long run.

You show her the last drawing as well, but you both agree the second one is best. 

You have a smile on your face by the end of your conversation. Of course, she was her usual bitchy self with her subtle insults and attitude, but she was much nicer this time. She had patience and advice and compliments, and you actually felt like you were able to connect with her in some way.

In moments like this, you understand why everyone seems to like her so much. She’s too easy to connect with, even when she’s being a pain.

Her fingers fiddle with the sleeve of her shirt, rubbing the material between them. “Do you think you can finish the other designs in the same style?”

“Of course. I’m the one who drew it,” you tease.

She scoffs in disbelief. “And you call me a smartass.” She pushes the chair back and stands to leave.

“You don’t have to leave, you know,” the words were out of your mouth before you realized you were speaking them. You weren’t sure why you were saying this, you just wanted her to know she had the option to stay.

“What?” She’s taken aback more than anything.

“I just mean- I know we’re working on this project together. You can work in here with us if you want to,” you offer. 

“I have to focus on my writing. I can’t have distractions.”

“I’ll be quiet. I’m quiet when I draw, anyway,” you throw out quickly.

One side of her mouth lifts slightly. “All my stuff is at my desk,” her voice drawls out, like she’s contemplating staying in the room.

“Just bring it in here,” you offer yet another solution to the problems keeping her out of the conference room. “Do you want me to get your stuff? I have to go check on Anthony anyway,” the lie slips through your teeth easily.

The side of her mouth lifts higher, but she sits. “Alright, if you’re going there anyway,” she agrees.

You scramble out of the conference room. What is wrong with you? There was no reason for you to act this way or offer to get her stuff. You’re sure you look like an idiot desperate for her approval.

Truth is, you wanted to keep this moment going. It’s not often you feel like you have a connection with Elle- not one deeper than annoyance, anyway. If you had the opportunity to keep her in this room longer, it was hard not to take it.

You grab her laptop from her desk and scan to see if there’s anything else you should grab for her.

Her desk is relatively empty. It’s neat and organized, with only a few pictures displayed to personalize it. You assume the main picture is of her and her family. There’s two smaller polaroids tucked into the frame: one of the group of friends in the office and one of her and some girl you don’t recognize.

It takes everything in you not to go through her desk in search of a deeper understanding of her as a person. Despite your curiosity, you manage to grab her laptop and walk away.

You stop by Mr. Cooper’s office to check in on Anthony, but you can see them still in conversation through the window, so you walk back into the conference room with Elle’s laptop and no Anthony.

She’s sitting, leaned back in her chair while it bends to accommodate her posture. One leg crosses over the other at the knee, her foot in the air kicking slightly. Her elbow is kicked back over the top of the chair, exuding confidence from head to toe. Her eyes drift over your frame when you walk in, from your shoes, to her laptop in your hands, to your eyes.

Your feet carry you closer to her. She snickers when you stumble as you get to your chair. You ignore her.

“So where’s Anthony?” she asks.

You place her laptop in front of her. “Still talking with Mr. Cooper. I didn’t want to interrupt them.”

Her eyebrows raise and her jaw drops open. “Oh, you do have a brain,” she exclaims in faux-surprise.

Your face falls flat. “I do you a favor and you return it with an insult?”

Her elbow pushes off the back of the chair, now sitting upright. “Actually, I think you’re doing yourself a favor,” the smugness in her tone sends waves of irritation up your spine.

“How am I doing me a favor?”

As soon as the question leaves your lips, you know you messed up. If you know the answer to the question, you’re sure she does, too. A blush coats your cheeks, embarrassment floods your system.

The next words leave her lips like fact, giving no room to argue, “you like me.”

You scoff, despite the deepening redness of your cheeks. “Yeah, right.”

Her lips curl. “You’re blushing.”

On instinct, your head turns away from her slightly, an attempt to shield the heat from her. “I am not. Fuck off,” you mutter.

“It’s cute,” she laughs.

“I don’t like you,” you insist. “You’re just not being a complete pain in my ass for once.”

“You can admit it,” she persists.

“I don’t-“

“Everyone likes me, Cora. It’s okay,” she coos. She’s taunting you.

“I thought you had work to do,” you change the subject instead.

She smiles like she knows she won. She opens her laptop and, for the first time since you’ve walked back into the conference room, lets her eyes leave you.

“Finish those mockups for me, won’t you?”

You don’t dignify her mockery with a response. Instead, you turn from her and start working on the last few mockups you need to finish.

It’s about an hour of working in silence- well, silence aside from Elle’s constant tapping on her keyboard- when Anthony walks back in.

“Wow,” he sings, “look at the two of you working together.”

You look up from your tablet at the sound of his voice. Elle’s sigh draws your eyes to her, the blank stare on her face aimed at Anthony.

“We were working until you so rudely interrupted us.”

He saunters over, arms swaying with each step, stopping at Elle’s chair and leaning overtop of her. He scans the contents on her laptop, wrapping one arm around her collarbones as he reads.

“You’re nearly done with the blog,” he observes. His arm unwraps from her as he plops himself down in the chair next to hers.

“Like I said, we were working- as in actually getting work done,” it’s like she can’t help the attitude seeping from her lips, but her tone is playful.

He pouts his lips at her. “Are you still mad at me?”

“Yes.”

He rolls his chair closer to her, grabbing the arm so he can maneuver it to make her face him. “How can I make it better?”

Her arms are crossed over her chest. She sighs, eyes looking up towards the ceiling and lip tapping against her chin in faux-thought. “You can buy me a coffee.”

He scrambles from his chair, muttering a quick “deal,” before nearly sprinting out of the room.

You laugh in disbelief. Her chair swivels to turn to you. She tosses her feet onto the table and crosses one over the other at her ankles. Her arms are still crossed, leaning back against the chair, a proud smile painted on her face.

“What?” she asks, as though she doesn’t already know.

“Do you always have people waiting on you hand-and-foot?” You’ve started to understand which jabs dig further under her skin. You figure it’s only fair considering how often she gets under yours.

Though, her smile doesn’t drop. “I do, actually. Are you looking to fetch me something else?”

Your initial jab seems to have backfired. “I’m not playing your games.”

She pushes her lips into a mocking pout. “You did earlier,” she argues. “Fetching my laptop like a good girl,” her cadence is though she were speaking to a dog. 

“You’re an ass,” is what you settle on. Still, your cheeks are burning red.

“Oh my god,” she laughs, “you like that.”

“I do not,” you argue, but your body betrays your words.

“You so do!” She accuses, laughter still heavy in her chest.

Your nails pinch into the fleshy part of your palm, a feeble attempt to control your irritation. You roll your eyes and shake your head, picking up your stylus to continue drawing in an attempt to ignore her.

She doesn’t stop. “Oh, don’t get all quiet on me now.” She drops her feet from the desk to lean closer to you, elbows on her knees. “Come on, Cora, be good and look at me.”

You open your mouth to tell her off, but the door swings open to reveal Anthony with a coffee in his hand and a proud smile on his face.

He stops in front of her. “Am I forgiven?” He bends over, head down and hands holding the coffee out in front of him.

Elle takes it from his hands, has a small sip, and smiles contently, before responding with a simple, “yes.” 

Anthony cheers, head lifting back up. When his eyes meet your face, concern crosses his face. “Are you okay, Cora?”

Before you have the chance to answer, Elle responds. “Oh, she’s ­very good, aren’t you, Cora?”

You should hit her- dump her coffee all over her stupid head- but you’re almost certain that would get you fired in a second. Instead, your nails bite further into your palms and you force yourself to take a deep breath.

Through gritted teeth, you speak, “yeah, just great.”

The three of you work in silence for a bit, until Mr. Cooper calls Elle into his office. She skips there, face relaxed and light on her feet.

“She’s in a good mood now, huh?” Anthony observes.

“Must be the coffee,” you mutter.

Although you know Elle was only teasing you earlier, the words remain echoing in your head, redness seeping into your skin when you think a little too hard about her voice uttering those words.

He laughs at your words. “I better start bringing her coffee every day.”

It’s now when your curiosity has truly gotten the better of you. You don’t want to ask him directly about his relationship with Elle, but you have to know if they’re together. You’ve held your tongue for long enough, you’re sure of it.

“You’d be quite the boyfriend for that,” is what you settle on.

Anthony laughs. Hard. Doubled over in his chair, the sound echoing across the walls. He collects himself for a second, but as soon as he looks at you and begins to speak, the laughter starts again.

Your eyebrows crease together, lips pushed into a frown. What was so funny?

“Do you think-“ a laugh to interrupt himself, “Do you think Elle and I are dating?”

“Are you not?”

He laughs again then, like it was the most absurd thing for you to think. “Absolutely not. Elle’s like my sister. Don’t get me wrong, I adore the girl, but it would never work between us,” he emphasizes the word.

You don’t understand how it could never work between them. Anthony is handsome. Elle is beautiful. They both have faces made for movie screens. They have faces that are supposed to be romantically paired.

“Why not?”

He contemplates his words. “Well, aside from the fact that we’re practically siblings, Elle doesn’t even like men.”

The revelation echoes in your head for the rest of the day. From when Elle walks back into the conference room, to when Mr. Cooper tells everyone to go home, on the train ride back to your apartment, till now, sitting in bed alone.

It shouldn’t affect you. It shouldn’t even matter- it doesn’t matter, you tell yourself.

Elle liking women doesn’t mean she could like you. You don’t even want her to like you. You don’t like Elle, so why would it matter if she liked women? It didn’t. Elle liking women was stupid, pointless information that was about as interesting as watching paint dry.

But you were an artist. You appreciated all forms of art, and you loved watching art form.

