#why is there no good photos of anyone whose not mr orange

[juliangirlblancas]

[patchwork-panda]

If A Moment Is All We Are (22/?)

AO3 link: here

“Hey, Kirako-san?”

I knocked quietly against the open doorway of the clerk room and poked my head into the room. Kirako was sitting by the window with her laptop open, clearly engrossed in shopping for a new collar for her cat, “Mii-chan,” and she jumped when I called her name a little louder.

“Kirako-san?”

“I’m working hard, I swear!” she shrieked, rapidly closing a bunch of windows all at once. “Don’t write me up!!”

“Relax, Kirako-san,” I laughed, “it’s just me. I’m not going to tell anyone what you were doing but if I were you...”

I looked around and lowered my voice to a whisper.

“I wouldn’t go with that fuchsia collar,” I said, grinning, “It’ll clash with the orange in Mii-chan’s fur.”

“You think?” Kirako groused as I nodded firmly.

She sighed.

“Still, I’m glad it’s just you, Kyou-chan,” she mumbled, putting her hand on her chest and leaning back in her chair. “Kunikida-san would have my head for sure if he caught me shopping during work hours. Do you need something from me?”

I nodded.

It had been almost a full day since the explosion at Yamazaki Shuji’s second apartment. As the firefighters continued to put out the flames, Kunikida and I went back to Katai’s place, retrieved a small handful of printouts and then immediately returned to the Agency. I decided to leave the black access card with Katai, in case he needed it for something else and Katai, for his part, agreed to call me back the minute he found something new, in exchange for nothing more than a simple grocery run.

“I don’t like to leave the house,” he’d mumbled quietly before burrowing back into his futon like a hibernating bear in a cave.

With Katai’s printouts to guide me, I spent the rest of yesterday afternoon trying to find anything else I could on the aliases “Tsushima Shuji” and “Yamazaki Shuji.” Unfortunately, I couldn’t find much beyond what Katai had already figured out. I ended up staying a full hour past the end of my shift, alternating between manically searching the internet and hitting my head against my desk in frustration until a very concerned Atsushi shook me and insisted I call it quits for the day.

But just when I thought I was going to be at a dead end, I remembered this morning that Kunikida and Dazai had been the ones to orchestrate Mrs. Yamazaki’s relocation. If they’d done it shortly after I’d first informed them of her upcoming murder, then they were sure to have documented their proceedings somewhere, as part of the paperwork they did when they finished a case—my case.

I’d run so fast to the clerk room that I’d nearly tripped on my way there.

So here I was, standing before Kirako, with my fingers crossed in my burgundy skirt pocket, hoping that she might have something for me.

“I’m looking for my case files.”

Kirako adjusted her glasses and squinted at me through her bright pink frames.

“But... you haven’t turned them in yet,” she said, sounding confused.

“No, not those,” I said, shaking my head. “The files Dazai-san and Kunikida-san turned in when they rescued me from Akutagawa at the art gallery.”

Kirako’s forest-green eyes widened.

“You want those?”

For a second, she looked uncomfortable.

“Uh. Kyou-chan... You sure you want those?” she asked again, staring doubtfully at me. “Most people generally avoid looking at their own case files... depending on who wrote the reports, they’re not always that flattering...”

“I’m sure,” I said firmly, “And I’m not after my own information, I’m trying to look into Yamazaki Tomie-san, my old neighbor.”

“Your old neighbor?” she asked, turning back to the computer and pulling up the filing software. “Are you just looking out of curiosity? Because this says she’s been relocated to Nagano.”

“Yeah, I know about that,” I admitted, “But is there anything else on her? Or her husband? Anything that Dazai-san or Kunikida-san might’ve filed around the time when I joined?”

“Let’s check...”

Kirako began typing but when she found what she was looking for, I heard a sound like a buzzer. I glanced over her shoulder at a grayed-out file. It looked a little like the hidden files Katai had dug up on Mr. Yamazaki yesterday.

“What’s that noise?” I asked curiously.

Kirako frowned.

“That’s weird,” she mumbled, clicking the mouse again. “It looks like the file is locked.”

“Locked?” I repeated incredulously, staring at the screen in shock. “But you’re the highest ranking clerk—you have access to everything! How could it be locked?”

“I don’t know,” Kirako said quietly, clicking through, “it’s probably some kind of error. Either that or whoever wrote it made it so that only they or President Fukuzawa could open it, which doesn’t happen too often...”

She shot me an apologetic look.

“We can ask IT to look into it but for now, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

I slapped my hand over my face and groaned as Kirako clicked through a few more screens.

“You know,” she said, scrolling through what seemed to be a separate document, “from the looks of this bit here, Yamazaki Tomie-san might actually be in witness protection. If that’s the case, I’m not sure how much you’re going to be able to find on her here with us...”

She glanced up at me.

“Why are you looking into her right now?” she asked. Her features softened into a sympathetic smile. “Do you miss her, Kyou-chan? If you just want to talk to her, I’m sure it can wait.”

“I did think about reaching out yesterday,” I admitted, thinking back to my conversation with Kyouka and Atsushi about bento boxes, “but this has something to do with my current case. The company that hired me and Dazai-san thinks her husband stole a lot of money from them.”

Kirako’s eyes shot up into her bangs.

“Really? Well, if that’s the case, maybe you could try the police department? If he’s a known criminal, they might have something?”

I chewed my cheek.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea...”

If Mr. and Mrs. Yamazaki were in some kind of trouble with the Port Mafia or the criminal underworld, then asking the police could draw more unwanted attention to them. And even if that weren’t the case, if Mrs. Yamazaki was in witness protection, there’s no way someone like me, an employee of a private detective agency, would be allowed access to that kind of information, no matter how important Ranpo-san liked to say we were.

Not to mention, the last time I checked in with the police, I ended up being confronted by Akutagawa and nearly getting my legs chopped off...

“Wait...” I mumbled, suddenly remembering something. “Maybe Dazai-san has her information. He’s the one who told me she relocated, after all, maybe he has her phone number—”

“Whose number would I have?” a familiar tenor voice chirped from behind me.

I whirled.

“Dazai-san!”

For once, I was actually happy to see him and it must’ve shown on my face because the bandaged brunette brightened up instantly.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise!” he declared, his chocolate-brown eyes sparkling as he regarded me. “Now why can’t you smile this sweetly for me every time I see you?”

“Do you happen to have Yamazaki Tomie-san’s phone number by any chance?” I asked, choosing to ignore his previous remark. “You know, my old neighbor?”

One of Dazai’s dark eyebrows quirked upwards into his messy bangs.

“No...? Why would I have that?” he asked blankly.

As usual, he wasn’t wearing his trench coat while he was in the office and he crossed his bandaged arms with a confused look on his face.

“She’s married. And a bit old for me, don’t you think?”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Normally, I wouldn’t hesitate to call him out for being too flirty for his own good but right now, I needed something from him and it was probably wisest to stay on his good side.

“I just thought,” I said slowly, “that you might have it since you were the last person to come into contact with her after... the incident at the art gallery.”

“Ohhh, I see,” Dazai murmured, rubbing his chin. “You’re trying to check up on her, aren’t you? Well, sorry to disappoint you, Kusunoki-kun, but I don’t have it.”

I felt my shoulders droop in disappointment.

“But if you like...” Dazai offered, that impish grin sliding back onto his face, “I could help you track her down. In exchange for a small favor, of course.”

“You’re going to help me find her,” I said, smiling as pleasantly as possible, “because it’s relevant to our case. I went over to Katai-san’s yesterday and—”

“That’s right!” Dazai suddenly exclaimed, clapping his hands together in excitement, “How did everything go with Kunikida-kun yester—”

I slapped both my hands over his mouth to stop him from saying anything further and shot a horrified look over my shoulder at Kirako, who, thankfully, only looked confused.

“Dazai-san.”

There was an edge to my smile and without removing one of my hands from his mouth, I started pushing him out the door.

“Could I speak to you about our case? In private?”

Without waiting for him to answer, I pushed him right past the threshold and nodded politely to Kirako as we left. I didn’t take my hand off Dazai’s mouth (ugh, this felt so weird) until I’d pushed him into the conference room. This time, however, I didn’t lock the door.

“What are you doing?!” I snapped, all patience exhausted. “Why would you bring up Kunikida-san in front of Kirako-san?! I thought you said you wouldn’t tell anyone!”

“I wasn’t going to!” Dazai claimed, looking affronted, “I just wanted to know what you found out at Katai’s place.”

As I eyed him suspiciously, Dazai put up both hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Well, it turns out, Tsushima Shuji and Yamazaki Shuji are the same person,” I told him. “Katai managed to get into the company employee files and I recognized the ID photo he pulled up. It looks like it was taken a few decades ago, around the time Shuji-san and Tomie-san got married. They must’ve moved here from Nagano when Tanaka Investments hired him.”

“So he’s been working at the company this whole time,” Dazai mumbled, tapping his chin. “Interesting.”

“What about you, Dazai-san?” I asked, putting a hand on my hip. “I didn’t see you all afternoon yesterday—”

“Oh?”

Dazai suddenly perked up, taking his hand off his chin.

“Did you miss me, my sweet—?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” I cut him off, slapping away his hands before he could put them somewhere I’d make him regret. “I’m asking you what you found yesterday while I was talking to Katai-san. He said he was going to try to trace everything he could of Yamazaki Shuji today and that he’d call me once he’d finished but I’d like to hear what you found.”

I crossed my arms and fixed him with a suspicious look.

“You said you were going out to talk to some information brokers yesterday, didn’t you? Don’t tell me you actually stayed at my desk all day, huffing my markers or something? And no—”

I jabbed a finger in his face like he was a misbehaving dog. Dazai had suddenly looked a little too excited at the prospect of digging through my desk for Sharpies.

“I’m not going to let you do that,” I stressed. “For one, it’s not going to kill you, just get you high as a kite, and two, you’ll dry them out and then I won’t be able to use them any more.”

I crossed my arms as Dazai wilted visibly and let out a heavy sigh.

“I’m not going to go through your desk,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his bandaged neck. “Not for markers, anyway. But you’re right, that’s not important. We should talk about what I learned about Shuji-san.”

He pulled out a chair for me and gestured for me to sit.

Making a mental note to move anything even remotely toxic out of my desk and into my locker, I also let out a heavy sigh and sat.

“So my information corroborates yours,” Dazai said, pulling out his own chair and scooting noisily against the tiles until he was squished up right next to me in the large, empty conference room.

He took out a set of papers from inside his black vest and put them down on the long table in front of us.

“Yamazaki Shuji does appear to be our target’s real name. He grew up in Nagano, where he met his wife, Tomie-san, then relocated with her to Yokohama when Tanaka Investments scouted him. Over the years, he rose up through the ranks until he became one of their most senior accountants and account managers.”

Dazai placed another document on the table.

“According to these records, Shuji-san took a lot of business trips abroad and was rarely at the company. His last visit to the company headquarters took place about a month ago.”

“Wait a second,” I said, shifting the set of papers on the table. “Katai-san says Shuji-san seems to have disappeared off the face of the Earth a month ago, but his card was used to get building access two nights ago—the night before the bombing.”

I glanced up at Dazai.

“That means someone used his card to get into the building—probably to set the bomb that nearly got us yesterday.”

Dazai nodded.

“I assume you saw the dead bird in the trash can?” he asked, leaning one bandaged arm on the table as he looked at me, his striped shirt sleeve scuffing up one set of the documents.

“I did,” I replied, trying to shove his arm off the papers but he wouldn’t budge. I gave up. “President Tanaka must’ve tightened security because he’s afraid someone’s after him. And given there was that bombing at Shuji-san’s second apartment, I can’t blame him.”

Dazai raised an eyebrow.

“‘Second’ apartment?” he asked, “Why do you call it that?”

“Because,” I said, surprised.

He hadn’t figured it out?

“His first apartment is the one he shared with his wife, down the hall where I lived.”

Dazai grew quiet. He seemed to be scrutinizing me very carefully and for just a moment, the look in his bright brown eyes appeared to be one of pity. At once, I frowned.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Kusunoki,” Dazai began.

He tapped his fingers against the table as he studied me.

“Let me ask you a question. It’s a philosophical question but, please, humor me for a second.”

“What?” I asked, taken aback. “A philosophy question? Now?”

Dazai nodded and at the look in his eyes, I was struck silent.

I’d seen the expression in those clear brown eyes once before, the night I was rescued from the gallery. It was the same look Dazai had given me when I was holding that glass shard to my own neck... like he was seeing something in me that I didn’t want to see in myself...

The brightly lit room suddenly felt warm and stuffy. My heart began to race.

“...What is it?”

“It’s from an old book I read once,” Dazai said, still staring deep into my eyes, “Let’s say for nine years, I had an apple. I believed it was a goodly apple but after possessing it for those nine years and one day, I discover that it is rotten to its core.”

He lowered his gaze momentarily, his thick, dark bangs dropping just a little over his eyes.

“Had been the whole time, actually, even though I had not been aware of it,” he said, smiling softly to no one in particular.

I could barely breathe.

“Would it be fair to say then,” Dazai continued, glancing back up at me, “that I had possessed for nine years, a goodly apple?”

“I...”

I looked away.

“I’m not sure I understand the question.”

“I think you do.”

And with that, Dazai gently laid one large, half bandaged hand over mine. My heart stopped as the weight of his hand settled against it.

“Answer my question, Kusunoki,” he said gently. “Did I, for those nine years, possess a goodly apple?”

His fingers closed around mine.

“Dazai...?”

I felt a lump forming in my throat as I stared back into his deep brown eyes.

Was he really asking about an apple...?

I could tell Dazai was waiting patiently for my answer, so with some difficulty, I swallowed and opened my mouth to speak. I couldn’t bring myself to move my hand out from under his.

“I think...” I replied slowly, “that it was. A goodly apple that is. You spent nine good years with it, didn’t you? And it brought you joy.”

“Joy?” Dazai asked, his dark brows drawing together momentarily in thought.

“Yes.”

I studied his face as I answered.

“They say time heals all wounds. I’m sure you will always remember the moment you found out about the rotten core, but as time passes, the pain will start to fade and you’ll be left with the memories of those nine good years instead. And if it’s the nine years you remember best, then...”

I smiled and Dazai’s dark eyes widened just a fraction. His hand twitched where it lay over mine.

“Yes. It was a goodly apple.”

“Kyou...” Dazai breathed.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. Dazai was staring at me as if he had never properly seen my face before and I felt my face warm under the intensity of his stare. And in that moment, the curtains behind his dark eyes seemed to lift... and I found myself once again seeing a side of Dazai that I’d only caught fleeting glimpses of before...

It was the same Dazai who pulled away from me yesterday morning, when I’d reached back to place my hand over his.

And the same lonely Dazai who’d walked me home that cold, spring night...

... and asked me to join him in double suicide.

I couldn’t breathe.

“Hey... Dazai?”

I bit my lip.

“Are you okay? Why did you ask me this question?”

At once, Dazai smiled. The curtains came down like a steel door and his mask snapped back into place. It all happened so quickly that I was left wondering what I had just seen—and if I had actually seen anything at all.

Dazai’s smile softened and he slowly leaned in.

“I’m fine,” he whispered sweetly, giving my hand a light, affectionate squeeze. “But is that your final answer, Kyou-chan? Do you really believe in the healing power of time so strongly?”

“I—I do,” I stammered, my heart suddenly beating faster than before as his eyes seemed to darken. “I mean, of course I do. Why—”

My voice caught in my throat and I cleared it lightly to try to stop the words from sticking.

“Why wouldn’t I?” I asked, “when my own Ability allows me to see the future?”

Dimly, I thought back to Saeki Mei from the convenience store, the woman who had been kidnapped during my first case. I thought about how I’d seen a vision of her in the summer, through the old manager’s eyes. Mei would be laughing and jogging and wearing new blonde highlights in her pitch-black hair when she returned in July. And Mei would be back. The manager had assured me of this.

“I’ve seen it,” I said at last, staring back into his eyes. “I’ve seen people heal.”

“That’s good,” Dazai said quietly, still watching me with that inscrutable look in his eyes. He started leaning in close. “Good to hear...”

“Um, Dazai...?” I whispered, my heart beating so loud I was sure he could hear it too. “Sh-shouldn’t we go back to talking about the case...?”

“Case?” Dazai repeated absentmindedly.

The sound of someone knocking on the conference room door drew my attention and Dazai and I looked up as one as Tanizaki Junichiro poked his head into the room.

“Oh, there you are, Kusunoki-san,” he said.

I saw his eyes shift towards the table, where Dazai’s hand still lay over mine and at once, I shifted and pulled my hand back. Dazai, however, hadn’t moved.

“I was looking for you,” Tanizaki continued, opening the door further and stepping fully into the room.

He jerked a thumb behind him towards the direction of the main lobby.

“I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind cleaning up the area around your desk a little. We’re expecting some deliveries this afternoon and Kunikida-san asked us to keep the main office space clear for it...”

He glanced at the set of printouts spread out across the table.

“Unless, of course, you’re discussing a case and you’re busy? I can come back later, you know.”

“No, it’s okay!” I said, jumping to attention the instant Kunikida’s name crossed Tanizaki’s lips. “I can help. Unless...”

I shot an annoyed glance at Dazai, who quickly stifled an audible snicker behind one half-bandaged hand.

“...we need to do this now?”

“No, it can wait,” Dazai said, the ghost of his laughter still visible in the smile on his face.

He pulled out a handheld gaming console from somewhere underneath the desk and started up some sort of game, ignoring me as I frowned at him.

So that’s why he chose to sit here—he must’ve taped all sorts of weird toys and things under the table so he wouldn’t get bored during conferences.

It wasn’t necessarily because he was trying to get close to me...

“Uh, Kusunoki-san?” Tanizaki prompted me, “You still coming?”

“Yeah!” I replied, not understanding where the strange sense of disappointment was coming from. I turned to look at Dazai, who was now sitting with his feet on the table, almost scuffing the printouts, fully immersed in playing his game.

“Guess I’ll get going then?”

Without looking up at me, Dazai nodded. He pursed his lips in concentration and continued madly pushing at the buttons on his console.

“Yeah, sure, go,” he said in between spurts of frantic button mashing. “Let’s pick this back up when I’ve beaten this second boss—I mean, when you’re done out there.”

Victory music blasted from the speakers and Dazai let out a raucous cheer. He put down the device for just a second and winked.

“Go impress Kunikida-kun.”

“You—!”

I bit back my retort as I saw the look of confusion on Tanizaki’s face. I slapped a hand over my face and sighed.

“Never mind. See you later, Dazai-san.”

“Ciao!”

Rolling my eyes, I followed Tanizaki out the door as the sounds of video game music resumed playing.

“Oh, and Kusunoki-kun?”

I turned back slightly at the sound of Dazai’s voice.

“Yes?”

I heard fight music playing over the speakers of Dazai’s gaming console. He met my gaze and smiled.

“There’s no need to worry about Yamazaki Tomie-san. I checked in on her nephew a few days ago and she’s doing well. She said to tell you ‘hi.’”

I brought my hand up to my mouth.

“Dazai-san...!”

He actually went and checked on her?

“Thank you,” I said, smiling warmly at him. “That’s... surprisingly sweet of you.”

“I can be full of surprises,” Dazai quipped, grinning cheekily. “Have fun!”

And with that, he went back to his game. Still smiling, I let the door close behind me, the tinny sounds of electronic bells and whistles disappearing as the conference room sealed itself once more.

***

“So what kind of deliveries are we expecting today?” I asked as Tanizaki shuffled about the empty main office with a simple broom and dustpan in his hands.

It was relatively early in the afternoon but it seemed everyone was out. Everyone except for me, Tanizaki, Dazai, and Kirako, anyway. Kunikida had apparently left Tanizaki in charge of the main office area (his sister was out running shopping errands for the office) and Kirako in charge of the clerks while a few of the detectives accompanied President Fukuzawa to escort a foreign diplomat around Yokohama. Because Dazai and I were working on a relatively big case, we were allowed to remain. Everyone else, it seemed, was out working in the field. I paused my own sweeping to glance over at Kyouka’s desk, which had been refurbished and delivered yesterday, just before I started this case with Dazai.

“Is someone else getting an improved desk?”

“No, but we’re getting some new equipment,” Tanizaki replied, sweeping towards the main door. “First thing coming this afternoon is a fancy new printer, the kind with the copier built in. Haruno-san’s been asking for it for months and Kunikida-san finally caved.”

“Ah.” I smiled. “Good for her.”

I might not have been with the Agency long, but even a couple of weeks was enough for me to find out how difficult it was to get Kunikida to spend money. That man watched the budget like accounting was his second job... which it probably was, I realized with a silent grimace.

If I was doing the math correctly (I might not be, I still remembered that overblown math lesson Kunikida gave me after I passed my Entrance Exam), the overall costs from my Entrance Exam still might not have been recovered yet. Not by me alone, anyway.

“By the way, how did everything go yesterday?” Tanizaki asked with a friendly smile.

“Dazai’s lying!!” I exclaimed in a rush, squeezing my broom handle so tightly in my hands that it nearly bent. “I don’t know what you heard but it’s not true! It was all professional, I swear!!”

Tanizaki blinked at me in confusion, then slowly and steadily started backing away.

“Uhh, okay,” he said slowly, putting his broom up defensively, the way one might when facing a dangerous animal, “I didn’t hear anything in particular, just that you met with Katai-san and you needed to talk to him about your case?”

“Oh,” I breathed out, instantly settling down. “Oh, right. Yeah, everything went fine.”

Hoping it would put Tanizaki at ease, I laughed a little.

“Katai-san is an interesting person, isn’t he?” I said, resuming my sweeping. “I heard he used to work for the Agency, years ago and it seems the only person he really keeps in touch with is Kunikida-san. Have you met Katai-san, Tanizaki-kun?”

At once, Tanizaki’s face darkened and I actually flinched when I saw the murderous look in his red-tinted eyes.

“Yeah, I have,” the redhead growled, nearly snapping his broom in half as he recalled some offensive incident. “I’d heard he gets really weird around girls but I’ll never forget the shit he pulled around Naomi. The way he stared at her...”

His grip tightened on his broom handle and this time, it was my turn to back away from Tanizaki as he trailed off and fumed in silence. Yosano had warned me never to ask any questions about the Tanizaki siblings’ relationship and I thought it best to take her advice. Two weeks in the Agency was more than enough for me to guess...

“I-it’s lucky I wasn’t exactly Katai-san’s type, then huh?” I tried to joke.

Although Katai had thought I was Kunikida’s...

Just thinking about it made my face burn so I looked away and continued sweeping.

“Yeah, that’s good,” Tanizaki mumbled, making his way towards the trash can by the client booth.

He set his broom against the stained glass paneling and opened up the lid

“So you’re making progress on your case, then?” Tanizaki asked as I nodded and joined him by the trash bin. “That’s good. It seems like a tough one. Tougher still since you’re working with Dazai-san. I mean.”

He elbowed me slightly and laughed.

“Speaking of men who get weird around girls, am I right?”

Tanizaki continued chuckling to himself as I emptied my dustbin into the trash but I couldn’t bring myself to return the laugh.

Dazai was definitely the worst kind of flirt but there was something about him back there, something different from his usual antics. Nobody had ever looked at me the way Dazai had just now... like he was trying—really trying—to get to know me. Like he was utterly fascinated by me...

And that he really liked what he saw...

I put down the dustbin and broom and stared into the trash, at the ashes from the fire Dazai had set yesterday.

Why had he asked me that question...? He clearly hadn’t been asking me about a literal apple but why did Dazai want to ask about my worldview so suddenly? And why did he seem so surprised by my answer?

So genuinely surprised... and pleased?

I bit my lip as I thought about the way his hand had rested against mine and how I hadn’t moved away.

I hadn’t moved away because I didn’t want to...

Why?

Why does my heart beat so fast when he looks at me like that...?

Why does his smile make me want to stop and stare at him for hours on end?

I closed my eyes and tried to put the thoughts out of my head but no sooner had I done so than a memory floated back to me—the memory of the day I’d met Dazai—the way he’d smiled when he handed me my drawing, the way his eyes had sparkled when he’d caught me staring...

I put my hand up to my face and covered my eyes.

Why can’t I stop thinking about him all of a sudden?

The only man I liked was Kunikida... and only Kunikida...

Right...?

“Kusunoki-san?” Tanizaki asked, sounding confused and slightly concerned when I suddenly and violently twitched, as if I were falling asleep on my feet and abruptly woke back up.

He leaned over to peer into the trash with me.

“What are you looking at? Oh.”

He wrinkled his nose and sighed when he saw the charred ring of residue in the metal bin.

“The fire, huh? Yeah it’s a good thing you weren’t here when Dazai did that. I swear to God, all hell broke loose right before lunch yesterday. Kunikida basically lost it—you should’ve heard him yelling and screaming—”

“Should I take this outside and wash it?” I asked, pointing to the can but Tanizaki was already shaking his head.

“Nah, you don’t need to. We can ask the building janitor to take care of it. Then again...”

He studied my face, looking slightly concerned.

“If you need a breath of fresh air,” he said, “we could always just make a quick trip to the larger bins out back. I’ll take these. Why don’t you go to the shredders by the printer and see what you can get?”

Nodding furiously, I hurried off towards the printers—only to trip on the very trash can I’d just offered to clean up. I fell to the ground with an undignified squawk of surprise, spilling ashes and scraps of paper everywhere as the trash can rolled away on its side. I leaped to my feet.

“Sorry!” I exclaimed, scrambling to clean up the mess I’d just made. “Let me get this—”

“That’s fine, but you don’t have to use your hands!” Tanizaki cried, looking frantic and now more worried than ever. “Kusunoki, what’s going on? Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I insisted, picking up scraps of paper and flinging them into the trash, completely disregarding Tanizaki’s protests. “This was my fault so I’ll...”

I trailed off as my eyes landed on a name on one of the larger scraps of paper. The corner was burned and there were dried chunks of fire extinguisher foam on the black ink of the text, but I could still make out the words.

It was an autopsy report, forwarded to the Armed Detective Agency by request of one of the detectives looking into an open case.

The name of the victim: Yamazaki Tomie.

And the detective who had requested the report...

Dazai Osamu.

[scriptaed]

a lion’s gilded tooth 01. (m)

genre: angst; fluff; mature content; soulmates!au; dystopia!au;

characters: jimin x reader x hoseok;

length: 11.7k;

synopsis:  in a secluded village of 500, the concept of soulmates is used as a mere means for survival and reproduction. when classmates mysteriously disappear and the future with your first childhood love is threatened under the hands of fate on mating day, your once peaceful life begins spiraling into chaos. now, the only hope to unveil the truths behind humanity’s purpose lies in the secrets of the village and its magical ruins. 

“Client 151019, please head up to Counter 190525. Again, Client 151019, please head up to Counter 190525.”

The monotonous voice of a familiar female authority echoes incessantly across the vast room—lifeless and desultory, yet at the same time, ever the more daunting. It's a scene every child has witnessed from the lips of their very own mother, the very year in which a child's wildest imaginations crumbled under the confines of the world's creeping ends. The entirety of adolescence spent outside roaming about in the fields, harvesting the appropriate assets for a befitting pair of viable individuals, enduring the lectures of very adult in the village whom had warned you to take Mating Day seriously—none of the eighteen years would ever be enough preparation for anyone to fulfill their sole purpose of fertility. 

The white tiles lining the floor cut by dozens upon dozens of black and red lines of tape running in every which way reflect an unpleasant flood of light from its similarly white-coated ceiling. The stark contrast of the numerous rows of black chairs organized into three sections across the room were impossible to miss in the mostly monochromatic room. You had heard countless rumors from school regarding the haunting cold air of this room, but myths tend to exist on the sole vitality of a teen's fleeting attention span; this time, however, experience has proven you wrong. Three hours of sitting in this room was enough to send you longing for the earthy vibrancy of your rural village—the eye-soothing tones of the grass, the scent of wood freshly dampened by the rain the night before, and the familiar back of his as he frolicked through the meadows with your hand in his.

Please prepare two forms of photo identification and the appropriate documents...

Chills ricochet down your spine and manifest into waves that flood your extremities, where your fingertips fidgeted with the metallic underside of your uniform black seat. The short-lived breath of wind as people bustled about before you in an effort to reach their respective destinations didn't help to cease the growing pain of anxiety mixed with a touch if adrenaline burrowed within your chest. 

...to ensure a quick and easy check-in. Your cooperation is greatly appreciated.

The sole source of sanity keeping you from screaming at the eeriness of the woman’s directions is the remaining constant in the entirety of your livelihood… him. 

When he rests his hands upon yours, the warmth wades you gently through the directionless waves toward reality; and when you lift your gaze to find him grinning at you with that oh-so-familiar soft smile of his, you’re once again left assured, for you know what lies on the other end of tomorrow's testament of fate. 

You’ve always known. 

"Hey, baby, you okay?" his voice cooed as he strokes your head with a prolonged kiss to your temple; with each of his electric touches against your bare skin, the blinding white of the lights disintegrates into reality. 

You blink slowly, once and twice, until the curve of a grin belonging to the longtime beholder of your affections elicits a skip in tempo against your chest; and before you know it, as if ingrained into your very blueprint, your hands lift to cup his dewy cheek as your thumb runs along his plump, bottom lip. The crescents of his eyes thin even more so, weak with endearment under the embrace of his love. 

It’s just as the legends say: the finding of a soulmate is enough to stop even the infinite magnitudes of time itself. 

“What do you mean, Jimin,” you let out a nervous laugh, “I’m fine. It’s just that this room is… sort of sucking the life out of me.” 

The boy frowns when his hand lays over your cold ones on his cheek, “are you sure? I can always grab a permit from Mr. Wang and see Dr. Li with you.”  

“I’m fine, Jimin. Every teacher and nurse in this village will be onto us if you don’t stop overreacting to my every drop in temperature,” your joke incites a pout from him. “Plus, what in the world do I have to be scared of when I have you right here—” 

“—booooo,” an irking voice hollers from the row of chairs across you. The sheepish giggles from Jimin morphs into a series of cackling, his head thrown back and his hands cover his burning cheeks in embarrassment; whereas you, on the other hand, shoot an unapologetic glare at the boy who just shrugs. With arms spread over the empty chairs beside him, one over the shoulder of a girl, who noticeably fails to hide the lift on the corner of her lips, the boy persists in his antics, “I didn’t sign up to watch this lovesick fest, so at least give me some drama! Fight or something!”

“Fight?” you ask rhetorically but his smile only widens along with his eyes. 

“Yeah, slap each other or something! God, do you guys ever fight?” 

“Okay, I don’t know about you and Soyeon, but Jimin and I never fight,” you cross your arms and Jimin wraps an arm over your shoulder, gaze fixated on you with a sweet smile to cheer you on while Hoseok pretends to vomit to the side. “I guess we know which couple is breaking up on Mating Day.” 

The couple before you shifts uncomfortably in the lack of a quick rebuttal, particularly Soyeon, whose glance darts to the floor in shambles, and you begin to wonder if you had taken it too far—that is, until Jung Hoseok opens his big mouth again.

“Tch, not us,” he scoffs, the intense gaze of his challenges you to a silent duel of grit, “because at least we’re not acting all lovey-dovey out in the open. If anything, I’m betting the teachers will split you up before tomorrow morning even arrives—”  

—and you snap.

“Oh, that’s some big talk, especially coming from you,” your hands would have been completely ready for a fight, as was Hoseok, judging by the twitch of his now furrowed brows accompanied by a death glare, but Jimin holds you back with his two arms hugging you back into the seat beside him. 

“Alright, alright, calm down guys. Today’s supposed to be one of the most important days of our lives, let’s not fight, yeah? Why are you two always fighting?” Jimin’s laugh elicits a pressing frown from you and your opponent. The peacemaker simply chuckles again and squishes your cheeks together with one hand, “and Y/N was just joking, right, baby? You didn’t mean to take it that far, yeah?”

The one-sided duel persists as your arms are held tightly against your chest and Hoseok refuses to budge except for turning his attention elsewhere—anything but you. 

“Hm?” Jimin nudges you gently. 

Begrudgingly, you admit to yourself Jimin was right. Attacking Hoseok’s family name was a low blow, but his well-calculated jabs at your future with Jimin made your blood boil. He knew the next two days would be a tremendously precarious time for you two, he knew how you felt about Jimin and your uncertainty, so why would he go out of his way to knock you off your feet during your lowest of lows? Especially when it was such a rarity for him to do so? 

 “Client 151020, please head up to Counter 190715. Again, Client 151020, please head up to Counter 190715.”

“Oh, I guess that’s my turn. Gotta go!” you blurt, evidently relieved by an escape route as you grab your documents and jump to your feet. Just as you pivot on the balls of your feet, a firm hand swiftly whirls you back around until you’re met with a large, orange envelope. 

“You almost forgot this. Could you be any more clumsy?” Jimin hands you the file, head tilted to devote his sole attention at his girl above. His eyes glimmer and lips stretch into a cheeky grin, fully expecting a reward. Without missing a second, you blow him a kiss and he dramatically pretends to collapse to the floor, overwhelmed by your grace. Hoseok groans once again, surprisingly accompanied by Soyeon’s giggle, and you catch sight of Jimin shrugging as you turn your back on them. “Sorry, Hosoek, but you know I’m always on Y/N’s side.” 

The sweet taste of victory manifests in the power of your strides, but alas, all good things must come to an end when you find your dirt-stained, gray shoes bumping into a mahogany podium. Gulping, you take a deep breath and force your eyes to meet those of whom could soon dictate your very future—

“—Y/N!” 

A puff of air escapes the labyrinth of knots within your chest; because to your surprise, an old acquaintance sits before you amidst the waves of nostalgia that submerges you chest-deep. 

“Why if it isn’t—” the jovial color of her voice is abruptly replaced by a split second, perhaps because of the slight discomfort hidden beneath your subconscious or the restrictions of her current profession, “—Y/N, it’s been so long since we’ve last spoken, hasn’t it?” 

You struggle to dedicate your wary gaze on a single subject before finally settling on the woman before you. From your lower angle, neck craning and lips ever-so-slightly quivering, it’s almost as if the clock had been reverted to ten years back. “...yeah, it has been.” 

“How are your parents?” she asks while meddling with your files. 

“They’re doing well,” you mentally scramble to fill the impending silence, “and how are you doing, Ms. Jung?”

“I’ve been…” she pauses, intentionally keeping her hands preoccupied with the shuffling of files, “...alright.”

For being a direct relative of Hoseok’s, his mother is much more composed and you feel obligated to press further. 

“Are you sure? You seem very tired, Ms. Jung. Is there something on your mind?” 

She takes a deep breath and sighs the heaviest of sighs. The mother is evidently troubled by an unspeakable matter for nights, weeks, months on end. Hair short, thin, and gray, the worn condition of her sleepless eyes are kept hidden as she persists in keeping them peeled to your files. “I’ll be fine, darling—” another sigh “—it might be difficult for you to understand at your age, but as big of a day this is for you children, it’s just as nerve-wracking for us parents, if not more.”

“Ah—” a surge of guilt overcomes you for the remark you had made on Hoseok’s accursed family name “—no, I understand, Ms. Jung. I could only imagine how hard it must be to send your child off with someone who might very well be a stranger.” 

You catch the mother biting her tongue in a fruitful attempt to stop the words from flowing; on the contrary and to your disliking, your lips fail to seal the years of burden. 

“I mean, we get married to someone we might not even know, then we’re expected to suddenly start a family of our own, and we don’t—actually, no one—has a say in what the future holds for us all because of this thing we call fate… sometimes I don’t understand who, why, or how this system was even made. How does it help any of us?”

The mother redirects her attention from the paper and onto the child before her, clearly taken aback by their anxious state of mind, for she had never witnessed the child delve into adult matters. 

Your vague silhouette reflects in her widened orbs and you begin to wonder: maybe, just maybe, somewhere hidden deep, buried and shunned, lies your greatest fears of tomorrow. 

“Well, it wouldn’t be a complete stranger,” the mother reassumes her spot in the committee. “You children know every other child there is on this land. In the worst case scenario, which, mind you, could never possibly arise, your mate would be a classmate you’ve exchanged glances with but never spoken to. Nothing a bit of conversation can’t fix. If fate says it’s meant to be, then it’s meant to be.

You gulp the impending wail in the back of your throat and force yourself to look her directly in the eye, “and… how does fate know it’s meant to be? Why don’t I, the bearer of my very own flesh and being, not have a say in my soulmate? I know who I love, I know who loves me—” 

“—sh,” the woman harshly cuts you off, leaning forward to whisper a warning in the form of a matter of fact, “trust the system.” 

At surface level, her eyes are devoid of empathy akin to the cold rules of the system, but the glimmers of her wavering gaze reminds you of the mother who fears for the future of her child. Powerless against the hands of destiny, you remain silent. 

“I’m required by protocol to ask this of you,” the mother clears her throat as she gathers the piles of papers, “have you engaged in any form of the following activities?”

Handholding? 

“No.” 

You deny having grazed the soft skin of his hand for the first time in the meadows, concealed by the golden tall grass, far and away from the intrusive eyes of others. The callus which had just begun developing on his palms as a helper of the harvesting season, the first sign of maturation, still burns vividly in your memories. 

Skinship?

“No.”

The radiance of the sun had never shone so brightly before; his hair glowed of light brown, nearly blond, the dewiness of his skin reflected the gift of God, and when he whirled around with his hands clenched firmly around yours and a smile plastered across his lips…? You had never believed in celestial beings, but if you had to on that very day, Jimin would have been the closest to an angel. 

Relationships?

It takes you more than a second to respond, because how could someone ever deny the existence of feelings as fervent and real as this? Everything blazed of gold that day, his hair, his eyes, his smile, his very being, your heart, and you’re determined to protect them. This memory belonged to you and him only. No one could strip you of this right, not even destiny. 

“No.”

Ms. Jung watches you for an uncomfortable second of a pause before nodding her head. She proceeds to pour a string of melted red wax onto your envelope as a seal of approval until, suddenly yet calmly, she catches sight of her son striding across the room from the corner of her eyes. “How’s Hoseok doing?”

“Hoseok?” you almost choke at the mention of his name, a stark contrast to the composed mother across from you. “Uh, I mean, he’s doing fine. I think. Yeah, he’s outscoring everyone in class if that says anything.”

“I know that, I’m his mother,” she laughs. “What I don’t know, however, is his life outside of home and work. His friends, hobbies, and… interests, things like that. You, Jimin, and Hoseok used to be so close. Where did all that time go? It's hard to believe you three are all grown up and ready to be wedded. Sometimes, I wish things could’ve stayed like that.” 

“...yeah,” you utter under your breath, “I wished so, too.”

The mother sighs in fondness over the decades that had flown by in the blink of an eye. “I remember when I was 18. Mating Day was all the girls ever fussed about back then. We’d make bets on who ended up with who and some daredevils even vied to be paired with our crushes… is it still like that for you girls?”

“Um,” you pause, wondering if anything you say would be used against you before proceeding with caution, “I… don’t think so. At least I don’t.”

“Really?” she frowns. “Well, that’s good. I would advise you all not to let your hopes get the best of you. Sometimes, things end up for the best even if it doesn’t seem so at the forefront. I guess that’s why they instilled this system in the first place. If humans can’t find their soulmates, maybe magic is our only option. Perhaps marriages never worked out before our age.”

“You think so?”

“We could only make our best predictions all day and still end up with an indefinite answer,” her sighs come to an abrupt stop along with the shuffling of your papers, “and… do you know if Hoseok…?”

Oh, she must not be aware of Soyeon. Contrary to the tightly knit bond he had seemingly bore, Hoseok has refrained from introducing his one living parent to the lady of his future. Understandably, his mother’s spot in the Committee could play a role in his decision, but it still struck you as odd.

Three clients down the line, you manage to spot his head as he hands his own envelope to the staff before him. Peculiar that you had never noticed it until now, but from your angle, Hoseok appears much more capable of an individual than you had previously presumed. Perhaps it’s that taller stature and unwavering gaze of his, but he almost resembled a boy undergoing the coming of age. 

The whole world has only just begun crashing down on you, a child still unfit for the harsh realities of the many years to come; but for Hoseok, that stern demeanor of his, determination ablaze in his orbs and shoulders ready to uphold the burdens of the future, bellows a silent warcry against any adversity who dares to pose a threat. 

The boy presses on, eyes glued to the task before him, but something in you knows he was more than aware of your gaze. Truthfully, you don't mind his disregard for your states—in fact, you would rather keep it this way—but how peculiar is it that a mere human being could hear the unspoken motives of another? If someone were to ask you how you could be so sure of his disregard, you would have no proof but an instinctive feeling backed by baseless confidence and an intangible connection. 

Conclusively, you hate to admit it, but he’s undeniably more capable than any boy or girl under this roof. 

“He’ll be okay, Ms. Jung,” your hands instinctively reach out for hers before you could stop yourself; nevertheless, the pressed upturn of your lips makes its best effort to comfort the mother of a childhood friend. “He’ll get through whatever life has in store for him. I promise.”

“Ay…” she drawls, retracting her hands to quickly wipe the premature waterworks from her cheeks, “what am I worrying about? Tomorrow will be a new beginning for you children, I couldn’t be happier.”

“Right,” you force yourself to nod with a grin.

“Here are your files,” the mother returns the envelope over the counter. “The initiation will begin at dawn, so be in bed and asleep by midnight. When you awaken, that’s when the initiation officially begins. The terrain will resemble the village exactly, it’s like lucid dreaming. Instead of waking in your bedroom, however, your new location is decided by the system. The rules are as follows… One, you are free to roam. Two, violence is prohibited. Three, self harm is prohibited. Four, the first individual of the opposite sex you come across is officially your mate. Five, soulmates can not be traded or switched under any circumstances. Failure to participate and violations to any of the preceding rules will result in dire consequences. Any questions?”

How dire could the consequences be? 

If it weren’t for the stress of her words and the haunting cases of missing classmates over the years keeping your mouth shut, curiosity would have gotten the best of you today. 

“No, I understand. Do I need to sign anything?”

“No, the system only requires an oral obligation for the accountability of your actions,” the mother takes a deep breath and draws out a heavy sigh. For the first time since that fateful day buried deep in your recollections, Ms. Jung looks you eye-to-eye with utmost sincerity—one adulterated by sorrow. “I wish you nothing but happiness for the future.”

“Thank you, Ms. Jung.” 

You’re only able to mumble your last words, for the buildup of tension drained you of vitality as you gather your belongings and make a strong, right turn toward the direction you came from. Quickly, you realize Hoseok had already finished checking in and gathered with Soyeon and Jimin from across the room. Soyeon keeps her head low, the platinum blond strands of hair providing curtains over her shifty eyes. On the other hand, the two boys watch intently as you approach them, one beaming with glee at the exuding confidence of his beloved and the other arching a brow at you in curiosity rather than concern. 

“What took you so long?” 

“Tch,” you click your tongue, “I take back everything positive I ever thought about you. I was talking to your mom, dumbass.”

“You? Positive? About me?” he clarifies grotesquely. “Good, I’d rather you take it back.”

“It’s fine by me no matter how long you take,” Jimin sing-songs, cheerfully embracing you and rocking you side to side but your eyes never ceases to shoot death glares at Hoseok. “As long as I have my baby back!”

“Why are you even here still?” you point at the boy accusedly. 

“Actually,” he wraps an arm around Soyeon’s shoulder and she nearly jumped in surprise. “I wanted you to bring Soyeon along with you to the graduation ceremony.”

“Wait, why? I mean, I don’t mind, but why doesn’t she just go with you?”

Hoseok snorts, “are you dumb?”

Jimin hugs you even tighter and bursts into giggles when he notices you preparing to pounce at your enemy with fists raised, “we still have to change into our caps and gowns, remember?” 

“So what? They’re dating, they can change together!”

The reactions that follow greatly vary as Soyeon’s cheeks turn beet red, Jimin’s cackles increases in volume, and Hoseok only scoffs. 

“And?” he crosses his arms, tilting his chin as if to point at Jimin. “Have you ever seen Jimin naked?” 

“Well, I mean, no,” you gape at his promiscuous remark. The smirk of victory plastered across his lips nearly gets your blood boiling as you huff in defeat and Jimin begins laughing so hard he has to nuzzle his head against your temple. “Fine, you win. Soyeon would have a much better time with me anyways, right?” 

“Huh?” her eyes pop and she barely utters under her breath. “...I don’t know.” 

This time, Hoseok joins Jimin in his fit of laughter and you’ve finally had enough. With a punch to Jimin’s arm, you retract yourself from his embrace, “you having fun laughing, huh?”

“I… I didn’t mean it that way!” Soyeon’s clutch to your arm surprises you. 

“It’s fine,” you grumble, finally managing to break free from Jimin’s bear hug. “C’mon, Soyeon, let’s go.”

“Nooo, baby, I’m sorry!” Jimin tries his best at apologizing, tumbling over his incessant giggles. He taps at his cheek like a puppy looking for a prize, “at least give me a kiss before you go, hm? Please?”

Instead of succumbing to his desperate albeit adorable pleas, you answer with the link of Soyeon’s arms and marching off into the distance toward the doors. While you were determined to storm off without a glance back over your shoulder, Soyeon’s muffled giggles piques your interest. 

“Nooo,” Jimin cries, hands dramatically reaching out toward you, “Y/N! Don’t leave me with him!” 

“Him? It’s not like I want to be with you either,” Hoseok emphasizes, holding Jimin back and scolding, “quit it unless you want to get in trouble.”

“I’m sorry for being a bother… you really don’t have to accompany me,” Soyeon says ever-so-softly. “It’s just that I’ve always spent my breaks with Hoseok and I don’t really know any of our classmates…”

“Oh, it’s totally fine. I spend most of my time with Jimin, too,” you assure her with a light tug at your left arm which linked with hers, “just to set the record straight, I’m at war with Hoseok, not you. Although, you could have pretended to side with me for just a second—”

“—oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you…” she dips her head along with her voice. “The words just slipped before I knew it…”

“It’s okay! I was just joking!” you laugh nervously at her sudden timidness. How does someone as gentle and pristine as Soyeon handle someone like the rash and blunt Hoseok? If Soyeon was the lamb taming the lion Hoseok, then what would you and Jimin resemble? Unbeknownst to you, it would be a question left unanswered for the endless years to come. “You two do make a great couple, though.”

It’s the first time you hear Soyeon laugh so gleefully and something in you just knows the next two days would surely be a first of many. 

The next of firsts arrives much earlier than you had unexpected and unpleasantly so. Previously, you had the false presumption of having made acquaintances of your every classmate, but when you skim around the classroom and fail to identify the explicit reasoning behind an inkling of uneasiness, you begin to doubt yourself. 

What were their names? What did they look like? Where did they sit? 

The shroud of questions only elevates the discomfort of having all the answers on the tip of your tongue yet arriving to none. 

Today marks the first time a classmate of yours fell victim to one of the many missing cases. 

“Well,” a man clears his throat and the booming, gruff voice of his snaps you back to reality. 

The stout homeroom teacher paces in front of the green chalkboard but your eyes remain peeled to the opposite side of the classroom, where you suspect your missing classmates must have had resided. On your immediate right, Hoseok shoots you a quick glimpse, brows furrowed for a split second before redirecting to the front of the classroom. Jimin, to the left of empty spots where two desks would have fit so perfectly, blows you a kiss along with a cheeky grin, crescent eyes beaming with a transient joy that warms your heart. 

“Today will be your last day in this classroom. Some of you never paid attention—” he directs a stern look at Jimin, who scrunches his shoulder and slumps into his chair in preparation for a disciplinary lecture that never comes “—some of you slept through class and still passed with flying colors—” this time it’s your turn to duck “—and some, well, one of you were the best model student I could have asked for—” Hoseok is shot with fourteen pairs of death glares but he remains neither content nor bothered “—nonetheless, you all made it.”

Maybe it’s the monumental step you’re all about to take, or maybe it’s the tears welling up in the figure of admiration you all had held at some point along the past fifteen years, but the air remains deafeningly silent, as if in a vain attempt to hold back the impending sobs. Everyone knows one another in this classroom, their stupid habits, fleeting hobbies, fervent crushes, and so, for the last time ever, everyone’s eyes remains on the graying elder pacing between the rows of desks. 

“I’ve had the pleasure of teaching you rascals, every single one of you. I’ve watched you all grow from the little kids that you were into the wonderful men and women you are today,” he removes his square-framed glasses to rub the waterworks off his cheeks and his words become incomprehensible by the chokes that ensue, “and I hope that when y-you… h-have children, you’ll b-bring them to m-me, a-and—”

“—booooo,” everyone stares at the boy who had hollered, taken aback for a split second before bursting into laughter; even Mr. Wang begins choking on his laughs intermixed with jovial sobs, and you can finally confirm your long-held suspicion Jay had his own silver linings as a troublemaker. The boy’s lopsided grin is accompanied by snickers, “how long are you going to lecture us, Mr. Wang? I thought you said this would be our last!” 

“Alright, alright,” the teacher lets out one last chuckle before gesturing to the boy beside you, “well, then, would you do the honors for the last time, student representative?”

The boy nods, pushing his seat back effortlessly and standing to his feet with one swift, confident sway. His gaze remains fixated neither on the teacher nor the classmates, rather, his laser-like attention devotes itself to a far more intangible phenomenon invisible to anyone but him—and it could have just been you or the entire class, but you’re incapable of looking away. 

“Everyone, stand,” Hoseok orders and everyone obeys with a loud screeching of chairs. “Ready and bow.”

In a fleeting moment of unity, the students bow in respect for the retirement of the past caretaker and in the face of the daunting future. 

“Thank you, Mr. Wang!”

“You kids are really going to make me cry,” he shakes his head yet the grin sits proudly on his face, “you are all officially dismiss—”

—the words just barely escape his lips when the class erupts into a roar. Classmates dart for the front of the class, pushing you along into the mass of students. You’re forced to follow the lead of the swarm when, suddenly, the teacher is thrown into the air and brought out into the hallway, intentionally joining forces with the neighboring classrooms. Despite being squished, pushed, and pulled in a mob of barbaric students, you can’t help but break out into an uncontrollable fit of laughter; and all the while, Jimin is the only one on your mind. 

“Jimin! Where are you?” you call out to him and turn gleefully when someone taps you on your left shoulder. To your surprise, you spot an unexpected face of a bellowing classmate; and amidst the chaotic confusion, a familiar pair of lips plants a firm kiss to your right cheek. 

It goes without saying, your heart swells into an immediate mush and you can’t help but laugh.

“Right here, princess,” Jimin links his arm around yours, nose wrinkling in the company of his cheeky grin. “I finally got my kiss.”

You shake your head, “but I didn’t kiss you.”

“No, but I kissed you and that’s even better,” he coos. 

“That’s not playing by the rules, though.” 

“No? Then I guess you can punish me… with five more kisses!”

You can barely respond amidst your giggles, “how is that a punishment?”

“You’re right, what could possibly be better than my kisses?” he pouts, fluttering his eyelids to feign innocence. 

Hastily scanning the hall for the peering eyes of teachers, all of whom are too preoccupied with being thrown into the air, you intertwine your fingers with his. “Actually, you know, I am kind of disappointed that none of the teachers know about us…”

“Aw, baby, I would want the whooole world to know if I could,” Jimin sulks, “but we’ll have to wait until tomorrow, so five kisses for now would be easier!”

The corners of your lips stretch even wider and you could even feel your cheeks growing sorer by the second when you crane your neck back to avoid Jimin’s oncoming puckered lips.

“—hey Y/N, if that man doesn’t stop disrespecting you,” the both of you glance wide-eyed at Jay, who follows along at the side of the swarming crowd. A sharp gasp inflates your lungs when the boy winks, clearly neglecting Jimin’s scowl, “you know who to get. Match with me tomorrow?”

“What?!” Jimin’s shouts of fury are buried by the cheers of the crowd. Jay only shrugs nonchalantly, preparing for a sprint down the hall when Jimin raises his fists. “I’m not disrespecting my baby! She enjoys my kisses!”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night—”

“—quit interrupting our banters!” 

...and just like that, the boys disappear into the distance, one giving chase and the other snickering tauntingly. 

Shaking your head, you could only roll your eyes at what had just played out before you. The euphoric adoration for Jimin had been enough to numb the pain of being shuffled around mercilessly in the crowd, but it doesn’t take long until your body comes to acknowledge its toll. 

“Alright, quit it! I’m out!” you try to maneuver your way out, yet to no one’s surprise, the flashmob misconstrues your pleas as a cheer to fight on. Groaning as loudly as you could, you yell, “stop pushing—”

“—get out of the way if you can’t handle it, then,” the familiar husk of a voice irks your ears when a firm pair of hands settles on your shoulders and moves you to the outside of the crowd. Peering up at the boy, you grimace at his backhanded gesture of an aid. Hoseok ignores your glare with a question, “did you see Soyeon anywhere?”

“I don’t know. I’m in the same class as you, dumbass.” 

“Whoa, okay, calm down tiger, just asking,” Hoseok throws his hands up in defeat. 

In the midst of rolling your eyes, you spot Jimin at the opposite end of the hall. Completely devoted to showing Jay a piece of his mind, Jimin proceeds to slap the boy, who ducks from his attacks, along with several jabs to his bottom with a knee. Eyes diverting to the more proximal boy whom you could catch staring at you from your peripheral vision, you quirk a brow at Hoseok’s snide, lopsided grin. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” an impertinent chortle follows, “I’m just trying to stop myself from puking after witnessing just how smitten you are.”

“I swear, you’re going to be the death of me someday,” you raise a threatening hand but Hoseok’s gaze remains fixated on you, hands buried in his pockets, and stance unbudged. 

You hadn’t noticed until now, when that devilish smirk of his gradually shifts to a genuine symbol of bliss more resembling to the childhood friend you had once known, you finally realize the fortunate spot you had taken amidst the crowd. While you suffer little to no impact, Hoseok's widened stance jostled, arms constantly bumped into and legs nearly tripped under the endless stream of incoming passersby. 

"Yeah?" he arches a brow. "You look awfully happy to me right now."

"Of course," you quickly add, "because of Jimin."

"Why?" his smile grows wider. "Because after today you'll finally be allowed to kiss your boyfriend in public?" 

The sheepish chortle that slips from your lips is enough of an answer.

"Well," Hoseok chuckles, the burning gaze of his still fixated on you, "I'm glad at least one of us is happy."

"What?" you frown. "Are you not?"

The boy refrains from answering, or perhaps he did, for he simply presses a thin, small upturn of a smile at you and takes a step to the side. Your body nearly collapses to the floor when several students forcefully weave their way in between the two of you. 

There it is, again, your sheer, utter confidence of his indifference toward the look of concern plastered all over your face as he redirects his attention to the teachers being flying into the air; but before you could inquire any further, an arm links with your right elbow and tugs you to the back and away from the crowd. 

"Jimin?"

"C'mon," he has to cup a hand over your ears, lips grazing against your burning red ears. "I have something to show you."

"Wait, but our celebration—"

"Would you rather waste your time in this chaos or spend your time alone with me?" 

The beat of a heart is all it takes for you to squeeze his hand in agreement and his to squeeze yours.

"Ahh, how lucky am I to have someone as cute as you," he gushes and you can't help the rush of blood that rushes to your cheeks, "I always knew we were meant to be."

The words didn't need to be said, for your silence is enough of a declaration to the universe. 

I did too.

…and so, the Prince whisks you away into a land only fathomable in the reminiscence of a dream.

At a brief, magical fragment in time, when the cheers fade into the distance of the past and the hollers become a facade of the present as they remain ringing in your ears, golden hour strikes.

You could tell from the way the Sun screams into the skies—loud, red, ethereal. 

You could tell from the way the meadow is set ablaze into a treasure chest of gold. 

You could tell from the way the zephyrs brushes gently past two pairs of shoulders and trails along the field akin to the blue waves in the aftermath of a calamity. 

You could tell from the way he breaths, slow, soft, and cautious to prolong the delicacy of this moment in time, from the way he keeps his gaze fixated on one too abashed to reciprocate, in fondness and complete awe, from the way neither of you spoke yet proclamations of affection deafen the gray silence. 

This undeniable connection could never be put into words. 

“I guess this is our last time in the school yard, huh?” you speak, finally mustering the courage to meet his tender gaze. The smile dancing on those pressed lips of his only widens in response. “You know, we’ve watched the sun set here together so many times, but I don’t think it’s ever looked this beautiful.”

“Mm…” Jimin hums. “Maybe the sun is celebrating with us today?”

“Celebrating?”

“Yeah—” he lets in a small gasp and points to your left “—what’s going on over there?!”

“What?” your neck turns so abruptly that you could almost feel a strain coming on. “What’s going on?”

In a magical spur of the moment, a gust of wind passes by as it rustles the meadow and trees beneath its wing span. The breeze serves as a perfect cover-up for the boy who lets out a muffled huff while the wooden bench dips and his foot stomps to stir the dirt beneath. 

“Jimin, I literally don’t see anything,” you squint one last time off into the distance of the empty meadow before whirling back around only to stumble upon another one of his antics.

There, sitting still and basking in the warmth of the sun flooring upon his cheeks and yours, Jimin grins cheekily with a bouquet of white flowers. 

“—tada!” he sings, handing you the arrangement. “Congratulations, Y/N.” 

“Wha—but for what?” you hold the flowers close to your chest, still agape by the surprise. 

“For graduating.”

“But you graduated, too…?”

“...and for your birthday,” he continues. 

“My… birthday…” you narrow your eyes at him, “is next week… did you already forget?” 

“I know, I know,” Jimin laughs, smile wider than ever until he settles into the whispers of the ephemeral breeze. He watches you tenderly. “How would I ever forget my baby’s birthday?” 

You struggle to speak as he pinches your cheeks, “then why are you handing me this now?”

“Mm…” the grin remains even as he presses his lips, eyes gazing off to the skies before returning to you, “because this is more romantic and now you’re ruining it!” 

“Ah…”

“What? You don’t want it? Fine, I like flowers too, you know,” Jimin attempts to retract the flowers from you in a fit of laughter but your bear hug to his arm prevents him from doing so. 

“Nope, too late, they’re mine,” your head rests comfortably in the crook of his neck, “and just so you know, I don’t need presents anymore. You’re the best one I could ever ask for.” The boy only chuckles softly, head turning to place a firm kiss to your head. His hand weaves through your locks of hair as he patted the back of your head gently before wrapping an arm over your shoulder to pull you in tighter. “Hey, do you remember the first time you ever gave me a flower? And I say a flower because it was literally one flower.”

Jimin erupts into cackles and you smile just knowing the sheepish look on his face right now as he throws his head back in embarrassment. “You mean the first time I ever broke the law and stole something from work just to officially ask you out four years ago?” 

“Yep,”  you join him in his laughter, “didn’t we meet back here, too?”

“Mhm.”

“Would you count that as our first date, then?” you ponder.

“Maybe,” he pauses and chortles, “but I like to think that Hoseok was just third-wheeling on our dates before high school.”

A transient set of laughter ensues before the two of you bask in the silence, vicariously reminiscing over the memories of the other. 

It had never been easier to leap through time.

“So this is it, huh? Our last day together as students.”

“Soon we’ll be married and having kids of our own,” he turns to place another kiss to your forehead. 

“Do you… feel like you’re ready?” 

“Well, we just finished school and now we’re suddenly expected to become full-fledged adults, not to mention parents. It’s a bit overwhelming,” he sighs but you could feel the rise of his cheeks pressed against your head as he smiles, “but I’m ready for anything as long as I’m with you.”

“Oh, what’s this? Jimin is actually being serious for once? As much as I enjoyed it, I have to say you were awfully needy today.”

His nose scrunches at your teases when a mischievous grin replaces his discontent. 

“Then can I have my kiss now?”

“You already have! At least three times by now,” you stress.

“Ay,” Jimin bashfully laughs with eyes fixated on your lips longingly, “you know what I mean!” 

An innate reflex of self mechanism brings your hands to your prized possession but the flush of beet red on your cheeks gives you away. “You can tomorrow.” 

His laughs become a homogeneous mix of nerves and frustration, “why tomorrow? I want to kiss you nooow.”

Why tomorrow? He’s right. Why tomorrow and does it have anything to do with the burning anxiety that gnaws at your chest, constricting your airway and highlighting the fear of this very moment’s transience in that when you awaken tomorrow morning, he could and would no longer remain by your side?

Hastily, you nuzzle your head into his shoulder once again in a fruitless attempt to mask your greatest nightmares. You point to the tall, sturdy oak tree that had aged like fine wine throughout your childhood years, “think about it, we’ll meet out there in the fields where we first met, where we fell in love for the first time, and we’ll meet out there again in our dreams, have our first kiss, and start our future together all under the very same tree.”

His silence has your heart dangling at the edge of a cliff and you lift your head to find him gazing off into fields, perhaps sulking or reminiscing but most definitely riddled with deep thoughts. 

“Yeah, Jimin?” you gently shake his arm. “Let’s meet over there tonight. It doesn’t matter where and when we start initiation. We can wait for each other. Yeah?”

“But we don’t need to do that.” the corner of his lips curve ever-so-slightly as he finally gives you a soft smile. “The system functions on the basis of soulmates. Who could be a better match than us two?”

“I know, but… but what if it doesn’t work?”

“It’s always worked, Y/N. How has our village survived and repopulated for all these years?”

“I know,” you emphasize, brows furrowing at the orchestration of pain hammering against your chest with each beat. “I know, Jimin, but does the system really always work? I mean—” you scramble to gather the thoughts that stings within your bloodstream “—did you not notice how two of our classmates are missing? It’s terrible, I can’t even remember their names but I could have sworn I knew them, and even if I don’t know who they were, the memories  of when we talked and when we laughed, they’re all gone and no one seems to notice!”

“Y/N…?” Jimin lets out a nervous laugh. “What’re you going on about…?”

“You don’t remember, do you?” The myriad of incessant, sleepless nights come crashing down on you all at once. “The missing numbers in our village, the abandoned houses made out to be new infrastructure, no one questions it and I’m starting to wonder if I really am going crazy—”

“—Y/N,” his apathetic tone adorns the stoic look on his face and he meets the wavering gaze of yours straight on, “I don’t know what’s been going on recently, but it will be okay. It will work. Questioning things is useless, it’ll just bring you more stress. Try not to worry for me, even if someday for whatever reason I’m not there to remind you to, please don’t ever carry the burden all by yourself okay?” 

 “Fine, but just,” you struggle to take a calm, deep breath of air amidst the wavering waves that escapes, “just promise me this once, okay Jimin?”

“It’ll be ok—”

“—Jimin!” 

The both of you are taken aback by your cry and you’re riddled with regret at the sight of unforgivable guilt plastered on his now softened features. 

“Okay,” he utters under his breath, squeezing your hand, “I promise.”

Are you truly descending into madness? Or is this a momentary shock from the overwhelming fear of the unknown? The mysteries of the village and the horrid consequences of the system could have been conjured from the nightmares amassed throughout the months leading up to tonight, but lit in the darkness of uncertainty, the warmth of Jimin’s hands, beckoning for you to come forth, is enough of a reason to forget, even if just momentarily. 

“Plus,” Jimin breaks the stillness of the air with a chuckle, “the only person we should be worrying about is Hoseok.” 

“Oh—” the thought had completely been overlooked “—you’re right. If the system truly works, then why is it that the Jung’s always have the worst luck of the draw?” 

“I… don’t know. There isn’t anything we can do about it and I’ve always hated how I’d spend hours and hours just wondering what I could do, but I don’t know.” 

The sun draws its color from the skies with it, leaving traces of its wake along the impending night soon to befall upon it, and all you could do was watch.

“It’s scary,” you hug Jimin’s arms closer to your chest and he glances at you in utter awe, “to be a mere child and have everyone warning you about who you meet and who you play with and how you could very well meet the catalyst of your own death simply because of the blood you’re born with.”

“Aww, is my baby actually concerned for Hoseok?” Jimin cackles at your scowl. “Well, everyone knows about the curse of being married into the Jungs, but that doesn’t seem to stop girls from fawning over him, does it? He is smart after all… and tall…”

“What,” this time it’s your turn to tease, “are you jealous?”

“Nope!” he nuzzles his head against yours. “I don’t care how many girls like me because I only have eyes for you.”

“Right, right,” your laughs are whisked away by a breeze. “Who knows? Maybe Hoseok might even end up with Soyeon. I hate to admit it, but they’re a pretty good match. I can tell she really loves him. I don’t know about Soyeon, but she must be his soulmate. Hah, wouldn’t he just love that?” 

“You think so? I have a feeling he’ll be okay,” Jimin hums passively but when you glimpse at him, his eyes scream ‘I will save you.’ 

A pause ensues.

“You know, as much as I dislike that boy and regardless of how long it’s been since we hung out six years ago, he’s still our friend. To be honest, a part of me doesn’t want tomorrow to ever come. Things are perfect the way they are now. We’re together and Hoseok is fine and happy with Soyeon. I feel bad for using his name against him today.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. We all make mistakes. I’m sure he won’t hold it against you. I don’t know how but we’ll save him if it ever comes down to it, right, Y/N?” he smiles softly when you nod timidly. “Most importantly, don’t be scared of tomorrow. We’ll get through whatever life throws at us together, okay?”   

“Okay.” 

“So…” Jimin utters under his breath, low, raspy, nearly inaudible, but you could sense the oncoming cheekiness of his. “Can I kiss you now?”

“I said tomorrow!”

Your attempts to avoid his watchful gaze prove to be in vain when heat flushes your skin and you catch Jimin grinning in amusement from the corner of your eyes. 

Heartstrings are tugged—plucked, even—as he leans in to place his lips against your right cheek. He waits, prolonging the momentary freeze in time, before finally pulling away and squeezing your hand. 

“Come on, let’s go. It’s getting dark now.”

Despite his beckoning, the boy allows you to take the lead home. Your hand remains snug in his, guiding him forward with small, reluctant strides until he finally comes to a stop. The world spins as you’re whirled around by a tug at the hand and you find yourself stranded in the middle of a field in the arms of your love. 

“Jimin?”

Your words fall upon deaf ears, for the stern, intent look of his eyes that stirs your beating chest and the butterflies in your stomach. 

“Can I kiss you?”  

His hands trail up your arms, grazing your skin along the way, until they cup each of your cheeks. Gradually, ever so slowly, he approaches, watching your every motion. He held you, firmly yet gently, and you just know he could see through your every emotion, from the electricity that runs to your extremities to the flip of your heart that waits in anticipation with each inch of his encroachment; for just before your eyes flutter closed, you spot the curve dancing in the corner of his lips. 

Finally, he closes the remaining distance.

Time comes to a halt.

His flesh is soft, warm, and dewy against yours. He caresses you softly, as if fearful of breaking his most prized delicacy in his very own hands. 

Tender and with love, you share your last firsts of today; but when you pull away, his hands stop yours from leaving the nape of his neck.

“Again.”

...and again, and again.

Having completed its grand finale, the sun sets and reluctantly so.

The magnitude of the challenge that comes with tonight finally dawns upon you. 

You could still feel the reminiscence of his touch on your lips as you lay on your bed, too stirred to fall asleep. Staring at the ceiling above, you shut your eyes and bask in the rarity of complete silence within your now empty household. 

You have two options. One, you knock yourself out into sleep now and get this initiation over with. Two, you sneak out of the house, risk being caught, possibly miss the start of initiation, and tire yourself out into sleep.

As with every Mating Day, every parent should be gathered in the headquarters of the village where you had checked in earlier today, so you figured no one should be roaming outside. Even if there were to be unexpected spectators, stealth came second to your innate senses, for you had snuck out to meet Jimin in his house or the schoolyard countless times before. 

In reality, there isn’t anything but answers that could halt these restless thoughts of yours. Jimin’s adamant trust in the system, his reluctance to meet with you, and the missing classmates that had gone under the radar strike you with concern on the most important of nights. You needed assurance from another perspective; and so, you find yourself creeping along the plain fields, the absence of tall grass keeping you completely out in the open where, fortunately, only the moon bore witness to your rendezvous.

“What’re you doing?”

The sound of his voice incites goosebumps on your arms along with the chilly, still air of the night.

“What took you so long? I’m freezing out here,” you glare at the boy who stands at his doorside; the moonlight illuminates the thick locks of his chestnut locks, fresh out of a shower, and you catch a golden reflection of light glowing from somewhere within his house.

“Who told you to come here?” Hoseok scoffs. “Never mind freezing, what if you’re caught sneaking around with that dumb stance of yours?” 

It takes you a long second to realize what he was referring to. Straightening your back and dropping your hands to your side, you cough in a failed attempt to clear the air. 

“And what about you? You’re not supposed to be opening doors for strangers, for anyone, actually, tonight.” 

Hoseok quirks a brow at your rebuttal, chuckling lowly and adorning a lopsided curve of the lips. “Fine, you win. Come in before anyone catches you and you’re really left for dead.” 

“Wow, are you really that freaked out by tonight because the Hoseok I know would never give up so easily.” The boy only shrugs mischievously, stepping aside as you step foot into his household. “Welp, fine by me—”

—but your words are cut short when wind is knocked from your lungs and you feel a pair of hands on your shoulders, whirling and pushing you around against the closed door. In the blink of an eye, you find yourself in a familiar household of your childhood with an unfamiliar boy hovering above you with darkened eyes. 

“And you’re not supposed to be entering stranger’s houses tonight, huh? What do you think about that, Y/N?” he cocks his head. 

“You’re,” you huff, struggling to hold your breath in the proximity of his face to yours, “you’re not a stranger.”

“Oh but I am.”

“We might have stopped talking a long time ago—” the way you stumble nervously over your own words reminds you of just how long it’s been since you had been alone with Hoseok “—but I still know you. It’s not like you’re a stranger all of a sudden.”

“Yeah?” he raises a brow, finally dropping the hand that had hovered over you next to where he pinned you onto the wall. He takes a step back, crosses his arms against his chest, and cocks his head to the right. Following his gesture, your sights land on two flowers perched on a shelf, one with gilded petals that reflect the golden glow of the display lights and another with similar petals that seem to have just begun withering. “What’re those called then?”

“What does that have anything to do with this?” you frown when he remains unbudged, waiting for your answer. “Uh… I haven’t seen anything like that in our textbooks.”

“Then you don’t know me,” he leans against the back of a couch in the living room, “and I thought you were ranked second in our school.” 

“It’s a flower in your living room,” you groan when he refuses to see any insight to your argument. “Alright, what’s it called then, Student Representative?” 

“A dandelion.”

“A what?”

“A dandelion,” he chortles, eyes diverting to the display as it glows a vibrant gold. “Some people call it a Lion’s Tooth because of its petals, but when it wilts into a white puff of seeds, something as weak as even the breeze can destroy it like the lion it never was. Pretty neat, huh?”

“Nerd,” you scoff. “Plus, doesn’t the wind disperse the seeds so it can repopulate in other areas?”

“Nerd,” he mocks, returning his attention to you with a crooked grin. “So? Why’re you desperate enough to spend time alone with me and not Jimin?”

“Is your mom home?”

“Would I have let you in if she was?” Hoseok deadpans. “She’s not exempt from the rules. She’s at headquarters with the rest of the parents.”

“Good, because I have something… serious to ask you about.”

Hoseok raises both brows inquisitively, seemingly taken aback by someone whom had never sought aid from him before. “All ears.”

“Did you happen to…” you beat around the bush in consideration for the promise you made with Jimin.

“Would you spit it out already—”

“—did you happen to notice two of our classmates missing today?”

Eyes shut and heart pounding, Hoseok’s silence is deafening. 

“...three.”

“Huh?” your eyes snap open and you find him looking off to the side.

“Three rows of desks,” he continues, the stoic gaze of his meeting yours, “none of them were missing. In other words, no.”

Ironically, the sunken weight in chest tells you something in his observation had disappointed you; but what do you have to be disappointed over? Jimin was right, you had nothing to worry about. The excessive stress is starting to get the best of you through these imaginary classmates of yours. 

“Oh, haha…” you force a nervous laughter, scratching your neck in the loss of a purpose. “I guess I really am going crazy then…”

Hoseok only watches you, arms crossed and gaze hardened, each one of you wondering just what was going on in the mind of the other.

“Did you come here just to ask me that?” Hoseok finally breaks the silence. “Why didn’t you ask Jimin?”

Should you tell him about the conversation? Would it be odd to confide in a long lost friend over your love conundrums? Instead of answering, you cross arms in defense. 

“What? Is this your first fight with him?” he muses, standing upright and pulling the gray hood of his outerwear over his head. You could only watch in bewilderment of his accurate prediction as he walks past you and out the door. Following in his footsteps, you shut the door behind you. “C’mon, it’s getting late. I’ll walk you home.” 