You loved watching paint dry. 

[butchkaramazov]

A Shade Darker Than Red: Chapter 8

Chapter 7

A week passed by. Paro was eerily quiet when she was with me, and I thought of what I had said that day. Had I really, truly ruined all my chances of saving even our friendship?

A million thoughts rushed through my head as I turned restlessly in bed, staring at the ceiling.

The ceiling of our bedroom was painted with blue fluorescent stickers shaped like stars. Papa had done that. I had asked Maa to take them off if they bothered her, but we never did.

Beside me, Maa tossed in her sleep. They say if you think of someone, they can’t fall asleep. Could she hear my thoughts?

I had nothing to distract myself with. No phone, no book—nothing. Just me, my thoughts and the stars on the ceiling.

A sudden, vivid memory flashed in my mind. We were six. A year had passed since my meeting with Paro. We were running around like hooligans in the park while our mothers talked about work, pados-wali aunties and whatnot. I still remember what Paro was wearing: a frilly, white frock with Minnie Mouse sewn onto its sleeves. The sky was red and so was our laughter, until Paro bent down and ripped a flower right off its stem. “For you,” she had said, clumsily tucking the flower behind my ear. When she touched my earlobe, the flower was white. When she let go, it was red.

Another memory. We were nine. She sat with me on the bed while I rambled on about my latest hyperfixation: dragons. She listened to every single detail I had mentioned and, by the end of the afternoon, showed me a drawing of a wyvern.

Twelve. I was reading The Priory of the Orange Tree, sitting on the windowsill. I took a sip from my milk tea, letting out a contented hum. I wasn’t on the windowsill anymore. I was Ead, pressing a kiss to Sabran’s brow. Sabran was someone who looked uncannily similar to Paro.

An annoying ding! from my phone forced me back to reality. I heard Maa’s grunts and snores: the coast was clear. 

I climbed off the bed, taking care not to put extra weight anywhere that would make the mattress creak. I walked towards the desk and picked up the phone.

WhatsApp: You have 3 messages.

It was Paro. I checked the time: 3:49 a.m. Paro was a morning person, what was she doing staying up all night?

Paro<3: hi renu are you awake? —00:27 do you wanna hang out on the roof like we used to?  —02:01 its ok if you dont wanna. go back to sleep you have a big day tmrw. actually, if ur awake rn i’ll kill you —03:48

Oh, Paro.

I glanced at Maa, slowly increasing the fan’s regulator. Please don’t wake up soon.

I walked out of the room and closed the door. Thank goodness I’d oiled its hinges last week. 

The main door was locked—opening it meant creating a ruckus. “Shit,” I muttered under my breath. No wait, actually not shit. This meant I’d have to take the old way around. Jeez, fourteen-year-old me was fun.

I opened the door to the balcony and hoisted myself up on its railing. It was an easy jump. I tumbled onto the grass, praying that a grasshopper wouldn’t find its new home in my ear. The grass was wet and the air smelled of petrichor. 

I stood up, smoothening my pyjamas. Staying out late at night was a risky thing, especially in our neighbourhood. Plenty of TicTac-shaped pills here and there, and men on the prowl. I didn’t give a damn. I was eighteen and probably feeling some feelings I wasn’t supposed to be feeling. (That’s a lot of ‘feeling’s, I know.) What could possibly hurt me?

A lot of things, I realised, as I walked up to Paro’s house. Like that mad dog Rathode had warned me about. The creepy guy who keeps children in his basement (just a speculation, but when Madhu speculated about something, it was most probably right). An overspeeding motorcycle that could crash into me any minute. My own mother, with her pots and pans, once she realised I was gone.

Oh well, the damage was done. I found myself opening the gate on instinct, as if I knew Paro’s house better than I did my own.

I stepped into their garden, careful not to trample on any beetles—and made my way to the window of the woman who lived below Paro’s flat. Madame Fosco, I called her, in everything but her looks.

The tin shade Madame Fosco had installed last year was probably on its deathbed by now. Rust had made its edges creaky, but Fosco was deaf, anyway. I grabbed onto it and hoisted myself up, finding myself staring right at Paro’s face, our faces a millimetre away from each other’s. She screamed.

I screamed.

My foot slipped and I fell off the tin shade, tumbling onto the grass once again. At this point, I would be surprised if a grasshopper hadn’t found its home in my ear.

“For Whitman’s sake, hush,” I hissed.

Paro peered out of the window, her mouth forming a perfect ‘o’. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed. 

I shook my head (in case a grasshopper had organised a nice family dinner in my hair) and climbed onto the tin shaft once again, pulling myself onto Paro’s windowsill.

“Come in,” she whispered, switching the lights on. 

I felt comfortable squatting on her windowsill like a failed Spiderman and grumbled as I walked into her bedroom.

Paro switched her phone’s torchlight off. “I’m gonna kill you.”

“What?” I stared at her retreating figure. “What did I do?”

“Why are you still awake?” she snapped. I followed her to the door.

“Why are you still awake and staring out of your window like Oscar fucking Wilde?” I snapped back. Paro flipped me off while trying her hardest to pull the gates across the door. Sweat shone on her forehead, her eyes illuminated in the moonlight.

“Hold on, let me help,” I offered, gently grabbing her wrist. Paro grumbled, stepping aside.

I pushed the gate back and pulled it in again, keeping the screw in with my thumb. It glided into the opening on the other side, miraculously not making a single noise. I turned towards Paro. She was staring at my arms.

“What?” I asked her, incredulously. One moment she said she wanted to kill me, and the next she looked at me like I was something she couldn’t quite wrap her head around.

“N-Nothing,” she muttered. My heart fluttered. Dammit, these butterflies in my stomach had turned into fucking bats at this point.

Paro walked up the stairs while I followed her footsteps in the dark. “Just like the old times, huh?” I heard her say.

I smiled weakly. “You make it sound like we're old.”

Paro opened the door to the roof, the tensed line in her jaw glinting in a sliver of moonlight. God, she was as beautiful as ever.

“Come in,” she said, her words echoing in the marble walls.

I followed her to the railings, leaning against the cool surface. A light breeze rippled through, making her hair fly for a brief second. Dear God, she was poetry herself.

“Where are Auntie and Uncle?” I asked, trying to break the silence.

A light breeze caressed my cheeks. “They won’t be back before tomorrow. Business trip,” Paro explained, edging closer to me.

“Oh.” I was suddenly aware of the pen still tucked behind my ear.

Silence.

“So we’re—we’re all alone, then?” I asked her, hoping she wouldn’t hear the slight quaver in my voice.

Paro nodded. “We are.” Silence, again.

She leaned against the railing. “You’re going away in three weeks.”

I nodded, not quite knowing what to say.

“I asked you a question.” Her voice was cold and harsh, harsher than I deserved. 

“That was a statement,” I snapped. “And don’t use your CEO voice with me.”

Paro frowned. “I’m not.”

“You are.” I glared at her. “And you know it.”

She stared at me, scrutinising my every feature. “I’m sorry,” she finally said, letting out a sigh. “I’m sorry. It’s just been—you’ll be gone—and—”

“I know, it’s okay,” I heard myself murmur, edging closer towards her.

“I—I’ve got that Poe book with me,” she said. “Do you want it now or at the graduation party?”

“Now,” I said, without thinking. “The party will be too loud. And too crowded,” I added as an afterthought.

Paro bit her lip so hard I was scared it would bleed. “Alright,” she nodded. “I’ll get it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

I watched her retreat into the shadows, taking the white along with her. The night was a pool of blood, again.

I hummed. Did she know about the history of ‘OK’? Probably not. I’d tell her. Not knowing things I wouldn’t be able to tell her before we drifted apart wasn’t a good idea. At least she’d be able to tell her children that their Renu Auntie had told her about the history of ‘OK’. Maybe she’d sigh and think of me, again. Words were a certain but clumsy way into a person’s mind. 

Papa had told me that. Maybe that’s why I can’t stop thinking of him.

Did Paro know about Jinnah? That Netaji might’ve actually been alive? Did she know that birds came from lizard-hipped dinosaurs? There was so much I had to tell her before I vanished from her mind. It was pathetic. Scrambling onto every crumb of unrelated information I could find, just to hang onto her thoughts, stay on in her mind for a little while longer.

“I’m back,” Paro said, stepping into the moonlight.

She looked like Aphrodite, the goddess of love born from love itself, in all her glory—clutching a book of Edgar Allan Poe, the letters of which shone in the lamplight or moonlight, that I do not know.

“For you,” she said, handing me the book.

“It’s beautiful,” I gasped as I ran my fingers along the edge of its spine. It was a leatherbound book, The Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe written in shiny gold lettering. I opened the first page. To Renu, it said. Keep me in your mind, always. From, Paro.

I chuckled, flipping through the pages. “Of course I’ll keep you in my mind, Paro,” I laughed. “What a silly thought!”

Paro looked at me, hope faintly glimmering in her eyes. “You will?” Her voice had softened down to a murmur.

I looked at her incredulously. “Well, duh, Paro, I can’t just forget my best friend of thirteen years now, can I?”

Paro’s lower lip trembled. “You promise?”

I smiled. “Always.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

A comfortable silence followed and as we looked at the stars, I knew we were both smiling.