“What?” you profusely shake your head. “It’s fine. I can walk myself home. Go get some sleep.”

“Look, I’m not doing this because I want to, but I’m not an asshole and I don’t want to hear Jimin yelling at me if anything were to happen to you,” he beckons again, tilting his head in the direction of your home and burying his hands in his pockets. “C’mon.”

The walk home seems to take much longer than your way on up here now that the reality of the surreal moment had settled in. You had just visited the house of a childhood friend now coined acquaintance, and now you’re walking home with said boy without a single subject that tied the two of you together other than the past. 

“So…” your breath’s penmanship manifests in puffs of white amidst the night air. “How did you know it was me?” Hoseok turns his head to quirk a brow at you. “I mean, I know you’re not dumb enough to open the door for just anyone tonight, especially… not you.” 

Hoseok stares at you long enough for you to become self-conscious, obviously contemplating on the omission of truth. “I could always tell it was you whenever you knocked.” 

Eyes widening, the implications of his answer dawns upon you as his hands lift toward the sky and his raised forefinger casts a shadow onto the grass. His moonlit tan, honey-like skin and glimmering orbs are a near carbon copy to the friend you once knew. 

“We have maybe an hour or two left until initiation begins. What’re you gonna do if you miss it? You scared?” Hoseok teases fall short when he glances over at you to find an apathetic look on your face. “Whoa, I was just joking. You think I can actually tell time like this—”

“—Hoseok, are you scared?” 

“That’s not even a good comeback—”

“—no, I mean,” you blurt, “I don’t know if Soyeon or anyone’s ever checked on you, but given your family name, are you scared?” 

Hoseok stares at you, lips fallen slightly agape and expression too hard to read for a mere acquaintance like you. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that. Please just ignore—”

“—sure I am,” he answers and you could no longer feel the subsequent rapid heartbeats that follow. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn't. Wanna know a secret?” The boy continues despite the lack of an answer. “I’ve spent every single night for the past couple of years theorizing and compiling a list of all the possible outcomes of tonight.” 

“...and?”

“I think I’ve narrowed it down to who it might be.”

The boy’s gaze remains fixated on you, perhaps out of curiosity, amusement, or even concern over your lack of a response. The truth is, you weren’t sure how to comfort him if that time were to come. 

“Who it might be…?”

“You know. Of all people, you and Jimin must know,” he muses. “My accursed mate.” 

“Oh,” you dip your head low, hoping to conceal the windows to your soul, “I’m sure that’s just a myth, Hoseok. The system works, doesn’t it? You’ll be fine. You’ll probably end up with Soyeon anyways. You guys really compliment each other.” 

“Yeah?” he stops abruptly in his path and you do the same. “You think she’s my soulmate?”

“And you don’t?” 

Hoseok lets out a soft chuckle, “I could only hope.”

I’ll save you. Jimin and I will save you. 

The thoughts could never find its way out of the labyrinth of your mind. 

“Alright, I’d rather have you screaming profanities at me again than watch you stare at me with pity.”

“Um,” you pause, “I feel bad for whoever ends up with you to be honest.” 

The boy erupts into cackles, one that hasn’t seen the light of day in years—or at least to you. 

“Yeah, I hope I don’t end up with her either,” he muses, pacing a few steps back away from the front doorsteps of your home. He calls out from afar, “anyways, go get some rest and live your happily ever after with Jimin. Thanks for the concern, but I’ll figure things out on my own.”

“Are you sure…” you say weakly.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, “I always have.” 

With one last soft smile, he makes a run for home, far off into the inconspicuous distance. 

The long-awaited night comes to an all-time proximity when, out of the blue, a thundering clatter to your window rattles you awake. The night must have been aging, for the room is pitch-black and the village is left in utter silence as people drifted off to sleep. 

Nothing should have been outside your house.

Moonlight seeping through the slit of your curtains, you rub your dreary eyes and climb off your bed to wearily draw open your curtains—

“—Y/N! I know you’re in there!” 

“What—” your fury grows with each second as you pull open the curtains and step out into the balcony, glaring at the boy on the first floor of your yard, “—what the fuck are you doing here, Jay?!”

“I told you… I’d come,” his words are slurred and you surmise the involvement of alcohol, a forbidden substance for those underage, to be a main catalyst for his summoning, “waltzing in… for you if Jimin doesn’t...” 

“Go home, Jay. You disgusting animal,” you hiss. “If you stay here any longer, you’re gonna get caught and you might even miss initiation!” 

“C’mon,” he beckons and begins climbing the vines along the walls of your house before falling multiple times in his drunken state. “We can start initiation toge—”

“—Jay, for the last time,” your eyes pop open and you begin to wonder whether you were truly dreaming when you spot Jimin grabbing Jay at his air and pulling him to the floor. “I’m going to beat your ass dead if you don’t fucking go.”

Jay attempts several sloppy punches that land in thin air and you nearly grimace at the wheezes of air forcibly knocked out of his windpipes. 

“Tch, go!” Jimin points to the direction opposite of your house. “Now!” 

Leaving the boy on the ground, heaving for air, Jimin swiftly climbs up the familiar vines, grabbing your hand and leaping into your balcony. The neglect for rest seems to take its toll on the boy’s body when his knees buckle on his landing, sending the both of you tumbling to the floor. In mid-flight, however, Jimin somehow manages to break the fall, for you find yourself on his chest instead of the hard concrete. 

“Jimin,” your eyes widen at the boy who only grins cheekily at you, “am I dreaming? Why are you here?” 

“Real question is, why is that guy here?” 

Having forgotten the fallen boy, the two of you hastily stumble to your feet and peer over the balcony. 

Empty. 

Except for traces of blood that marks the floor, no one is in sight. 

“Where’d... where’d he go?” you shudder in the cold wrath of the night and the tingles that run in your adrenaline-driven blood. “He just… he just disappeared—”

“—Y/N, look over there!” Jimin hisses under his breath.

Following the direction of his pointed finger, you squint hard enough to spot a familiar figure walking off in the distance. A petrifying chill runs down your spine.

“What’s Ms. Jung doing out here?” 

The next thing you know, Jimin clutches your hand and shoves the both of you into your house, quickly turning around to slam the balcony door shut and locked. 

“What’s she doing out there?” you repeat. “Patrolling? Did she catch Jay? What happened to him?” 

“I-I don’t know, Y/N,” he walks you to your bed, gently seating the both of you against your bed frame. 

“Should we report to her what just happened? Does she know? Are we going to miss initiation—”

“—sh, Y/N, shh,” his cupped hands thaw the ice of your cheeks. “I’m sure Ms. Jung has it all handled. She’s probably patrolling to make sure things like this doesn’t happen. What matters is that we’re safe and we have enough time to start initiation, alright?” 

“R-right…” you follow Jimin’s lead and take numerous deep breaths. With his hand in yours and your arm wrapped around his, you lay your head on the crook of his neck. It’s difficult to resume a normal pace of breathing, even in the comforts of his embrace, but you had no choice but to shove matters into the back of your mind. In the wake of Mating Day, time constraints force you to delay matters into tomorrow’s hands. “Wait, what’re you doing here, Jimin? How did you know to come?” 

“I didn’t,” he squeezes your hand. “I felt bad for the way things happened earlier today. I just wanted to be with you tonight and happened to stumble upon Jay… I tried to stop him from coming here but I didn’t know how rough I had to be until I saw him toss a rock at your window...”

“Oh,” you mutter and force your eyes shut, hugging the boy even closer to your chest. “Well, I guess it was meant to be. Thank you… for always being there for me.” 

“Yeah, I’ll always be there for you,” his words are muffled as he kisses your head, “soon enough, we’ll be marrying and starting a family in a house of our own and I can be there for you as many infinite times you want.”

“Okay,” you grin, “that sounds good.” 

“But before we can do that,” he gives you one last kiss, “we should get some sleep.” 

This would be the final silence of the night before Mating Day—long, formidable, and ear-splitting. With so many words left unspoken, the both of you know that eventually, somehow, and painstakingly so, you would be able to find comfort in the confinement of the other,  notwithstanding the difficulty of recovery; and so, eventually, you’re able to mentally sigh in relief when drowsiness dawns upon you. 

“Hey, Y/N?” Jimin’s gruff indicates to you that the both of you would be entering dreamland soon enough, together. 

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

“Mm,” you hum with a smile.

“I love you.”

“Mhm.” 

“I’ll always love you.”  

“Okay,” you hold him even tighter, “and I’ll always love you.”

Daylight breaks sooner than expected, for your eyelids squint even tighter shut in the wake of the sun’s blinding rays. As your senses awaken along with your body, you gradually become conscious of your unusual surroundings. Your fingertips plant into a pool of warmth rubbles akin to dirt and your skin from head to toe basks in the kiss of the sun. You could smell the earthy scent of the meadow intermixed with freshly watered plants and you could hear the soft rustling of the wind against the tall grass. 

You could identify this place anywhere, even in your sleep.

This must be the start of initiation.

Smiling to yourself, you stumble to your feet as blood rushes to your feet and you flutter your eyes open to the familiar schoolyard.

With the exception of the excessive beams of the sun, everything is exactly the same as you had memorized it in reality.

There isn’t anything to be scared of.

Your next step is to find the tree, which, if you were correct, should be right behind you; and, as if in sole happenstance or the works of fate, you have an inkling of the beholder to your promise standing, waiting for your turnaround. 

A euphoric rush of relief and bliss in knowing that it was meant to be all along, you whirl around and call out to your heart’s content.

“Jimin—”

—but your heart stops just as abruptly as your beckoning and as cutthroat as the wails knotted in your throat; because off in the distance, the silhouette of your mate is a stark contrast to your one and only.

Chestnut hair tousled by the breeze, eyes heavy-lidded by the daunting future neither of you desired, and a prim demeanor resting on his lips, you finalize reach an epiphany.

You had been his curse all along.

[hanniiesuckle17]

Guns and Blankets

A/n: not requested but I have been doing too many Stray Kids posts lately holy crap this got long. yes it is heavily inspired by BBC sherlock

ASKS AND REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Member: Jung Hoseok ft. BTS

WARNINGS: Mild violence, swearing, partial smut?, smoking (don't do it kids), alcohol

Summary: Y/n L/n is the world's closest thing to Sherlock Holmes. Her intellect was unparalleled by anyone, but her snide and sarcastic remarks and attitude kept her from joining the force. However, Chief of Police Kim Namjoon can't help but enlist the services of the consulting detective. To the outside, Y/n may seem cold, calculating, and emotionless, but her partner ( Dr.Jung Hoseok) sees a different side of her.

Genre: nonidol!au, detective!au, police!au, sherlockholmes!au, mystery, comedy, angst

I paced the floor of my dark apartment, mind running. "Is your goal to create a dent, because you are doing mighty good work." I scoffed at my partner who sat in the armchair reading the paper.

"I'm waiting. I thought domestic people like you understood that concept." The young man with dark hair chuckled as he watched me burn a hole through my wood floor. My head shot towards the window at the sound of a car pulling up. "Finally, Kim shows up with something to do!"

"A nice murder. That always cheers you up, love."

I could hear the grin in Hoseok's words. "Oh shut up! You love it as much as I do, Mr. Military Doctor." I couldn't kept the smile from breaking onto my face no matter how hard I tried. "Y/n!" The familiar voice of Chief Inspector Kim Namjoon came up the stairs to my apartment.

"What is it this time, Kim?" He stopped in the doorway, out of breath. "Body? Kidnapping? Attempted political assassination? All very fun." He shook his head and started to pull his phone out of his pocket. "No. This was sent to me twenty minutes ago." He showed me a picture of a shabby empty room, but something was ominous and familiar about it.

"I know this room. Where do I know this room." Hoseok came behind me to look over my shoulder. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by my cellphone ringing on the table.

Handing Hoseok the phone I went to pick up mine. "Y/n L/n speaking." There was silence on the other end. The two men spoke in hushed tones conversing about the photo. "Hello?" The line was live and my ears picked up the slightest sound of breathing on the other side. "You're wasting my very valuable time by-"

"Y/n."

"Yes, Hoseok. What is it?"

"The room. Isn't it the apartment downstairs?"

Hanging up the phone I looked again at the photo. Without a word, I took off down the stairs yelling for out landlady, Mrs. Yang. Grabbing the keys from her painted nails I rushed to the door and opened it, Kim and Hoseok hot on my heels. I froze when my eyes landed on the center of the room.

"What? What is it?" A pair of women's trainers lay side by side in the exact center of the room. Dusty light came through the old windows illuminating the area.

"Well that's not creepy."

The second I took a step forward my phone rang once again, breaking the heavy silence. Gingerly, I pulled out the device and put it on speaker. "Hello." I said quietly still examining the shoes from afar.

Heavy,shaky breathing filled the room before a women's voice spoke. "H-hello...s-se-sexy..." In my peripherals I saw Hoseok move to my right near the wall.

"Who is this-"

"I....s-sent you a...li-little p-puzzle.....Just to say...h-hi."

"Whose talking? Why are you crying?"

Kim's eyes moved between me and the shoes. My mind was reeling with the new information being shown to me.

"I'm n-not crying...I'm t-typing...and this stupid...b-bitch is reading my w-words."

My feet moved forward towards the shoes to examine them. "Careful!" Kim said. "This sounds like a power play. The guy could be a bomber."

Handing Hoseok the phone I crouched lightly on the floor, putting the pieces together.

"14...hours to solve m-my puzzle,...Y/n.....or I will b-be ve-very naughty."

More crying could be heard on the line. I turned to my right to see Hoseok with his eyes closed and head against the wall, a strained expression on his face.

"Time starts now..."

The line went dead and silence filled the room. Hoseok opened his eyes only to flinch as I lifted the shoes from the floor. "I know these shoes...."

"You have the department's full support. Anything you need."

"Oh, Yoongi will be happy about that."

Hoseok chuckled and slipped my phone in my pocket as I turned to him.

"Come on, Hoseok. I'm sure Tae is at the lab. We've got a puzzle to solve."

"I'm sure Taehyung will be very happy to see you." Every inch of Hoseok's voice was dripping with jealousy. Something I rather enjoyed hearing.

Five hours had passed as I studied the shoes. Taehyung was more than happy to let us use the morgue's lab once again. Hoseok idly chatted with me as I worked, something I had grown accustomed to but did not so much to say enjoy. The short silence was broken once again by my cell.

"Pass me my phone?" My eyes never left the microscope as I spoke to him.

"Where is it?"

"Pocket."

With a sigh, Hoseok got up and reach into my back pocket.

"Careful there, Hobi." A smirk played on my lips as I turned to him behind me. That small knowing smile creeped onto his face. He knew something the rest of the world didn't. I had quite the soft spot for him. In more ways than one.

As he opened my phone I turned to the computer screen to analyze the new results. "Text from your brother."

"Delete it. It's not important."

"He seems to think so. Something about national security codes."

"Codes are already out of the country by now. Nothing I can do about it. Besides he pretty much is the South Korean government he can fix it like a big boy. All by himself."

Hoseok tossed my phone beside me on the table and walked back to his seat on my right.

"Besides....someone else is being way more fun."

The computer finished just as the door opened to reveal Taehyung with starry eyes aimed towards me. "Any luck?" "Yes, finally." A warm body followed behind him shortly after.

"Oh sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Hyun- Hi! Oh my God! No come in."

The woman came over slowly to stand next to Tae, but I paid her no mind, continuing with my work.

"Hyunah, this Y/n L/n. And her.....Juny Hoseok." My partner politely shook hands with her but I could feel her stare on my back, though I ignored it.

"Hi...So....you're Y/n L/n. Taehyung has told me all about you." Her voice had a sultry tone to it.

"Yes, dear Tae has a tendency to do that."

"Are you working on one of your cases? I'm such a fan." She moved near Hoseok to try and peek at the screen. "Hyunah works in IT upstairs. That's how we met. Office romance!" My eyes scanned her over picking up every detail about her.

"Gay."

"Sorry what?" Tae said shocked.

"Nothing sorry. Hey."

Cast a nod towards her, she smiled and dropped a metal pan that rest on the edge of the table.

"Oh sorry! Oh my god!" She bent down to pick it up revealing the bright red skivy up her skirt, causing Hoseok to look away.

"I should be going." She placed the pan back on the table and bade a quick farewell to Tae with a kiss on the cheek before exiting.

"Gay? We're together."

"And domestic life must suit you Taehyung. You've put on three pounds."

"It's not three! Maybe two and a half!"

"Three."

"She's not gay! She's n- Y/n why do you have to spoil-"

"With that hair color?"

Hoseok scoffed beside me. "What because she died her hair orange. I've died my hair before." "No, love you've bleached your hair. There's a difference."

"She isn't gay."

"You failed to notice those tired clubbers eyes, the quite prominent pride themed tattoo on inside of her forearm, and obviously the short nails. Most women don't really like that you know feeling."

"Short nails?"

"Also the extremely suggestive fact that she slipped me her number before leaving."

Pulling the sticky note from under the pan Hyunah knocked over I handed it to Taehyung before looking back at the microscope.

"Call me xoxo. She quite straight to the point. I'd say you'd better break it off now and save yourself the pain, Tae."

With a glare mixed with hurt Taehyung simply turned and left the room. "Charming. Well done, Y/n."

"Oh please. You are you jealous a girl has put more moves on me than you have."

Getting out of his chair Hoseok came to tower over me. "You know that's not my problem but yours." It was true. I liked fucking with him, but I was afraid to let my heart have precedence over my head.

Two and a half days later and two puzzles had been solved within the time limit. Now I was just waiting for something to happen. I sighed as I flexed my arm. Promising Hobi I'd quit smoking was maybe the hardest things I'd encountered.

"I've brought take out and vodka-what are you doing!?"

"Nicotine patch."

"Three of them?"

"It's a three patch problem."

He sighed and opened the bottle pouring himself a glass before downing all of it. "Why isn't he doing anything?" Hoseok collapsed onto my couch, his arm spread over the back behind my head and his other hand pulling my legs into his lap so we could both fit on the small couch.

"I don't know. I'm happy not to think about anything for a while."

"What's it like living in your head? It must be awfully boring."

"Not really, I have you to keep me on my toes."

See most people would recognize the consequences of hard liquor and sexual tension, but I honestly didn't care. So when the sky grew dark all other senses are heightened. Sound. Taste. Touch.

That seemed to be the favorite of the night touch. His hands felt secure on my body as the moved across it like paint on a canvas. My lips couldn't help but find pieces of raw skin waiting to be marked as Hoseok lay on top of me. The smell of smoke and alcohol filled the bedroom, leaving my mind a blur.

The feeling of Hoseok filled my entire body and was better than any alcohol or drug I had ever taken. I felt a lack of control and I loved it. Hoseok thrust into me at a deep and steady pace and his lips moved down to my chest and attaching themselves to my breast. My fingers pulled at his dark locks eliciting a deep melodical groan from Hoseok that fueled my need even more.

A heavy pounding on my door awakened me from a heavy sleep. Light was just beginning to break outside my window. Hoseok lay under me with an arm wrapped tightly around my stomach. Hoseok still stayed fast asleep so quietly I got out of bed and slipped on a pair of sweats and put my black bra back on. The pounding continued.

"ALRIGHT! I'M COMING!" I screamed before running to open the door. Opening the door I found Kim And Min Yoongi standing in the hall. "Yoongi."

"Y/n."

"Yoongi face the other way. You're putting me off."

"Nice sex hair."

"At least I can get off with fucking and not having to be an ignorant asswipe."

"Yoongi shut up. Y/n let us inside." I opened the door further and motioned for the two men to enter, but not without flipping off the idiot.

"Another one?" Kim nodded before responding. "Down by the docks. We got a call this morning. You have 12 hours. Sounded like an older woman this time. Aparently she's blind." I smiled, excited by the new development in our little game.

"Hobi, nice of you to join us. Sorry I left you darling." I turned hearing footsteps coming from the bedroom. Hoseok stood with messy hair in only a pair of sweats he kept at my place. "You're fine." He said with a small but sad smile.

Yoongi scoffed before turning to me, taking in both of our states. "I didn't realize a psychopath like you could have a soft spot for your little doctor."

"I'm not a psychopath, Yoongi. I'm a high-functioning sociopath, do your fucking research."

"Ladies, stop fighting. We've got a murder to solve."

After changing Hoseok and I followed the two officers in a taxi to the docks. A slight mist rained down on us as we arrived at the destination. Police tape bordered the area and several officers milled about a car parked near some shipping crates.

As we got closer, I could see blood dripping out of the driver's side door. My eyes searched the car over. "Car was hired yesterday by a Jeon Minhyuk. Looks like about a pint of blood." Kim said, crouching next to the open car.

"Not about. Exactly. Most likely planted here on purpose. Our victim-"

"Jeon Minhyuk."

"Yeah, whatever. Long story short. Abduction not murder."

My eyes caught the sight of a middle aged woman crying next to some officers. "Who's that?" Yoongi nodded towards her. "Jeon's wife. Got here just before you did."

I nodded and stuffed my hands in my pockets as I turned to Hoseok. "Let's go talk to her, darling."

I took a breath of cold air before approaching the crying woman. "Mrs.Jeon?" She turned and frowned at our presence. "Yes, look I've already spoken with the police-" "Yes, ma'am. We aren't police." Hoseok interrupted politely.

"Y/n L/n." I reached out to shake her hand with a broken look.

"A very good friend of your husband's. We-uh... we grew up together."Tears started to fall from my cheeks as I 'recalled' the memory.

"I'm sorry? Who are you?" She said shaking her head.

"This is my husband, Hoseok." He politely shook her hand while casting me a side glance.

"I-don't think he ever mentioned you."

"No-no. He must've- I just can't believe it. I was just with him the other day. Same old Minhyuk not a care in the world."

Her face changed dramatically. "I'm sorry, but my husband has been depressed for months. Who are you?"

"Strange that he hired a car?" I said looking back the car and wiping away some of the tears. "Why would he do that? But suspicious isn't it?"

"No it isn't! He forgot to renew the tax on the car that's all."

"Ah. That was Minhyuk. That was Minhyuk all over. Forgetting everything."

"No it wasn't!"

"Wasn't it? Interesting."

My face turned straight and I turned back to the car walking away. "Do you enjoy lying to people?" Hoseok asked with a smile. "People don't like to tell you things, but they love to contradict you." I couldn't help but smile at Hobi's laugh. "Did you notice?" I asked.

"What?"

"I referred to her husband in the past tense and she joined in. Bit premature. We've only found the car. She's in on it."

My eyes drifted to a sticker on the bumper. Janus Cars. "Hobi." Pointing to the sticker he crouched to inspect it. "Janus? The only Janus I know is the top headed Egyptian god."

"Well let's go see."

Five hours were down as we entered the office of Kim Hyojong, owner of Janus cars. "Yeah rented the car out to him yesterday." The man said as he scratched his arm. "Mazda Rx8 I believe. Wouldn't mind one myself." He smirked as he pulled up the sleeves of his shirt revealing an expensive watch.

"Is that one?" I pointed to a random picture on the wall as I walked around. When he turned I quickly inspected the back of his neck before turning around. "Uh... that's a jag. Not a car girl I see."

"Surely you can afford one, a Mazda I mean." Hoseok said, pulling the attention off of me for a moment as I inspected the man for a few more minutes.

"Have you got any change for the cigarette machine? I'm practically gasping." Hoseok shot me a glare as I held out a ten and watched as the man pulled out his wallet.

"No, sorry."

After thanking him the two of us walked out side by side. "If absolutely need to....here. I've got change."

"Don't need it, darling. Nicotine patches, remember?" I said pulling up my sleeve to reveal another two added on my arm. "Too expensive to smoke nowadays anyhow."

"So what was that all about?" He said pulling down my sleeve quickly. "Needed to see inside his wallet. Did you see? All foreign bills." My growing speech was interrupted by my phone ringing.

"Y/n L/n."

"The clue is in the name. Janus Cars."

An older female voice came through the phone. The blind lady. Yes almost forgot. Bomb and everything.

"Why are you giving me a hint?"

"Why does anyone do anything......I like to watch....you...dance...."

The line went dead. Hoseok looked to me with brows raised. "Phone Kim. Tell him to bring the car to the garage."

Eight hours in and I was sure. Kim and Hoseok stood with me in front of the car, waiting for my explanation.

"The blood was their first mistake. Exactly a pint. But it is definitely Jeon Minhyuk's, though frozen. There are traces. I had Tae run some tests. I think Minhyuk gave a pint of his blood a while ago and that it was Janus Car's spread on the seat."

"Janus Cars?"

"Yes, the clue is in the name."

"That God with two faces?" Namjoon asked.

"Exactly. Janus Cars offers a less than legal service to help you disappear from certain problems whatever they may be."

"So where is Jeon?" Kim questioned again.

"Brazil." I said closing the car door.

"What?"

"Kim Hyojong had a 20000 Brazilian peso note in his wallet as well as some change, the dick. Which means he had been abroad recently. When I asked him about the cars he turned and I saw an obvious tan line on his neck. Somewhere hot, but not for pleasure. No one wears a shirt on the fucking beach. Next his arm-"

"His arm?"

"Do stop interrupting. It's quite annoying and we have a bomb to stop. Yes his arm. He was scratching it and It was bleeding. Most likely because he had a booster jab. The therefore out Jeon Minhyuk is somewhere lying in a cabana in Brazil thanks to Janus Cars."

I pulled out my phone and posted the answer on my website like I had the past two times. "Y/n how long have you known?" "It was very simple. I knew the bomber had given us twelve hours so I finished this and was able to complete other things."

"Other things! That woman has been sitting there with a bomb strapped to her chest." Immediately my phone rang.

"Hello."

"Help me...." the woman cried out softly.

"Tell us where you are. Address."

"They were....so-....They're voice was-"

"No! Don't tell me anything about them!"

"They sounded...so soft-"

The sound of an explosion could be heard right before the line went dead. "Hello!" My shaking hand dropped the phone. I stood frozen in place. Hoseok took my face in his hands. "Y/n? Y/n, love? Look at me. What happened?" The words were stuck in my throat.

"It's-.....it's not fair. I answered! She started to describe him and she- Oh my god!" My fingers pulled at the roots of my hair and anxiety and panic started to kick in.

"Namjoon, there was an explosion go get a squad. I'll take care of her." Hoseok pried my hands away from my face where my nails where scratching at my hair and skin in panic.

"Y/n....I'm right here it's okay. Fuck!" My vision spun and it felt like nails were driving into my skull. Clutching my head I collapsed on the parking garage floor. "I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS ANYMORE! TAKE IT AWAY! TAKE IT AWAY FROM ME!" I screamed and pushed Hoseok's hands away as he tried to rip off all five of the nicotine patches, which certainly weren't helping the situation.

"I CAN'T DO IT ANYMORE! THERE IS TOO MUCH UP HERE! There's no room for me." I clutched my head even tighter as tears spilled onto my cheeks. Hoseok tried to pull me towards him in Hope's of calming me down.

"I don't want this gift! I don't want it! There is no more room for me! It's too much stuff in my head! Hoseok, please make it go away!" I pounded on his chest and cried like a baby as he pulled me into his lap on the ground.

"I don't want to be smart anymore.......It's too much......I can't be responsible for all of this!"

The last thing I remember was passing out in Hoseok's arms.

I woke up again to darkness. Sitting up, my coat was hanging on the door and I had been put in a tshirt that wasn't mine. The clock on my beside table read two a.m. Hoseok lay next to me, sleeping soundly. I sighed and pulled open the drawer searching for a pack of cigarettes. After finding a singular one I walked to the door and pulled a flash drive out of my coat pocket.

Lighting the cigarette I walked into the living room and to my laptop. Quickly I posted something on my website and got dressed. As I walked towards the front door, my eyes got sight of the bedroom. Hoseok shifted in his sleep a little bit.

With a sigh I grabbed a piece of paper and wrote a note.

1067 Hangguk Ave.

Trust me.

Taping it on the door, I closed it and grabbed a taxi to take me downtown.

I entered the large ornate library in silence. My footsteps were the only sound that echoed throughout the three store building. Hundreds of book shelves lined the area, the only light was from the bright moon as it shone through the huge glass window in the back.

"I've brought you a little getting to know you present." I said my voice echoing off the rounded roof as I held up the flash drive.

"This is what it has all been for right? All your little puzzles. Making me dance....Just for this."

The sound of a door opening made me turn around. It took all of my power not to let the look of terror show on my face. A figure walked towards me through the dark. A figure I knew. My half brother.

"Seokjin?"

He wore a black winter trench coat and a straight expression. "Evening."

"This is a twist, isn't it Y/n? Bet you didn't see this coming." My hand lowered to my side as I tried to regain my composure.

"What...would you like me....to make him say.... next?"

Seokjin opened his coat to reveal several bombs strapped to his chest over his normal suit. A little red dot was also now trained on his chest. Frantically I searched for the shooter in the balconies.

"Humpty Dumpty....sat on a wall.....Humpty Dumpty.....had a......great...fall-"

"ENOUGH!" I screamed.

"He is one of the only....people you care about....isn't that right.......Y/n."

"Stop it."

"I can stop his heart.....if you like...."

Seokjin's face fell and he gulped at his own words. It was true. Seokjin had always looked out for me, even though I was a huge smartass. He never complained once about his ten year old sister being in junior year with him.

"Who are you?" Another door opened behind me and the sound of heels clicked across the floor.

"Gave you my number. Thought you might call."

Shadows drifted across her face as she came to stand in the moonlight. A playful smirk was drawn on her painted lips.

"Is that .45 Dan Wesson Specialist in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

Her voice was smooth like honey and dripped with confidence. “Both.” Keeping my face straight I pulled the gun out from my jacket. “Kim HyunA......Hi.” The woman stepped further into the light, revealing the rest of her sculpted face.

“Hyunah? Hyunah from the morgue? Huh. Did I really make such a fleeting impression on you? But then I suppose that was the point of the whole thing.” She stepped closer. Something about the way she spoke sent shivers down my spine. My grip on the gun grew tighter. My eyes flickered to my brother to see the red dot still there.

“Oh don’t be silly, love. Someone else is holding to gun. Don’t really like to get my hands dirty.” She circled to stand behind my brother, and evil smile on her lips. “All those puzzles; did you like them?” The look on her face told she wasn’t looking for an answer she was just toying with me.

“I’ve given you a glimpse, Y/n. Just the tiniest glimpse of what I have got going on in this big bad world. No one ever gets to me.” Her stare never left me as she whispered in Jin’s ear, chuckling as he shuddered.

“I did.” My fingers cocked the gun and kept it aimed towards her. She coolly moved to the right of my brother and towards me.

“You’ve come the closest. Now you’re in my way.”

“Aww thanks.”

“Didn’t mean it as a compliment, love.”

“Yes you did.”

“Yeah, okay I did.” 

Her words left a playful ring in the air and often went up in tone giving me chills. There was a fire beneath her eyes. Something dangerous. Something deadly. “But, the flirting is over, Y/n. Mommy has had enough now!” Her painted nails played with my brothers jacket. The most subtle sign of dominance. She was in control of everything.

“I’ve cut loose all those people. All those problems-”

“People have died.”

“That’s what people DO!”

Her voice echoed off the cavernous walls making me realize how alone we truly were. A moment of eerie silence followed causing me to reach into my pocket pulling out a simple black flash drive. My brother visibly gulped when he saw them. “Y/n you wouldn’t. Those codes are top secret.” 

“This is what you want yes?” She smirked and came over, plucking the drive from my hands. “Oooo. Missile codes.” She eyes the small object in her hands before meeting my gaze again.

“I could’ve got them anywhere.” With that she dropped the drive on the floor and crushed it with her heel. “Y/n, I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out yet but I could blow up NATO in alphabetical order if I wanted to at any second.”

She pulled a gun from under her blazer. “So take this as a friendly warning. Back off.” She brought up the weapon and clearly aimed it at me. “What if I was to shoot you now?” She gave a sing song laugh that rang throughout the room. “Well then you would be able to cherish the look of surprise on my face. Because, if you did, Y/n, I would truly be surprised. But, you wouldn’t be able to cherish it for long.” She loaded and cocked her own gun as well. 

“As you might have figured out, I can’t very much leave you here after I leave, so......” With a shrug she pointed the gun back at me, a smirk on her face.

“Ciao, Y/n L/n-”

The sound of a gunshot sounded and I closed my eyes for the briefest moment and I felt blood splatter across my cheek. Opening my eyes, I saw HyunA lying on the ground. Dead. Turning around I saw a small hole in the window where the bullet must have come through. My eyes then looked towards the building across the street. 

“Y/n?” My brother called out.

Rushing to him I hastily threw the coat as far away from us as possible. The both of us looked up at the sound of sirens and red and blue flashing lights coming from the front. Within seconds five policemen burst through the door and took us outside to waiting ambulances.

My feet dangled off the back of an ambulance as I sat there trying to get the EMT to take the stupid orange blanket off of me. Chief Kim interrupted the scene.

"Why do I need this blanket? They keep putting this blanket on me."

"It's for shock."

"I'm not in shock. Nothing is shocking about a man getting shot." He scoffed and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"No sign of the shooter." Kim shook his head and looked to the building across the street. "Cleared off before we got here. We've got nothing to go on."

A single disapproving look from me shut him up. "I wouldn't say that." He nodded for me to continue with a smile. "The bullet the just dug from the bookcase is a handgun. A kill shot over that distance with that type of weapon is a crack shot we're looking for. Not just a marksman; a fighter. Hands wouldn't have shaken which means they're acclimatized to violence. They didn't fire until I was in immediate danger, so one would infer they have great moral principle."

My eyes wandered as I spoke, trying to recall every detail I could gather about the shooting.

"You are most likely look for a male with a history of military service, nerves of steel, who-......." My eyes landed on Hoseok who was standing by one of the police cars simply watching all that was going around him and my words sort of trailed off. He turned and smiled innocently at me, shaking me from my trance. "Actually you know what. Ignore me."

"Sorry?"

"Ignore everything I just said. It's uh-it's just the uh-shock talking. Yeah sure."

"Where are you going? I've still got questions!"

"Oh what now! I'm in shock! Look I've got a blanket and everything!"

Kim called out to me as I walked away towards Hoseok who smiled as I came closer. "What's with the blanket?" "It's for shock. Please take the fucking thing away from me." He laughed as I shoved it into his arms. We walked side by side to the nearest main street to catch a taxi.

"Nice shot by the way."

"Yes, must have been."

"You would know."

He looked at his feet, a smile creeping onto his cheeks. "Thank you, Hoseok." My hand reached over for his and quickly latched onto his fingers. "You were very dumb to leave alone."

"Yes, but I knew you'd follow me."

"How on earth did you deduce that?"

"You love me."

He smiled down at me, the tips of his ears turning pink. "A very good deduction." His hand came up to my cheek and stroked the skin their lovingly. "I'm impatient kiss me already." He laughed and lent down to place a kiss on my lips.