@avani-amulya @manujanolavu @nirmohi-premika @lovesickpdf @arachneofthoughts @sonilaalbindi @desi-yearning @alhad-si-simran @thatpagalchokri @trashmeowcan @waitingforthesunrise @vellibandi @thesunandstarss @chanda-chamke-cham-cham @damnn-dorothea @the-unhinged-fanwinggg @watchingblsnowandforever @disproportionatelysculpting @bundle-of-glitter @bibliophile-dendrophile please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist <3

[autism-spectral-theorem]

hi posting third chapter of my death note fic on this account whatever. not a lot happens yet but L appears in this one. (ao3)

(first chapter)

(previous chapter)

It was as if only a second had passed when he opened his eyes to the ringing of his alarm. Usually, he could wake up at whatever time he wanted with no need for an alarm, but he had set it as a precaution so he would not be late to school in case he accidentally fell asleep during one of the last few sleepless nights. He sat up in bed and stretched. It would probably take several more nights of good sleep for him to be completely well rested, but he no longer felt so sleep deprived, and his hand hurt less. For the sake of his health, he was definitely going to have to ease up on the judgements.

“Thought you’d never get up.” Right. There was a demon in his room.

“Good morning, Ryuk. I hope you didn’t cause any trouble at night.”

“Hyuk, hyuk. The human world is fun. I flew around and ate some apples.”

Light decided not to press about where exactly he had acquired those apples, but made a mental note that the shinigami’s affinity for apples may come to be a useful piece of information. “Alright. Have fun, but don’t let other humans know you’re here, or they might catch me and your fun will be over.”

***

A group of his classmates was gathered by the entrance to the school. Everyone appeared to be animatedly discussing something. Could it be? He greeted them. “What’s going on?”

A quiet girl from his class whom he had never really talked to previously (though he did recall watching her draw in class, creating near photographic representations of their classmates and teachers) turned towards him. “Have you read the news?”

“I haven’t really been online the past few days. Busy studying. What happened?”

“So busy with your studies that you barely remember us simple mortals, of course, Yagami. Last night, in the span of less than an hour, ten of the world’s richest people donated all their wealth to charity and dropped dead. Then, people on social media started noticing that the past few days, people have been dying under similar circumstances. Some members of criminal organizations around the world have turned themselves and their accomplices in before dying immediately after. Serial killers, rapists, child abusers. It would seem obvious that this is the doing of some government, maybe the CIA or something, but the thing is, corrupt government officials have been dying too, and the events of last night probably eliminate this possibility. Some people have even been saying it’s divine judgment, that those who harm others are being eliminated. It’s just speculation of course. I’m sure everyone here would be curious to know what you think.”

It was all going according to plan. Light suppressed his smile and pretended to be deep in thought, as if taking in this information for the first time. “Very interesting. I can’t say I have heard of something like this happening before, though that much is obvious. Normally, I would say these are just accidents that happened to coincide, but the probability of such a series of coincidences happening is so unlikely that if this was a scientific study we would be forced to conclude something else is going on here. My guess as to what exactly is as good as yours though.” He told everyone he would see them in class and politely excused himself. 

For once, Light was grateful he did not have to pay attention in class because it gave him time to reassess his situation and plan ahead (while ignoring Ryuk’s antics in the background). His initial actions were hasty and based on limited information. He had done the best he could with the large number of unknown variables, but now that he knew for certain that he was in for the long run, it was essential to assess every aspect at play and pursue the optimal course of action.

So far, he was pleased with the results, but it was too early to tell how everything would play out, and if any unpleasant surprises would surface. What he did the day before was a necessary gamble. It was a bold move to go for some of what would seem like the most important targets so early, and he had hesitated. He was not an idiot and it was obvious to him that it was unlikely that all billionaires would suddenly start giving away all their money and restructuring their enterprises according to the principles of worker democracy. The far more likely outcome would be that they would store their assets in offshore accounts, with the bonus of tax evasion, and it would be anywhere between extremely time-consuming and impossible for him alone to figure out who owns what. Perhaps at that point he could rely on his supporters (at this point in time, he did not know of any supporters, but he was sure there would be many people who would see his righteousness eventually).

Given this, it would seem to any reasonable observer that this was an impulsive move expected of a teenager given too much power. But to Light, this was a lower-risk move compared to starting by eliminating “bad” political leaders to make a point, because it was more attention-catching yet did not pose as much of an issue with finding replacements. And just as one cannot win a game of chess using only pawns, he could not achieve his goals by going only after small targets.

***

Bathed in the blue glow of monitors in his dark office, L stacked a dozen sugar cubes into his tea and pressed on them with a spoon, watching the hot tea seep into the sugar, softening and dissolving it. He stirred it slightly, took a sip of the slightly crunchy sugary slush, then brought his eyes back to the screen.  

An unlikely series of deaths around the world had caught his attention in the past week. Such things were not extraordinary in his work, but what was extraordinary about this case was the worldwide spread of victims, lack of any kind of physical evidence, and almost deliberate conspicuousness, as if the killer (if there was one, and this was precisely the point that led L to suspect there was) wanted to be noticed. It was so conspicuous, in fact, that he predicted it would be a matter of a few days before law enforcement agencies noticed and contacted him.

Something caught his eye. Impossible! He took this thumb out of his mouth and stared. There was no doubt now.

His phone rang.

[wonderlandleighleigh]

@stacykvlo Asked for a follow-up to this

So let’s see.

She sheds her coat in Lenny’s front hall, hanging it up before wandering back towards the bedroom.

Her mother isn’t thrilled about their arrangement. That she keeps some belongings at Lenny’s place, and Lenny has things at her apartment, but it’s practical more than anything else; her health being the way it is.

She slips out of her dress and corset, and pulls Lenny’s bathrobe off the hook on the back of the door. Nothing fancy, but warm, and it smells like him and that beats the hell out of most luxury dressing gowns. She wraps it around herself, and grabs a fresh undershirt from Lenny’s drawer before wandering to the bathroom and drawing a bath.

She shivers a little, the remains of the frigid night air still on her skin, even as the room fills with steam. She glances in the mirror critically, pulling the robe aside to take a look at the scar still prominent in the middle of her chest.

Midge sighs softly. It won’t ever go away. It will always be there, but as Lenny reminded her once, it’s a battle scar. Proof of life. 

And really, the only person who gets to see the whole thing, all the way to it’s end, is Lenny. And if it doesn’t bother him, she can live with it, she thinks.

It would have bothered Joel.

Joel already looks at her like a stranger. Ever since she fainted in the street that time, it’s like he doesn’t even know her. 

And maybe that’s fair. It’s been nearly a year since her accident. It’s coming up. And she feels as though she really has changed. Whether for better, worse or still similar enough not to matter, Midge isn’t sure, but she knows her family and friends have noticed. 

And she knows Joel hates it.

“Not that it matters,” she says softly as she sheds the robe and her panties and slips into the bath. 

She sinks in, her bones loosening up as the heat hits her skin, and she closes her eyes. She doesn’t want to keep thinking about Joel. There’s no use in it, and she doesn’t really care about this current version of him enough to give it more thought. 

Her set went well. Lenny came to see it with his friends, which is always a good time. She wishes she’d been able to go out with them. Stay out later, but this is for the best. She needs to rest, and he needs to have a good time. 

She feels her mind drift, and when she opens her eyes again, she hears the door open and close, and Lenny’s voice calling her name. 

“Bathroom,” she calls back, sitting up and taking a breath, looking around blearily. 

The door opens and Lenny peeks in, smirking, obviously a little tipsy. “Hello.” 

Midge smiles at him. “Hi. I think I fell asleep for a little while.” 

“That’s good, though,” he tells her, stepping in and handing her a towel as she carefully gets to her feet and wraps it around herself. “Rest is good.” 

“Well, maybe not amphibious rest,” she jokes, grinning and pecking his lips. “Did you have fun?” 

“You know? I did. We hit a couple of more places, saw a truly terrible comedy act at the last spot, and then called it a night.”

She smiles as she brushes her hair a little. “Sounds good.” 

“It was. It would have been more fun had you been there,” he tells her, gazing at her softly. “But we made due.” 

Midge turns and pecks his lips again, only for him to pull her in for something longer and more passionate. She moans softly, dropping her hairbrush. “Lenny...” 

“I did miss you,” he tells her, a playful spark in his eyes. “And you are naked but for a fluffy towel.” 

“I am also really tired,” she says apologetically. 

Lenny sighs softly and kisses her one more time. “Then I’ll check in in the morning and see if you’re feeling a little more excitable.”  

“Good plan,” she says, stroking his neck gently. “I really am glad you had fun. I know that things can be a lot more stressful than maybe you thought you’d signed on for...” 

“Don’t start that,” he pleads. “The stress is worth it because I get to come home to you naked in my bathtub. I like coming home to you naked in my bathtub, it’s a very pleasing sight.” 

She laughs a little. “All I’m saying...” 

“I know,” he nods. “But I’m good. Really.” He glances around then and freezes, an eyebrow lifting as he spots his bathrobe. “Were you wearing that?” 

“I hope you don’t mind.” 

“The mental image of you wearing that and nothing else is very, very appealing, so no, I do not mind,” he grins. “Just as long as you wear it while I’m home sometime.” 

“I could wear it for you now...” 

“In the morning maybe,” he says, kissing her cheek. “I’ll leave you to it and meet you in bed.” 

She smiles and kisses him one last time before letting him go. 

[squadrah]

From My CuriousCat

"La Squadra have just robbed a bank and are now about to treat themselves! What are they going to do?"

First things first, let's set the scene: they pulled off this heist in another country (it's 2001, they can have a little euro), so they stole back to Italy with Formaggio and Illuso smuggling all these riches with their Stands - boy, were they exhausted by the time they got back. Probably slept for a day. The team actually waited for them to wake up before they started having any "real" fun, but while the smugglers slept, Risotto divided up the money into ten portions: nine members each, and the communal reserves (basically their "bills and nice things for everyone" money.)

As soon as Formaggio and Illuso woke up, everyone showered and got dressed to the nines, and they went out to a really nice place to eat. They then spent the rest of the night at the gay bar delivering the karaoke event of the century. They've earned it. Everyone at the bar had earned it. Some of them got laid.

Sorbet added every single cent of his share to his dream wedding fund, and Gelato used some of his share to complete the budget, putting away the rest for "fun" (mostly drinking). Naturally, the wedding was held as soon as possible: Sorbet looked fabulous in his custom drag dresses (he had several), the wedding celebration literally lasted three days, and nobody but La Squadra was invited - rip to the Boss but they're different. They then spent one more week at the five star hotel Sorbet had chosen as the wedding venue. They got drunk every single day, danced and partied, and most of them got laid. (Or all of them, but my money is on most of them.)

Formaggio sat down, divided his share in half, then visited his step-father in secret and disposed of him in a "happy accident". He then started leaving sums of money at his mother's place in cash not to draw attention to himself or her. She and Formaggio's younger siblings lived a better life after that day.

After hearing about Formaggio's plans, Risotto did something similar for his living family without actually meeting them in person not to endanger them; it made him feel much better after years of living in isolation from his loved ones. He also bought the most luxurious funeral bouquet for his cousin and set it on his grave in person.

Melone updated his favorite collections (hardware, toys, candles) and booked a trip to a thermal water spa and hotel. It did not fix everything wrong with his health, but he claims it all but replaced his joints with something much more functional. Set the rest aside for emergencies of every sort.

Ghiaccio finally went to the Alps and had the skiing trip of his life. He made himself White Album skis and blasted through the mountains nonstop through the day, and each night he wound down in one of those cosy little cabins he used to fantasize about. Might have bought one of them too, why not.

Pesci geeked out and bought himself comics and merchandise, updated his wardrobe, and got the coolest motorcycle you've ever seen. He can't even drive a motorcycle, what was he thinking? Melone is teaching him now in exchange for being allowed to use it sometimes.

Illuso bought himself several secure containers and unloaded the vast majority of his hoard into them, making room for new stuff to hoard. He then realized that he barely had any furniture in his apartment and ordered some online. He's filling up his home with more clutter as we speak.

And Prosciutto? He went AWOL. For a month.

[abroadchangedme69]

Four nights in Lyon.

I’m still behind but I’m catching up. I’m writing this in Porto and I’ve been to Avignon and Nice before this, but that’ll be in the next post.

I really enjoyed Lyon, and it was nice to spend a bit more time in one place. The city is beautiful but I don’t understand what it is about being French that makes a person unable to pick up after their dogs. It’s really striking, there’s just dog shit on the sidewalks everywhere. But I had a nice slow-paced stay, though I wasn’t able to rest as much as I would’ve liked due to the inhuman snoring by my bunkmate. The noises and the volume at which he made them were truly concerning. Sounded like a duck was choking to death in the bed next to mine. Most of the time when a person snores it’s on and off during the night, but this man snored all the way through the night. And he slept like 12 hours a night. First in bed and last to leave. He actually almost never left the room. He also smelled disgusting so we chose to open the windows and sleep in the cold with the mosquitoes. I’d rather be eaten alive by mosquitoes (and I was) than sit in that stench. I try to be tolerant and compassionate but -without speaking a word to me- this man tested me. I haven’t felt contempt for a person like I did in that dorm room, sleep-deprived, being wrestled back into consciousness as soon as I’d manage to slip out of it by that man’s violent snoring.

While Lyon did not prove to be the relaxing experience I had hoped for, there’s nothing like a common enemy to bring people together. I was pretty much instantly friends with the other roommates. Hell of an icebreaker.

I met a 23-year-old German named Carl who just graduated college and plans to keep studying law. We went out for drinks. He falls into a category in which I would include Jonathan (the Swede from Faro) and a few other friends I’ve made over the years. Mature, thoughtful, cultured, intelligent, humble. We had some really enjoyable conversations about a wide range of topics. One moment that stuck out to me was when we were talking about travel, and people that travel. We both agree that traveling isn’t a personality trait, though some people you meet might make it seem otherwise. You don’t become a new person by traveling, you’re just the same person in different circumstances. Traveling does give perspective though which is important for self-understanding, and that can lead to growth. But it’s not automatic.

I spent the next evening with Thinh, a 29-year-old Vietnamese-Polish cook (formerly a digital marketer) and Charlotte, a 22-year-old gemologist. I had fun hanging out with them. While we were at a bar after I’d had a couple drinks I got on the topic of ants (shocking). I think I started by talking about how I used to dissect ant brains, then I moved on to what makes ants such an effective animal. I brought up game theory to try to illustrate my point, and I even ended up drawing the prisoner’s dilemma matrix on scrap paper. I have no idea if I got my point across effectively but Charlotte was very complimentary of my passion so I’ll take it. I also asked Charlotte for her initial impression of me and she said introverted and “adorable.”

On my final night I went to dinner with Thinh. I really don’t enjoy going to restaurants alone nearly as much as I do with company. Especially when the person I’m with is a cook that can speak the local language. Thinh quit a comfortable desk job in London to become a cook with very little experience, which is something I respect. But I’ve gotten used to being around people like that. When someone else me that they quit their job, sold all of their belongings and decided to live a nomadic lifestyle, that’s not out of the ordinary to me in the slightest. I’ve met so many people with a similar story. It’s odd to think about. Before I left, lots of people told me how they’d be afraid to do what I’m doing or that I’m somehow “brave.” I don’t think about it that way, it’s more that I got bored out of my mind and needed to break the cycle. That’s very much been the norm among the people I’ve met on this trip.

Later that night a pair of 18-year-old Canadian girls named Rosie and Octavia invited me to get ice cream with them. I’d met them earlier that day while I was doing laundry. All the ice cream places were closed so we ended up just walking around Lyon for an hour and a half. They were a funny duo. I enjoy seeing when friends develop a sense of humor between them. Most of it was them excitedly telling me stories about their travels while I’d inject dry humor into the conversation.

So yeah, that was Lyon.

[allamalad]

TLDR OC ART PLUS HARMLESS RANT WITH NO ILL INTENTIONS TOWARDS PEOPLE INVOLVED

Ik I never post here but I just wanna clear things up just incase my oc ends up getting stolen (I'm pretty sure it's just my anxitey being funky but idk)

I don't have any screen shots or anything since I was so suddenly kicked, but yeh.

I got kicked out of a roleplay with no explanation even though I had been with them for a little over a year now or so. (Mind you I had a very positive relation with everyone there, nothing controversial happened at all as far as I'm aware of) We had a small minor disagreement (or at least i thought it was small) about how my posts were written for my two recent actions for my ocs. Mind you I wrote them in the middle of the night so it wasn't the best. They told me, so I did my best to fix them. I told them I'd be inactive, but if there was anything else I could fix they send me a message about it and I'd fix it. Due to being at orientation I could not be on until I got on my plane to go home. I sent em a quick message that I'm done with all my classes/orientation stuff before lift off. Then, when I got home after meeting with my irl friends on minecraft for a bit since we hadnt talked in a while, I realized I had been kicked.

Options are either they suddenly didn't like how I was the only minor (and of this post being out, still am a minor) in the roleplay, they didn't like how I was inactive for ONLY 3 days with warning before hand for my orientation, or they didn't like how my ocs were being written in the current situation of the rp.

I attempted to explain as I was concerned and confused, I was completley transparent with them. However the main person and their friend both ghosted me. And then by the morning they had blocked me.

What makes me anxious is if they're going to weoponize my ocs and kill them off and use their deaths to give character to the other goobers without my permission. And the main person in charge of the rp said they wanted to make a book based off of the rp. One of the other peeps in the rp did at one point try to add some elements from Valerie's back story (my oc) which is extremely spesific to him, it's not a general apocalypse characteristic. However after I talked to them about it, we sorted it out. (It was not an agressive interaction btw, I had no ill intent towards them, just a small concern)

So.. yeah. if you see any goobers looking similar descriptions characteristics or the names Krisper and Valerie Vesper, just know those are my ocs being stolen. I like to hope they would never do something like this. They were genuinley nice people and I was glad to rp with them, I just wish they explained to me why they did what they did. It genuinley hurt me to have people and characters I was familiar and cool with for a long while suddenly disappear, I just hope nothing bad comes from it.

It was truely fun while it lasted though, and I hope they have fun still too. I'm pretty attached to these two ocs, so ima probably make their own little zombie apocalypse universe to exist in with their own little arcs and get rid of connected story bits to the rp, as I do not want to steal the other roleplayers ocs.

(ps these old drawings comparison prove they have been my ocs since the beginning, theres also an animation on my YouTube channel @allamalad. So yeah, art cpmparison also serves as proof just incase anything does happen. Also yes my signature has developed from [ANNA] to AG to not really using it that often anymore lol. Feel free to see the progression of that on my instagram also @allamalad if you need proof.)

[winter-spark]

Reposting a Reblog as a Separate Post #2

[I might be less lazy with editing this one or I won't. If I was lazy but edited it I'll just cross off things lol, If I wasn't lazy and added edits it'll be in brackets, if I don't edit something that should be edited 🤷🏾‍♀️ have fun. Also this is still a copy and paste just so you know.]

[Related posts for 'context': initial thought, sketches I did]

So you're probably thinking "Gee Spark you're gonna talk to yourseldf some more about some no one asked about" to which I say:

I will answer your inqury on what I was going for for their clothes! At least as to what I was trying to inspire their outfits off of.