Masterlist

[ancientbooshartifacts]

White Wedding

Author: Beansidhe_Baby

Year: 2008

Rating: PG-13

Pairing:  Howard/Vince; Rudi/Spider; Anthrax/Ebola; Neon/Ultra; Naboo/Bollo; Saboo/Tony Harrison; onesided Old Gregg/Howard; Mr Susan/Sandstorm; the Hitcher/Old Gregg

Vince was having a minor make up crisis, there was a smear of mascara on his upper eyelid, on top of several layers of carefully blended eyeshadow. He sighed in exasperation and wiped his right eye clean and started again. This was supposed to be the best day of his life and the bloody eye makeup let him down at the last gasp. There was a soft knock at the door and Naboo came in without waiting for him to open the door. “I was sure I locked that,” Vince said, looking over his shoulder at Naboo. “I'm a powerful shaman, Vince. And there's a spare key on a hook out there,” he said flatly, “How's it going?” “I'm going to look like a slapper in my wedding photos, but, other than that, fan-bloody-tastic,” Vince muttered murderously at his own reflection. “We all think you're lovely,” said Naboo, in a rare moment of flattery. “Well I look like a lovely slag. Howard's parents are going to think he's gotten me pregnant or something...” “You're a man, Vince,” Naboo reminded him helpfully. “Oh yeah. Men still don't have babies, then?” “No.” ~-~-~-~-~-~- “Is this straight?” Howard asked anxiously, tugging at his bow tie. “No,” said Bollo without looking up from his magazine, “Vince a man.” “The tie, Bollo. Is the tie on straight?” Howard asked again. “Nobody look at you. Precious Vince radiant bride. Groom. Radiant bridegroom.” Bollo said off handedly, flipping through his magazine. “I don't want to let the side down. If this goes on crooked I'll have to look at Vince wincing at the photos every anniversary for the rest of my life.” “If Vince love you when you look like that, he won't care about ties” Bollo sighed, closed his mag and got up to fix Howard's bow tie for him. “Thanks Bollo,” Howard smiled nervously. “Break his heart and I'll kill you.” “Yes sir.” ~-~-~-~-~-~- “Bridegroom or groom?” Lester asked an empty patch of air next to the guest. “I'll find my own seat, squire,” the mysterious green gentleman said, brushing past the blind man. He meandered around the pews before sitting himself down beside a tall man with a large afro who was staring at a man with an equally strange hair style “relieving” himself in the vestry. “Which of the grooms are you with?” the green man asked him. Rudi turned around and seemed to see the other man for the first time. “I'm sorry,” he said quietly, “My mind was elsewhere.” “What's up with the dress then, son?” the Hitcher, for it was of course the manwitch himself, asked. “Actually, that's a common misconception, this is not a dress, it's the robe of th-” Rudi started to correct him before he was interrupted again. “So you a nonce then?” the Hitcher cut across him, with an ever decreasing amount of tact “I am above base sexual desires,” he sniffed. “Oh so he won't let you then?” “I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about.” “Mexican bloke? Uglier than a sack of pigs anuses? He's here with you isn't he?” “Excuse me, I have to go and speak to... anyone else.” ~-~-~-~-~-~- “I don't trust them, they're stealing our look.” “They look nothing like us!” “Look at her with her bloody milky lens. She's wearing your face! Doesn't that get you pissed off at all?” “Getting me a bit randy actually.” “If you're unfaithful to me I'll kill her and make you eat her heart.” “Christ, you're hot when you're jealous.” ~-~-~-~-~-~- “Are they still staring?” “...no” “They are still staring, aren't they?” “...maybe” “Why are we here again?” “We promised Naboo.” “Bloody Naboo.” “Play nice, darling” “One double date with them and we're part of this bloody extended family of theirs.” “Free champagne at the reception though. And besides, everyone knows that sex after a wedding is the best. Except for the poor sods getting married obviously.” “Those electro girls are freaking me out. The little one keeps making stabby hand gestures.” “Little? She's the same height as you!” “Shut your mouth!” ~-~-~-~-~-~- Bryan Ferry was waiting to walk Vince up the aisle. He peeked around the corner at the crowded room. It seemed to be largely made up of scene kids looking fashionably bored, slightly nervous jazz fans and a much bigger selection of various monstrous beasts. In the corner a man made out of sandpaper was discretely chatting up a man made of chamois leathers and jay cloths. He was feeling nervous. He wanted to be back in the forest with trees surrounding him on all sides. He'd sniffed his son's mother-in-law to be, on the neck, and it had all gotten considerably awkward. That would be interesting at the brunch for the close family tomorrow morning. ~-~-~-~-~-~- Vince walked straight forward and all of a sudden, everything else fell away. He forgot about guest-lists and flower arrangements and his hair, and all he could fit into his world view was Howard waiting for him at the end of that long walk. He hadn't seen what Howard would be wearing, they'd decided that they'd already had three lifetimes share of bad luck resulting from broken traditions. He had actually worn a suit. He'd been threatening to wear a Hawaiian shirt and shorts and Vince had been only just sure that he was joking. Vince himself was wearing an elaborate lacy tunic over a pair of knee length leggings. He hadn't felt comfortable in either a morning suit or the white dress so he'd settled for some kind of a mix of the two. He wasn't sure if the result was genius or just bizarre. The way Howard was looking at him, he didn't think it mattered anymore. ~-~-~-~-~-~- “You may now kiss the bride...groom,” Dennis said finally and looked eagerly at the blushing newly-weds. Howard shyly kissed Vince on the lips and Vince threw his arms around his neck. A plaintive cry went through the church and they broke apart to see Old Gregg sobbing onto the Hitcher's shoulder. “Don't worry about him,” Vince whispered, seeing Howard's slightly guilty expression, “He'll get some cock afterwards. Everyone loves the broken hearted ex-girlfriend at a wedding.” “We never actually went out per se, Vince. He kidnapped me,” Howard replied quietly, into his husband's hair. “You look beautiful,” he said, cupping Vince's face in both hands. “You're not so bad, yourself,” Vince giggled, “Not as good as me, obviously, but I think Gregg won't be the only jealous bitch wishing me dead by the end of the night.” “Get in me wheelbarrow, you cheeky vixen.” “I was always in your wheelbarrow, Howard. I was just waiting for you to bloody notice.” They kissed again. ~-~-~-~-~-~- Naboo was dancing by himself in the middle of the floor, pulling focus from everyone else, including Bob Fossil (who no one could quite remember inviting). He was intermittently accosted by small groups of girls who would whisper in his ear. Each time he would shake his head and they'd walk off, looking deeply disappointed. He was off his tits on free champagne (which wasn't all that free, considering that he was paying for the bulk of this wedding) and a couple of twelve skins he'd smoked in the jacks. He noticed Howard and Vince cuddling, or possibly even canoodling, in the corner and suddenly thought that going over to them would be a fantastic idea. “Howard! Vince! You got married,” he smiled widely and hugged them both enthusiastically. “Why aren't you dancing, it's brilliant! All these girls keep asking me if I want to have a good time, but I'm already having a good time, what're they like? Hey, hey guys whose name are you taking? Or are you going to double bar it? Like Noir-Moon or Moon-Noir. Bollo doesn't have a last name, you know.” Vince was looking around desperately for the aforementioned ape to get Naboo to go and have a little lie down somewhere and Howard was looking at Naboo with concern. “Hey Howard,” Naboo leaned in conspiratorially, “I always liked you. You're a good man-thing-horse. Thing.” Howard patted him on the shoulder and he staggered over to one side. “How come the room's moving? Am I paying for a moving room?” he said before falling backwards into his familiar's arms. He looked up and giggled. Vince smiled at Bollo, who grunted shortly and led Naboo over to one of the couches around the periphery of the room. He lay him down gently and when he tried to leave, Naboo pulled him back, almost on top of him. ~-~-~-~-~-~- “Look at that idiot making a complete arse of himself. I tell you Saboo, it's an outrage!” “The only outrage here is that I was talking to a number of lovely ladies and then you insinuated yourself into the conversation and told them all that I was here with you!” “You are here with me. You're the designated driver, you're here with all of us. If you go off with some bird, who's going to get us back? Kirk? He's worse than Naboo! And I haven't exactly been on orange juice all night either.” “Are you trying to imply that you could operate an automobile if you hadn't been drinking yourself into oblivion? I would pay good money to see you even shift gears.” “What? This is an outrage! Who are you? Jeremy Clarkson?” “You had no right to let those girls think that I was shagging a testicle shaped balloon animal.” “As if, you couldn't have me even if you weren't a prize tit” “I could too, have you. You're aching for me.” “Somebody's dreaming.” “I COULD HAVE YOU TWELVE WAYS FROM SUNDAY, YOU KNOB!” ~-~-~-~-~-~- “Alright, I'm going to toss the flowers!” Vince called out before a tide of womenfolk materialised around him. In the front, jostling for position, the goth girls and electro girls were trying to look casual and unbothered by it. Neon and Anthrax were glaring at each other while Ultra and Ebola conveyed their exasperation to each other with a shrug and a wink. Beside them, Mrs. Gideon was preening and smoothing her hair. Somewhere in the middle of the sea of girls, Eleanor, was managing to make every single man in the room anxiously down drinks and pray. Howard looked at the throng of women treading on each other's toes and jabbing elbows into ribs, with horror. This looked like a riot in the making. Decades of feminism and “doing it for themselves”, whatever "it" was, went out the window in the face of a bride(groom) throwing a bunch of flowers. It was absurd! He thought he saw Old Gregg in there somewhere.... The bouquet arced through the air, over the heads of the crowd, and the room was filled with the sound of fifty women (or close approximations) breathing in sharply. The flowers landed, with a soft rustle, in a pair of small hands. Naboo looked down at the flowers in his hands and back up at the murderous glares of the disappointed women. His cheeks turned red and he looked down again before thrusting the flowers towards Bollo. “'Sfor you,” he muttered. Bollo starting to eat an orchid before looking at the shaman's shining eyes looking up at him. Oh. He swallowed nervously and the Orchis saccifera caught in his throat. Naboo patted him on the back until his familiar stopped choking and shyly took his hand. The crowd of females looked less inclined to riot and some were blowing their noses and dabbing their eyes genteelly. ~-~-~-~-~-~- In the back of the hired limo, Howard and Vince necked like teenagers after a dance. Or, like two people who had just gotten married. “Made it,” Vince sighed and nibbled Howard's ear lobe, sending a gust of warm air into his husband's ear. “Just about,” Howard agreed, kissing the inside of Vince's wrist. “I still think we should have eloped and gotten married by Bowie,” Vince said against Howard's throat. “Naboo would have killed me if I took you away and robbed him of organizing the party.” “Cheeky little jack of clubs. D'ya think he had that planned with the flowers?” “He looked pretty surprised. I think it might have been a happy accident.” “I didn't think much of those wedding cake dollies. I looked hideous!” “Well, don't say anything to Leroy or you'll hurt his feelings.” “Oh alright. Howard?” “Yes, little man?” “I love you.” “I love you too.” “Pity Bono had that other party to go to...” “Vince?” “Yes?” “Shut your face.”

[chimcharstar]

ALL THE COLOURS

HERE WE GO BOYS

zinc white; how are you really feeling today? no one-word answers please!

I’m feeling tired because I’m supposed to be in bed. But happy because I did the work and I can get away with sleeping in and things are just chill right now. I have devised a way of sneaking waste food at work. If you put it in these little metal containers and hide them under the fridge, nobody notices them and throws them away. This eve I dined on garlic bread and prawns.

cadmium yellow; when you think of the word “happy” what’s the first thing that comes to mind?

Walking with coffee and tunes. I’m trying to appreciate things in my life I will feel nostalgic about later in the moment, so I don’t regret anything. This is one of those things. Although I might not have the tunes part for long because I fucking broke my headphones and they may or may not start playing my music out loud for all the world to hear. I hope people like disco!

lemon; what’s your comfort food?

Food from my old workplace. I have trouble finishing food usually but not this stuff. I will probably scream while eating it. You know this and you love me

hansa yellow; what’s your guilty pleasure song?

“I Will Survive”. People were singing it in the Office and I guess it’s so famous and ironic and cringey now or something. But then I remember that one fucker

yellow ochre; name an artist/band whom you just discovered & can’t get enough of!

Herbie Hancock. I don’t know if I’ll listen to every single thing from him but I was just listening to some funk as you do and his like solos? I was vibing. We were having brain to brain communication. It was an experience. It was so so good. It was good fucking music. Listen to this shit. Herbie Hancock - I Thought It Was You This stuff makes me want to wiggle on public transit. 

naples yellow; where do you feel most at home?

Bonsais and my quiet neat fucking room. Or not giving a fuck in other people’s mess.

raw sienna; with whom do you feel most at home?

YOU HO

golden ochre; describe the relationship you have with your closest friend.

We reblog asks and send each other all the asks. ADHD disaster energy finding balance. The worst posts I’ve ever seen followed by revenge. Two gay best friends who are best friends. No seriously I am so grateful for your unconditional love and your warmth

golden deep; what’s your favorite season?

Autumn. When the leaves were falling and the sun was shining all bittersweetly I was running around taking so many pictures because there’s like this golden time and then it’s gone.

cadmium orange; what do you like to do on your days off?

I like to buy too many plants and pretty rocks that are just vibing. I just like to wander around with coffee without a schedule. Listening to funk and disco. Seriously I’m the coolest person ever

orange lake; do you have anyone you can turn to when you’re sad?

U HO. And some online mutuals of course :) I feel like I don’t turn to people when it’s real sad hours though. I just give my ocs more PTSD.

titans; do you prefer slow mornings or relaxing evenings?

Relaxed evenings. Fuck mornings. All my mornings are slow buddy. 

shakhnazaryan red; are you currently binge-watching anything?

No, because I had to go and cancel my Netflix as all my favourite things got more episodes. 

red ochre; are you more right-brained (creative) or left-brained (analytical)?

Oh right brained bitch.

burnt sienna; is there a painting that brings you peace when you look at it?

No, paintings are stressful. It’s always like “Holy shit, that must have been so much work! I don’t enjoy painting myself! This person is better at painting than me!” I have much love in the heart for Van Gogh.

english red; what animal do you relate to most?

I know what you’re trying to do and it’s not going to work. I could say a cat, because I want to lie down in a patch of sun, knock things over, and complain loudly. I would say a dog because I think people are way better than they really are, am tenaciously loyal to them, and get excited about going for a walk.

vermilion; what’s your favorite accent?

Whatever this one hot guy at work has.

cadmium red; do you have a “type” when it comes to a significant other?

FOR FUCKS SAKE okay I’m going to google what my type is

You got: Mr./ Mrs Perfect

You like someone that truly has is all. You need someone who is well rounded in all aspects of life. When it comes to looks and personality, only perfection receives your affection.

Wow, what does that mean at all

scarlet; describe your current crush/es.

Ok, one of them gave me cheesecake, one of them offered me pizza, another one is the guy whose Facebook you stalked for me and we still couldn’t find his birthday but I laugh about one adorable photo still (the car one), and one of them I spent half an hour trying to find where I put the birth chart of and we’re actually really compatible. I’m sorry, if you want more information I’ll have to ramble about it in your messages.

ruby; what does your ideal first date look like?

OH I JUST WANT TO WALK DOWN A STREET HOLDING HANDS AND GO TO A RESTAURANT WEVE NEVER BEEN TO BEFORE AND TRY SOME FOOD AND LAUGH A LOT, AND THEN MAYBE GO ENJOY THE VIEW OF THE OCEAN AT NIGHT. IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK? IS IT?

carmine; what does your ideal second date look like?

I don’t know, fuck it let’s go to the aquarium!

madder lake red; would you ever kiss someone (or accept a kiss) on a first date?

I dunno man. I feel like I wouldn’t if it wasn’t socially acceptable but I’m also wild and crazy.

rose; what’s something really positive going on in your life right now?

I REALLY ACTUALLY LIKE MY WORKPLACE. And my living situation is pretty okay. It’s not great I guess but I’ve been coming a long way.

quinacridone rose; what’s something you’re really looking forward to?

Literally what are these colours. Okay, I’m looking forward to putting wires around crystals to make them into jewellery. Then, I want to give the jewellery to my friends. 

violet rose; what does your dream house look like?

An old as fuck, old fashioned as fuck haunted-looking mansion I can give some love.

violet; is there any place in particular you’d like to settle down?

I need the outdoors bro. I need those trees. I gotta live in the countryside again someday.

blue lake; what would you like to do/accomplish before you settle down?

Write some books! Run rampant in the city…

cobalt blue spectral; what is the most beautiful place you have ever been to?

I think it would have to be the hills where I grew up. It was bursting with biodiversity, there was a rustic sheep farm, everyone shut the fuck up, there would be frogs, the smell of the fresh air in any season, some days would just be heart-stoppingly beautiful and I ache for it sometimes. Birdsong? I heard some birdsong today and I wanted to cry. I remember our hedges would be deafening with the birds in it.

ultramarine; when was the last time you were in a good mood? do you know/remember what sparked it?

Today, it finding something I maybe could sit around and read and then finding it in me to actually get out of bed lol.

blue; what’s the most recent dream you remember?

The one I just had. A lot of it is blurry, which is frustrating because I got some strong almost-memories of it throughout the day, but it sticks out to me because I was bawling my eyes out a lot in the dream, and I also hurt myself the way I used to and I had to check that I hadn’t done it in my sleep. But I think it was a very expressive dream and those are my natural emotions.

bright blue; what does your dream family look like? any kids or pets? 

I like the idea of a husband and some dogs, cats and chickens. Kids maybe.

how many of each?

A lot of chickens, but not too many please.

blue cobalt; do you like your name? would you give yourself a different name if you could?

I do like my name, and I did give myself a different name. Even if I knew how annoying everyone would be about pop culture Gordons, and I did. I still would choose this name.

prussian azure; what’s your favorite scent?

I’m running out of things to say as my favourite scent. OK, Nomad from Old Spice. I don’t know why, I think it must suit me or something. Maybe it’s the citrus… stuff going on there.

azure blue; what’s your favorite type of tea, if any?

Red Rose, my mom made it for me as a kid and she drank it all the time while teaching me piano or reading books.

turquoise blue; if you could start a garden, what would you plant?

Flowers, to show off to everyone, and then I don’t know, maybe some fucking pumpkins and easy things like corn and peas.

cerulean blue; if you were guaranteed to have a viewership, would you start a youtube vlog?

I think I’d be happier to have one if I knew no one was watching my antics LMAO

glauconite; describe your body without using any negative adjectives.

Best of both worlds

yellow green; picture yourself walking in a field. what do you see & hear in this scenario?

I’m still thinking of where I grew up. I see the sun through the branches of very old maple trees, and hear the wind in the long grass.

green light; are you in a comfortable place in life? if not, what do you think might make it better?

Yes, but I could make it better by moving in with cleaner roommates and getting a cat. And maybe work at something I’m actually interested in, or go to school or something.

green; name three countries you want to visit; do you have any actual plans in place to visit any of them?

I don’t have plans, but I’d like to visit Mexico, France, or Japan.

emerald green; do you speak any languages besides english? are there any additional languages you want to learn?

Kinda French. I want to learn Spanish… now Portuguese because everyone at work speaks it… literally, any very popular language. I want to learn so many languages

oxide of chromium; what’s your favorite book?

BRO WHAT IS A BOOK

olive green; are you currently reading anything? how do you like it so far?

Yeah, I’m reading a personal account of a Satanic cult. I had to stop reading it because I wasn’t ready for the graphic details.

mars brown; what’s a movie that always puts a smile on your face/makes you laugh?

Megamind/Thor Ragnarok

burnt umber; what’s something you plan to do before the day is over to take care of yourself?

Wow I feel really called out right now. I was going to eat some chicken because I’m hungry. Because that’s what I should be doing at 3AM.

umber; have you drank enough water today?

Yes, but probably not. I’ve been trying really hard today though.

voronezhskaya black; what or who is your go-to outlet for when you need to vent?

Probably you again, welcome to the salt mines!

sepia; name five things that always make you happy.

Buying a plant, rolling around on my fuzzy blanket, videos of cats being idiots, little unexpected thoughtful gifts, people sharing food.

indigo; what’s the best/sweetest compliment you have ever received?

A Treasured Mutual once spontaneously said I was a really good person because I was chill and they felt free to be themselves, to be vague.

payne’s gray; describe your aesthetic?

Looking around my room, it would seem to be whatever those studying people organizing notes with the window open on a sunny day have. I don’t know if this is me, but my room looks… vaguely feminine and organized in that way.

black; post a selfie because you are so beautiful!

I’m in my PYJAMA CLOTHES. I only want to take a selfie with GOOD NATURAL LIGHTING and the DAYTIME DARK CIRCLES around my eyes not the NIGHTTIME DARK CIRCLES. Maybe I have one hanging around

[sassyshoulderangel319]

IT’S MERMAY! (Original Photo this was Inspired From HERE) (Thanks @steverogersnotebook!)

I stole down to the docks a few hours before dawn. Please be here. Please be here, I thought as I rushed to the end of one dock and looked out over the dark water. The town behind me cast a slight glimmer on the surface of the ocean. I sucked in a deep breath, smelling the salty sea air I never tired of.

“And here I was thinking you weren’t going to show up,” a voice remarked from just behind me on the dock.

I whirled around.

Arms braced against the soft old wood and chin resting on top of hands was him. The merman. There were gills on his cheekbones just below his temples and a sleek red, orange, and yellow tail streaked with black drifted through the saltwater aimlessly, the fluke sticking out like a stock photo model lying on their stomach on a picnic blanket with their feet in the air. He had sharp, icy blue eyes and dark brown hair. There was a placid look on his face, matching the deadpan tone of his remark.

“You could at least look happy to see me,” I said sarcastically, sitting cross-legged in front of him.

“I could.”

I rolled my eyes. “Glad to see your attitude is still intact.”

“I have a reputation to maintain, sweetheart.”

“Not with me. I have no preconceived notions about who you are when you’re with your... community.” Was there a scientific word for a group of merfolk? Like... a school? Or a pod?

He smiled. “I suppose you have a point.” He relaxed. “Why don’t you come with me, hmm? We could have a lot of fun together. In the sea.”

I snorted. “I’m not an idiot, you know. Merfolk are, like, designed to entice humans into the water to drown them.”

He seemed to think for a moment. “True. That is true. But look me in the eye and tell me you don’t hear the ocean calling to you. Hmm? That’s what drew you to me in the first place, darling, wasn’t it? The call of the ocean. The pull of the tides drawing you irrevocably in. That desire---that longing---is why you moved from the land-locked city you grew up in to this podunk, forsaken town. To be near the water. Isn’t it?”

I sighed. “Yeah. Though I don’t think I sounded that poetic when I told you all that.”

“Must you cheapen the moment?” he asked.

“No but I must be honest.” I paused. “I can’t go with you and you know why. I’d drown. And even if I wouldn’t, I have a life here. Friends. Family. I can’t go with someone whose name I don’t even know.”

“Hmm,” he grunted thoughtfully.

There was a moment of silence before he hauled himself out of the water and sat on the dock next to me, fiery tail glinting, scales reflecting the stars.

“I suppose you’re right,” he said. “You seem to often be right.”

I blinked. I wasn’t used to people telling me I was right. I was used to fighting for people to realize I knew what I was talking about. I stared at his icy blue eyes while he stared back at me unblinkingly---which was a tad bit unnerving. He took a deep breath.

“My name is---”

RUFF! RUFF! RUFF! A dog started barking from up the dock and a flashlight beam shone on the sea mist in the air. “Who’s down there?!” the voice of Mr. Crane---the town grouch---shouted from just up the hill.

I gasped through my nose. “I am so dead,” I whispered.

The merman took my hand. “Come with me. Into the water. Now!” he hissed.

“You’ll drag me under! I’m sorry. I like you but I don’t trust you at all.”

“Sweetheart, we don’t have time for this. C’mon!” Holding my arm firmly with one hand and my own hand in his other, he tugged me to the edge of the dock. I was grateful I left my phone at home. “On three, okay?” he asked, searching my face with an almost desperate expression. “One---”

He shoved me in.

I’d grown up swimming in pools. I knew how to swim and how to dive. I pointed my toes and brought my arms against my chest to plunge into the water as soundlessly as possible. That didn’t stop the water from being freezing though.

The merman slithered into the water after me. I heard him more than I saw him since it was dark, the water was murky, and I had my eyes closed. I started kicking for the surface.

A strong arm wrapped around my shoulders.

On instinct, I screamed.

A hand closed over my mouth. Shhh! I heard in my head. Do you want to be found?! It was his voice. I stopped.

My head broke the surface. I took a deep breath through my open nose and peeled my eyes open.

The merman and I were under the dock, peering up in silent fear. He held me to his chest and slowly released my mouth. I opened it wider and breathed slowly and silently through it so my nose wouldn’t whistle.

Crane stomped down the dock, his massive mastiff---that he called Odin---still barking at us. Crane couldn’t see us. He peered around, his flashlight beam swinging wildly back and forth over the water around the dock. The merman squeezed me tighter to his chest after it got a little close for either of our likings. His face was really close to mine over my left shoulder. I peeked at it.

He looked terrified.

Ever so slowly, so as not to drip, he pointed down into the water. I nodded.

He eased under first, pulling me down with him.

I can only communicate like this underwater, his voice in my head said. Listen, I don’t know how long he’s going to hang around waiting for something to happen and dawn isn’t that far off. Meaning he’ll probably find us when the sun comes up. I need you to trust me, doll. Okay?

I shook my head, feeling my hair drift around in the water. I don’t trust you, I thought. You’re, like, programmed to drown me.

I don’t know what programmed means, he said.

I rolled my eyes behind closed lids, my head bobbing slowly back up to the surface so I could take a breath. Crane was still there, stomping back and forth along the dock, searching the sea for any sign of an intruder. A bit overkill if you ask me. If I saw nothing was there I would have gone back to bed.

The merman tugged me back under, keeping my entrance as silent as possible.

Listen, I just need you to trust me for... five seconds, at most. Okay? I swear to you I will not attempt to drown you. But you have to trust me for five seconds underwater. Can you do that?

I wanted to snort skeptically out my nose but I didn’t want bubbles to alert Crane to our presence. So I screwed up my face to show him I was displeased.

Tell me your name and I’ll trust you for five seconds, I thought.

I could feel him smile. My name is Bucky.

Okay. Nice to meet you, Bucky.

Nice to meet you too. Again. For the three-hundredth time.

You’re not actually keeping track are you? I thought.

No. Just exaggerating for dramatic effect. Take a breath again. Then trust me for five seconds.

I emerged under the dock to Odin still barking his head off and Crane grumbling to himself about intruders. Odin freaked out when I came up for air. I took another deep breath and let Bucky pull me under again.

You have five seconds, Bucky.

That’s all I need, darling.

He pulled me down even deeper in the water. It got a tad colder.

His lips pressed against mine in a kiss far more tender than I would have expected, his fingers sliding into my hair. His tail, slowly sliding through the ocean to keep him where he wanted to be, brushed against my bare feet. It was slippery and felt a little freaky.

The burning desire for air receded. I felt fine. Not like I could breathe underwater but more like I didn’t need to breathe at all.

Open your eyes, his voice echoed in my head.

I hated opening my eyes underwater without goggles, but I did anyway.

Everything was crystal clear. The murk of the water seemed to have vanished. Bucky’s grin was inches from my face, his fingers still lingering in my hair. Better? he thought at me.

I smiled and nodded. Much. Why? How?

A kiss from a merperson can keep a human from drowning. It’s one of our magical abilities. Whaddaya say we swim deep, get away from this guy, and come back once he’s gone?

Uh... okay.

Bucky’s smile widened. Great. Let’s go.

He held my hand and guided me deeper. The fluke of his tail propelled him much faster through the water than my legs could for me so I kind of just let him drag me along. I did my best to keep my worry in check. Being in the ocean always made me nervous---mostly just because I didn’t want to get bitten by something.

So why didn’t you tell me before that you could just kiss me and suddenly I wouldn’t be able to drown? I thought.

I don’t know. Normally I would have just done that to anyone else. But you’re different to me. I know you. And you’re suspicious. Other humans would have just been like, “Oh. Okay. Yeah. I’ll go swimming with you!” and jumped in without a second thought. Perfect drowning victims. But you know the folklore. You know more about merfolk than a lot of average humans do. So I wanted you to trust me. And I do want you to come away with me. Not forever. Maybe just join me on adventures, you know? he asked.

Mm, I thought. I probably mumbled it out loud too.

I heard him chuckle in my mind.

We swam a good distance away from the docks before resurfacing. I took a deep, gasping breath when my head broke the surface. “So do you have to kiss me again if I want to actually join you underwater on our next adventure?” I asked.

Bucky grinned. “No. It’s more of a ‘Lasts forever’ kind of thing.”

Feeling impulsive, and a little flirty, I grunted, “Mm. That’s a shame.”

Bucky snickered. “Well, maybe I’ll do it again just to... reapply the magic. Does that sound like a good idea?”

“I think so. Better to be safe than sorry.”

We both started laughing, turning our gazes up to the shimmering stars.

The sky started to lighten and I realized how long we’d been swimming underwater. “Whoa. It’s almost dawn. I should... I should get back,” I said.

Bucky took my hand. “I’ll pull you back faster than you could swim on your own,” he said.

“Better reapply that no drowning magic, don’t you think?” I teased.

He chuckled. “If you insist.” He pulled me underwater and planted a kiss on my mouth. Any desire to head back to the surface immediately for air vanished. I opened my eyes and smiled at him. He grinned back, held onto me, and whizzed back through the water.

By the time we got back to the docks, Crane and Odin were nowhere in sight and the sky was turning pink and yellow.

I climbed up a lowered ladder and onto one of the docks. Bucky resumed his position from the beginning of our little adventure---arms braced against the wood and chin resting on his hands. His gills gave a little flap as he converted to breathing through his mouth and nose like a mammal and he gave me another impassive expression.

“So, when can I expect you back here?” he asked. “To come away with me into the ocean on an adventure?”

I wrung out my hair---as well as stripped off my shirt and wrung it out too before reluctantly dragging it back onto my skin. “Welp, I have a date tonight that I’m fairly certain I’m not going to enjoy so tomorrow, maybe?”

He smiled. “I’ll be here,” he said.

“Me too.” I glanced over my shoulder as the lights in the houses started to turn on. The town was waking up. “I should go. See you soon, Bucky.”

“See you soon, beautiful.”

I smiled and ran up the docks, my shoes and socks squishing uncomfortably. I left behind a trail of dripping water but even Crane wouldn’t notice or care. No one was outside yet so I managed to get back to the small house I shared with my roommate undetected.

“You smell like seawater. Where have you been?” she demanded through a mouthful of cereal.

“Went for a walk and fell in. Slipped,” I lied before going to the bathroom to shower. Tomorrow night I was going on an undersea adventure with a merman who had a red-orange-and-yellow tail streaked with black who was insanely handsome and a step past flirty. This was going to be interesting. Maybe the call of the ocean I’d felt my whole life was really... the call of merpeople. Drawing me in. Leading me to him.

[theswiftarmy]

POST #25 – Mr. Whittington’s Cat, I Presume?

“Stay here.”

“Billie, where are you going?”  Justin Bieber called after her.

“Just stay here!  Finneas and I will enter over there—” She pointed to a blocked off road lined with security guards and official looking individuals in event staff shirts, “We have to let them take our photos on the red carpet.  Wait, Justin, why am I telling YOU this, you know the red carpet deal, don’t make me say the word…”

“What word, you mean duh?”

“Duh!  Yes.”

“Oh yeah.  Yeah, I know the red carpet deal.”  He nodded.

The group nodded back, they all knew the deal.  Justin Bieber, Oak Felder, Pop Wansel, Scott Borchetta, Kanye West, Carl Lyle the lawyer (who’s last name is also coincidentally Lawyer), and Kymmie (The Teen Arianator and aspiring social media influencer) stood in a hiding spot near the chaotic crimson carpet.  Kymmie knew the deal not because she had gone through it before like the others, but because she had consumed so much media, both social and anti-social, that she knew way more than your average teenager could possibly know about the red carpet without so much as even stepping foot on it.  She imagined the bottom of her feet, one day, taking those very first steps onto the carpet.  That magic carpet ride.  That crimson carpet.  Oh, how she longed to be part of that crimson carpet club (as she had decidedly named it inside her head).  Oh how she longed to join those select few individuals around the world as a member of the exclusive red carpet club.  How many people in the world had walked on the red carpet?  Percentage wise?  It was a VERY exclusive club indeed.  So many people in the world, yet so few belonged to that Hollywood elite.  Oh how she dreamed one day that would be her.  She would make it happen, and she wouldn’t stop until she did.  She could see it, just across the way, so close, yet so far away.  All she knew was, she would get there one day.  She thought, it must be the most amazing experience ever!  The lawyer of course had been on what he called ‘red carpet duty’ on numerous occasions, because it was his job to be there.  It reminded him of being a Resident Assistant back in his college days, but for Hollywood stars instead of his fellow university classmates.  He found it to be the most boring of tasks he’d ever been assigned.  But when you work for The Whales of Hollywood you get assigned various overt and covert tasks of which you are required to complete.  Mostly it was boring legal stuff, like babysitting an uncooperative client to make sure they don’t say anything stupid to the press, just one whisper to their ear, was usually all it took, just a few words, very specific words.  He was told what to say by someone else, who told that person to say it, and someone told that person and so on and so forth… a whole whisper down the lane game.  It was entirely possible that Kymmie and the lawyer would cross paths one day on the red carpet in a completely different interaction.

“I’ll call you, Justin, don’t go anywhere until you get my call.  Okay?”  Billie nodded at Justin after saying okay.

Justin nodded back.  Then, everyone else nodded at his nod at Billie Eilish.  There was a hierarchy of nods, just like the hierarchy of whispers.  Our entire world is one hierarchy after another—hierarchy of hierarchies.

She took a deep breath and turned to face her brother.  “You ready?”

Finneas smiled a crooked smile.  “Oh yeah.  I was born ready—”

Billie made a face and shook her head no.

Finneas reacted, “Yeah, that was kind of cheesy, wasn’t it?  I won’t say that again.”

She changed her ‘no’ headshake to a ‘yes’ head bob.

The group watched as Billie and Finneas made their way through the madness towards the red carpet, it didn’t take long before the first photographer recognized Billie and her brother, and the cameras turned their way, like weapons turning on a new target.  Paparazzi have that sixth sense ability to spot a celebrity before anyone else does.  Although, they do work for The Whales of Hollywood, so maybe it’s not a sixth sense, maybe it’s just what they are paid to do.  If you don’t want The Whale (or the rest of his pod) sending the paparazzi after you all you have to do is walk down the red carpet exactly as you’re told, or you just might find a camera lurking on your next vacation or… while you’re sitting in your backyard trying to enjoy some time alone.  The Whales have ways to make any photo say whatever they want it to say so that YOU say whatever THEY want you to say… Be a good celebrity and do as your told… Well… That was the old hierarchy/patriarchy/monarchy… Some say there’s talk of a new ‘archy’ in town… A Swiftarchy.

“OH MY GOD, that’s Taylor Swift’s cat!”  Kymmie shouted breaking the silence.

“No it’s not.  And shhhhhhh.   Keep quiet.”  Scott scolded her.

“Yeah it is!  I’m gonna go take a picture of it.”  She started to creep towards it.

Carl stepped in her way.  “No you’re not.  You’re staying right here where Billie told us to stay.”  

“Whatever, you can’t stop me.  I’m only going to go take a picture and then I’ll be right back.”  She weaved around Carl.

“Yeah Carl, chill, yo.”  Kanye said.  “We’ve got time before we got to go… Let her take a pho-to!”

“Sweet rhyme bro.”  Justin fist bumped Kanye.

“Yeah you know how I flow.”

“How about this for a rhyme… No!  She needs to stay with us.  Everyone just stay here.”  The lawyer demanded and then turned to follow her.

Scott called after here in a whisper yell.  “Kymmie!  Come back here.” He then also started to follow—he followed the lawyer, following Kymmie.  There’s a new hierarchy of following now, obviously.

Kymmie neared the cat and knelt close to the ground, she turned around, “You guys it really is Taylor’s cat!”

“This is a trick.”  Scott said under his breath to the lawyer as he followed close behind Carl.

The cat meowed and then turned and walked further away.  Kymmie followed it immediately.

“Kymmie, stop following the cat and come back here.”  The lawyer spoke with a voice of authority.

“You’re not the boss of me!  And anyway, I just need to take a picture!”  She followed the cat around a corner.

The lawyer called after her.  “You don’t need to take a picture.  You need to come back with us to the hiding spot so we can stick to the plan.”

Scott looked back and saw that the rest were beginning to follow. “What are you doing?  Go back!”  He whisper yelled at them and flailed his arm around in the air.  They ran across the street catching up with Scott.  He quickly gave up and waited for everyone before continuing on.  The group rounded the corner to see the lawyer who was following Kymmie who was following the cat, about fifty feet ahead of them.

Just then a person in an orange vest also rounded a corner in the distance opposite to the one they had just rounded.  The person wearing the orange vest stopped in the distance looking the other direction appearing to be talking to someone just around the bend, everyone froze.  About a hundred feet down the street from the group, nearest to the guard, Kymmie froze in her tracks after looking up from the cat to see a bright orange vest directly in front of her, she looked back at the lawyer and then back to the cat sitting comfortably on the ground then to the lawyer again.  The security guard’s radio blurted out something about additional crowd control needed to keep some Taylor Swift fans back.  The Swiftness with which her Swifties had suddenly multiplied caught the entire event security team off guard.  The guard ran back in the opposite direction without so much as noticing Kymmie or any of the others, just a short distance away.  Kymmie let out a sigh of relief and the others did the same.