So first up the Orange's outfit 'moodboard':

There's one more outfit I want in consideration for this but I'll explain in it a second. So! I really think Orange might like to wear the sort of jacket thing Yuki's got on there, and while I opted out of the choker for him I do think he'd wear multiple necklaces. As for Citron's outfit there, I like the belt.

Also, those large gold bracelets seem to be mandatory and possibly a while jumpsuit of sorts. The owl earrings I legit just found right now(or well last night because I did fall asleep writing lol) to give an idea of what his earring might look like when I finalize it and pick out an Owl for it. I'm not sure if he always had an Owl earring or not but if he didn't that's fine because then it could be his little piece of abroad that he keeps with him, but if he did that's also fine because it's a sliver of his interests and personality shining through.

There was one more outfit I wanted here but oh well you don't need an image. It was the one with flowers on it. I think if Orange is allowed to wear some with more designs than what we've seen Citron and Tangerine in, it'd have flowers on it. Why? Well after all he's a nature boy. I know because they[/the company] telepathically told me when I was trying to draw him.

[Editing in this new version of the post here, too lazy to cross out and adjust last paragraph but I did think I should update this part: I didn't want to include the picture initially because I'm not tagging these character and I know one of my moots doesn't vibe with the character in this outfit so I hope croping his face out helps in case they see this. Here's the picture.

I don't think either sketch includes the scarf but I think I did consider it a lot when I was initially sketching them]

Okay so next up Navel's outfit "moodboard":

So here we go. I like the collar on Sakyo's outfit. Then I think Navel would have a visible choker like Citron does(tho tbh in my head it looks more like Yuki's but to avoid confusion I didn't put Yuki in this set.) There's the flowy part of the outfit & I'm leaning towards how Sakuya's is but Idk for sure, I kinda also really like the whole shoulder section of Sakyo's outfit so Idunno. He probably definitely has the stars though like Sakuya does. (As you can see I'm less sure on this outfit lol.)

[edit/Update: If you saw the other pictures I had here no you didn't:

THIS. Like like when I had the pic with Tangerine's outfit from this event I was confused why I picked it but I liked the energy like the soft poofiness of it and I sorta want a similar vibe, this sorta has that same vibe. BUT also like the collar!!! I want Navel to have a collar somewhat like this so that his choker that he definitely has is visible!]

Anyway, longer hair seems to be a trend for the royal family and Citron only sometimes wears a ponytail. SO why not let Navel have a ponytail? I think that Navel would try to differentiate himself from Orange in some ways since they're always together and so close in age(confirmed in my heart) and so a ponytail is a good start and easy to do.

I know that these ponytail cuff things exist. While looking up pictures for these, I learned that a lot of them have elastics in them? I didn't know they did? But regardless, I think that Navel should have one. Maybe without the elastic like the rhinestone one, but be bigger and more solid like the second one. It for suresies should have a star design on it. He loves the stars, fact.

So yea that's what I have. Just struggling to articulate it. Thanks for reading this.

Anyway. Yea. I know I'm kinda like the only one here but like if anyone wants to help with these outfits or has any additions or anything feel free to add on.

[themiserymarquis]

Round 2 Blind Date Losers

Here we go again! I ain’t gonna be able to draw all of them. Have some more blurbs under the cut. Round 3 soon. Ask me questions about any of them if you’re curious! Remember also to send more questions so I can have some to choose from!

1 - Heiko Masayoshi - Code MORATORIUM - Under Observation. One of the two AUs of her that I’ve placed in the tournament, though she is very similar to her other counterpart. She’s a lot happier here, without as much forced brainwashing and emotional suppression. Her ability is to provide a sort of assisted abstinence for someone, whether they wish to perform a certain action or not. This requires precise wording, similar to how a legal team would draft a contract. Her ability is being studied, as her breath contains unique fungal spores due to the parasite that has bonded to her that can potentially be synthesized to create an effective drug to combat withdrawal symptoms from drug addiction. Original Universe, Blight.

2 - Navel “Nav” Aurembiax - Engineering Speciality (Orange Crewmate). One of my citrus-named OCs, Nav is just a poor guy that wishes that she could be a lesbian in peace without her crush being an alien that wants to literally eat her. Please. This explains why she doesn’t like the color blue. Among Us.

3 - Rhys Moor - Bovine Enforcer of the Frisco Territory. As a Cow Puncher that classed-up into a Bovine Enforcer due to her burning hatred of cattle, she has a kill count that’s racked up HIIIIIGH from all the hellcattle that she’s sent to rest. She wields silver plated weapons, which consist of a pickaxe and an axe- one to hold something in place, and the other to slash wildly with. Fun fact! She just went up against an alternate version of herself! West of Loathing.

4 - ??? - Sorry. Can’t reveal anything here. Maybe you can do some detective work? Shadows Before Loathing.

5 - Belladonica Fiore - Ossidiana Sanguigna, Grade 3 Fixer of Saturn Office. She’s a hot lady who sings opera and wields a giant axe made of an obsidian-like material that gets stronger the more blood it’s in contact with. It’s designed to shatter into a million pieces and reform itself once it draws enough blood. A hot temper, even dreamier voice. You just need to endure her long enough when she’s not on stage ;) Project Moon

6 - Chisako Takahara - Last Kin of the Takahara Clan, Holding a Remnant of Her Mother. Due to the recent war that’s taken place, due to greed, insolence, and foolhardiness, the entire main branch of the Takahara Clan has been wiped out, besides a single daughter who’s run away from those troubles before it happened. Her mother died in anguish and anger, and was exorcised before she could do any harm. A fragment of her spirit nestled into her daughter, whose hair soon grew white instead of dark blue, and a simmering anger brewed beneath her lid. No amount of punishment for acting unladylike could crush her spirit, and soon she was bestowed an honor from the region’s god, so that no one could really scold her too much after that. Still, she wanted to run away, and so she did. Now, in the rubble of the family she’s hated so much, Chisako has to think about the responsibility she has for the welfare of the people.

7 - Kiyoshi Kawai - Grade 4 Fixer of Trim Office, Tailor. The Office he belongs to is affiliated with the Shi Association, of which deals in assassinations. While he sometimes takes part in the Shi jobs, he deals with cleanup, disassembling bodies until they become nothing but the contracted parts by turning them into thread. Of course, this is only if the material is of fine enough quality and permission is granted. Though, he keeps this skill hidden because human silk Tailors are often to be poached. Otherwise, there’s some other work that’s significantly riskier but far more profitable; rescuing a civilian who has gotten caught out in the Backstreets at Night. Hundreds of thousands of Sweepers clean the streets in these few hours and their numbers are nothing to gawk at! Yet, because of his manifested blade that can cut through any flesh it touches, these Sweepers are cut down to become more cloth for this Tailor. Project Moon.

8 - Paul - VIOLENCE QUOTIENT. Sinner of Limbus Company. Paul, Paul, Paul. I’m actually surprised he lasted this long. He’s inspired by a character of the same name in a manhwa called “Unhinged,” and I’m very sad that season 2 isn’t licensed in English. Much of his backstory stays the same from his source material only because so little needs to change in order to fit into Project Moon. He’s nervous, paranoid, and believes that any sudden movement towards him is a threat to die. He’s been conditioned to believe that it’s kill or be killed and he must strike first, since it’s the only way to live. Being locked in a dirty room for a long time with only the company of the people sent inside to kill him, he’s needed to resort to consuming the corpses of those unfortunate souls. He’s done it before. He’ll do it again if it’s necessary.

[ocean-anchored]

Dear future self… February 6, 2023

Things I’m thankful for this past week - rest and my family.

Spent some quality time with meliss on Wednesday going for wings and shopping which was nice. I feel like we haven’t had one on one time in a little while so it was needed. Gamed with Steven Friday night which was fun. Went snowshoeing for the first time with Amber, we did Sawmill loop in kananaskis and it was such a perfect day. It was beautiful, a great trail, warm & nova was amazing. I seriously love this girl Amber, she’s like a long lost sister. We just talk for hours and hours about everything. We talked about how some people just drain your energy & when you leave from hanging out, you’re tired & empty. I don’t ever feel that with her. She’s always so bright & happy, she’s so funny but we can have serious, deep conversations too & we always seem to be on the same page or so similar in things. I really feel like she’s going to be a lifer and I hope she is.

Sunday was good, finished the essentials group. Sometimes I feel pressured at this church because they emphasize on growing & outreach in the community etc. the essentials group was really good and amazing at explaining things, explaining how important church is and that when you’re Christian, everyone’s a disciple. I feel very overwhelmed by it though, maybe because I always see it in a bible thumping way, or people who shove religion down people’s throats but God knows I’m not like that, I know he can change me but I don’t feel called to go around telling people they’re going to hell if they don’t accept Jesus & believe He died for their sins. I have a lot of mixed feelings about it. It’s really sad & I really can never comprehend what life is after death, being in the kingdom of God. What does it look like to live forever in spirit? To be in the heavens? There’s no sorrow, no shame, no sadness, no anger, no resentment, no self pity, no worthlessness. I can’t even imagine it and then imagining that some people in my life and so much of this world isn’t going to experience that because they’re not saved, idk that’s such a big task. Such a big burden almost. It’s hard to comprehend. Church is really good & every teaching has explained so much to me. We’re going through the book of Genesis & I’ve never truly understood it like I have been now. I’m always so challenged & the pastor always unlocks so much more in a few verses that I never understood before. It’s crazy but amazing. It’s nice to be meeting more people and seeing some of the same faces. Putting myself out there and going to more groups to meet people.