Scott shifted his stance nervously, and then spoke to the group standing behind him like Shaggy talking to the rest of his spooky mystery solving friends.  “Jeepers!  That was a close call.  Like, you guys… I think we really need to all get back to the hiding spot.  What do you think Scooby?  I mean, Scooter.”  He held up his phone with Scooter on the other end of the call, he pressed a button to put Scooter on speakerphone.  Due to a lot of background noise it was hard to tell what Scooter was trying to say, but it sounded a lot like Scooter said… ‘Ruh roh’.  “See guys, even Scooter thinks this is a bad idea… Zoinks!”  He ended the call and put the phone back in his pocket.

The truth of it all was that, Scott happened to be the only one who really knew what was at stake here, he’d already solved the mystery long ago which was why he brought Scooby, sorry, I mean Scooter in on things, but that just seemed to have added more chaos.  After what Billie Eilish said to him, he realized it might not matter who’s hands the power to make the ultimate viral song of all time fell into, someone was going to figure it out eventually and then it would spread across the globe to every earlobe on the planet as soon as that artist finally did figure it out.  He knew that no matter what it could possibly infect everyone on the entire planet if it wasn’t stopped, and sure maybe Billie was right, maybe anyone could be the true bad guy.  Maybe any of them, given the chance, would make the song that would become the only song anyone would sing ever again, the entire world locked in a musical virus infected and stuck together globally forever in one singularity of song.  But he had to take a chance and side with someone, and Shaggy and Scooby, sorry Scott and Scooter, just made sense.  If you can’t figure out whose side anyone is on, how do you fight?  How do you know you’re fighting the right fight?  The only thing he knew for sure was that if that song were to be created and unleashed upon the world, it would forever change the way everyone lived.  It would disrupt the entire planet, all of humanity.  The musical virus would transmit from person to person without so much of a hope of anyone ever stopping it.  Music is already quite contagious even without the secret chord… But with that secret Leonard Cohen chord?   The music world and anything that relied on it would grind to a halt, and for all he knew, everything else would too… coffee shops, bars and pubs, everywhere around the world, anywhere a show could be played—all of it stopped.  All concerts, festivals, pro sports games, Broadway shows even!  Everything stops, the music just stops.  It would in-fact include anywhere there’s music and people gathering together, even birthday parties where they might sing the Happy Birthday song, or weddings, anywhere anyone gathered in groups and music could be heard, would be done... Award shows just like this…  Movie theaters around the world, Hollywood and The Whales… All of it would be shutdown.  Roll up the red carpet and put it in storage.  Shut it all down.

And you say, well that would never happen!  COACHELLA CANCLED?  IMPOSSIBLE!  Scott Borchetta used to think the same thing, but he knew it not only could now, it will happen… It was only a matter of time until it did.  Coachella, with it’s roots dating all the way back to the seventies London punk scene, the anarchy of the eighties and Goldenvoice giving a voice to so many musicians… Would be stopped in its tracks by a newarchy, the song to end all other songs.

“Scott, just chill, Billie has my number, she promised me she wouldn’t lose it!  I was like, Billie, Billie don’t lose my number!  And she was like, I won’t.  I promise.”

Scott ground his teeth.  “Fine.  Okay everyone, like, let’s not split up, we just, we NEED to stay together.  Come on, we need to catch up to them.”  They hurried along the side of the building to catch up with Carl Lyle the lawyer, and, with Kymmie and the cat.  About ten feet ahead of Carl, with her phone raised ready to snap a photo, Kymmie followed the frisky feline.  She stalked the cat slowly as it strolled along strutting its stuff.

Just then the cat stopped in front of what looked like a stage door, the kind you would see just outside a Broadway show, where fans gather after shows for autographs from their favorite cast member, the door was wide open.  The cat looked back and meowed.

“Awwwww, it’s sooo cute!” Kymmie held out her phone and steadied the shot.  She spoke to the cat.  “Okay Taylor’s cat… STAY STILL!  I just need to snap a photo…”  Before Kymmie could take the photo the cat disappeared through the door.  “WHYYYYYYY!?!?!?!  Oh no, no no no, I’m not giving up that easy, I’m going to get this photo of you!”  Kymmie hovered just at the edge of the door.

“Oh no, no no, YOU are NOT going in THERE.”  Carl slid between her and the door.

“Yes, I am.  I need to get this photo!”  She argued putting a hand on her waist.

Scott pointed at the door.  “No, this isn’t right, there shouldn’t be a door just wide open, especially a stage door.”

“But this is the theater!  This door leads into the theater!  Maybe this is where we want to be anyway?  We’ll find Billie inside and everything will work out, AFTER I get my photo of Taylor Swift’s cat.  Look, it even says STAGE DOOR right above the door on that sign!”

Scott shook his head, “That’s a handwritten sign!  Or, hand painted?  Hang on a minute, I know that handwriting, that’s Taylor’s handwriting and the paint on the sign still looks wet.”  A little bit of paint was running from one of the letters dripping down a few inches,  “There wouldn’t just be a hand painted sign.  Still wet, I might add.”

“How do you know it’s Taylor’s handwriting?”  The Arianator questioned.

“Because, I know her handwriting, I Just do.  And the sign aside there’s something else off about all of this.  No, this is just not right, there should be security—no one would just leave a door wide open.  It’s just so out of place.  ESPECIALLY a stage door.”

“Well, maybe the streets are blocked off and no one else is allowed back here.  Did you consider that Mr. Hot Shot Scott?”  Kymmie was determined to win this door debate.

“Then we wouldn’t be standing here!”  He argued back.

“Maybe they blocked it off after we got through?  We saw that one person in the orange vest with the radio, you know—”

“No, NO, there’s something not right about this.  I agree with Scott.”  The lawyer crossed his arms and stood in front of the door like a bouncer.  “No one is going in there.”

Justin walked over to stand beside Kymmie and peered in the doorway trying to get a glimpse of the cat.  “So, if that IS Taylor Swift’s cat, why would it just be walking around outside?”

“Maybe she brings her cats to every performance and lets them walk around before the show.”  The Arianator said shrugging.  “Maybe the cat just wanted to go for a walk outside.”

“I highly doubt that.”  The lawyer said shaking his head.

“Well, I’m going to follow it.”

“No.  You can’t go in there.”  The lawyer shook his head again.

“I need to!  I need a photo!  If I don’t take a photo no one is going to believe me.  SO, outta the way!”  She disappeared through the door after dashing around the lawyer.  He reached out throwing his arms in her direction but caught only air.

“Okay, everyone, we’re just going to have to follow her.”  The lawyer decreed turning to enter the doorway.

“What?”  Scott was taken by surprise.  “I think in the best interest of everyone else here we should just stay—“

“Just follower her!”  He barked, and stepped through the door.

“I don’t know about anyone else but I get the feeling this is a really bad idea, and I just wanted to say I think this just might be the worst idea of all time… Of all time.”  Kanye said from the back of the group.

“It is.”  Scott said in an ominous tone.  “I’m pretty sure I know exactly where this is going.”

“Yeah, but it’s actually a little bit fun, in a way… You know?”  Justin cracked his knuckles.  “It’s like we’re entering some sort of carnival funhouse.  Life on the edge, Taylor Swift style, I say bring on the funhouse mirrors!”

A spellbound maker of broken hearted lovers.

The hallway was dark at first until their eyes began to adjust.  “What’s that?”  One of them said, “A candy bar wrapper?”  Another suggested.  It was not a candy bar wrapper, it was the silhouette of the cat that could still be spotted as it trotted, no, gallivanted down a lengthy hallway and in through another doorway at the very end.  The walls were painted all black with very dim lighting—black light to be exact—the telltale glow of random objects and pieces of clothing made for a fun distraction from the current distraction of their original task, a funhouse indeed, Swiftie style.  They followed Kymmie into an area that resembled some sort of unused dressing room, various props were strewn about: Strange hats and clothing, odds and ends.  There were mirrors along the walls with old fashioned looking light bulbs along the edge of every mirror.  Each mirror was outlined in lavishly painted gold wooden frames.  The mirrors were makeup mirrors, most likely from backstage Broadway.  It’s possible they were replicas, but they appeared to be genuinely vintage.  The cat sat on a chair in front of one of the mirrors, the chair appeared to be antique looking and also genuinely vintage.  The only light in the room came from the menagerie glowing glass makeup mirror bulbs.

Kymmie the teen Arianator turned back to the others and held her finger to her lips… “Shhhhhhh.”  She said softly.  “I need silence, I don’t want to scare the cat.”

She crept up on the cat slowly, steadying her phone to snap a picture.  “This is going to look soooo cool with this lighting.”  She whispered.

She took the photo and as soon a she did, the cat shifted slightly then paused.  She took another photo.  Then the cat moved again and paused once more.

“Umm… Is anyone else seeing this?”  She asked in a normal voice.  The cat was obviously not scared.

Oak stepped forward towards the cat.  “The cat is posing.  It looks like it’s posing for the photos!”

“It is.”  Scott commented from a corner of the room,  “It’s doing exactly what Taylor does when she’s on the red carpet being photographed.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right.”  Pop added.  “Weird.  Very weird.”

Kymmie kept snapping pictures and the cat kept changing poses to mimic Taylor’s red carpet looks.  “So weird.  But also kind of cool because, I mean, you don’t see a cat posing for photos every day.  Do you think Taylor taught her cat how to pose like that?”

“I bet she did.  I feel like that’s something she would do.”  Justin replied.

After several poses the cat jumped off the chair.

Kymmie swiped through the photos and picked her favorites, then uploaded them in a post.

“Oooo I’ve already got hearts!  I literally just posted this!”

“What?  You posted them?”  Scott stepped towards Kymmie’s phone to see.  His voice contained a slight sense of urgency.

“Yeah, what did you think I was going to do?  That’s the point of taking a picture, so you can post it online. Why would you take a picture that no one is going to immediately look at and put hearts on it and write comments about?”

“Well, it’s about deciding and taking the time to decide who you want the photo to be shown to… You know, when I was your age, we had to wait to get pictures developed, or you could get them turned into slides to show them on a projector provided you had a projector and a screen and an audience to show them to…”

“Yeah yeah yeah…”  Kymmie waved him away.

“Yeah, get the times pops.”  Justin said.

“Me?”  Pop Wansel asked.

“Not YOU Pop, I mean Scotty B too hottie over here.  Slides… Photos developed, waiting for things?  Talk about dating yourself, dude.  No one has done that for, like, decades.  Everything’s instant now, like popcorn.  You know the only reason we’re in this mess is because of that Elvis Porter Easter Egg sound you found on tape.  TAPE!  Old technology got us in this mess in the first place.”

Pop interjected some of his wisdom into the situation.  “Well, there’s going to be messes no matter what technology you use.  Old or new, the mess will always exist.  Mess just finds a way no matter what the technology of the day happens to be.  That’s the human flaw.  We think we’ll be happier if we fix things.  If I could just fix this, or get beyond this current mess, or problem, or conundrum, all will be well.  But it’s not true, there’s always going to be problems, so happiness and contentment is in finding piece with the moment no matter what the situation is currently.  Sometimes you learn from the current situation to make a better decision that leads to a better outcome in the future.  And while it’s good to work towards making things better, no doubt, sometimes you have to accept some things the way they are in the moment, because not every problem can be fixed.”

“Like accepting that I posted the cat photos!”  Kymmie said making a face at Scott.

“You need to take the post down.”  Scott said with slight fear in his voice.

“What?  No!  Look at all these hearts I’m getting!  This is going to be trending in NO time.  And I will be famous.  Hello red carpet, here I come!”

“You know, the carpet isn’t always redder on the other side.”  The lawyer commented his perspective and a warning to Kymmie that maybe everything she is seeking isn’t waiting at the end of a red carpet rainbow.  Maybe it is, but maybe it isn’t.

“Taylor’s going to see it!  Her team of Swifties are Taylurking right now.”  Scott shouted.

“No they’re not, she’s busy getting ready for the show or whatever… Oooo I just got a comment!  WHOA.  Oh my god it’s from Emma Watson!  WHAT?  Whoaaaaaaa.  No way!  She said… ‘I see you found the cat.  That’s Mr. Whittington’s Cat – xx Emma.’ Weird.”  Kymmie looked up from her phone, “Mr. Whittington’s cat?  No it’s not, it’s Taylor’s cat.  It’s Taylor Swift’s cat.  Who’s Mr. Whittington?  What is she even talking about?  Why is Emma Watson commenting on my post?  What does she mean by I see you found the cat?  I’m going to comment back and ask her how she can tell it’s not Taylor’s cat.  Because this is TOTALLY Taylor’s cat.”

Kymmie commented and Emma immediately commented back.

“Wow, that was fast, how did she comment back so fast?  Okay, she said, you can tell by the cat collar, look at the collar, it says London Gold on the collar.  London Gold?  Oh yeah, it does say London Gold.  I wonder what that means…. London Gold… This is soooo crazy right now.  WHOA I’m getting more comments!”

“DELETE. THE. POST. NOW!”  Scott reached for the phone but Kymmie turned in the opposite direction, classic basketball move.  Scott caught an armful of air.

“What, why?  No.  Emma Watson commented on it!  I’m not going to delete it.  She’s a very high profile celebrity!  You obviously don’t know about the importance of reputation in the influencer game.  I’m going to ask her what London Gold means.”

She commented the question and, again, Emma immediately commented back, the comment was so quick it was as if she were simply thinking the comment instead of actually typing it out.

“She said, read the story of Dick Whittington’s cat.  Who’s Dick Whittington?  What’s so special about his cat?  Also, how did she write that reply so fast, no one can possibly type that fast!  Ooooo, she included a link, it says, ‘click on this link’.  Should I click on the link?”

“NO!  Don’t CLICK ON THAT!”  Scott shouted at her.  He reached out again for the phone but Kymmie was too quick.  She ducked, dribbled, passed the phone to Justin, and he passed it back to her.

“Delete it, or give me the phone.”  The lawyer said sternly.

“No.”  Kymmie argued back.  She tossed the phone back and forth to Justin, Kanye, Oak, and Pop as Scott and the Lawyer attempted to snatch the phone trying to catch it midair.

“Give me the phone or delete the post.  You have ten seconds.”  The lawyer began counting down from ten, like a parent not putting up with anymore from a child, “Ten, nine, eight…”

The phone landed back in Kymmie’s hands, “Fine!  Ugh.  I’ll delete it, let me just screen cap it first as proof for my friends…  Wait this is weird… It won’t let me even click on any options to screen cap.  It’s like my phone is stuck on this post.  I can’t do anything.  Let me try to get to the menu… It’s not letting me do anything now!  Here, look, I’m even trying to delete it, nothing is working.”

“What?!”  Scott said in a worried voice.

“It says this post is now managed by AlisonThirteen.  Who’s AlisonThirteen?  Only AlisonThirteen or a moderator from her team may modify or delete the post.”

“Oh no.”  Scott said, his eyes wide with fear.

“What?  Why did you say oh no?”  Kymmie said looking up from her phone.

“Never mind.  There’s nothing we can do about it now.”  Scott looked around the room seemingly searching for something, ‘but what am I looking for’, he thought to himself.

“Well, since I can’t delete it I’m going to comment back, it seems to still let me click on the comment box.  This is Taylor’s cat, not some Mr. Whittington’s cat.  Are you sure I shouldn’t just click on the link Emma sent?  I mean isn’t that what links are for?  Someone sends you a link, you just click, I mean, right?  Like, links have to be clicked!  You can’t not click on the link, you have to click it!  Don’t think, just click!”

“DO NOT CLICK ON ANY LINKS!”  The lawyer and Scott shouted at the same time.

“Okay fine, calm down.  I won’t click on it.  I’ll just ask Emma to tell me who Mr. Whittington is.”

“Technically you’re tapping on it, since you’re using your finger, clicking would indicate you have a mouse.  Anyway, speaking of mice, maybe the cat is both?  Maybe it’s Taylor’s cat and Mr. Whittington’s cat.  That is to say, if Taylor adopted it, perhaps it was someone else’s cat before it was hers.”  Everyone acknowledged Oak Felder’s wisdom.

“Well, but, that would make it Schrodinger’s cat.”  The lawyer added.

“Or, given our history, maybe she catnapped it.”  Justin offered, still annoyed about what the Swifties did to Sushi and Tuna.

“Whose cat?  I’m confused.”  The Arianator said after typing out a quick comment.

“It’s a thought experiment where the cat can be two things at the same time.  Taylor’s cat and Mr. Whittington’s cat.”

“I don’t get it.”  She replied.

“It’s like that song by One Direction.”  Oak began.  “She’s beautiful because she doesn’t know she’s beautiful and that’s what makes her beautiful.  But since he’s telling her she’s beautiful in the song, she now knows she’s beautiful.  So, can she still be beautiful, even though she now knows it, since not knowing she’s beautiful is what makes her beautiful?  In telling her that she’s beautiful, wouldn’t that change the statement because the state of her not knowing she is beautiful is what makes her beautiful.”

“Is there going to be an exam after this?  I feel like I should be taking notes.”  Justin asked.

“This is confusing.”  Kymmie replied.

“Or, maybe it’s the perspective of the person looking at the cat?”  Oak continued,  “It appears to be different depending on who looks at it.  Maybe it’s like looking in the mirror, unless you knew it was a mirror, and you had never seen an image of yourself so as to know what you look like, how would you know it’s a reflection?  The mirror would be the cat, but depending on who looks at the cat, that changes which cat is seen.”

“Wait… That’s strange…”  Kymmie said looking at the picture on her phone.  “Sorry, Oak, I’m listening to you, but also, I’m not.”

“What’s strange?”  Scott asked, his voice now more urgent sounding, a concerned tone.

“There’s something weird about this picture.  I can’t quite figure it out though.”  She stared at the phone.

“Let me see the photos….”  Scott walked over to her and put on a pair of glasses, then inspected the photos closely. “You’re taking these photos directly in front of the mirror, but I don’t see you in the mirror…  We need to get out of here.  This is a trap!”  His face looked as if he has seen a ghost.

“But, how does that work?  It’s so fascinating.”  She walked over to the mirror and stood in front of it.  She could clearly see her reflection.  She pulled out her phone to take a mirror selfie but remember the phone was locked to the post.  “Someone give me your phone!”  Justin tossed his phone to her.  She caught it and snapped a selfie.  “Weird. I’m not in the photo.  It’s just the mirror reflecting the wall behind me.”  She tossed the phone back to Justin.  Everyone else gathered around his phone to look at the photo.  The teen moved closer to the mirror.  She looked at her self and thought who else had stood before this very same mirror.  She fixed her hair.  How many others had fixed their hair while they looked at their reflection, their impurities, imperfectness—made perfect with makeup for the stage.  A peculiar thought popped into her head and she wondered the same thing about a song; if listening to a song were like looking in a mirror, or hearing into a mirror, how many others had also listened to that same song, any song.  Felt the same feelings.  Each and every song had a list of those who heard the song, and some lists for some songs included nearly everyone on the planet, while others just a select few.  There were undoubtedly songs that nearly everyone in the world had heard at one point another.  But, even with the same song everyone’s experience of that song is different.  Everyone has different memories, emotional responses, to some the song can mean one thing, and to another, something completely different, Taylor Swift’s cat or Mr. Whittington’s cat.  It’s the same cat, but we all view it differently.  But what if there were a way for everyone to feel the same way when listening to a song.  If you remove the reflection from the mirror, isn’t it the same experience for anyone who looks into it?  If we can’t see ourselves, we all see the same thing, right?

Conceivably the whole world could be connected together by a hand full of songs.  Wouldn’t it be such a strange sensation to somehow be able to connect with anyone who has ever listened to the same song as you?  Or what if such a song existed that everyone had listened to at least once, or even the entire world continued to listen to on repeat, a song connecting the entire human population together, as one.  Seeing everyone in the world, or rather hearing everyone as one mirror—an audio mirror.  But, what would an audio mirror look like, or sound like, or be like?

There’s feedback, when a microphone is pointed at a speaker, or a guitar is placed directly in front of an amp, but is that it?  It can’t be.  Feedback sounds terrible.  But, looking into a mirror is… captivating.  It would have to be like looking into a mirror.  Seeing one’s own reflection, but in the song.  Can one listen into a recording the way they can look into a mirror?  But instead of seeing you, it’s everyone; or maybe it’s blank, because a blank space has the potential to be anyone in that mirror.  But isn’t the possibility of reflection, at least, for sound, the absence of sound?  In which case, wouldn’t a sound mirror be… Shared silence?

If it’s not silence then how would a mirror for the ears even work?  Would it be like knowing you shared that song with others just as you can imagine others have looked in the same mirror as you?  She thought about how a song, could have the power to make you feel less imperfect, the right song could lift you up and make you feel amazing, just as makeup can conceal imperfections, make you feel a higher level of beautiful.  Music, in a way, is like makeup for your mind, and heart and soul… but it’s more than that, it has the power to make you feel an entire range of emotions.  Music can change your entire state of being on the inside and no one on the outside would ever know you changed.  It didn’t just cover something up like makeup did; it had the power to make you feel beautiful from the inside out.  To truly connect with a song either alone, with another person, or with the whole world, music could make you feel something that words can’t really describe.  And hearing the right song?  It changes you, sometimes, forever.

Suddenly the lights flickered.  They stayed for a moment in their dimly lit state before shutting off entirely.  A glowing silhouetted image of Taylor could be seen in the mirrors for only a second before fading away as the lights flickered back on.  Her song Style played.  Maybe it was Style, the duration of the clip was extremely short, so short that it was impossible to really tell if they had actually heard anything at all or just imagined it.  It was just a tiny bit of Style, just enough style, a small amount of Style.   The sound entered their ear drums and into their brains… No time to put on special Swiftie sound canceling headphones, no time to cover their ears....  They were quite possibly Swifted, ever so Swiftly, and yet ever so slightly, just a tiny little bit of Swiftie in their minds… We never go out of style… We never go out of Style…

Each of Taylor’s exes flashed in the makeup mirrors, as though they were trapped behind the mirrors, handwritten lyrics could be seen below each one of Taylor’s exes, their portrait glowed in the mirror, trapped behind the lyrics.

“Poor souls, trapped forever in the lyrics of songs… Taylor Swift, the spellbound maker of broken hearted lovers…”  Scott spoke quietly to himself, seemingly un-phased, as though he knew this day would eventually come, like he knew for years.  Scott knew the power of trapping someone in a song for all eternity, any good songwriter knew the power, and Taylor did too, she knew what it did, she knew it better than anyone, after all, her first hit song was named Tim McGraw… Write a song about someone and they are forever trapped in that song, and the more popular it becomes, the more trapped that person becomes.  Taylor was one of the best in the business; she could spin a song spell quite well, much better than most.  The spellbound maker of broken hearted lovers, she got rich and famous singing songs of wonder… Now we’re all under her spell.

They say you fight fire with fire, or in this case, an interruption with a distraction, and as everyone knows cats make the best distractions

“Okay this is kind of creeping me out a little.”  Justin admitted after the lights flicked back on full.

“What was that you said about how it’s like a fun house…” Kanye poked fun at The Biebs.

“Yeah, Ye, but, that was before any of this flickering lights and the man in the mirror stuff happened!”

“Yeah, I’m done with this cat, let’s go back!  Kymmie ran to the door that lead to the hallway and pushed against it, “The door…  It’s locked from the other side!  I don’t even remember there being a door here before!  I just remember we were in the hallway of black lights, and my shoelaces were glowing and then we walked in here, I know there was an open doorway but I don’t remember a door, and maybe it’s because I was paying too much attention to my glowing shoelaces, and the cat of course… Did anyone else remember a door?  Did anyone else hear it close?”  She franticly shoved her body against the door trying to open it.

“You need to calm down.”  A voice said.

“Okay, who said that… Because it didn’t sound like any of us.”  Kymmie backed away from the door, almost in tears, officially freaked the heck out.  “I’m officially freaked the heck out!”

“It wasn’t any of us...”  Scott said in an eerie ‘this is the end for us’ type of voice.

“There’s probably a speaker somewhere in the room and Taylor is just trying to messing with us by making it seem like the sound came from within the room.  EVERYONE, it’s okay, I have cats, I can handle this.”  Justin put his hands out and walked over to the cat.  “Okay cat… Unlock the door!”  Justin crouched in order to look the cat in the eyes.  The cat stared back for a few seconds.

           “You know I have a name.  It’s Tom.  My name is Tom.  Not… ‘Okay cat’.”  The cat said in a very royal British accent.

           Justin stood up and backed away.  “Did anyone else just hear the cat talk, or was that just me?”

           “Oh yes, yes, I believe the cat definitely just talked.  That was the cat talking is what that was.  Yes, that’s, uhhhh, that’s a, ummm, what do you call it, it’s uh… a talking cat. Yes, I believe, that’s uhhh, what that is.”  Scott said in his Jeff Goldblum voice.

“Holy crap, Taylor’s cat just talked!”  Kymmie yelled out, “Holy crap the cat just talked.  Taylor Swift’s cat just talked, you guys, TAYLOR SWIFT’S CAT JUST TALKED!!!  What is going on here? OH MY GOD, you guys, what the actual flipping heck is happening right now.  TAYLOR’S CAT TALKED!”  

“Yeah, we heard you the first time.  How many times are you going to say that?”  Justin said to Kymmie.

“Well, I’m sorry, JUSTIN, I’m kinda freaking out!”  Kymmie started to freak out fully.  “This is not real, I’m dreaming this right now, this is a dream and then I’m going to wake up and it’s not going to be real.  Cats don’t talk in real life.”  Her voice quivered with fear as the words escaped her mouth.

“Love,” The cat said still in a royal but now nonchalant British accent, “I do say, love, in the words of my very lovely owner, you really need to calm down.”

“Whaaaaaa… Oh my gosh. OH MY GOSH!  Calm down?  I’m talking to Taylor Swift’s cat!  How am I supposed to calm down?   I just said that to a cat.  Oh my gosh… OH MY GOSH!!!  I just replied to a cat.  I’m talking to Taylor Swift’s cat!”

“Could you be a dear, love, and tell Emma I said hello.”

“Umm, what?  You’re telling me to comment back to tell Emma Watson that you say hello?”  Suddenly her fear floated away, and she felt peaceful, filled with love and complete calm.  Her fear changed to immediate curiosity.  “Okay.  I mean, sure.”  She said to the cat.  “Should I do it?”  She asked the room.

“I say go for it.”  The Biebs said also in a mellow tone.  “Why do I suddenly feel so relaxed?  This cat just seems so chill.  Like, he’s such a cool cat.  Cool cat… cooool… caaaat.”

“Why does the cat have a British accent?”  Kymmie asked.

“I don’ know, why?”  Justin answered.

“It’s not a joke.  I’m asking.”  Kymmie replied.

“Oh… Doesn’t Taylor take her cats over to England?”  Justin suggested as a possible explanation.

“Cat’s can’t get accents… CAT’S CANT TALK!”  Kymmie replied.

“Well apparently this one does.”  Justin replied back.

“No!  This is a trick.”  Scott struggled to shout.  “Don’t... talk… to it…”  His shouting melted away as he struggled to maintain intensity in his voice.  “No.”  He tried to fight the relaxing mellow feeling hitting his mind. Had he been Swifted?  He wondered.  He felt like that moment right after you wake up from a dream.  Reality seemed foggy.

“I mean, it is a talking cat.  How can we not talk to it?”  Oak Felder offered, he too now slightly subdued.  “I think Justin is right, I feel so… tranquil.”

“We can’t talk to it… Because, like, we have… Uh…  Ummm… something else we are supposed to be doing.  We neeeeeeeeed to contact… Billie.”  Scott reaffirmed.  He motioned with his hands to Kanye.  His hand eye coordination felt slightly off.  He felt like everything was in slow motion.

“Like, but it’s a talking cat.  Maaaaaaan.”  The Ariantor tried to argue back but she continued to feel more mellow, and free, and full of love.  “We’ve got plenty of time anyway.  Time is slooooooooooooooow right now.  And I’m sure Billie will call Justin when she can’t find us.”

“Yeah.”  He checked his phone.  “See, Mr. Scott B… no missed calls.  And full bars on my service.  And look how big the screen is right now.”  The screen appeared to Justin to be the size of a TV screen.  Everyone else saw the screen of his phone appear to grow right before their eyes.

“Whoaaaaaaaaa…”  They all said in unison.

“Well… Okay.”  Scott replied convinced as he possibly could muster in his catatonic like state.  He looked at Carl who looked at his watch then gave a concerned look back which eventually melted away to just a shrug of the shoulders.

“So, your name is Tom?”  Oak Felder inquired of the cat.

“Yes.  Ground control to Major Tom.  Tom here!”  The cat was peppy and spoke in a perfectly upbeat voice, a bit on the cheeky side though.  Everyone honed in on the voice unable to pay attention to anything else but the cat.

The Arianator made a face like she was thinking very hard.  “None of Taylor’s cats are named Tom.  So, you can’t be Taylor’s cat then.”  

“Ah, but you are undoubtedly misinformed.”

“How so?”  Oak asked further, curious.

“Was I not adopted?  Could I not have two names?  Could I not have an identify from a previous owner?  Or, maybe even a previous life!”

“Well… Yeah, I guess.”  Oak replied.  Everyone else nodded in agreement.

Scott broke free for a moment from his mellow state, “Everyone, stop talking to the cat!  He wants you to pay attention to him.”  Scott tried to intervene; he knew what the cat was up to.  He tried to shake off his euphoric Swiftie feeling, that feeling that he had just woken up from a dream but was still dreaming.  Shake it off, he thought, shake it off… Oh no… Taylor’s lyrics were just too infectious.  Shake it off… Shake it off…

Justin stepped forward.  “But, I have to know now, I have to know everything about this talking cat.  Plus, Scotty too hottie, just trust me, yo, Billie Eilish will call when she needs us all.   I just have a funny feeling she will, that’s all.”

“Nice rhyme bro.”  Kanye fist bumped Justin.

“Thanks.”  Justin gave his ‘cool’ look back that he often uses in a lot of photos.  The ‘I’m Justin Bieber level of cool because I am Justin Bieber’ look.  You know the look.

“I HAVE TO KNOW TOO!”  The Arianator said.  “I’m soooo curious.  I can’t explain it, like… I’m soooo curious to know.  I have to know.  I want to know, I NEED to know.  Look at the cat!  He’s sooooo cute.”

“Haven’t you ever heard the tale of Dick Whittington and his cat?”  The cat said his British accent, very royal sounding.  Like he could have been a cat for the Queen of England herself.  Except that the Queen of England has dogs… Doesn’t she?  I think so, yes, she does, I just looked it up.  She may have a cat, but I can’t find any search results that prove that.

“Ummm…”  The Arianator scratched her head.  Justin also thought for a moment.

“Oh no.”  Scott said in a quiet voice.

“What?”  The lawyer said back.

“This IS a trap.  Taylor IS trapping us.”  He looked around the room, not sure what he was looking for, mostly out of desperation for a solution, or a clue, anything.

“How do you know for sure?”  The lawyer said quietly to Scott.

“I just… know.  This is her.”

The teen held up her phone.  “Emma Watson just commented back, she said it’s definitely Dick Whittington’s cat.  Also she said, ‘Tell Tom I said hello, xx -E’.”  She looked at the cat.  “You talk to Emma Watson?”

“Yes.”  The cat replied.

“Do you talk to Taylor Swift too?”  She asked.

“Not like I chat with Emma, no, Taylor just knows my routine already, so there’s no need for human words.  She just knows me, as I am her cat.  We have an unspoken agreement.”

Kymmie thought for a moment.  “That makes sense… I think.  Wait… Why do you talk to Emma Watson?”

“Well, it’s a long story but… have you ever heard of the ten days of silence?”

“I think so, yeah.  Is that where you go somewhere and don’t speak for ten days?  You just sit there and meditate?”

“Close enough.  You see…”  The cat walked about the room as he spoke, “she’s one of the few individuals in the world who have successfully completed the ten days of silence.  When you spend ten days in silence you… Well, some individuals, anyway, with a certain predisposition to ‘clairvoyant abilities’ start to experience alternative forms of worldly communication.  Your brain starts to seek out other ways to connect to other living beings.”

“But how?”  The Arianator asked, eager to know more.  Everyone else’s attention was fixated on the cat.  Everyone was eager to know more about Emma Watson’s predisposition to ‘clairvoyant abilities’.  They were completely forgetting they had somewhere else to be… at least for now.  But, that was the point, wasn’t it? Welcome to the game show called The Cat Always Wins… Staring Tom Whittington Swift, Taylor Swift, and a guest appearance by Emma Watson, and of course, our lovely contestants… Can they win against the cat or will the cat win again?  Find out, on The Cat Always Wins!  Spoiler alert, the cat always wins!

EDITOR: If the cat always wins, why would anyone watch that?

WRITER: Because, it’s a cat!  Also, it’s not a question of if the cat always wins, it’s a question of HOW the cat always wins!  It’s like how you know the good girl is always going to defeat the bad guy, but you watch it anyway to find out how!

EDITOR: Producer?

PRODUCER: Executive producer?

EXECUTIVE PRODUCER: I’ll allow it.  Continue the story.

PRODUCER: Management likes it.  Allowed.

EDITOR: Okay, continue the story.

WRITER: Thanks, I will.  I’m glad I have a whole team of people who aren’t directly involved in creating this content telling me what I can and cannot write.

EDITOR, PRODUCER, EXECUTIVE PRODUCER: That’s what we’re here for!

EXECUTIVE PRODUCER: I just pitched the show “The Cat Always Wins” to my bosses… The owners of everything.  They like it!  Hurry up and finish this so we can start working on The Cat Always Wins.

WRITER: It’s not a real show!

EXECUTIVE PRODUCER:  Well it won’t ever be with an attitude like that!  Let’s make it happen!  Think like the cat, because, remember, The Cat Always Wins!  We already bought the rights!

WRITER: So this is what it must be like to no longer have control of something you created.  To be at the whim of this creation that now controls your life.  Welcome to a new spin on the Taylor Swift’s Masters Ownership Story… The Cat Always Wins.

“Yeah.  How is that even possible?”  Justin inquired of the cat, eager to know more about Emma Watson’s predisposition to ‘clairvoyant abilities’.  Everyone was eager to know more about Emma Watson’s predisposition to ‘clairvoyant abilities’.

“Well… It works just like any other form of communication.  What do you do when you need to talk to someone who isn’t nearby?”

“Umm…”  Justin scratched his head, pondering the question.  He felt groggy.  The Swiftie Style spell had clouded his thinking.

“You catcall them!”  The cat smiled.  They sat with blank faces.  “Okay, so, that was a joke, do any of you have a sense of humor?  You guys feline okay?  What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”  More blank faces.  “Wow, tough crowd in here.”

“I think I’m watching a cat trying to do stand up.  What is life right now?”  The teen started to laugh, sort or, it was an ‘almost’ laugh.  A bit of a ‘Ha… Ha…’

“If you need to speak to someone and they aren’t in the room, you call them on your cell phone.  Right?  Pick up the phone and call them!  You seek out an alternative form of communication!  Like how you’re waiting for a phone call from your friend Billie.  Right Justin?”

“Ohhhhh.”  Everyone nodded.

“So, she can talk to cats after doing the ten days of silence thing?  Like someone would pick up a phone and call someone?  Although, who does THAT anymore, just message me.”

“I know right?”  Everyone agreed.  Well, everyone but Scott.

“I still talk on the phone.”  Scott said.

“Don’t make me say it.”  Justin said back.

“Say what?” Scott asked.

“Get with the times pops!”

“I get the New York Times delivered digitally to my phone, does that count?”  Scott stated.

“Well, that’s a start.”  Justin replied approvingly.

“YOU GUYS!  Let the cat tell us more about Emma Watson’s predisposition to ‘clairvoyant abilities’!” Kymmie said in a strong voice, she was trying to yell but it came out as a half whisper.

“Sorry.  Go on cat.”  Justin pointed to the cat.

“Where was I?  Oh, yes, well, she can do a lot more than just talk to cats.  Emma Watson’s powers of communications are unlike anyone else you’ve ever met she has the ability to communicate beyond—“

“WAIT, hang on, who is Dick Whittington?”  Kymmie interrupted.  Just then her phone began to buzz and make noises like an arcade game or pinball machine, “WHOA, there are more celebrities commenting on this post! Florence Pugh just commented too!  You are quite the popular cat, you know that?  At least with famous British actresses it seems.  Do you talk to Florence too?”  Kymmie asked.

“Well, I have been known to draw a crowd or two.  Especially in and around London.”  The cat smiled confidently then purred slightly. “To answer your question, no, I don’t chat with Florence, only Emma.  Ten days of silence, remember?  Anyway, where was I?  Ah yes, the story of Dick Whittington.  Well, it goes as follows, a cat named Tom, made a fellow named Mr. Whittington wealthy because the cat had the ability to chase off rats.”

“But, aren’t YOU Mr. Whittington’s cat?”  The lawyer cross-examined the cat suspiciously.  “Or are you Taylor’s Cat?”

“Mmmmm hmmm.”  The cat replied.

“Well which is it?”  The lawyer leaned in.  “State who’s cat you are for the jury!”

“Hold on… When did this story take place?”  Justin asked, “Because I’m looking it up on my phone here and the story seems a lot older than you look.”  He held the giant phone up for everyone to see, and pulled out a laser pointer to emphasize his point, a presentation for all those present, just as one would make in a class or business meeting.  The cat resisted the urge to chase the red laser.

“Ah, but perhaps, I have many lives.  Nine?  Or perhaps, I live longer than most cats.  I could be an old soul, Mr. Whittington’s cat, in a new body, Taylor Swift’s cat.”

“Mmm hmmmm… Well, Mr. Whittington’s cat, if you are who you say you are, shouldn’t you be chasing rats then?”  The lawyer grabbed the laser pointer out of Justin Bieber’s hand and aimed it on the floor.  The cat pawed at it a few times then stopped himself, not giving in to the lawyer’s tricks.

“Chasing away rats is what I do best.”  He said with a smirk, then snickered.  Two other snickers could be heard from elsewhere.  The snickers of two other cats—creeping somewhere in the shadows.

“Okay, well, Mr. Whittington’s cat, shouldn’t you be chasing rats RIGHT NOW then?”  The lawyer counter argued.

“I am.”  Mr. Whittington’s cat replied.  The two unseen cats snickered again.

“What?” Justin said, taken aback by Scott’s facial reaction to what the cat had just said.  Everyone stared at Scott.  It was as though all the blood had drained entirely from Scott’s face, he looked woozy.

Scott let out a gasp, “Oh no… We’re the rats!” He exclaimed in a quiet voice.

The cat sprawled out on the floor holding his paws up turning his head to look at everyone upside down, a distractingly cute pose, “Uh, what I mean to say is, did you know that Emma Watson is going to be the next Queen of England?”

“No she’s not.”  Kymmie argued back.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa… Stop trying to change the subject there, Tom!”  Scott walked over to face the cat.

“I am doing no such thing, I am simply stating a fact.  And given that YOU still haven’t told Emma I said hello, I think that I have the floor!  Additionally, considering that I have four appendages and you all only have two, that counts doubly for me.”

“THAT DOESN’T EVEN MAKE SENSE!”  Scott huffed.  “That’s not how it works, you’re a cat you have four feet!  Also, none of your paws are on the floor right now, they’re all up in the air and you’re waiving them around like you just don’t care!  You don’t have the floor at all!”

“Well, it’s a metaphorical floor… Or metafloorical if you will… Ohhhh, zing…  Thanks, I’ll be here all night!”  The other two mystery cats snickered, “And so will you…” Thomas Whittington Swift said in a quiet voice.

“Stop trying to distract us, I want to go back to what you said before… Hang on, what do you mean by, and so will you, I HEARD that…”  Scott stared at the cat dubiously.

“What was I saying before?  Oh yes, about Emma Watson being the next Queen of England, I agree, we should discuss that!”

“No, that’s not what I was referring to… “  Scott replied pointing his index finger at the cat.  

WRITER: Oh that’s too perfect, we’re gonna “yes and” that meme reference, let’s run with that bit…

We see Kymmie rush over to Scott’s side.  And, we see, a plate of food sitting on a table appear in front of the cat.  And the cat is now sitting behind the table with the plate of food on the table in front of the cat.  Scott points at the cat with an upset look on his face and Kymmie stands beside Scott.  She has an upset look on her face too.  They’re both yelling at the cat.

And continue scene…

“No hold on, Tom, you know it’s just not possible for Emma to be the next Queen of England.  She’s not in the royal family.”  Oak pointed out that very important detail that would stop Emma from ever becoming Queen of England.

“Give me one reason why Emma wouldn’t make a good Queen of England?”  The cat questioned his court.

Everyone stood silent, unable to come up with an objection to the statement.  “The cat makes a good point.” Kymmie said.

“I don’t have an counterargument against that exact suggestion.”  Oak stated.

“Emma is IN like a gin and tonic at a dancehall.”  The cat said springing to his feet and tossing the plate of food off the table, he jumped up onto the table and walked around like he was on the floor of congress, or parliament—or on the table of congress or parliament because he’s on a table.

“That doesn’t make sense.  We’re not saying she wouldn’t make a good Queen, we’re just saying you know there are other people in the royal family, right?  There are so many people in line to be next, and Emma Watson is NOT one of those people!  Obviously, if she were, according to the governing law, in line for the throne, she would surely be fit for Queen of England.  I’m sure not a single person would object.”  The lawyer joined the Emma Watson for Queen of England debate and argued his talking point.

“But perhaps she could be an honorary member of the family.  Or, maybe, she secretly IS next in line…”  The cat purred, satisfied with his debate performance.

“The cat is lying to us!”  Scott finally managed to break free from the Style spell and fully wake from the relaxed state…   “Everyone we’re getting off topic here!  We’re letting the cat distract us from what we need to do!”

The cat spoke swiftly, “Why would I lie?  I have no reason to lie.  I was just lying down, yes, but that’s a different kind of lie.  Lie, lay… Lying.”  More snickering from the two mystery cats hidden in the shadows.

“No, no, no, everyone, quiet!”  Kymmie yelled.  “I’m going to win this argument.  I’m asking her right now on this comment post if she is part of the royal family.”  The teen typed on her phone.

“Tell her I said hello too!”  The casual cat slid the comment in very smoothly.

Kymmie stopped typing.  “Wait, if you and Emma can talk through your minds, or whatever, why am passing notes back and forth between the two of you like we’re in grade school!  Can’t you just say hello to each other through your minds?”  She asked.

“Oh, sure, we’re talking right now.  We just think it’s fun.”  The cat said with a smile.  “Haven’t you ever messaged someone from your phone who was sitting in the same room as you.”

“Oh yeah.  I guess that make sense.”  Kymmie said, she’d totally done that.  Sometimes you’re sitting there watching TV or a movie and you want to hear the show, but also want to talk to your friend.  Or if there’s another friend in the room and you want to say something to one of your friends about the other friend…  Kymmie eyed the cat suspiciously.  They’re talking about us, she thought.

“This is ridiculous, we’re fighting with Taylor Swift’s cat!”  Scott tried to convince the others.

“Mr. Whittington’s cat.”  Justin corrected him.

“WHATEVER!  We need to focus.   We’re arguing with a cat!”  Scott knew that time was running out.

“But it’s a talking cat.”  Justin argued still under that small amount of Swiftie Spell and it’s anyone’s guess how it was interacting with his Selena earworm.  So far there didn’t seem to be any side effects, but one never knows when you start combining song spells and earworms together.  It’s a dangerous concoction.

“I’m commenting to Emma right now.”  Kymmie said waving away Scott’s sass.

“Well she’s not going to tell you.  It’s highly secret you know.  Only a few know.  And I’m one of those few.”  Mr. Whittington Swift Cat said with a cunning smile.

“This cat is messing with us—”

“Taylor Swift’s cat—”  The teen corrected Scott.

“Mr. Whittington’s cat—“ Oak corrected Kymmie.

“Emma Watson’s cat?”  The lawyer offered.

“Schrodinger’s cat.”  Pop proclaimed.

“Cat Steven’s cat.”  Justin added.

“Cat Steven’s cat?”  Kanye questioned.

“I thought we were playing one of those imrov comedy games where you name the object, and you substitute different names, I’m sure there’s an official improv comedy name for this kind of scene work, I’m drawing a blank right now.  I’m not a regular improviser… sooo… Just go with it.  Yes and.”  Justin shrugged.  “Cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon, little boy blue and the man in the moon, ‘when you coming home, dad?’ ‘I don't know when’, but we'll get together then, you know we'll have a good time then…”  

Never combine earworms and song spells, it may make the person lose their mind.  Of course, the effect is only temporary.

“—WHOEVER’S CAT THIS IS, it’s messing with our minds!”  Scott shouted.

“Now why would I do such a thing as to mess with you?  Did you ask Emma Watson about her royal status yet?”  The cat sat resting his chin on his paw.

“Yes, she said to ask you.  Also she said ‘hello’ back.  Also, also, Emma suggested naming you Kit Cat.”  Kymmie read the comment aloud.

“Give me a break.”  Scott put his palm to his face, which was something you used to be able to do back in the day before the great virus circled the world and face palming became a thing of the past because no one was allowed to touch one’s face anymore.

EDITOR: Yeah, that’s realistic.  No one is allowed to touch their face?  Man you come up with the weirdest stuff.

WRITER: Oh you just wait, it’s gonna get way weirder.  I’m just getting started.  It’s a game of musical chairs and the game doesn’t end until there’s a winner.

EDITOR: You’re so weird.

WRITER: THIS IS WHAT WRITERS DO WHEN THEY ARE STUCK IN QUARANTINE.  Don’t leave your house.  If you leave your house, you might hear the song, and if you hear the song, you will NEVER get it out of your head, you become one of them!  DANCE MONKEY DANCE!

EDITOR:  What if I’ve already heard the song?

WRITER: It’s too late… Just dance.  Just sing.  Just sing, and dance… The only way out is a more addictive song and the cycle begins again until you hear an even more addictive song, and that cycle goes until you hear the song that you can NEVER get out of your head.  Unless, someone write’s an antidote song…  Dance… Monkey… Dance… Australian sound, Australian crosswalk sound… Billie Eiliish… Taylor Swift… Music is infected, soundtracks are infected, laugh tracks are infected, Foley artist created sounds in films are infected… Ten days of silence, shhhh listen, can you hear it?  Emma Watson will save the world with silence!

EDITOR: What do you mean by Emma Watson will save the world with silence?

WRITER: Shhhhhhhhhh… Listen to the silence… of no one talking… Just writing and reading… Shhhhh… Just sit there and try to listen to Emma Watson’s thoughts, as she reads her books.

EDITOR: How am I supposed to hear Emma Watson’s thoughts?  That’s impossible.  No one can hear her thoughts except her.  I’d just be siting here silent listening to nothing.

WRITER: That’s the point.  Sit quietly and listen, until you can hear Emma Watson’s thoughts in your head.

EDITOR:  So you just want me to sit there while you write?

WRITER: Yep.  Oh, just a warning, make sure you don’t accidentally think her thoughts as your own, just listen to them.

EDITOR: Okay fine, whatever, I will sit here and try to read Emma Watson’s mind, or listen to her thoughts, or whatever, while you write.  And since we all know it’s impossible to hear someone’s thoughts, I’ll just sit here quietly.  So you could just say that instead of trying to be all mysteriously cool trying to convince me there’s a way to read people’s minds or that Emma Watson is some come of chosen oracle that will one day save the world.

WRITER: Thank you.

EDITOR: Wait, what do you mean think her thoughts as my own?

WRITER: Shhhhhhhh… Don’t think… Just listen… Be in the present… Let Emma Watson be your thought guide…

EDITOR: *Rolls eyes*

“Okay, we’re not playing games anymore.  Or, at least the name the cat game.”  The lawyer responded in a flat tone of voice.

“Awwwwww.”  The cat purred in response to Emma’s hello back to him.  “So, it is.”

“It is what?”  Scott demanded.

“It is time for us to go to London!”  The cat announced.

“London?  We have somewhere else to be!  Why do we want to go to London?”

“Why, my friend Scott… To find out, of course!  We must find out the answer to the Emma Watson question!  Is she going to be the next Queen of England?  Her Grace, Ms. Emma Watson of Windsor Castle!  HER MAJESTY Emma Charlotte Duerre Watson of Buckingham Palace!”  The cat held a paw up in the air pointing the way.

Just as the cat tossed a paw into the air the lights went out again, and then in each of the mirrors they could see the flicker of faces appear and disappear.  Each face glowed for a moment, then faded away.  One of the faces, Scott was positive, was Elvis, Elvis himself.  He made out a few of the others, he was positive Tom Petty was there, along with Prince.  Janis Joplin, even!  David Bowie.  Whitney Houston.  Wow.  They all flashed so fast that it was impossible to recognize more than a small number.  The only commonality was that they were iconic musicians no longer living among us.  Each one of the faces, perhaps coincidentally (and perhaps not), had a corresponding trust managed by The Whale himself.  Personally appointed by way of a signed retroactive power of appointment that gave The Whale sole trustee guardianship.  The signatures of course, were not exactly on the line for any of the legally binding documents, but that minor detail didn’t seem to matter to the notary public, the witness of each signed document, or the reviewing judge who denied any and all appeals with prejudice.  The objector, respondent, and petitioner were all informed of the trust’s fate by certified mail.  The Hollywood Whales sent a representative from each of their pods to pick up the individual trust packets personally.  As was customary of The Whales of Hollywood.

When the lights came back on, a previously shut door on the opposite side of the room, had opened.  The cat stood at the edge of that door.

A sign in Taylor Swift’s handwriting read “To The Stage Door” but it was crossed out, and under it was written “To London”.

“You can’t give up now!  Onwards to London!”  The cat shouted.

The lawyer pulled Scott aside and spoke to him.  “London?  We don’t want to go to—”

“Just follow him.”  Scott said in a sour tone.  “We’re not actually going to London, there’s no possible way that’s a doorway to London.  We’re in LA!  I’m sure it just leads further into the building, there has to be a way.  We’re dealing with a cat, it’s not like we’re up against a whole army of Taylor Swift’s Swifties, The Swift Army.  it’s a cat, Carl.  I’m sure we can figure this out.”

They could hear noise, very low, it sounded like idle chatter, people filling into an open auditorium.  Guests were taking their seats for the 2019 American Music Awards.

“Oh no.  It’s starting soon!”  The lawyer announced.

“We have no choice.  We have to go!”  Scott commanded.

“Just uh, timeout for a second, you do realize you’re trusting a cat on which way to go right?”  Oak asked, just confirming the current situation.

“Well we don’t exactly have any other options right now do we?!”  Scott said.

“You dirty rat.”  The cat suddenly belted out.

“Are you saying that to us?”  Scott asked the cat.

“I just like saying that.”  The cat smiled.

“Well can you say something else?”  Scott replied.

“Say hello to my little friend.”  He said, as another cat appeared in the doorway.

“WHOA, it’s another one of Taylor’s cats!”  The Arianator pulled out her camera to take another photo, but remembered her phone was locked.

“And say hello to my other little friend.”  The second snickering cat appeared on the other side of the cat named Thomas Whittington Swift Schrodinger.

“Do they talk too?”  She asked.

“No.”  The cats snickered.  “They just snicker.”

“You dirty rat…”

“Okay, can you seriously stop saying that, can you just stop saying that.”  Scott was very annoyed, now slightly agitated.

“Sorry.”  The cat said back.  “It’s just a force of habit, you know, after all, I’m always looking for rats!”

“Let me try to handle this again.”  Justin stepped towards the cats,  “Okay cat stop talking right now.”  Justin said, trying his tactic from earlier.

The cat meowed.  The two cats snickered.

“See, he’s not talking anymore.”  Justin said.  “I’m the cat whisperer!”

The cat meowed again.

“Stop meowing.”  Scott was beyond annoyed.

The cat purred loudly.

“Stop making sounds of any kind!”  Scott shouted. “Let’s just go.  At this point I don’t even care where you’re taking us.”

Taylor Swift’s cats smiled and turned to lead the way.  Welcome, my friends, to the series premier of The Cat Always Wins.

@taylorswift

[littledonkeyburrito]

So Unclean

1. Quick! Chinese or Mexican? Both!

2. How many significant others have you had in your WHOLE life? I don’t think any of them would count as “significant”

3. I have to ask: What does the last message you received say? “I saw the corpse touching party photo again”

4. How about the last message you sent? *laughing face emoji*

5. Have you shared any kisses today? No.

6. Did the last person you kissed have soft lips, or were they kind of crusty? Soft. Can I just say that “crusty” is like the worst possible adjective you could have used.

7. Do you think your life will be any different a year from now? Yeah because I’ll probably be in Australia and working and stuff

8. What is in your wallet? My licence, bank card, health insurance card, metro ticket and I think about 30 euro 

9. Have you ever been in a fist fight? 11 years of martial arts will do that to you

10. When was the last time you went to the doctor? Back when I got my yellow fever shot in august

11. Are you going out of town anytime soon? I'm going back to australia in 2 weeks. There was talk of a family friend maybe paying for me to visit her in london next week but idk what’s happening with that.

12. Do you hate your ex? There is one I dislike, the rest are fine.

13. When are you going to get a haircut? When I’m back in Australia

14. Can you fit your hand around your wrist? Yes

15. When was the last time you applied chapstick? A couple of hours ago. Need to put more on though. Winter is a bitch for cracked lips. I swear I have to drink like 10 litres of water to stop them drying out

16. Are you a coffee person or a tea person? Neither, but if I have to choose, then tea.

17. When’s the last time you had a phone conversation for more than ten minutes? Does a voice call on google hangout count? If yes, then today with Maggie and Patrick while we played The Elder Scrolls

18. All the people you’ve kissed, what did their names start with? God, I’ll just list the letters in alphabetical I guess: A, B, C, D, E, I, J, M, N, R, Z Most of those letters are multiple people though. Surprisingly there are two Z’s and neither of them are a name you expect.

19. What did you and your ex fight about most? I have never had anything last long enough for fights.

20. Don’t you love long hugs? Generally, no. But if they’re from certain people, yes.

21. And long kisses? Sure, why not

22. Have you ever purchased condoms? Yes

23. Do you have a dirty mind? My mind is So Unclean.

24. Do you check the mail everyday, or somebody else? Nah I never get post here so I only check like once a week.

25. Did you think braces were cool when you were little? I don’t recall ever having an opinion

26. Put your iTunes on shuffle RIGHT NOW and tell me the first song it plays. I can’t be bothered waiting for itunes to open but I can tell you that I currently have “La Raza Es La Pura Raza” by Molotov currently playing youtube.

27. What is the last song you added to your iTunes library? That would have been an album by Alvaro Soler. But I’m going to put a bunch of new songs on there soon before my flight back to aus

28. Are you embarrassed by any of the songs in your iTunes? Not really. I have no shame.

29. When was the last time you were sick? No idea but I’ll probably get a cold from the 26 hours of flying I’ll be doing soon.

30. Who was your Valentine this year? Nobody

31. When did you first kiss the last person you kissed? September

32. And when did you last kiss the last person you kissed? October

33. Did you borrow that shirt from somebody? No

34. What was the last thing you put in your mouth? Dark chocolate with almonds

35. Do you like to swim? I used to hate it because long hair took forever to dry. Now I don’t mind but I don’t actively try to go swimming often.

36. How many vacations have you been on in the past year? Oh My God so many this year has been awesome. And since I’ve been living in spain the whole time I guess it’s basically been a year long vacation.

37. Have you ever gone on vacation with your boyfriend/girlfriend? No

38. Do you have to wake up early tomorrow? No but I might anyway because I barely slept last night and I’m going to bed after I finish this quiz.

39. When you put an album into your iTunes, do you delete all of the songs that you dislike, or do you prefer to keep the complete album in your library, and why? I keep the whole album. But I have playlists of my favourite songs.

40. How often do you get confused about someone’s tone through the internet or texting? (For example, taking something serious that was intended to be taken sarcastically?) Not often. My friends and I get each other pretty well and if we can’t understand the tone we just ask.

41. What was your most awkward sexual experience? (If you don’t have one/are too embarrassed to share, what is the funniest sex story you’ve heard?) I don’t think I really have any funny or awkward stories. The most amusing one for me was fooling around in the back of his car and ducking every time another car drove past and him saying that if anyone looked in they’d only see me because I’m so pasty I pretty much glow in the dark.

42. Have you ever called in and won a radio contest, and, if so, what was it, and what’d you win? No but this reminds me that when I was a kid I won an easter colouring competition and my prize was a 3kg chocolate bunny which my dad smashed up with a hammer and put all the pieces in a cooler and then most of it was eaten by him and my brother. Although in fairness to my brother he did trade me a stuffed monkey toy for half the chocolate.

43. If you’ve used pads, do you prefer them with or without wings and why? What kind of sadistic fuck uses pads without wings? Fun fact: pads are the reason I know the spanish word for “wing”

44. Who was the last person you had actual sex with in a dream? I think I had a sex dream about my ex recently

45. If you went to a bookstore, what section would you most likely end up at? The exit, tbh. I’m not a big reader.

46. What is in your left pocket? There is nothing in any of my pockets

45. How much alcohol did you have this weekend? I think I had 2 beers on Friday night

46. Do you eat gas station food? Pies.

47. What color underwear do you have on? White and blue speckled

48. Do you sit or stand in the shower? Stand, unless I’m particularly tired or I’m feeling sick. Sitting under the shower is a really effective method of stopping nausea for me.

49. Where were you born? UK

50. Where do you work? Or go to school? Or are you a bum? Currently a total bum but soon will be back working in security

51. What do you want to be when you grow up? Who the fuck even knows. I’m open to suggestions if you wanna throw some at me

52. When did you join Facebook? Why? 2008 because all my friends had facebook. I think I got myspace then too.

53. Do you like to cuddle? Only with sexual partners.

54. Do you believe that the last person that you kissed cares for you? Don’t know. Maybe a little?

55. How long does it take you to fall asleep at night? Lately, so fucking long. Like, 4 hours.

56. Do you prefer to take your showers at night or in the morning? Morning because I’m a sweaty sleeper.

57. Is there a night you would like to repeat and allow it to live on forever? Yeah, there is one night that comes to mind

58. Name a person whose name starts with the letter M. Me, Maddie

59. Do you eat ranch with your pizza? I am but a simple australian and I’m not even entirely sure what ranch dressing is

60. Is there a place that you wish you could visit? So many

61. Do you believe that this weekend will be a good one for you? Depends if I do actually end up going to London

62. Is there anyone that is jealous of you or anything that you have? I hope so. People’s jealousy of my travel kinda fuels me tbh

63. Have you told anyone that you missed them lately? Yeah I told my mama I miss her

64. Why will/won’t you and your ex get back together? We probably will when I’m back in australia. We’ve already agreed to catch up once I’m back.

65. Have you ever kissed anyone while driving? No, that sounds dangerous

66. Think of the last person you kissed. Have you ever kissed them on a bed or a couch? Yes and no I don’t think we ever kissed on a couch. It was mostly in hotel rooms so I don’t think there were any couches

67. Is your best friend single? Yeah

68. What are you going to be doing later? Sleeping hopefully. I’m so tired

69. The last kind of lotion you used, what does it smell like? Probably like lotion with argon oil. Y’know because that’s what it was.

70. Have you hung out with any guys recently? I have not physically hung out with anyone for a long time. 

71. Can you go a whole day without drinking any pop or eating any sweets? Yeah, that’s not uncommon. I’ve kinda surprised myself by how unintentionally healthy my diet has gotten this past year. Like, I eat a ton of vegetables every day and drink mostly water, milk and orange juice. And I started eating eggs for some protein too.

72. Who’s the weirdest teacher at your school? There was a teacher at my highschool called (I think) Mr. Moore. He was always powerwalking and/or spilling his coffee. He was just.. hell I don’t even know how to describe him but I guess he was like a human version of a hyperactive vibration. I’m sure that makes absolutely no sense but that’s all I think to say

73. How old were you when you learned how to ride a bike? 5 or 6

74. Who do you talk to first when you’re upset? Mum or Maggie

75. Do you have nightmares often? Not proper nightmares but my dreams are often quite anxious

76. Do you think you could be with someone for over four years? No idea.

77. Were you happy when you woke up today? No, I just wanted to go back to sleep. I only got like 3 or 4 hours sleep.

78. What are you thinking about right now? Which surburbs in Brisbane I should look for apartments in

79. Are you wearing jeans, shorts, or sweats? Jeans

80. Would you live with someone without marrying them? Yes. I wouldn’t marry someone if I hadn’t lived with them for a while first

81. When is the last time you really laughed? When I read that story about communion with the life size bread jesus earlier

82. Have you ever skipped school because you were tired? Not school but I skipped uni lectures a lot

83. What was the last thing you had to drink? Water.

84. Your most recent ex needs you at 3 AM, do you go? Depends what he needs me for, but probably 85. Would you rather kiss someone 5 years older or 5 year younger? 5 years older. Five younger is like 18 and hell nah I’m not going to kiss an 18yo kid.

86. Do you like your parents? Yeah they're pretty awesome as far as parents go. My Ma especially is just a fucking awesome lady, I know it sounds cliche but she is genuinely one of my best friends.

87. Do you make smart decisions? Usually but I have been known to fuck it up every now and then, usually with money stuff.

88. Would you consider yourself tall? No. I can’t use the top 2 shelves of my fridge.

89. Have you answered all of these questions honestly so far? why would I lie?

90. Have you ever lived in a house with a basement? I don’t think so

91. What woke you up this morning? My alarm

92. How many hours of sleep did you get last night? 3 or 4

93. Anybody tell you they miss you lately? When I told Ma I miss her she said she misses me too

94. Have you ever kissed someone who was high? Yeah

95. What were you doing at 4am this morning? I’ll tell what I wasn’t fucking doing was sleeping even though I’d already been in bed for 3 hours.

96. Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? Well he’s in Costa Rica so the physical distance would make it a little more difficult.

97. What time is it right now? 10:23pm

98. Have you ever been led on? I wouldn’t even notice, I am so oblivious to that stuff

99. Do you know a secret about your ex and if he/she pisses you off, will you tell? No

100. Are you excited about anything today? I’m getting kinda pumped to start looking at apartments back in Brisbane. I really like looking at rental apartments. That’s why I always offer to help my friends find a place.

101. Do people ever call you by your last name? Actually yeah there’s one guy at work that calls me by my last name but he’s gonna get confused once I’m back because my brother works there too now.

102. Have you ever gone camping? I used to spend a couple of nights with my aunt and uncle every year when they went camping over the christmas break

103. Would you sleep with the last person who Facebook messaged you? Probs not

104. When’s the next time you will consume alcohol? Whenever I buy beer next, probably within the next week

[windingwhe3l]

1. Why are you doing this survey?

Because I literally have nothing else to do with my life at this point.

2. When did you last charge the battery on your phone?

Uhhh could have been yesterday? I’m losing track of days anymore.

3. Youre allowed to have a single call for free, for an hour. Who do you call?

My calls are always free... but at this point, anyone who wants to chat.

4. Has the last person you texted ever been annoyed with you?

Group message with Grace, Julie, Bridget, Annie and Abbey. Yes they have definitely been annoyed with me.

5. The last time you had your photo taken, what were you wearing?

Not a clue.

6. Would you be prepared to do a job you hated if it paid well?

I would be willing to do ANYTHING as a job right now.. as long as it either pays more than unemployment or is under the table.

7.Is there anything wrong?

Oh, you know... just lost my job, have only unemployment as my income, cant leave the house to do anything social because of a spreading virus that has shut almost the whole United States down. The usual stuff.

8.Did the swine flu epidemic worry you?

No. But this virus is definitely affecting my life in more ways than one.

9.Have you ever played your music so loudly that your neighbors complained?

Yessir.

10.What was life like for you back in 2005?

Very, very awkward.

11.Can you remember the first swear word you ever learned?

I learned them all pretty early on being around my boy cousins and father.

12.If you’re a girl, how old were you when you first started to wear make-up? If you’re a guy, do you prefer girls with or without make-up?

Probably in like 8th grade i started wearing mascara.

13.Do you prefer regular or diet soft drinks?

Unsweetened iced tea.

14.Name someone whose name begins with a letter ‘G’. Tell me a fact about that person.

Grace Corrigan. She is my cousin and one of my best friends. And one time she got so drunk she lost her hands.

^^^ I stick with my old response.

15.How long do you need to get to know someone, before you’d think about having a relationship with them?

I think it depends on the person and the connection I feel with em. 

16.Tell me 5 facts about your dad?

I haven't spoken to him in over a year

I didn't meet him until I was five years old at a gas station

He was at an indians game when I was born

He is a carpenter

He smells like wintergreen skoal

17.Would you ever consider going to meet up with someone you started talking to online?

I did. And we dated for a year and a half lol

18.Have you ever felt like you were ‘the odd one out’ and didn’t fit in with your friends? Explain.

Yes. I dont know.

19.Do you know any secrets about the last person you texted?

Julie,,, I’m sure.

20.Does it ever feel like people are just sticking their noses into your business, and trying to interfere with everything? How do you deal with people like that?

No, because I rarely do anything anymore haha. I figure people just need drama in their life.

21.List 10 friends at random.

Julie, grace, Bridget, abbey, Donna, colin, heather, paige, marie, dawn

22.Has 1 ever made you cry?

Nope, but i have definitely cried to her. Lots and lots.

23.Have you ever met 2’s father?

Since he is my uncle, yes i have met him quite a few times. “Yer tv here’s broken”

24. What is 3’s mother called?

Mrs Gipper! Or sue

25.Tell me about the last conversation you had with 4; what did you talk about?

We are currently ina group message talking about underwear and how thongs suck.

26.What was your first impression of 5?

I think I used to think she was annoying. In high school. Based solely off her myspace page,

27.Has 6 ever been annoyed at you?

Well we have been dating for 4 years and been living together most of that so yes, I’m positive he has.

28.Be honest, who is better-looking, you or 7?

Heather for sure.

29.What do you like about 8 as a person?

She is so giving. She would literally drop anything if you needed her help.

30.Tell me a funny story about 9.

I fell asleep in her dogs bed after watching the bachelor and doing shots

31.What if 10 said that he/she wanted to date your ex?

Hahaha she would literally never date brad ever. COOL COOL

32.What does 1 think of you?

We;re besties. I tell her everything.

33.Do you know where 2 is at this exact moment?

She is quarantined in her house with Taylor.

34.Have you ever met 3’s ex?

I genuinely can’t remember who else Bridget has dated haha

35.How many siblings does 4 have?

One, brother.

36.What’s 5’s favorite color?

I’d guess green

37.How many boyfriends/girlfriends has 6 had?

Literally has dated everyone ;)

38.What if you woke up one morning and found 7 lying in bed next to you?

I say lets go get mimosas boo

39.Does 8 know any secrets about you?

Yesss

40.What is something that 9 is good at?

taking shots lol

41.Is 10 older or younger than you?

Older by far Lolol

42.Tell me about the last awkward moment you had.

I don’t remember because i haven’t seen basically anyone besides colin and my dogs since like Monday

43.What was the last thing you felt upset about?

This fucking quarantine.

44.Have you ever had a pretend Facebook relationship e.g. married to your best friend?

Yes.

45.List 5 of your favorite foods.

Chicken, salad, peas, soups, chips!

46.List 5 foods that you dislike.

Eggplant, fishy fish, .... genuinely cant think of anything else right now

47.Do you feel that your most recent ex deserves to be happy?

Ya ya. He means well I think.

48.The last time you travelled out of your hometown, where did you go and why?

God. North Carolina for vacation

49.Can you remember the last time you had to cancel some plans you’d made? What was the reason?

Sorry I’m under quarantine.

50.What is one song that makes you smile, or makes you feel happy whenever you hear it? Explain why.

Theres a lot.

51.Did someone give you butterflies recently?

My boo always does

You don’t need to be specific with these next few questions; just answer yes or no.

52.Do you know the eye color of the last person you kissed?

Green -ish

53.Did you talk to that person today?

Currently touching him with me feet,

54.Did you sleep alone last night?

Nah. Fell asleep next to colin but woke up next to Lola...the usual.

55.Have you ever fallen down some stairs?

cracked my head open twice

56.Did you wash your hair today?

lazz night

57.Was your last text message from the opposite sex?

Nah, corony bombs

58.Have you ever kissed someone on the same night that you met them?

Yes

59.The last drink you had - did it contain caffeine?

Currently drinking tequila, trip sec, orange juice and sour

60.Are you wearing make-up?

A touch of mascara to feel a it like a human

61.Are you 100% satisfied with your life as of now?

Not at all. I have no job and i cant leave my house. I’m moments away from a panic attack at all times.

62.Did you tell someone that you love them today?

Yes

63.Are you alone in the room at the moment?

No, Lola and colin and then Kayla is in the basement

[gnomesagetion]

Missing Gears Chapter 1

Things always go wrong when something good happens. For example: The Thunderbirds were just starting up when Gordon Tracy was the only survivor of a holfoil crash. An engagement of a Tracy son and an ex FBI agent when someone is out to get International Rescue. But sometimes good things come from the bad things in our lives.

Read on: Fanfiction.Net AO3 Wattpad

Naomi and Virgil stood hand in hand outside a church in Matamata, New Zealand. Three weeks earlier Virgil had proposed to Naomi at a New Year’s party with her old team at the FBI. Three days later they had decided that they wanted to get married at Naomi’s old church in her hometown. A week after that, Naomi had started packing her stuff for her move to Tracy Island. Although Jeff Tracy had told the couple that he was perfectly fine with Virgil moving back to America to live with his soon to be wife, both Naomi and Virgil wanted to live on the island. So that Virgil could continue working for International Rescue. So that Naomi could join International Rescue.

“You okay Nomey?” Virgil asked his fiancé “Yeah. Just nervous. I haven’t been here for over 20 years. I don’t even remember who was running the office,” “You were barely six when you left,” “Yeah. And I barely remember anyone from here. And like 60% of the church was at the funeral,” “So let’s get this over and done with,” “Yeah,”

Naomi knocked on the office door. A short women opened it. She looked very familiar to Naomi “Hi, can I help you?” She asks “Um… Hi, I’m Naomi Winchester and this is my fiancé Virgil Tracy. We were wondering if we could have our wedding here,” “Come on in, I’ll see what I can do,” The women showed the couple into the office “I’m Philippa Winchester by the way,” Naomi laughed a little. “I think my cousin on my dad’s side has a wife called Philippa,” She explained “It’s not every day this sort of thing happens,” “What’s your cousin’s name?” “Err… It can’t be Nat or Theo because I know for certain they’re still bachelors. Maru is who knows where doing who knows what. Brian, David and Kelvin all have a different last names. Anthony lives in Rotorua while Jeremy is in Wellington. So that leaves Sam and Matthew,” Naomi counts on her fingers “I think its Matt but I can’t be sure. I haven’t seen any of my cousins since I was like six,” “So you’re the cousin who moved to America,” “Yeah. Wow. Are you and Matt living here?” “On a farm out on Taihou South,” “Cool,” “Anyway, besides the mini family reunion, you two want to get married here,” “Yeah. Naomi grew up here and we thought it would be nice if we married in Naomi’s hometown,” “So what date are you thinking about?” Philippa asked, logging onto the computer. “We haven’t…” “July 14th,” Virgil interrupted “No more tears of sadness,” “A winter wedding?” “Why not?” “You just want it to be easier to remember my birthday,” Naomi bantered with her fiancé playfully “Have I ever forgotten your birthday?” “No. But your brother has,” “So we have nothing planned or booked on Wednesday 14th July this year, would you like us to book you in for the day?” Philippa asked “Yes please,” Naomi and Virgil said in union. A tall boy walked through the door. “Hey Mum,” He looked up and saw the two visitors in the office. “Caleb, this is your dad’s cousin Naomi and her fiancé Virgil,” Philippa told her son “They’re planning to have their wedding here in Matamata,” “Hey,” Naomi said “Nice to meet you,” “You too,” Caleb said “I’m going to Uncle Sam’s now Mum. I’ll be back on Thursday,” “Okay. See you then,” Naomi sighed. “I completely forgot how many people there are on my dad’s side,” “Well the church will be big enough for the whole family,” Philippa told the couple “That’s true,” Naomi agreed “So anything else we need to do before we leave?” “Yeah, just your address and payment details,” Philippa told the couple. Virgil grabbed the pen and paper. “Remember most of the payment for the wedding is coming from my bank account,” “I’ll pay for the venue – you save it for the dress,” Naomi rolled her eyes. “Okay, I’ll contact you guys later with more details,” “Thanks Philippa,” Naomi told her cousin’s wife “No problem. But don’t be surprised if you get a wedding present from the church,” The three adults laughed. “See you around,” Virgil said “We’ve got a few more jobs to do before we head home tomorrow,” “Of course, I won’t keep you any longer,”

15 minutes later, Naomi pulled into a driveway. A blue letter box stood on a wooden post at one end. At the other end, an old house from the 1970s stood. “Welcome to the Winchester farm,” She told her fiancé “My childhood home,” “It’s beautiful,” “For an old house. That my dad helped to build when he was nine,” Naomi said “That shed must have been put up after I left though. I don’t remember that being there,” “I think we should go talk to the occupants, they must be wondering whose car this is,” Virgil suggested. “Good idea,” They got out of the car and went up the concrete steps. They walked along a path to a set of orange wooden steps. “My poppa made these before he died,” Naomi explained “The only way down before these were made were the steps on the other side and the front porch,” “You really remember all that?” “Of course I do. I always was a bright kid,” Naomi took a deep breath and knocked on the front door. A teenage girl opened the door. “Can I help you?” “Um Hi, I’m Naomi. This is my fiancé, Virgil, are your parents’ home?” “Yeah,” The girl answers “Mum! Someone’s at the door for you!” An older women appeared. “Hi, you must be the landlord’s niece,” The women said “I’m Kristen Jones, we’re renting the house at the moment,” “I’m Naomi Winchester, this is my fiancé, Virgil,” Naomi introduced herself and the middle Tracy. “Come on in,” Kristen said.