I really do feel like this year there’s a shift. That I feel like I’m finally focused on the important things in life & God is showing up. In so many places. Like God has literally done so much, opened so many doors, closed so many doors and has brought so many opportunities already this year that it makes me so excited. I’m happy. Like yah I have some moments where I’m sad I’m not in a certain place, or doing something else, or have found a partner, but I’m actually happy. So much good has come in the last couple months.

I’m really excited for this girls trip. I’ve never had a girls trip before and to think that I’ve been dying to have girl friends for literal years. Like how many times have I written, have I prayed, have I told my mom that I so crave some good girl connections. It’s been years. & now to be planning a tropical trip in April, I’m so excited.

I always tend to start writing right before bed, so I always feel like I’m trying to hurry up and type whatever overview I can so I can go to bed. I need to get better at sitting down at my computer and writing things out and getting out more details and feelings. I really want to get back into the shadow work & questions again. I really need to prioritize my routine. Get back into exercising and working out in the evening. Get back into reading before bed. Get back into drawing. Baking even. I’ve done a bit of baking but not a lot. Amanda got me into puzzles so now I want to get one to work on while I watch a show. I always feel like I have so many things I want to do in a day and I get overwhelmed and I can’t do them all and then a bunch of days pass and I feel like shit because I end up not doing any. It’s almost like I need to write a weekly schedule and carve out time for specific things on specific nights but I don’t want to be strict with my entire night planned out but then again I feel like I need some sort of structure that I know I can adjust accordingly. Maybe I’ll look at that this week.

[notthatdeafbard]

Final thoughts on Pokemon Scarlet

As I finish the story this afternoon, I have to put all my thoughts into writing. There will be story spoilers below the Read More for anyone who does not want to be spoiled for parts of the story.

Starfall Street Thoughts

If there’s one thing I’ve noticed over the last everal games, it’s that the “villain” teams have become less and loess like villains and just misfits/outcasts. As someone who played the original games, the last 3 villain teams have not been true villains. In Red/Blue/Yellow and Silver/Gold/Crystal, we had Team Rocket, who was basically the Mafia. In Ruby/Sapphire/Emerald, we had Team Aqua and Team Magma, Groups who wanted to either rid the world of land or water, depending on the team, which would destroy the world. In Pearl/Diamond/Platinum, we had Team Galactic, who wanted to destroy the world and recreate it. In Black/White/Black2/White2 we had Team Plasma, who started as Pokemon PETA and became basically Nazis. Then in X/Y, we had Team Flare, who, if I remember right, always wanted to destroy the world. 

But then we come to Sun/Moon, there the villain team was just a gang of misfits. In Sword/Shield, they were a group who just wanted their fave trainer to win and made a nuisance of themselves.

And Scarlet/Violet...Were bullied kids who stood up to their bullies and became the thing they hated. It made me feel bad for taking them down, as someone who was bullied most of my school career. The story for each of the leaders seemed so silly, but it made me feel for them. And finally, Cassiopeia, aka Penny...

Mind you, I’ve had a love for Penny ever since her design was revealed. I am an eevee lover, and I used to draw myself in an exceedingly similar design to her for nearly a decade. Upon playing the game and talking to people who know me well, even the personality matched fairly well. It was eye opening, and it made the fight with her so much more impactful for me. While I felt bad for taking down this group who only formed because they were bullied, it felt empowering knowing I was helping them too.

Path of Legends Thoughts

Upon initially meeting Arven, I disliked him. He pissed me off and I honestly wanted nothing to do with him. But after learning his story of wanting to save his Mabosstiff...I know this story effected a lot of people. Most people, me included, immediately made this storyline a priority. But part of the reason for me stemmed from personal feelings of mine.

See, in March of 2021, my family lost our dog suddenly. he was a German Shepherd, and he was very healthy and lively. then suddenly one night he started acting strange, and lifted his head like he heard something, before it just dropped and he was gone. We don’t know what happened, as he had just been fine earlier in the day. It was a very sudden loss that, almost 2 years later, I still have not recovered from; he was my first dog. 

So seeing Arven fight so hard to save this dog pokemon, it triggered feelings in me, made me wish I could play with my own dog one more time. Arven’s story as a whole is tragic and I ended up loving him almost as much as I love Penny. I understand his lonelyness in a sense, as someone who was abandoned by one of my parents, and he just eneded up being such an impact on me.

Victory Road Thoughts

I don’t have much to say on this one. It’s the generic “collect the gym badges and fight the elite four” story we have in ever game. The designs of the different gym leaders were fun. What I did really enjoy, however, is how fleshed out they all were. They weren’t just gym leaders. They were chefs, or rappers, or businessmen etc. They had LIVES outside of being a gym leader, which was something only touched on in Sword/shield occasionally. This time it felt more fleshed out, because they talked about it more. The bug type gym leader even had her own bakery! They were human first, gym leaders second, and I absolutely loved that!

Nemona’s constant want to battle was a little irritating for me, as someone who doesn’t like the rival battles much. Because she was already champion level, most of the fights felt trivial, because we know she’s going easy on us and pulling punches. Her obsession with battling is a little too much and while I initially liked her, she got old quick for me. 

The Way Home Thoughts

Now for the story after the three main story lines, taking place in The Great Crater. The Final Story if you will.

The professor’s fate was not surprising to me. But the fact that there were so many failsafes to prevent the time machine from being shut down made me very sad. because to me that meant her research meant more than anything, even her own son. Despite what the AI said. 

But everyone cheering on Koraidon in the end was just perfect. perfect unification of friendship. 

Conculsion

Honestly this is probably tied for first place for my favorite pokemon game. The stories were great, all the characters were fantastic, most of the pokemon designs were fun. I didn’t experience the glitches that others had, but it was a lot of fun, and I cannot wait to reply it to stream when I have the time.

[ddarker-dreams]

Phantom Troupe / Thoughts on HWR Reader.

Note: i wanted to do something similar to the voice lines genshin characters have about one another but with some phantom troupe members ... maybe i’ll do a collect of HWR reader’s thoughts on each of them?? she’d definitely have a paragraph about hisoka. reader is described with she/her pronouns here !

Chrollo

To put my thoughts about [First] into words, where would I begin...? The way she carries herself demands attention. She tends to draw attention wherever she goes. Ah, no, this is of no issue to me. What good is possessing a jewel if it’s not on display for others to both admire and envy? While her looks are undeniably an appeal, it’s her brain I enjoy the most. I thought our viewpoints mostly would align due to our similar occupation, yet there’s a great deal we disagree on. Hours can escape us once we get started on a particular topic. 

Phinks

You’re asking me about [First]? Ahem, well, she’s fine. Can hold her own. Kinda reminds me of the characters in those old timey movies who talk all properly ‘n shit. It’s cute... that is to say, in a professional capacity, naturally. Strictly professional. Ah, but if you ever need to learn how to do some weird rich people garbage, she’s the one to ask. Y’know, the different types of spoons and forks.  

Feitan

Cuts too clean. Ends fight too fast. No fun. Torturing people, though... not bad. 

Machi

Didn’t know what a rich girl wanted with the Spider at the first, but if the boss picked her, he must have his reasons. Paku took to her quickly, so by extension I... yeah. She’s alright. 

Shalnark

While you can count on her in a fight, in a casual environment, she’s surprisingly dense. We keep a tally of how many times Phinks has mustered the courage to ask her out only for her to not realize it, let me check... aha! It’s up to four. Hoping to hit five before the year ends. Franklin owes me a favor if we reach it. Also, the go-to pick for trivia night. She doesn’t know what a hotdog is but can explain the theory of relativity or recall the year a ruler from so and so in the year whatever ascended to power. Guaranteed win. 

Pakunoda

A very well mannered individual. My initial impression stopped there for some time. For her first job with the Spiders, the boss paired her up with me. In retrospect, I suppose he foresaw something I did not. We formed a mutual bond and have frequently stayed in touch sense. How do I say this... she’s endearing, in a sense. Once you know her tells, it’s quite easy to get a read on her. 

Shizuku

I finally remembered her name. What else? Uh... it’s fun to watch her fight. I wish they’d last longer. By the time she starts to really put in effort, the opponent is dead... I want to see more. 

Uvogin

A bit of a stick-in-the-mud, if you ask me. The most I’d ever seen her drink was when she lost a bet and had to take a sip of beer. The face she made... you’d think she’d been stabbed in the gut. Refuses to eat fast food too. Something about it ‘impacting the release of glucose in the blood system,’ or whatever. Can rip flesh and bones to smithereens, though. Guess that’s all that matters. 

Nobunaga

An oddball, that one’s fighting style is. I can never figure it out. Rather than using one style with a sword, she switches between multiple... must be a nightmare for anyone she’s seriously up against. Her movements almost looks weightless. Seriously, what do they teach overseas? Maybe I’ll take a pilgrimage to her home country and give it a shot myself. 

Franklin

[First] didn’t speak much for the longest time. At first, I wondered if she felt superior to us due to her background. I didn’t care for her until she proved joining the Spider’s was more than a whim. 

Hisoka

Ah, yes, what a lovely specimen that one is ♥ the way she glares at me yet tries to act professional excites me. I wonder what it would take to set her off. More importantly, though... killing her would ensure Chrollo’s wrath. He’d have no qualms fighting me then. 

Bonolenov

The both of us are enthusiasts when it comes to dance. I taught her some of the staples from the Gyudondond Tribe, while she trained me in the styles popular in her homeland. While watching her fight, I noticed her movements were similar to what she’s taught me. In that regard, I suppose we’re similar; we both incorporate dance during combat. 

Kortopi 

... Boss likes her. 

[butchkaramazov]

A Shade Darker Than Red: Chapter 8

this is a repost because tumblr, being a jerk as always, decided to delete the former post. if you like this one, you could maybe check out the entire series using the masterlist i'll post in a few minutes.