Kristen handed Naomi a glass of water and Virgil a cup of coffee. “Congratulations on your engagement,” She told the couple “So when’s the wedding,” “July 14th,” Naomi told the women “We’re having it at the bible church in town and we were wondering if we could use the house for the night since neither one of us own property here in New Zealand,” “Well we’re on holiday in Australia at that time so feel free to use it for a week if you need to,” Kristen said “Mr Turner explained the situation to us over the phone a few days ago,” “Thank you so much Kristen,” Virgil smiled “This means a lot to us,” “No problem,” “We’ve got the wedding venue done as well as a place to stay. Still need to worry about the cake, catering, the dress and the people in the wedding party and people invited,” “I’ve got a friend who does catering, I’ll give you her number,” Kristen said, writing down a number on her notepad “Just tell her that Kristen Jones gave you the number,” “Thank you again Kristen,” Naomi said, handing over a card “Here’s my number if something crops up. Obviously I don’t work for the FBI anymore,” “Thanks, I hope you two can get everything ready in time for your wedding,”

Cameron Muter sat in his apartment, reading the latest issue of New Life. The cover story was the announcement of Virgil Tracy and Naomi Winchester’s engagement. While the news of their engagement had been released some weeks prior by The Maze, the Tracy family had only just officially confirmed the fact. It had a photo of the middle Tracy son holding his bride-to-be gently. He had extra reason to. The lucky girl’s right arm was in a dark blue sling. The article stated that the 29 year old had recently been caught in crossfire while saving the fourth Tracy son. Cameron sighed. It would have been better if that Tracy had died when he was supposed to. It would have meant that the Tracy family would have to go through even more pain that they were originally going to go through. Because of the red haired son, Jeff Tracy was going to have to watch his first daughter-in-law perish alongside all of his sons. Cameron picked up his phone and dialled the number at the top of his contacts list. His only contact. “Good evening sir, I’m afraid to report that this time, it seems, that the rumours of a Tracy bride were true,”

[nevillelongsbottom]

fred weasley’s house of horrors (?): a birthday fic for @charlotteweasley​ <3 happy birthday from your fave uncle! (i hope)

His head hurts; in fact, his everything hurts, from the throbbing ache in his head to the whining groan of the joints in his toes, and when he stretches out, it’s just brilliant: he can hear the popping that comes with the satisfied relief of movement, and though it doesn’t help his head or his growing backache, it’s something.

It takes Fred effort to peel his eyes open, but when he does, he’s rewarded: the room he’s in is historical and elegant, with a domed and painted ceiling and pillars and mahogany furniture; he himself is spread out on a dark green four-poster, wearing matching velvet pajamas that certainly aren’t his.

It’s a long time before he manages to convince and synchronise his body parts to get him to sit up, but he’s annoyingly stubborn and manages it in the end: just gas he does, he hears the slam of a front door and jangle of keys.

“Hello?” he croaks; it comes out like Lee’s prepubescent voice cracks, but with added scratchiness to force a few coughs. Someone walks up the stairs, tentatively, with careful pauses, as if they’re afraid; and the door creaks open, slowly.

“You’re awake?” Draco asks gently.

“I am now,” Fred coughs; Draco disappears for a moment, returning with a glass of water. “Thanks,” he chokes before downing it, too fast, coughing it up in a splutter of liquid. “Ah, crap, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Draco says, taking a seat on the end of Fred’s bed, looking uncomfortable.

“Okay,” Fred says slowly, trying to pace himself (which is quite an endeavour). “So, the question that’s on everyone’s lips: how did I get here? And where is here?”

“My family’s country house. You fell out of the sky, and I found you, so I took you here.”

Fred nods absently. “Huh. Sounds… about right.” He glances down at himself. “Do you still have my actual clothes?”

“The blood stains haven’t quite come out, but I do,” Draco replies; with an effortless snap of his fingers, a slightly unfriendly-looking house elf appears. “Bring Fred his clothes.”

The house-elf blinks. “Master Draco, I haven’t been able - shamefully - to remove the stains…”

“It doesn’t matter.” The house-elf nods, disapparating only to return a few moments later with a pile of Fred’s folded clothes: despite the darkening stains on his collar and sleeves, it’s probably the cleanest his casual clothes have been in a while. “I’ll give you your privacy; you’re also welcome to leave here at any time, considering your feelings about me.”

Fred quirks an eyebrow, possibly one of the few things that distinguishes him from George (a two-eyebrow-raising shmuck). “Don’t think I’ll be going anywhere anytime soon, mate.”

“You can leave when you can, then.” Draco gets up, crossing the room in too-quick strides and hastily shutting the door behind him; the house-elf leaves with him, emptying the room save for Fred.

It, as ever, takes him what feels like a small eternity through which a bird has chipped through a marble wall to change his top, and despite the visual clash, he leaves his own trousers folded on the floor to attempt to put on another time; he’s now wearing a Mr Happy T-shirt with his velvet pajama bottoms like he’s just been ejected from the decade prior, and he rubs his crusty eyes, pulling himself to his feet and trying his best not to collapse on his wobbly legs (which, of course, he does).

“Goddammit,” he mutters, wishing for George.

-

It takes him about a day to explore his room, shuffling like a penguin, and the next few to explore the rest of the country house: it’s, of course, terrifically grand, with an extensive library that spans several rooms and an elegant and well-stocked kitchen from which the house-elf Nacht (Fred nicknames him Nacho immediately) makes Fred’s hearty thrice-daily meals and twice-daily snacks, bringing them up to him before he’s well enough to make it to the kitchen and never showing any signs of anger when Fred’s body forcefully ejects some of the bigger meals.

“Hey, Nacho,” he says over lunch one day; he’s managed a bath and is wearing some clothes Draco brought on a brief and impersonal visit: a black T-shirt and black jeans that don’t quite match his sunny socks. “Why do the Malfoys have this house?”

“To store their library,” Nacht replies stiffly.

“Here in the countryside, they may read and study in peace - though they scarcely use it, save for Master Draco’s frequent visits.”

“I can see that. The dust bunnies are reproducing like real ones,” Fred cackles. “Do you think Draco would mind if I lightened it up a bit?”

“He very much would.”

And that settles it: as he recovers, Fred takes to dusting - he doesn’t like cleaning much, but he can hardly conduct his wonderful plans in a dump, and Nacht happily sets to work helping him, often providing more of the hard labour than Fred can. “I feel like a bloody nanny,” Fred laughs halfway up a cast-steady ladder, spelling out the bugs and spiders, reminded of gutting Grimmauld Place; he’s half-terrified dealing with the Boggarts, but just on the day when he’s ready to get it over and done with, Draco arrives.

“Why are you cleaning?” he asks dumbly.

“Because your house is dirty and I’m bored?” Fred shrugs. “By the way, does George know I’m alive?”

“He does. I sent him an anonymous owl, but nothing more since I figured that your family would just blame me for your injuries if I attached my name to them.” He sets a plastic bag down on the table by the door. “I brought more food for you, but I’m here to use the library, so leave it be.”

Fred grins. “Sure, Your Majesty.”

Draco snorts. “Glad to see you’re back to your usual self, Weasley. I was worried when I saw you cleaning.”

“Dead or alive,” Fred says, “I’ll be cracking jokes.”

-

The basement of the “Edgar Allan Poe summer house” quickly becomes Fred’s favourite part of it: it’s awash with treasures, from Draco’s kicking baby photos to a dusty old record player with twelve inches from Celestina Warbeck to Elvis Presley; he finds some of Narcissa and Lucius’s Hogwarts achievements in the form of congratulatory parchment and gifted textbooks, and passes them over to Nacht, who cleans them as if they’re first edition Bibles.

“Did Mr Weasley get any achievements in Hogwarts?” he asks, almost smug in the knowledge that Fred, who makes immature jokes out of the library’s Latin titles, most certainly has not.

“If leaving in style is an achievement, then with distinction,” he says proudly. Nacht says nothing to this, clearly deciding there’s nothing worth saying; Fred grins, sifting through the old box of records, past every single record The Beatles have ever released and suddenly into the dark chalk of Sonic Youth’s Confusion Is Sex. “Hey, Nacho; whose records are these?”

“Lady Andromeda Tonks used to stay here often with Lady Malfoy,” Nacht replies. “These must be her daughter’s.”

“Tonks? So these would be Dora Tonks’s? Wicked.”

The next time Draco comes around, Fred’s halfway to better: he’s in his Mr Happy T-shirt and black jeans and in the middle of baking himself chocolate cupcakes that he hopes will stay down (he’s been able to eat just fine, but if he goes a little over the usual, he brings it back up). He sucks some of the mix off his fingers and offers a spoon to Draco.

“Don’t the Muggles say something about getting ill from raw eggs?” he sniffs.

“Who gives a shit? It tastes great.”

Draco looks at it warily, but takes the spoon and carefully licks at the cake batter; instantly enamoured and hesistances forgotten, he devours the rest. “Hm; it is good. I take it your skills are from your mother?”

“Why?”

“She seems the type of person that would bake cupcakes.”

Fred laughs. “She is - and I’m not, that’s always been Charlie’s thing, really - but since she’s not here, I’m doing it. Give it something like twenty minutes and they’ll be ready.”

“Is the catch that you’ve either put or will put poison in them?”

“What do you take me for, a Slytherin?” Fred pulls a face of offence. “No, no. The prank here is that I’m going to buy some seventies wallpaper and funk this house up and rearrange your library so you can’t find anything. Don’t you guys have enough Gothic houses? Wasn’t living in a dungeon for seven years enough for you?”

“Absolutely not; I insist on spending the rest of my life in a basement,” Draco says dryly. “But fine. Get me a shopping list, and do what you want. I bloody hate this house, anyway.”

Fred grins. “Got a pen?”

Draco snorts. “Fucking as if.”

-

Most of Fred’s decorations end up coming amassed from flea markets and Camden (as do more clothes; he’s only just made it out of the ‘excessive sweating’ phase of feeling ill, and his tops still emit a horrible stench if he gets too close to the armpits); they come from the plain London signs to a taxidermy Kneazle being sold as a dog, and Draco manages to buy all sorts of cringe-worthy warm-coloured wallpapers for Fred to use, as well as a series of lamps from possibly as many decades as lamps have been invented.

“What is Mr Weasley’s plan for this?” Nacht asks strictly as Fred raises both his wand and hand to the wall, covering it in orange and brown blobs. “Ruining the perfectly good architecture of the house.”

“We’re wizards, Nacho; we can set it back if someone throws a hissy fit,” Fred shrugs. “But come on; how are you meant to be happy living in this dismal old place? I’m just trying to brighten it up. How’s anyone meant to recover from falling out of the sky when this place looks so sad?”

“You seem to have done just fine yourself,” Nacht points out. Fred shrugs.

“Yeah, cus of my bright temperament. Not everyone’s as happy and witty as me, ‘cept maybe Lee Jordan or a Hufflepuff.” He sets the record player on the table in the library with a satisfying thud!, pulling one of Draco’s more interesting Camden finds out of its sleeve and setting it on the turntable, pressing the needle to the record and letting loose the beginning of Weird Al Yankovic’s Ricky.

“Hey, Ricky, you’re so fine you blow my mind, hey Ricky…” He grabs a chunk of books from the shelf, glancing through them; all Latin, of course. “Merlin’s balls, Nacho, you know what I should do?”

The house-elf sighs. “I do not.”

“Arrange them in size order!” Fred says gleefully. “Because then, nobody can find what they’re looking for, because the order is pretty much nonsensical, right?”

“Whatever you say, Mr Weasley. As long as you enjoy yourself and recover, for Master Draco’s pleasure.”

Fred rubs his hands together. “His, or mine?”

-

Fred’s last day is mostly one of lighting up the house: he’s made an artistic arrangement of the lamps all in the second room of the library, hung up the framed Bowie portrait Draco brought back, found a home for the stuffed Kneazle on top of a room-length sloping bookcase, figured out a system to hang the record sleeves on the walls for whole-house browsing, and he just adds the last licks of yellow paint that snake round a burgundy pillar by hand with a brush.

“What does Draco actually do in here, Nacho?” he asks, flicking his wrist up to create a splatter effect that doesn’t quite work and ends up a little ungainly in the same way that Fred is so stocky that his body seems to confuse itself regularly and attempt to recalibrate, which just disorients him.

“He uses it to get away from his own home, in order to study and read,” Nacht says matter-of-factly before lowering his voice, “and to avoid seeing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named too often.”

“I’d avoid him, too,” Fred says in a surprisingly sober moment, his voice poignant before he bursts back into a thousand megawatts and quips, “it’s the nose, isn’t it? So creepy.”

“The nose?” Nacht frowns.

“Yeah, Harry says he’s got no nose, like a snake. Bloody Slytherins, isn’t it?” He steps down from the pillar, humming along to the record player and to Primal Scream’s Come Together, turning as he hears the familiar noise of the front door opening into what is now a time capsule slash matrix.

“Bloody hell, Weasley,” Draco whistles.

“It’s so ugly, I don’t even know where to begin.”

Fred beams. “I’ll tour you.”

Draco stutters. “Merlin, no. Please let me uncover its hidden atrocities in my own time. It will be… an experience.” He pauses. “So, this means you’re leaving, doesn’t it?”

“I’m flying the coop,” Fred shrugs. “Or, as it were: going home. George’ll start thinking I was just an elaborate hoax before long.”

“Do come back,” Draco implores; Fred pauses, startled.

“Only if I can annoy you and Nacho.”

Draco runs a hand through his hair. “Yes, well, your entire existence irritates me to my core; so please come back, I would be thrilled to have to deal with your eccentric company.” Pausing, he rummages through his pocket, producing a packaging Fred knows all too well: a Ton-Tongue Toffee. “Toffee, Weasley?”

“Maybe another time, Malfoy, thanks. And so long.”

Draco just about shits himself an hour later when the clock strikes and a hidden cuckoo clock bursts through the wall; but then he just has to laugh, because despite his illness, despite smashing into the ground and being detached from his unit, the whole house is still unmistakably his: Fred Weasley’s House of Horrors (or, to the open mind, Amusements).

[alchemyphan-blog]

Don’t Look Through Me

word count: 8k 

style: au

desc: every time you look in a mirror, you see your soulmate for a moment instead of yourself. dan had spent his whole life waiting to meet his, and little did he know that phil had been begging to meet his as well. when dan decides he’s not just going to wait around for the universe to bring them together, a train he falls asleep on brings him somewhere he hadn’t planned on.

May 22, 7:42am

It was a Saturday in May, and Dan’s body was so adjusted to waking up before the sunrise every week of every month for school that he woke up at a respectable time. The window above his bed allowed light to bleed onto the brown walls and leave patches of brightness on the carpet.

Rolling over, he unplugged his phone from its charger, and in that small amount of time it happened, like it always does. That second before the phone screen lights up and you can see your own reflection. Of course, what you really see first is the person you’re supposed to be with. Dan never questioned this, as when he was a very young child, asking why there was a boy in the mirror who didn’t look like him at first, then slowly transitioned to his own familiar features. Light brown curls, matching dimples, big chocolate eyes. That was over a decade ago, the first time he noticed it wasn’t him in the mirror.

“Actually, when you look in the mirror or into a puddle or anything you can look into and see your reflection it’s a very special person called your soulmate,” Dan’s mother explained to him when he was six.

“But, why? How does that even work?” he questioned.

“We don’t really know, honey, but what we do know is that the world is a magical place full of magical things, where things will always end up the way they are supposed to.”

Those words followed behind him his whole life, words he always reminded himself of when he did poorly on a test, when his grandmother died, when he was bullied all through school.

He finally got out of bed half an hour later, picking out some clothes to put on after a shower. The steam fogging up the windows and the glass surrounding him were a nice escape for him in the morning, like he was finally alone. Whenever he was in the shower he thought about the person he saw in the mirror, maybe because as soon as he got out of the shower he knew his face would be staring back at him, as if this man was looking into his eyes at the same time. He remembers when he was a child the boy had bright orange hair, spotty freckles covering the top half of his body. Over time, though, the orange faded to brown, and in the last few years has turned to jet black.

“You look nice like that, it suits you well,” he said softly to the mirror, beads of condensation rolling down either side. He took off his towel and used it to wipe away the fog blurring the glass, but as soon as he put it back on his body, the boy was gone.

Letting out a quiet sigh, he resumed getting ready, brushing his teeth, drying his hair, putting on clothes. He finally wandered downstairs, smoke lightly billowing from the stovetop, the microwave beeping, the sound of coffee trickling into its pot. Dan’s father liked to think of himself as some chef extraordinaire, but his mother would say otherwise.

“Your aunt and uncle are coming over for breakfast, so your father decided to make everything in the house,” scoffed Dan’s mother.

“It’s nice to be a good host! Dan, you’re welcome to eat with us - pancakes are here, sausage is cooking, coffee’s on, cereal, anything you want.”

Before Dan could answer, there was a knock at the door. Without waiting, his mother’s sister and her husband of sixteen years entered the house, conversation growing loud over the bustle of the kitchen.

Dan decided he would join them. Lately, he’s been very interested in this whole soulmate thing. He would turn eighteen next month, and he wants, no, needs to know how this happens.

“Aunt Clara, how did you meet Denny?” Dan asks over breakfast. Dan’s parents look at each other with mutual confusion and excitement, as they realized that this was Dan’s way of saying he wanted to finally meet his soulmate.

“Well, I was in line at McDonald’s because I was on a roadtrip with a bunch of friends and it was three o'clock in the morning, we were all starving, and no other place was open. I was the last of my friends to order, and when I got to the counter, the man who I had seen everywhere was real and right in front of me ready to take my order,” his aunt replied.

“It was actually my first shift there, and two weeks later I had quit the job to go on a two month safari with your aunt.” Dan’s uncle stared into space blankly with a smile tugging at his lips, most likely reminiscing on such memory.

“Well, your mother’s is even more crazy than that, even though a safari is pretty crazy after you’ve only known the guy for two weeks,” Clara said, looking at her sister. Dan’s mother laughed, recapping the story they’d all heard many times about how she lost her shoe leaving a party and a psycho man had been going all over town trying to find whose shoe it was, eventually leading to her.

“Stupid fairy tales come to life,” Dan muttered a little too loud, which actually earned him a few laughs from the table.

Dan looked in every reflective surface he could find. Soon, he became addicted to this boy staring back at him. He began to really know him - seeing his outfit changes every few hours, his array of bright-patterned socks and pajama bottoms, his bedhead, the way he looks before he shaves. He wondered where this boy lived, if he had been living across the street or across the world from him, how they’d meet, the thoughts never stopped. This impending doom started to scare Dan, soon coming to the realization the universe knew something about the future that he didn’t. He wondered how it was possible that everyone’s soulmate had been calculated before their birth, as if someone pressed fast-forward on life itself. Sometimes he’d think far too long about it and scare himself for the entire day, so he decided it was best not to question these mystical forces that will one day bring Dan to his soulmate.

June 11, 8:18am

“Happy Birthday, Dan!” called familiar faces from every hallway he entered. It made him feel a little bit like a celebrity. His birthday and the last day of school (and his last day of high school). A smile had been plastered onto his face all day, even hearing his name on the announcements that afternoon as they announced cancellations for certain sports practices and reminders about club meetings.

“As today is your last day in this school, and soon you will go to your respective universities or what have you,” Dan’s favorite teacher, Mr. Johnson, started, “it’s time I give my yearly speech. Sometimes you’ll make great decisions, sometimes you won’t - and that’s okay. The world is a magical place full of magical things, where things will always end up the way they are supposed to.”

Dan’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. Sometimes he’d hear parts of his mother’s quote on billboards and in books, but never verbatim like this. At this exact moment, Mr. Johnson turned to Dan, winked, and looked away quickly. There’s no way that he could’ve known that, Dan thought. The wink was just a coincidence.  

He walked out of school that afternoon, turning his back to the parking lot to take one final glare at the school he’ll never have to enter again. Luckily Dan lived just down the street so he could conveniently walk to his house. As he passed the houses in his neighborhood leading up to his at the end of the road, he passed by the windows of his neighbors stopping to stare, not to intrude but to see his soulmate in the glass. As always, there he was, a huge smile on his face. He was wearing a graduation cap and gown. Did he just graduate too? Looking closer Dan could see a small logo on the tassels of his cap reading University of York. Before he could even react, the image was gone.

Dan ran into his house, threw his backpack onto the ground, raced up the stairs up to his room, and googled University of York. He saw today was their graduation ceremony. And that they were four hours away.

Well, it could be much worse, Dan thought. He could be fourteen hours away instead. He lives in this country.

Dan turns eighteen today, and his soulmate is four years older than him, and just graduated from the University of York. He started to wonder what his soulmate knew about him, if he even wanted to know him. There’s no way Dan was meant to be with someone horrible, or else they wouldn’t be meant for each other. He’d only ever thought about what he knew about his soulmate, and not what his soulmate thought of him.

June 11, 2:43pm

“Philip M. Lester,” announced the speaker, prompting Phil to walk across the stage. His nerves had short-circuited, leaving him to sweat while grabbing his diploma and apologizing to the woman whose hand he shook. Crossing to the stairs, he followed the stream of pupils getting their graduate photos taken. Bright beams of light contrasted with his forest green cap and gown, acting as a white LED background.

“Alright now, big smile!” said the cameraman. Before the flash went off, though, he noticed in the lens of the camera a small figure with a bright, beaming smile. It’s him, Phil thought. He’s watching me graduate.

When he was first born, Phil couldn’t see anyone but himself in the mirror. He’d always heard stories of his parents and brother seeing their true loves looking back at them. At first his parents were worried, thinking he wouldn’t have anyone when he got older. Phil’s father told his mother to wait, that maybe his soulmate was just younger, which ensued the deal that if by the time he was ten years old and still didn’t have a reflection, they would worry.

“You can’t just live without someone in this kind of world,” Phil’s mother would cry. “It just doesn’t happen here.”

Luckily one day when Phil was four and a half, him and his family were all watching television until the sun went down. While getting Phil’s brother ready for bed, Phil was left in the living room, looking out the window. That’s when it first happened - he saw a small infant swaddled in a white blanket wearing a blue cap. Phil screamed, thinking there was a baby outside their house. Phil’s father came into the living room, and Phil explained what happened, turning back to the window to show him what happened. His father quickly called for his wife, taking Phil to the nearest mirror to explain to him that this was the person he was supposed to spend his life with when grew up. It didn’t make much sense to Phil at the time, but when he got older he was so desperate to meet this boy that he used to pray to God every night, asking if the next day could be the day they could meet.

Now, eighteen years later, they still haven’t met. Sometimes, if it’s late and Phil is sad, he’ll pray like he used to as a child.

I can’t be expected to keep waiting like this, he’d plead. Please, make it happen soon. I haven’t even met him and I miss him like crazy.

This always left Phil thinking no one ever heard him, or that someone was just playing a cruel joke on him.

But now, Phil had graduated. He was 22. It was time he got a full-time job, got a more mature apartment, lived his life. He always felt stuck though, thinking he was putting himself further away from his love. He knew whatever money he was making from YouTube wouldn’t be enough to support an apartment, bills, groceries, and maybe one day his reflection.

That is, until one day, he was offered a deal for a year long contract with YouTube. This would pay for everything, allow him to do YouTube full-time, but he’d have to leave his family and move across the country to London.

Would this bring him away from his true love, who was all he ever thought about?

July 13, 9:09am

“I promise, everything will be fine. I’ll be fine. I’ll be home before you know it,” Dan coaxed his mother.

“I know you’ll be fine, but I’ll just miss you is all! You’re going all by yourself, it’s such a big city, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Everything will be okay. It’s not like I’m going to be alone all the time. I mean, I’m sharing a hotel with three other people, we’re spending the whole weekend together. Plus, we’ve been to London hundreds of times, you don’t need to worry,” Dan relayed. He kissed his mother on the forehead. “Love you.”

“Love you too, honey,” she said, clutching her husband by the waist. He waved to Dan, shutting the door behind him.

The truth is though, he wasn’t going to London to have a fun weekend with friends.

He wasn’t going to let another day go by without his soulmate. He was going to university the next fall, and he wasn’t about to start a whole new chapter of his life still wondering when he’d meet his one true love.

So, pretending to go to London, Dan was actually travelling all the way up to York, where his love must live somewhere near. He knew it was a big city, that he didn’t even know if he was there, but he couldn’t just sit back and wait for nature to take its course when Dan could make it happen himself. He put his headphones on, turned up his playlist, and walked the three blocks to the subway station. Having stayed up all night making the plans, he began to doze off on the ride, missing his stop to take him north, instead taking him east.

Looks like he’d have to go to London after all.

July 12, 10:17pm

“It’s a big switch, I know. But this is what I really want to do, and this is where I have to go to do. I can visit though, all the time,” Phil admitted to his parents. He had decided to take the job in London. YouTube was his passion, what he’s supposed to do, and he just hopes that his soulmate finds him there.

Always having lived no more than ten minutes from his parents house, he knew it’d be a big change to live on his own. His parents had called a car to help take all of his things, which had just pulled up.

“We know it’s late, but somehow it costs half as much to do so in the middle of the night,” explained Phil’s father, even though he knew how much of a nightowl his son was.

“Well, I guess this is goodbye for now. I’ll call you the second I get there. I’ll miss you guys,” Phil said. He fought back the tiny urge to cry. His family was all he had growing up, and they were extremely close. The three of them embraced, his brother waiting to have his own hug with Phil. He wheeled his suitcases out the front door, waving goodbye before shutting the door behind him. He exhaled, looking up at the constellations he’d renamed as a child to keep him company on lonely nights.

In the early hours of the morning, nearly 3am, Phil’s driver kindly removed his bags from the trunk, helping him into the building and to the nearest elevator. Giving him a generous tip on top of the payments his parents made for the driver, they shook hands and Phil watched as he put the car into gear and drove away.

There was no one in the lobby, no one at the front desk, so he pressed the button up to his apartment. Walking down the corridor until getting to the door number he'd memorized beforehand, Phil noticed a bright purple key laying on the mat placed outside his door. They must really trust their tenants, he thought, noticing the obvious risk the landlord was putting himself at to leave a key to an empty apartment out in the open.

To his surprise after turning the lights on, the apartment had been furnished. Black leather sofas and matching chairs all surrounded a new flat screen TV, a bed frame and mattress awaiting bright blue and green sheets. Wandering through the house, he found a note on the bar in the kitchen.

Surprise! We didn’t actually go to a reunion, we came to London for the day! The landlord was nice enough to let us break in and furnish your apartment.

We hope you enjoy, and welcome home!

Mum and Dad

If he didn’t start to well up after leaving his parents, he surely did now. Looking around while wiping his tears, he stared out of the massive windows in the living room. It was all dark in London, most of the city lights even gone. That’s when he saw him again. His eyes were bloodshot, as if he’d been stressed over a computer screen, his hair a wavy mess. Before he could disappear, Phil pressed his fingers against the glass, only he knew he wasn’t actually touching him. He closed his eyes, leaning his head against the glass as he felt his love slip away.

He left all the luggage in the living room, only taking his bedding with him and plugging his phone in and placing it on his new wicker nightstand. His head hit the pillow, and instantly he fell fast asleep, the last image in his brain the brown-haired boy with cute dimples.

July 13, 9:16am

Sunlight poured through the obnoxiously large windows in Phil’s new bedroom. He knew he had to get up quickly, as he had about thirteen suitcases and two moving boxes filled with things needing to be unpacked.

In his two decades of living in the comfort of his family dwelling and university, he never really had to worry about a constant supply of food at his disposal. This didn’t hit him until he wandered into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and realized he had no food. Although unpacking is important, it wasn’t quite as vital as eating, since he hadn’t in over half a day. The lining of his stomach began to twinge with hunger, so he grabbed his wallet, left his empty, yet somehow slightly messy apartment to buy enough groceries to last time until the following week.

As it was his first day in this new city, he swiftly became aware of the fact that he had not prepared. At all. No maps, no research, nothing. So when Phil stepped out of his apartment building, he didn’t know his right from his left, leaving him to follow the occasional road sign to signal him in the direction of the nearest grocery store. Since there was none in walking distance, he figured he’d have to ride the underground, and wrote a mental note to himself to get out and explore his new city.

Descending down the stairs, he came to the realization that oh shit, London is really busy. Clearly he had not done enough research, as he was corralled into the train doors, barely comprehending the situation. The tube was packed - literally, another human, no matter how small, could not fit on this train car. As it was rush hour on a work day, men and women in their suits were running through the train cars as if people were invisible, shoving them left and right to be the first one out. Phil had been among the victims, and was pushed so hard by an official looking man that he fell sideways, into a (luckily unoccupied) seat.

That’s when it happened.

July 13, 9:57am

Without moving, Dan opened his eyes and noticed he had really messed up. There were hundreds of people on the train, and not to mention the fact he had no idea where he was. He assumed he had landed himself in a busy city, as everyone was wearing their nicest work clothes and acting their very snobbiest. His neck began to ache from leaning his head sideways against the glass.

He removed his headphones, as his playlist had been duly disregarded due to his nap. His ears began to pop as he looked around, stretching his neck and legs out, and accidentally kicked the person next to him who had just been rudely pushed into the seat.

“Sorry,” he started before looking up.

It happened. It was happening right now.

“Oh my God,” the boy whispered.

He just couldn’t believe just how blue his eyes were.

“Mirrors don’t do you justice,” Dan finally said. The boy laughed.

“I can’t believe this is happening right now. Oh my god.”

Dan had noticed he was kind of freaking out, so he placed a hand on the boy’s knee to signal him to look up instead of around. “Dan- Dan is my name. Daniel Howell.”

Oh my God, Phil thought to himself constantly. He remarked the fact that he hadn’t really said anything. “My name is Phil,” he said. “Lester.”

“Phil,” Dan whispered to himself. “I’m Dan.”

“You already said that.”

“Oh, sorry. I just- wow.”

“Yeah, I know.”

It just felt too unreal to be true.

Eighteen years, Dan thought.

Twenty-two years, Phil thought.

“What are you even doing here?” Dan asked. “Didn’t you graduate from the University of York, like, yesterday?”

“How do you even know that?”

Dan’s cheeks flushed pink from embarrassment. “I, uh, your cap and gown yesterday, I saw it. And the fact that it said University of York on it.”

“I thought I saw you yesterday. I was taking a photo after I walked across the stage. You were in a camera lens. Of course you were upside down and distorted, but I still knew it was you. But anyway, I got offered a job here in London for the next year and-”

Dan stopped Phil. “Wait, I’m in London? Right now?”

“Um, yes? Aldgate station, we just left it,” Phil told him. “Why?”

Dan began to laugh, leaving Phil confused.

“I was on my way to see you, actually. In York. And I told my parents I was going to London so they wouldn’t worry.” Dan shook his head in disbelief, the rosy cheeks coupled now with a smile.

Phil just stared at him. All he could think was how marvelous his soulmate was. To think that this boy who had never met him before was about to travel however many hours just to find Phil, something he didn’t think anyone else ever would. “You would do that for me?”

“I know we hadn’t actually yet, but I kept saying to myself that I missed you, and I didn’t want to start this whole new chapter of my life without knowing who you really were. I was fed up with waiting, and I wanted to take matters into my own hands and find you myself, which now I realize I didn’t have to travel very far to find you.” Dan felt a little bashful admitting to Phil that he was coming to see him, hoping he didn’t find him to be stalkerish. “But, luckily I don’t have to travel all the way up to York.”

“So what are you going to do now?” Phil asked him, hoping he could offer his home to Dan, because he was not about to let him slip away after just meeting him.

“Well, there’s not much to do now, since I found what I was looking for. I guess I should just find somewhere to be for the weekend-” Dan thought aloud, but was quickly interrupted by Phil.

“-My house!” Phil exclaimed, then realized just how loud he’d said it. “You should stay with me.”

“You really think so?” Dan couldn’t fight off the butterflies intruding his nervous system.

“Of course. Firstly who wants to pay for a hotel in the middle of London, and it’s you, and now we’re together, and I want to spend every moment possible with you.” Phil’s eyes met Dan’s, and they appreciated the moment where they could stare at each other, knowing either one won’t slip away, leaving their own reflection searching for something more.

“Obviously I’d love to stay with you.”

Dan truly couldn't believe it was actually happening, and how smoothly things were going. It was as if they had known each other their whole lives, as if they'd spent hundreds of hours together.

Then again, they sort of have.

Dan accompanied Phil to the shop, assisting in what foods to buy and what apartment essentials he knew Phil didn’t have yet. It was very clear just how idiotic they looked carrying huge bags of food and batteries and extension cords onto a compressed train car.

They made their way up to Phil’s new apartment.

“I’ve never seen an apartment so high up,” Dan said, looking around at the minimalist furniture, the suitcases in the hall, the gargantuan windows.

“I know, I get a little bit scared if I think too hard about it. But I really need some color in here and whatnot,” Phil retaliated, orchestrating a new organizational system for his food, his back to Dan. Dan wandered around, looking into the empty bedroom, bathroom, the living room with two couches. A feeling of home washed over him, even with the white walls and cream-colored carpet and the windows overlooking an intimidating city he was unfamiliar with.

Phil watched as Dan aimlessly ambled his way through the living room, into the hallway he’d barely explored himself, watched him exhale deeply in the center of the apartment and let his shoulders sink. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he heard Dan whisper to himself excitedly.

Once Phil had finished stocking the fridge and cluttering the counter, he walked across to Dan, who was staring out at the morning commuters seen from the window.

“When I look out this window tonight, and when I go into the bathroom, I'm not gonna see anymore,” Dan said sadly.

Phil hesitantly put a hand to his back. “But it's okay, because the only reason we hadn't seen each other was because we hadn't met yet. Now you're real. Now it's all real. And I think that’s a lot better than only getting to see you in a mirror, never hearing your voice, being able to see you in person.”

Dan turned away from the glass, swinging his feet to reflect Phil’s. With a shaking hand, he slowly put it against waist. From the proximity he could hear Phil’s quiet sigh, see his eyes flutter closed for a moment.

“Dan…” Phil said softly. Before he could say anything, Phil had grabbed the back of his head, strands of hair swishing between his fingers. Dan isn’t one for suspense, so he leaned in close, touching his forehead to Phil’s and connecting their lips. Dan hadn’t really ever kissed anyone, he noticed in that moment, as he decided that being kissed in the playground when he was seven and then four years later didn’t quite count.

“Phil, I haven't...I mean, I’ve never…” Dan trailed slowly against Phil’s lips. He was barely eighteen, he embarrassingly enough has never even finished a glass of alcohol let alone been on any level of intimacy with another person.

“It’s okay,” Phil whispered, bringing his lips up to Dan’s forehead, then moving sideways into his hair, kissing down his jawline then circling back to Dan’s lips. “Do you want to, um, sit?” he asked, gesturing to the nearby couch, which Phil hadn’t even sat on himself yet. Dan nodded, as Phil walked him over and sat them both down in one fluid motion, their bodies keeping in contact the whole time.

Gently, Phil placed himself overtop Dan’s body, looking down at the boy beneath him. His brown locks were tactile. The plump lips, the little chip in his tooth, it was all tangible. Phil could hear Dan’s hard palpitating over the sound of his own. He knew that Dan was young, nervous, but he could see it in his eyes - that look of pure amazement.