A week passed by. Paro was eerily quiet when she was with me, and I thought of what I had said that day. Had I really, truly ruined all my chances of saving even our friendship?

A million thoughts rushed through my head as I turned restlessly in bed, staring at the ceiling.

The ceiling of our bedroom was painted with blue fluorescent stickers shaped like stars. Papa had done that. I had asked Maa to take them off if they bothered her, but we never did.

Beside me, Maa tossed in her sleep. They say if you think of someone, they can’t fall asleep. Could she hear my thoughts?

I had nothing to distract myself with. No phone, no book—nothing. Just me, my thoughts and the stars on the ceiling.

A sudden, vivid memory flashed in my mind. We were six. A year had passed since my meeting with Paro. We were running around like hooligans in the park while our mothers talked about work, pados-wali aunties and whatnot. I still remember what Paro was wearing: a frilly, white frock with Minnie Mouse sewn onto its sleeves. The sky was red and so was our laughter, until Paro bent down and ripped a flower right off its stem. “For you,” she had said, clumsily tucking the flower behind my ear. When she touched my earlobe, the flower was white. When she let go, it was red.

Another memory. We were nine. She sat with me on the bed while I rambled on about my latest hyperfixation: dragons. She listened to every single detail I had mentioned and, by the end of the afternoon, showed me a drawing of a wyvern.

Twelve. I was reading The Priory of the Orange Tree, sitting on the windowsill. I took a sip from my milk tea, letting out a contented hum. I wasn’t on the windowsill anymore. I was Ead, pressing a kiss to Sabran’s brow. Sabran was someone who looked uncannily similar to Paro.

An annoying ding! from my phone forced me back to reality. I heard Maa’s grunts and snores: the coast was clear. 

I climbed off the bed, taking care not to put extra weight anywhere that would make the mattress creak. I walked towards the desk and picked up the phone.

WhatsApp: You have 3 messages.

It was Paro. I checked the time: 3:49 a.m. Paro was a morning person, what was she doing staying up all night?

Paro<3:

hi renu are you awake?

—00:27

do you wanna hang out on the roof like we used to? 

—02:01

its ok if you dont wanna. go back to sleep you have a big day tmrw. actually, if ur awake rn i’ll kill you

—03:48

Oh, Paro.

I glanced at Maa, slowly increasing the fan’s regulator. Please don’t wake up soon.

I walked out of the room and closed the door. Thank goodness I’d oiled its hinges last week. 

The main door was locked—opening it meant creating a ruckus. “Shit,” I muttered under my breath. No wait, actually not shit. This meant I’d have to take the old way around. 

Jeez, fourteen-year-old me was fun.

I opened the door to the balcony and hoisted myself up on its railing. It was an easy jump. I tumbled onto the grass, praying that a grasshopper wouldn’t find its new home in my ear. The grass was wet and the air smelled of petrichor. 

I stood up, smoothening my pyjamas. Staying out late at night was a risky thing, especially in our neighbourhood. Plenty of TicTac-shaped pills here and there, and men on the prowl. I didn’t give a damn. I was eighteen and probably feeling some feelings I wasn’t supposed to be feeling. (That’s a lot of ‘feeling’s, I know.) What could possibly hurt me?

A lot of things, I realised, as I walked up to Paro’s house. Like that mad dog Rathode had warned me about. The creepy guy who keeps children in his basement (just a speculation, but when Madhu speculated about something, it was most probably right). An overspeeding motorcycle that could crash into me any minute. My own mother, with her pots and pans, once she realised I was gone.

Oh well, the damage was done. I found myself opening the gate on instinct, as if I knew Paro’s house better than I did my own.

I stepped into their garden, careful not to trample on any beetles—and made my way to the window of the woman who lived below Paro’s flat. Madame Fosco, I called her, in everything but her looks.

The tin shade Madame Fosco had installed last year was probably on its deathbed by now. Rust had made its edges creaky, but Fosco was deaf, anyway. I grabbed onto it and hoisted myself up, finding myself staring right at Paro’s face, our faces a millimetre away from each other’s. She screamed.

I screamed.

My foot slipped and I fell off the tin shade, tumbling onto the grass once again. At this point, I would be surprised if a grasshopper hadn’t found its home in my ear.

“For Whitman’s sake, hush,” I whisper-shouted, if that’s a thing. If it wasn’t, it probably is by now.

Paro peered out of the window, her mouth forming a perfect ‘o’. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed. 

I shook my head (in case a grasshopper had organised a nice family dinner in my hair) and climbed onto the tin shaft once again, pulling myself onto Paro’s windowsill.

“Come in,” she whispered, switching the lights on. 

I felt comfortable squatting on her windowsill like a failed Spiderman and grumbled as I walked into her bedroom.

Paro switched her phone’s torchlight off. “I’m gonna kill you.”

“What?” I stared at her retreating figure. “What did I do?”

“Why are you still awake?” she snapped. I followed her to the door.

“Why are you still awake and staring out of your window like Oscar fucking Wilde?” I snapped back.

Paro flipped me off while trying her hardest to pull the gates across the door. Sweat shone on her forehead, her eyes illuminated in the moonlight.

“Hold on, let me help,” I offered, gently grabbing her wrist. Paro grumbled, stepping aside.

I pushed the gate back and pulled it in again, keeping the screw in with my thumb. It glided into the opening on the other side, miraculously not making a single noise.

I turned towards Paro. She was staring at my arms.

“What?” I asked her, incredulously. One moment she said she wanted to kill me, and the next she looked at me like I was something she couldn’t quite wrap her head around.

“N-Nothing,” she gasped. My heart fluttered. Dammit, these butterflies in my stomach had turned into fucking bats at this point.

Paro walked up the stairs while I followed her footsteps in the dark. “Just like the old times, huh?” I heard her say.

I grinned. “Just like the old times.”

Paro opened the door to the roof, the tensed line in her jaw glinting in a sliver of moonlight. God, she was as beautiful as ever.

“Come in,” she said, her words echoing in the marble walls.

I followed her to the railings, leaning against the cool surface. A light breeze rippled through, making her hair fly for a brief second. Dear God, she was poetry herself.

“Where are Auntie and Uncle?” I asked, trying to break the silence.

A light breeze caressed my cheeks. “They won’t be back before tomorrow. Business trip,” Paro explained, edging closer to me.

“Oh.” I was suddenly aware of the pen still tucked behind my ear.

Silence.

“So we’re—we’re all alone, then?” I asked her, hoping she wouldn’t hear the slight quaver in my voice.

Paro nodded. “We are.”

Silence, again.

She leaned against the railing. “You’re going away in three weeks.”

I nodded, not quite knowing what to say.

“I asked you a question.” Her voice was cold and harsh, harsher than I deserved. 

“That was a statement,” I snapped. “And don’t use your fucking CEO voice with me.”

Paro frowned. “I’m not.”

“You are.” I glared at her. “And you know it.”

She stared at me, scrutinising my every feature. “I’m sorry,” she finally said, letting out a sigh. “I’m sorry. It’s just been—you’ll be gone—and—”

“I know, it’s okay,” I heard myself murmur, edging closer towards her.

“I—I’ve got that Poe book with me,” she said. “Do you want it now or at the graduation party?”

“Now,” I said, without thinking. “The party will be too loud. And too crowded,” I added as an afterthought.

Paro bit her lip so hard I was scared it would bleed. “Alright,” she nodded. “I’ll get it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

I watched her retreat into the shadows, taking the white along with her. The night was a pool of blood, again.

I hummed. Did she know about the history of ‘OK’? Probably not. I’d tell her. Not knowing things I wouldn’t be able to tell her before we drifted apart wasn’t a good idea. At least she’d be able to tell her children that their Renu Auntie had told her about the history of ‘OK’. Maybe she’d sigh and think of me, again. Words were a certain but clumsy way into a person’s mind. 

Papa had told me that. Maybe that’s why I can’t stop thinking of him.

Did Paro know about Jinnah? That Netaji might’ve actually been alive? Did she know that birds came from lizard-hipped dinosaurs? There was so much I had to tell her before I vanished from her mind.

It was pathetic. Scrambling onto every crumb of unrelated information I could find, just to hang onto her thoughts, stay on in her mind for a little while longer.

“I’m back,” Paro said, stepping into the moonlight.

She looked like Aphrodite, the goddess of love born from love itself, in all her glory—clutching a book of Edgar Allan Poe, the letters of which shone in the lamplight or moonlight, that I do not know.

“For you,” she said, handing me the book.

“It’s beautiful,” I gasped as I ran my fingers along the edge of its spine. It was a leatherbound book, The Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe written in shiny gold lettering. I opened the first page.

To Renu, it said. Keep me in your mind, always. From, Paro.

I chuckled, flipping through the pages. “Of course I’ll keep you in my mind, Paro,” I laughed. “What a silly thought!”

Paro looked at me, hope faintly glimmering in her eyes. “You will?” Her voice had softened down to a murmur.

I looked at her incredulously. “Well, duh, Paro, I can’t just forget my best friend of thirteen years now, can I?”

Paro’s lower lip trembled. “You promise?”

I smiled. “Always.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

A comfortable silence followed and as we looked at the stars, I knew we were both smiling.

[artzee-bee]

Now and for eternity| Lucifer Morningstar x reader

Fandom: Lucifer ( netflix)

Request:” Can you write an imagine where Lucifer’s wife is like this well known social light that owns her own luxury fashion brand and she starts receiving gifts from an obsessed secret admirer and Lucifer is unknowingly being targeted by the secret admirer who is trying to kill Lucifer in order to get the reader and Lucifer thinks it’s his father trying to ‘strike’ him down for some unknown reason until Chloe point out someone that correlates with the readers secret admirer and Lucifer’s attacker. Feeling some type away about it Lucifer decides to taunt the secret admirer by upping the PDA and romantic gestures getting a kick out in it much to Chloe’s dismay. And once the secret admirer is caught Lucifer rubs it in their face that the reader is his for now and all of eternity before showing the secret admirer his true face. ”

Genre: fluff? I guess

Warnings:death threats, stalking, attempted murder

~~~

It wasn’t unusual to receive gifts and flowers at your office. After all, with the job you worked and the wealthy people you collaborated with, the presents simply represented one of the many perks of being a designer. Except, one friday morning, while examining a particularly beautiful bouquet of pink lilies, you noticed the little card that came with it

“I know they are some of your favorite - <3 “

Usually, work associates would leave a name. Some way for you to know that they value your work and are thinking of you (and maybe to flatter you into giving them a discount), but there was no name on this card, just a tiny heart in a glittery, pink gel pen. Pink lilies were, indeed, your favorite.

You brought the flowers home and told your husband, Lucifer, all about the mysterious gift. You had talked to your secretary and even she didn’t know where the flowers came from, since no one came to drop off lilies that morning. You presumed the sender must have simply forgotten to sign the card, and perhaps your secretary had forgotten about them, with the busy morning she’d had. You and Lucifer had a laugh, imagining the shy and anxious intern that was probably assigned the job, and the scolding they’ll get when their boss finds out about their mistake.

The next morning, a box of your favorite chocolates were waiting for you on your desk. There wasn’t any note, just the same heart, written in the same glitter pen. You dismissed it as a weird coincidence and moved on to working on your designs.

Without you knowing, this also happened to be the first time Lucifer would be faced with a very interesting note. As he was getting ready to leave the police station, he noticed a piece of yellow paper, stuck to his windshield

“Back off of Y/N. Consider this your first and last warning” no signature. Anyone in Lucifer’s place would have lost their shit, but he paid it no mind. He was the devil after all! If anyone wants to take his precious Y/N away from him, well, they can try. It would make things all the more fun. He folded the paper and stuffed it in his pocket before heading home.

The couple shared Y/N’s chocolates that night, talking about who this person might be. Lucifer wasn’t as amused as he had been the night before, if anything he was rather concerned but he didn’t want to say anything about the note to Y/N, because she would freak out. 

Nothing really happened for the next week. Anonymous gifts stopped showing up at Y/N’s office, Lucifer didn’t get any more notes and things were falling back in their place, until the day right after Y/N’s latest photoshoot went public and viral. It was all to promote her upcoming clothing line. As soon as she walked into the office the next day, she spotted a red, velvet box, the size of a notebook, in the middle of her desk. On top of it, a note written in the same glittery pink as the other gifts

“Congratulations on your new line. Those photos are gorgeous - J.P. <3”

Inside the box was a gorgeous diamond necklace, looking like it was worth millions. If you hadn’t been concerned about the sudden apparition of all these gifts so far, you sure were now. You immediately called your husband to tell him about the mysterious jewelry, but he didn’t pick up. Unbeknown to you, he was busy ranting to detective Decker.

“I mean, not to be dramatic, detective, but the situation does feel like it’s spiralling out of control. Death threats, sure, those come every other weekend, kind of like fanmail, y’know? But actual gun shots fired at my head, well, that’s where I draw the line.” he ended with a giggle. Lucifer was leaning on Decker’s desk as she was examining the bullet casings Lucifer had brought her from his apparent ‘attempted assasination’

“Where did this happen again?” she said, not taking her eyes off of her work

“Right by that coffee shop ms. Lopez always talks about. I may have lost a bet to her the other day and have to get her coffee for the rest of the week, so I was just exiting the shop when a masked man in a dark blue BMW zoomed by, pointing his gun at me and shooting blindly. I mean, that is the most basic attemp at murder I have ever witnessed. At least make it interesting!”

“Lucifer, if someone is out for your life, it’s serious business”

“Why would it be? It’s not like I can actually die, detective! Plus, it’s probably not that deep anyways. Just, dear old dad coming after me again for no particular reason. Very characteristic of him.”

“ You’re getting ahead of yourself. Whoever sent this wants you and Y/N apart, why would your dad want that?”

“Because he’s a prick who disagrees with everything and anything that makes me happy?” Lucifer concludes with an innocent smile “And, of course, Y/N being moral, our marriage goes against the heavenly rules of the almighty, so he’s trying to break us apart, but worry not detective! Me and Y/N are stronger and more in love than ever. My father will simply have to accept that. Nothing will break us apart” he said, puffing his chest out with confidence

“That’s good to hear Lucifer, but I still think we should stay open to different possibilities”

“Oh, come on detective, that would be a waste of our time. I know my father better than anyone, believe me when I tell you this is his hand and no one else's. Case closed! Now, let’s move to the next one! Chop chop detective, murders won’t solve themselves!” Lucifer said, marching out of the precinct. Chloe rolled her eyes at her partner, before hiding the bullets and the note in her desk and going after him.

Although it didn’t bother you, you couldn’t help but notice how much more touchy Lucifer had been with you, ever since the necklace incident. He needed to touch you at all times: when you were out for coffee, at lunch, at the station, in your office, in Lux. His hand was always either around your waist or tangled in yours. You felt sort of bad, thinking he must be a little insecure with this secret admirer being after you at all times, but you wanted him to know that you loved him more than anything and that no matter what, you would never leave him for a faceless man, no matter how many pearls and chocolates he bribes you with. And so, you decided to play along with him, giving him as much attention as you could. Your visits at the station almost doubled, you always cleared your schedule to make time for him and even decided to start work later in  the day than usual, so you could spend more time with him in the morning. 

One afternoon, as you were enjoying your time with Decker and Lucifer during their lunch time, one of the notes from your secret admirer slipped out of your pocket. You didn’t realise it until Chloe picked it up

“Oh, I was going to throw that out”

“Where’s this from?” she asked, studying the note

“Just one of this week's gifts” you confessed awkwardly. Without a second thought, the detective reached for her drawer, pulling out another note from inside and inspecting them side by side. Eventually, she placed them both in front of Lucifer

“Notice something interesting about the writing?”

“They are remarkably similar…”

“More like identical”

“What is that?” you asked, looking at the unknown note. Your heart sank as you read it

“I’ll explain everything at home dear, I swear” Lucifer said

“You’ve received death threats because of me?”

“I’ll tell you everything at home, I promise”

“You have initials…” Decker noticed

“Yeah, ever since my photoshoot, they’re present on every package”

“What floor is your office on again?”

“5th, why?”

“How can someone enter your office every morning without anyone, not even your secretary noticing, and exit just as mysteriously?” “Unless he found a different way in” Lucifer replied

“My window” you realise “You can step out directly onto the emergency staircase from there”

“He knew when to sneak in without being seen, so he must have known your schedule like the back of his hand. Who could know?”

“The only people who know it are my secretary and Lucifer”

“A stalker?” your husband suggested

“Maybe” Decker turned quickly to her computer “I’m going to check any business owners around that neighbourhood who could have had a close shot of when you enter and exit your studio, see if any initially match the ones on the notes. We’ll go from there” 

You thanked Chloe for the help and went home with Lucifer, who spent the entire car ride explaining the note to you and the events of the previous days. You were angry at him for keeping all of it away from you, but ultimately happy that he was safe. You spent the night drinking wine and rewatching all of your comfort movies, to calm your nerves.

You decided to try working from home for the next couple of days, too scared by the idea of a stranger following your every move. It was a challenging process but Lucifer did his best in helping you get accustomed to this new routine. His homemade meals could not compare to anything you would eat while in a meeting with your business associates. Plus, the company was much more delightful.

Chloe texted you, almost a week later, to come down to the station as quickly as possible. They had found the guy. You hopped into your car and when you finally arrived, Lucifer was waiting for you outside

“They found him?” 

“Yes dear, they did”

“How?”

“Well, as it turns out he lived in the apartment building next door. His living room window had a great view of everything happening in your office. We’ve found a week’s worth of gifts he was planning to deliver. It’s him for sure” 

“Thank you” you whispered before collapsing into Lucifer’s arms and hugging him tight

“It’s alright lovely. It’s over now. Let’s go see how the detective is handling it. I think they’re in the interrogation room now.”

From behind the glass, you watched the man that threatened your marriage and your husband's life, confess to everything. Admit to stalking you, in order to learn your schedule. Break into your office and open fire on Lucifer. More than enough to get him behind bars for a long time. Decker and Lucifer got up and were ready to leave, but your husband requested a couple of minutes alone with the man. The detective agreed, cautioning him to not do something stupid, before leaving them alone. Lucifer turned on his heels to face the man in handcuffs and you could instantly tell he was furious

“Truly an honorable try. Y/N is one of a kind, you were right about that, the only detail you missed is that, you see, she’s taken. By me” the mischievous smile on his face let you know that he was up to no good “Our bond is indestructible and it’s really laughable to think that you’ve risked so much to tear us apart when you didn’t stand a chance to begin with” Lucifer leaned over the table, now his back was facing you “Me and Y/N are, and forever will be, together. There is nothing you or anyone else can do to change that. She is mine and I am hers, now and for eternity” as his little speech came to an end, you noticed the man in handcuffs go pale with terror. He began shaking in his chair, screaming incoherently about the devil. Even tho you hadn’t see what your husband did, you could tell by the man’s reaction. You laughed to yourself, not even mad that Lucifer had used his devil face against this man. You would have done the same if you had the option.