“Are you okay? Do you want to keep going?” Phil breathed against Dan’s skin.

“Yes.”

“It’s alright if you aren’t ready. We just met and everything.”

Dan grabbed Phil by the collar of his shirt, bringing him in close. “I have known you my whole life, Phil Lester.”

To Phil, it almost looked as if there was a sparkle in Dan’s eye. Sitting him up, he removed Dan’s thin white shirt and gulped hard, looking at every bone and inch of skin on Dan’s chest. It was remarkably beautiful. He leaned down, kissing the center of his sternum. Phil removed his top as well now, starting a pile on the floor.

“You’re beautiful,” Phil said in Dan’s ear, his hands tracing over the protrusions of his bones, the soft skin on his stomach, his arms and his shoulders and everything there is to look at. Dan stretched a hand out, grabbing onto the side of Phil’s chest, pulling him in close. It was like a magnetic field had encased them in this position, electrons around them so powerful you could see sparks when Dan touched Phil’s skin.

Phil kissed Dan, a slow kiss, the kind you melt into, the kind that speeds up gradually and turns intense and makes the sun set and the stars fill the sky. Phil had removed Dan’s jeans after taking off his own, their limbs tangled half-on-half-off the two-seater sofa. Dan wrapped his arms tight around Phil’s waist as the gentle motion of their bodies back and forth turned acute and Dan could feel Phil’s hand dip beneath the band of his boxers, a loud gasp erupting after he grabbed him lightly.

“I’ve never...I don’t know...what to…” Dan found himself saying again.

Phil reached a finger up to Dan’s lips in shushing motion. “I know. Don’t worry about anything. I’ve got you.”

With these words Dan sank deep into the couch, to where he was practically laying down. Phil used his knees to prop himself up while straddling Dan, taking his hands up to sweep the hair out of Dan’s face and kiss him hard. Hearing him moan quietly, Phil wanted more from Dan. He knew he wanted everything in this moment. Dan looked up at him, nodding.

Bit by bit Dan’s underwear made its way to the pile, and they were both naked.

“I’ve never been naked in front of someone before,” Dan said softly to Phil.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, you are extremely breathtaking. I’m so lucky to have you finally.”

Phil positioned Dan’s legs open slightly as he leaned back to align their bodies.

“Okay, are you ready?” Phil asked, a thumb stroking Dan’s thigh.

Dan, a tiny bead of sweat emerging from the side of his head, his face bright rose-colored, pupils dilated, nodded quickly. His head extended out beyond the couch as soon as Phil entered him, eyes rolling back, a moan louder this time protruding from his lips, along with the first letters of Phil’s name.

“It’s okay? You’re okay?” Phil asked immediately.

Dan grabbed him by the shoulder, bringing their bodies flush together. “I’m great, Phil. I have never been as okay as I am right now.”

“I think I love you already,” Phil said hushed, thrusting cautiously slow in and out of Dan, careful not to hurt him.

“I know I love you, too,” Dan half said, half moaned against the skin of Phil’s neck.

“I, Phil, I’m-” he started. Phil took the hint, leaning down to kiss his member before wrapping a hand around, causing Dan’s breath to hitch and his moans to occur closer together before he finished over the sound of him saying Phil’s name once more in synchrony with Phil, as if they were in a movie.

Phil pulled out, grabbing a towel and the blanket from his bedroom. Cleaning them both, he wrapped himself in the duvet and climbed on top of Dan once more, engulfing him in the warmth with both arms bringing him close to Phil’s body.

“Thank you,” Dan whispered against the skin of Phil’s chest, Phil’s fingers intertwining in his curly brown hair.

“No, thank you. For coming to find me,” he said.

“If this is what I waited eighteen years for, it was so worth it.”

July 13, 7:14pm

“What do you want for dinner?” Phil called from the kitchen. Dan had just gotten out of the shower, washing off the train and restless night and sex from his body.

“I dunno, wanna order something?” he said halfheartedly. He was more interested in the mirror, more importantly the fact that it was just him. Phil was gone. For the most part, he was thrilled. He’d never lived a life where he was the only thing he saw in a mirror, he’d begged for the day that he finally got to say he only saw himself. A small part of him missed it though - the anticipation, the beckoning late at night, wondering why he was tormented like this. It was nice to see him whenever he pleased in real time, though he knew that it meant he had never seen him in real life. This is much better, he finally decided. After all, he was looking in Phil’s mirror.

He finally left the bathroom, sporting a pair of his cartoon pajama pants and a hoodie that belonged to Phil.

As he watched Phil order takeout from his phone, he couldn’t help but notice just how nice he looked without a shirt on. He only had on a pair of sweatpants, one hand in his messy hair, the other confirming their food order.  Dan sat down at a barstool across from Phil, who was finally setting his phone down, a playlist of familiar songs softly sounding from his speaker.

“You weren’t in the mirror,” Dan said, smiling.

“You aren’t in my mirror either, you’re right here,” Phil said as he cupped Dan’s face in his hand, placing a light kiss to his lips before walking over to the TV asking Dan what he’d like to watch.

The teapot Phil put on the stove started to whistle, and Dan poured their tea into two plastic cups, since Phil still hadn’t bought mugs or plates or anything useful. He joined Phil on the couch as he channel surfed, stopped when Dan jumped at seeing the Great British Bake Off come up.  

Twenty-five minutes later, the time passed by covering one another in the large green and blue duvet and harshly judging the contestants, there was a knock at the door and a man in a red hat holding a large paper bag expecting money. Thankfully enough they wisely ordered chinese food so they wouldn’t need to use their own utensils, which they seemed to have very few of.

And all night, they spent it watching reruns of baking shows, picking at their dinners, opening each other’s fortune cookies, kissing, admiring the view from so high up where no one could find them.

July 15, 10:39

Phil sighed loudly. They’d already made breakfast, brushed their teeth, but decided to get back into bed. He was holding Dan close, sitting up and spooning him from behind.

“You have to leave today, don’t you,” he said sadly.

“...Yeah.”

Dan turned around, looking up at Phil, a hand reaching up to hold and shoulder and kissing him. “I won’t be gone for long. Promise.”

And in that moment, Dan got a great idea.

“Come with me.”

“What?” Phil asked.

“Seriously, my parents think you’re actually really cute. You can meet my family. I haven’t committed to any university yet, they know how much I wanted to meet you and whatnot, you can come home with me for a few days…” Dan rambled.

And, in that moment, Phil was the one with the great idea.

“Dan. Live with me. Go home, pack all your things, and live here with me. Go to university here. Make videos with me. Hell, start your own channel. We can make this work.”

“Phil, are you serious?”

“I am. I’m not letting another week slip by where I’m without you. I’ll come home with you, I’ll meet your family.” Dan turned bright pink again, this time with excitement. He jumped up, bouncing on the bed. “Yes!” He reached down, grabbing Phil by the hands and forcing him up too. Phil scooped him up when he was mid-jump, holding him in the bridal position before kissing him hard and falling back onto the bed with him.

“More, once more before we go home,” Dan pleaded quietly, followed quickly by Phil ripping off his and Dan’s shirts and slipping his tongue into Dan’s mouth.

They wasted no time fully undressing, but this time Phil ran out of the room and rummaged through his bags to find a small bottle of cherry lube.

“Phil, what is that?” Dan asked, looking puzzled at the small red container.

“If you thought last time was good, just wait,” Phil growled against the skin of Dan’s neck, his head bobbing down and kissing every inch of his cinnamon-colored skin until reaching his waist. Rocking back onto his knees, Dan watched in the broad daylight as Phil coated himself with the scented lube and fell back onto his thighs, head at the center of Dan’s rib cage and eyes looking down to center his aim.

He looked back up at Dan, placing a kiss on his collarbone before locking eyes with him.

“It’ll be different this time, just so you know. Ready?”

Dan nodded passionately in time with Phil thrusting in roughly once, the sensation causing Dan to claw at Phil’s back and his voice to go up two octaves.

“Oh my God, Phil- I ca-Phil,” he managed to stutter through a string of moans, his head tapping the headboard every second.

“Dan,” Phil whispered in a hungry tone.

The sound of Dan’s moans was enough to send Phil over the edge quicker than normal, pulling out and taking a hand to Dan and pumping him in a fluid motion until giving out, breaths uneven and chest heaving.

Before rightfully collapsing back onto the bed, Phil took the initiative to clean Dan up with a washcloth, miraculously not getting anything on the bed.

After climbing back into their embrace, Phil swept the hair out from behind Dan’s ear and kissed him gingerly.

“Phil, did that last like literally ten minutes?” Dan asked a few moments later.

“Yeah, it really did,” he answered, sending them both into a fit of laughter.

Eventually, though, Dan packed up some of his things and made his way to the underground with Phil to catch a ride back to Berkshire. On the hour long ride, Phil explained his career to Dan, who was impressed, to say the least, and Dan went into depth about his family tree.

As the intercom buzzed on, the man stated inaudibly that they had reached their destination. Phil grabbed Dan’s duffel bag and carried it all the way back to Dan’s house, an easy ten minute walk back to his house.

As they approached his front steps, Dan’s hand shook as he reached for the doorknob.

“You okay?” Phil asked him in an effort to calm him.

“Yeah, yeah, just a little nervous. They’re gonna be pretty shocked, you know?”

He placed a hand on Dan’s arm. “It’ll be okay, trust me.”

Dan took a sharp breath in before turning the knob slowly. No one was by the door, but he heard his mother call “Dan?” from the kitchen.

“Mum, I’ve got something to tell you,” he said nervously.

“What is it?” she asked, walking out into the living room, still sporting a pair of oven mitts. Upon seeing Phil’s face, she stopped dead in her tracks. “Well, hi there.”

She walked closer, taking off the mitts and extending a hand to Phil. “It’s very nice to finally meet you.”

Phil’s cheeks turned a light tint of red as he shook Dan’s mother’s hand, saying, “It is very nice to meet you too.”

She invited them to sit, as she was just finishing making dinner for later that evening.

“You’ll stay, won’t you?” she asked. Dan looked at Phil questionably, grabbing his hand and replying with a yes from both of them. They decided that over dinner they would confess their future plans.

“Oh, by the way,” she called, “you got some letters from the unis here on the table if you want to open them.”

Dan hadn’t planned on telling Phil all the places he applied to, as he hadn’t committed anywhere yet. However, though, he did happen to be expecting a letter from the University of East London, a short ride on the tube from their new apartment. He applied to several others around the country, including one in America, but now he knew where he was destined to go after having a terrible time deciding where to go. Of course, all the places he’d applied to were equally great - sufficient programs, nice cities, lots to offer, but with them all offering the same accommodations it made it very hard for Dan to decide.

They joined Dan’s mother in the kitchen, filing through the mail on the table to find several letters from nearby universities. He tossed aside the ones from Manchester, Plymouth, Newcastle, until he got to the final one - the one he’d hoped was there. He didn’t show Phil that he’d gotten one for London as not to get his hopes up, but after seeing the big block letters and the exclamation points he couldn’t hide the giddy feeling and started jumping up and down in place.

“London! I got into East London!” he exclaimed.

His mother and Phil joined him in his cheers, receiving hugs from both.

July 15, 6:41pm

“So, we kind of have something to tell you guys,” Dan started.

Phil grabbed his hand underneath the dinner table.

“Well, you see, when I was going to London, before I even got there, this guy got pushed into the seat next to me, and well, I think you can guess who it was. We’ve spent all this time together, actually, at his flat in London. He just moved there. So, what we decided is that instead of paying for room and board at university, I’m going to move in with Phil and commute. There’s a train station five minutes from the apartment and it’s a short ride to East London. We know it’s short notice, but I guess I didn’t really realize just how magical it really is, like how you always said.”

Phil stepped in.

“I know you really don’t know me, I mean besides seeing me for eighteen years and whatnot, but we talked about it a lot, and we really believe this is the wisest decision, as now that I finally found him I don’t want to spend a day without him. I’m sure you know what it’s like, after hearing a story like yours.”

Dan’s parents sat back, taking it all in, eyes wide.

“So you’re sure, 100%? Because if this is what you two really want, we understand,” Dan’s mother said after a moment.

Dan turned to his mother, his eyes gleaming with certainty. “We’re sure. Promise.”

“Well, what do you think?” his mother said to his father.

“I think…” he began.

“I think it’s wonderful. I’m just so glad you found each other.”

Dan was ecstatic. The smile tugging at either side of his face was pulled so tight his teeth were showing. He turned to Phil, intoxicating him with his smile.

That night, Phil helped Dan pack his things up into bags while his parents went out to buy moving boxes and call the same car service Phil had used just days ago.

“I can’t believe this is happening. It’s all happening, Dan!” Phil shouted, scooping Dan from under his arms.

“I know, Phil. I know.”

In some other universe, things may not be as perfect as here. But in this one, you fall in love with your soulmate before you even meet them. You are destined to find this person and spend every moment brightening each other’s lives. Others may not understand how this works, and Dan himself may not understand how it works, and Phil may never be able to wrap his head around how lucky he is. Luckily though, in this universe, the world is a magical place full of magical things, where things will always end up the way they are supposed to.

September 8, 7:05am

Today is Dan’s first day at the University of East London.

“You look cute,” Phil said, adjusting Dan’s collar and straightening out the straps on his backpack.

“You’d say that anyway,” Dan joked.

“Thank you for an amazing summer. I hope you have a great day,” Phil said.

Phil watched as Dan skipped up to him, kissed him on the cheek and then on the lips, told him he loved him, then closed the door behind him.

He exhaled happily.

“I love you, too, Dan.”

[fandomlife-giver]

His Maid, However You Please: 2

Summary: Beauty is a dangerous quality to possess. There will always be those who wish to steal it away.

Pairings: Eventual Sebastian x Demon!reader

@wintersdoll​

Warnings: Violence

Word Count: 2857

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"You again!" Ciel sneered.

"A deadly efficient butler—that's me!" Grell posed and stuck his tongue out.

Ciel looked away from him as Grell shrugged. "Though I do find myself masterless at the moment." He jumped off the roof and landed before Ciel. "After the Madam Red incident, I was temporarily demoted. And now, I only get the lowliest of jobs. That brute Will told me I wouldn't get my old post back until I collected some truly troublesome souls. That rotten sadist!"

He crossed his arms and tapped his chin in thought. "Although I must confess, I like rotten fruit every now and then." He shuddered in delight. "And those cold, bruting eyes of his sure keep me warm enough on a freezing night!"

That was when he looked down and noticed Pluto, obediently sitting next to Ciel. "And whose this wild one? He's a cutie." He glanced over at Ciel, who looked as if ready to attack instead of Pluto.

Grell tilted his head. "Oh dear. You aren't considering avenging your beloved aunt Red, are you? I mean that would just be silly."

"You shut up!"

"Now, now, be nice. I don't see Bassy or N/N anywhere. What could a brat like you do without them?"

"Be quiet!"

Pluto then went forward and growled at Grell, who looked at him with widened eyes. "Oh, is he your protector for the evening?" He looked away and mumbled to himself. "Why does this little kid get all the good-looking men?"

*bark* Pluto charged forward, which made Grell hug himself. "Ooh, he's going to attack me!" He opened his arms to him. "Oh, how exciting! I'm all yours, but please be gentle-" It was only when Ciel ran passed him did he notice Pluto had charged passed him and towards another direction. "Hey! What am I—chopped liver?!"

Ciel ran after Pluto, until he stopped upon seeing Pluto was in front of a doll shop, with a familiar looking doll on display with curly blonde hair, green eyes and a pink dress.

"Lizzie!" He went to go towards it, but stopped once he noticed Grell beside him reading a book.

"Look what we have here. Number 493 on the To-Die-list: butler and puppeteer to the house of Mandalay." He looked up at the shop. "A Mr. Drossel Keinz."

*smash* *bark* *bark*

Ciel looked back, to see Pluto had jumped through the window then proceeded to run to the building and throw the door open. Pluto was crouched down with the doll in his mouth.

Pluto ran to Ciel as he crouched down and took the doll from him. The first thing Ciel noticed was the orange bow wrapped around the doll. The bow Lizzie had been wearing as a barrete earlier. Lizzie

He looked around and noticed the back door was open. They all ran out the door and stopped at the site of a large, old castle. Lizzie's somewhere in that mansion. I know it.

"Goodness, not exactly the most welcoming of places is it?" Grell stepped forward and looked up at it with a hand on his hip.

Ciel looked over at Grell. This is the man who killed Madam Red. But...I need him. Memories of Lizzie flashed through his mind as he looked down.

"Fine, Grell. Come in with me."

"Huh?" Grell looked over at him in surprise.

"Protect me and I'll grant a request."

He scoffed. "How insulting. Earl or not, you think I am the type of woman you can just buy with money-"

"I'll give you Sebastian for a day and you can do whatever you want with him." He looked up at Grell with a smirk.

Grell stopped and tapped his chin. "Sebastian-and whatever I want to do?" He grinned and beamed down at Ciel. "Even kissing?!"

Ciel shrugged. "If that's what you want."

Grell gasped. "Does that mean I can use tongue?!"

A smirk crawled up Ciel's face. "Do anything you please with him."

Grell almost fainted from his fan-girling, but then he stopped and thought about something. "I wonder—could this affect dear N/N in any way?"

Ciel chuckled. "No need to worry about Y/N. She hates him."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Oh please, she barely let's him in the same room with her, let alone something as intimate as kissing. It really is a wonder how they get anything done together."

Grell squealed in excitement. "Its an offer I couldn't possible refuse! I'm deadly serious!" He posed (again)

. . .

*slam* Grell held the main doors open. "All right, here we go! ...eh?" His smile dropped as they all stared at the life-size realistic girl doll standing on a pedestal in the center of the room, her eyes cast downwards, staring into nothingness.

They ran forwards and stopped in front of her, but a certain blue diamond had caught the reaper's eye. "Hey, look. That ring's a lot like yours, isn't it?" Ciel looked down at the familiar blue ring upon the girls right thumb.

The hope diamond? He looked closely at her face. This doll looks like...

He thought back to the photo of the girl that came with the queens letter.

Impossible! The girl's eyes rolled down and her arm suddenly reached out and grabbed his throat. He put a hand over hers, but she was too strong. In a desperate attempt, he looked over at Pluto. "H-help, Pluto!"

Unfortunately, Pluto was a little busy playing with his new toy, one of the small dolls. "You stupid useless mongrel!"

A glass bulb suddenly fell and hit her on the head, which made her release her grip on Ciel and make him fall to the ground. "Now, why would you call the puppy—when you should be calling me?"

He looked up at the red grim reaper that was standing on the chandelier. "Grell!"

He rubbed his hands together. "As a reaper, I have all the tools needed for harvesting a soul." He reached into his pocket and pulled out two pairs of scissors. "My death scythe!"

Ciel stood up and looked at him in confusion. "Um, but aren't those just... scissors?"

Grell flailed his arms around. "What do you want me to do?! Will took away my personally modified death scythe! I miss it so much!" He stopped and grinned. "I'll show you! I'll snip her into bits!" He leaped off the chandelier.

Ciel held up a hand. "Hold on! Don't hurt her! She isn't actually a doll!"

"Death! Welcome to the after life!" He soared down and sliced her neck as she approached Ciel, then landed on the ground in front of him.

Ciel ran to the girl as she fell, but stopped as saw dust poured out of her neck. "Maybe she was a doll after all."

♪ Wood and clay will wash away, wash away, wash away♪

They both looked to the double doors as they opened up and out stepped a man with light orange hair that was cut in flares, tossed aside from his eyes, and bangs that reached his chin. His eyes looked as if they were made of glass, being amethyst and stir emotionless. He wore a blue and pink eye shadow to accentuate, as well as, below his right eye, was painted a blue fleur-de-lis.

His attire consisted of a blue tailcoat, gold piping and a red ribbon tied in a bow around his neck, and a black top hat decorated with a red ribbon and two black feathers. Along with short black pants, white gloves, knee high black-white striped socks, and black boots with gold buttons.

His face was illuminated by the candelabra in his hand. "What a useless doll. She was another failure." He walked forward and stopped a few feet from them. "So then, I thought to myself: In order to succeed, I must make them considerably stronger than this."

Ciel rose up and watched him as he raised his arm and moved it to the lyrics.     ♪ Build it up with iron and steel, iron and steel, iron and steel♪ ♪ Build it up with iron and steel, my fair lady♪ From the shadows he came from, several life-size doll girls came out and stopped in front of the ginger. He then backed away and disappeared back into the darkness.

Ciel looked at all of their faces. "I've seen them before."

Grell snipped his scissors. "I'm not going to let anyone take away my day with dear sweet Bassy!" He charged forward, with Ciel once again putting a hand up.

"Hold on, Grell—wait!"

"Take this, dolls!" He went towards one of the girls, who blocked him, which made him fall back. He looked at her with wide eyes. "I-I couldn't cut them!"

The skin that had covered the girl's hands was gone, exposing her steel hands. They all started to march towards them.

"Grell, this is an order! You and Pluto—" Who was still playing with his toy in the corner. "—stay here and keep the dolls occupied. Play with them...for as long as it takes."

Grell liked back at him in fear. "Huh?"

Ciel took out the ring that had been on the first doll's finger and clenched his fist around it.

A doll had soared towards Grell, who moved back in time, making her steel hand stab the ground where he was. He looked to the side when Ciel ran past them. "You're going to leave me here?! Not very human of you!"

"I'm the inhuman one?" Ciel replied as he ran out of the room.

The dolls look just like the pictures of the kidnapped girls. No, the dolls are the girls. That means...Lizzie... He thought as he ran up the flight of stairs and into the main ballroom.

"Ciel Phantomhive." Ciel stopped in the center of the room and looked up at the ginger that sat up on the balcony, watching him. "You are indeed a beautiful specimen. I'll have to make you into a doll worthy of such exquisite beauty."

Ciel turned and gazed up at him. "What have you done with Elizabeth?"

The ginger seemed to ignore him and only pulled his hat over his eyes. "Now, what material shall we use for you? Clay will wash away too easily, but iron is far too crude for you."

Ciel clenched his teeth in both anger and annoyance as the ginger raised his hat to look directly at Ciel. "So then, I thought to myself-" Ciel didn't wait for him to finish as he kept running, until he left the room.

The ginger rose his hands and conducted the lyrics. ♪ Build it up with silver and gold, silver and gold, silver and gold♪

Ciel opened the door to find himself in a black room with white painted masks mounted on the walls. Then, the masks opened their mouths and sang in a perfect harmony.

♪ Build it up with silver and gold, silver and gold, silver and gold♪ ♪Build it up with silver and gold, my fair lady♪

Ciel covered his ears and kept running as the singing continued.

♪ Build it up with silver and gold, silver and gold, silver and gold♪ ♪Build it up with silver and gold, my fair lady♪

The voices seemed to grow louder as he ran up a flight of stairs and into another room, slamming the door behind him.

He was panting as he leaned his back against the door. But when he caught his breath, his eyes widened at the familiar symbol that made up the floor. The symbol that forever left his mark on him.

"That day...my birthday...my life changed forever. As long as I live, I will never know a happy birthday again." His eyes narrowed. "Never!"

"Truly master, nothing good ever happens on your birthday, does it?"

Ciel froze at the familiar female voice and turned towards the open window. His eyes widened at the two shadowy silhouettes behind the curtain that was currently blowing inside.

"You lost your parents, your home, and this time, you stand to lose Lady Elizabeth." The curtain blew to the side, which revealed you and Sebastian sitting on the window seal with your legs crossed.

Ciel sneered at the both you, but mostly at the person who had just spoken. "Y/N!"

You were both silent, but he only seemed to get angrier. "Take that back, right now."

You tilted your head. "What do you mean?"

He stepped forward and clenched his teeth. "I won't let you taunt me!"

You smiled and looked down. "Master, earlier you had informed me you had some business to take care of. This "business" of yours—did it include endangering yourself? In a misguided effort to rewrite the past, I mean." You looked up at him knowingly, but he only continued to coldly glare at you. You softly chuckled.

Sebastian outstretched his hand. "Do you remember what you said at the frost fair? About your body? About your ring?" When Ciel didn't respond, he continued. "What you said—was both had been shattered and reborn. And that you no longer had any fear of being broken, yourself."

"I remember. You don't need to remind me." Sebastian smirked at the harshness in Ciel's voice.

♪Build it up with iron and steel, iron and steel, iron and steel♪

You looked at Ciel curiously as he turned and faced the double doors. Seconds later, they opened and an entire group of girl dolls entered in.

♪Build it up with iron and steel, my fair lady♪

Ciel's eye widened. "They defeated Grell."

You jumped off the ledge and walked over to them, paying close attention to the music the dolls seemed to be moving to. "Interesting. They appear to be controlled by the singing of that song."

If the lyrics are build it up with iron and steel, that seems to give them strength to move. But, if you change the lyrics, you could break them...

"In which case..." You folded your hands over your stomach. ♪ Iron and steel will bend and bow♪

Ciel looked up at you in surprise. ♪ bend and bow, bend and bow♪ The music ceased, along with the dolls, who began to move their heads to your voice. ♪ Iron and steel will bend and bow, my fair lady♪

You jumped up, landed behind one of the dolls and bent her iron neck, which popped open. As you continued, the dolls' metal necks had all bent open. ♪ Iron and steel will bend and bow, bend and bow, bend and bow♪ You outstretched your arms and stood in the middle of them as they all broke.

♪ Iron and steel will bend and bow, my fair lady♪ As you finished the last line, you bowed before Ciel and lowered your head.

He glared down at you. "Who are you calling a lady?" You looked up at him with a smirk and raised an eyebrow.

You then stood up as Sebastian walked over and looked at him. "Now, young master, let us go."

"I think not."

You all turned at the ginger that stood in the doorway, surrounded by the fallen dolls, now carrying a music box, painted with a blue fleur-de-li around his neck that you assumed was the origin of the music.

"Ciel Phantomhive, you are now the property of my master." From the corner of your eye, you swore you saw a vein pop out on Ciel's forehead.

My, someone doesn't look very pleased.

"'Property'? Who do you think you—"

"The proof is there. You're marked by the very ring you're wearing." Ciel stopped and looked down at the ring upon his finger.

"I know what it is. That is a Hope peace. The same gem my master sends as a token to those who are destined to become his dolls."

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at him. "What master?"

He raised his arms out. "It's been decided—Ciel Phantomhive is going to become a doll. An exquisite doll made of silver and gold."

You gave a smug smile, then raised a finger and moved it to your voice. ♪ Silver and gold will be stolen away, stolen away, stolen away♪

The ginger's eyes widened. "What?" He watched and reached out as Sebastian picked Ciel up bridal style and you both jumped out the window. You, of course, throwing one last smirk over your shoulder before disappearing into the night.

The ginger walked to the center of the room and looked out the window. "He was indeed stolen away." He slumped down to his knees with his head down. "However, I am thinking to myself..."

He looked up. "Ciel Phantomhive will return. Whether he wants to or not."

[jeremystrele]

The Best of Bold Colour

The Best of Bold Colour

Roundup

by Lucy Feagins, Editor

The Eltham home of John Henry and Deb Ganderton features Verner Panton coloured chairs and a Robert Venturi Chippendale chair, with Peter Wright polka dot artwork. Photo – Sean Fennessy for The Design Files.

Primary Pops

Introducing colour at home doesn’t necessarily mean painting walls and surfaces. A white-on-white scheme is the perfect backdrop for pops of primary colour – seen here in the Eltham home of John Henry and Deb Ganderton, whose colourful Verner Panton chairs and a kaleidoscopic collection of artwork transform this bright, white space.

P.S. I once promised myself I would never used the expression ‘pops of colour’…!  Consider this the first and last time.

Matt and Carly Skinner’s home in Beaumaris. The front lounge room features original bench seating with reupholstery by Grazia & Co, skylight which runs the full length of the room, Supertuft Escape Velour carpet in ‘Abby’, and Treehouse’ artwork by Sally Smart. Photo – Annette O’Brien. Production – Lucy Feagins / The Design Files.

Artist Tai Snaith and Simon Knott’s Northcote home with chairs by Svend Skipper (pink) and Grant Featherston (cream) upstairs, alongside art by Tai (left) and Adam Lee (right). Photo – Eve Wilson. Production – Lucy Feagins / The Design Files.

The Beaumaris mid-century home of Grazia Materia and Steve Parry. The kitchen and dining area feature bar stools designed by TH Brown circa 1960, and Australian made Comcork (rubber and cork compound) sheet flooring in ‘safely yellow’. Photo – Eve Wilson. Production – Lucy Feagins / The Design Files.

Surface Switch

Colour can be introduced on any surface – why not try the floor!?

A bright, eye-catching flooring choice can be the perfect treatment in mid century homes, such as Matt and Carly Skinner’s incredible home in Beaumaris, which features Supertuft’s Escape Velour carpet in ‘Abby’.  Carpet is making a comeback! 

Louise and Martin McIntosh’s home in Melbourne’s North-Eastern suburbs. The timber-lined ceiling is original, the homeowners added grasscloth wallpaper to the walls, and cushions by Swedish designer Stig Lindberg. Photo – Eve Wilson, production – Lucy Feagins / The Design Files.

The study in Madeleine and Jeremy Grummet’s North Caufield family home. Photo – Eve Wilson, production – Lucy Feagins / The Design Files.

Incremental Updates

Contrary to what reality TV would have you believe,  a great interior shouldn’t be completed in a week – banish ‘The Block’ mentality! For an eclectic and authentic feel, beautiful rooms need to be layered and added to over time. This incremental approach frees you up to save for items you REALLY love (buy well, buy once!), and gives you time to develop confidence in your decorating choices.

Even a room with white walls can be given an extraordinary lift when layered with colourful objects and soft furnishings. Fill your bookshelves with colourful books and objects you love, and introduce a bold floor rug or soft furnishings in an accent colour.

Phillip and Lauren Li’s Parkdale home. The master bedroom features pendant light over bedside from Hub, bedlinen from Bedouin Societe, painting by Richard Claremont, side table from Globewest and custom made bedhead. Photo – Eve Wilson for The Design Files.

The North Melbourne home of interior designer Amanda Lynn, her husband Leon Levine (a lawyer), and their much-loved cats  Buster and Ting! Artworks from left to right by: Rick Amor, Mary Pitjara, and Mitjili Napurrula. Revolving bookcase is an early Australian piece, bought by Amanda from an auction many years ago, while the sofa is from Arthur G and yellow lamp Jielde. Photo – Annette O’Brien. Production – Lucy Feagins / The Design Files.

The home of Jo Dabrowski and Andrew Fisher. The living room features brown leather Longreach sofa by Neil Burly for Anibou (Thonet NZ), coffee table custom-built in London and designed by Andrew Fisher, Bertoia Diamond chairs from Alfie’s Market London, and yellow lamp from Mill Markets, Geelong. Photo – Anette O’Brien. Production – Lucy Feagins / The Design Files.

The Northcote home of interior designer Amanda Henderson Marks. Above – old French bed with Weylandts side tables and assorted cushions from Amanda’s shop, Gardener and Marks in Albert Park. Bedroom walls are painted in Dulux Companion. Photo – Eve Wilson, styling assistant – Nat Turnbull, production – Lucy Feagins / The Design Files.

Wall Treatment

YES, painting a room requires a little effort, but it’s also one of the cheapest and easiest ways to give your interiors a major update, without the need for professional help.

If you lack confidence with bright colours, try a mid or charcoal grey – still ‘neutral’, but with a little added oomph!

We also love shades of deep blue and teal in bedrooms and bathrooms, as seen in the homes of interior designers Amanda Henderson Marks and Lauren Li. After all, as Lauren says, ‘Why not splash around some colour, it feels good and makes me happy!’

Annie Price and Jamie Paterson’s mid century home in Beaumaris. Vintage Dutch wallpaper from Etsy, fibre optic lamp from garage sale, print and cushions from an op shop, curtains and small teak table from eBay, and Modular chairs from Charles’ Chairs. Photo – Eve Wilson. Production – Lucy Feagins / The Design Files.

Annie Price and Jamie Paterson’s mid century home in Beaumaris. Vintage Wallpaper from The Bitch is Back in St Kilda, Divan couch by Anderson Furniture Australia (Designer: Gerard Dubey) upholstered in vintage fabrics. Cushions made by Annie from Jamie’s Nan’s old curtains, and actual curtains from eBay. Photo – Eve Wilson. Production – Lucy Feagins / The Design Files.

The Sydney residence of Karen Julian, her husband Bruce, and their two grown-up daughters, Holly and Megan, features an incredible array of vintage wallpapers. Photo – Eve Wilson. Production – Lucy Feagins / The Design Files.

The Sydney residence of Karen Julian, her husband Bruce, and their two grown-up daughters, Holly and Megan. Study nook vintage wallpaper found on eBay, vintage pendant light from eBay, ornaments found at Vinnies, and shelving made by Bruce. Photo – Eve Wilson. Production – Lucy Feagins / The Design Files.

Prints and Patterns

If there’s one thing more anxiety-inducing that choosing a bold paint treatment, it’s installing wallpaper. Terrifying stuff. Understandably, since wallpaper can be a significant investment, and requires an expert to install. (DON’T even think about doing it DIY!)

The right wallpaper, though, can completely transform a room. We loveAnnie Price and Jamie Paterson’s mid century home in Beaumaris, and The Sydney residence of Karen and Bruce Julian, which both feature an incredible array of vintage wallpapers.

Try Flashback Fabric for a brilliant range of retro-inspired options.

In case you missed it in our house tour this morning: inside the Potts Point home of interior decorator Chrissie Jeffery. The master bedroom includes, bedhead in ‘Maggie Linen’ in ‘fig’ with ‘Mrs Munro’ hand-block printed linen on bed, and velvet cushions from Designers Guild. Photo – Nikki To, production – Lucy Feagins / The Design Files.

The bold and beautiful home of Kip & Co co-founder Kate Heppell, her partner Mal Heppell (of DMS Landscapes).  Photo – Eve Wilson, production – Lucy Feagins / The Design Files.

Bold Bedrooms

The bedroom is the most personal of spaces, rarely seen by anyone other than close family. So, if you can’t go BOLD with your decorating choices here, where can you!?

Moody greys and blues are always a popular choice for sleeping quarters, but it’s also worth experimenting with brighter hues!

We love the feminine palette in the home of interior decorator Chrissie Jeffery, and the unexpected orange in Kate and Mal Heppell’s sunny master bedroom!

The North Fitzroy home of Kylie Zerbst (of Obus) and partner Simon Murray. Artwork by Kirra Jamison. Photo – Annette O’Brien, production – Lucy Feagins / The Design Files.

Start with a Door

My number-one tip for introducing colour at home, particularly if you don’t have the time/money/confidence to tackle a big paint job, is to start with one internal door – so easy!

Just twi litres of paint and an afternoon is all you need!

Madeleine and Jeremy Grummet’s North Caufield family home. Artwork titled ‘Homecoming’ by Luisa Rossitto , op shop Parker chair covered in Warwick ‘Pantone’ fabric, and coloured glass, which has been passed down from family members, bought from op shops, on overseas travels, and from talented local designers. Photo – Eve Wilson. Production – Lucy Feagins/The Design Files.

Inside the home of Madeleine and Jeremy Grummet. The colourful TV/family room features blue Ottoman from Kasbah Imports, hot pink cushion from Curio+Curio,  vintage ceramic racing car made by 13 year old Harriet Grummet. The  Red/pink vessels on shelving are by Madeleine’s friend Emma Davies, and the orange acrylic bird by Madeleine’s other friend Madeleine Stamer. Photo – Eve Wilson. Production – Lucy Feagins/The Design Files.

Colourful Collections

A love of colour usually starts with ‘stuff’. The stuff that catches your eye: bedlinen, cushions, tableware and trinkets… things you buy without much thought for where they will go or how they will be displayed. But, as a collection grows, you often start to see common themes emerge.

Display much loved objects en masse, grouped by material or colour. We’re in awe of the coloured glass collection in the North Caufield home of Madeleine Grummet.

[joiminer]

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Yeah I said it, now what? I was the portal that dopeness chose to enter this world and I ain’t ashamed to say so. Lol. No, but for real. Have you ever looked at your child and been like, “you’ve been here before,” or “if you’re this dope, then I must be like the supreme Goddess of dopeness because I actually grew you,” or “you’re going to be the most awesome adult ever”? I do it every day, with both of my girls. But my oldest, my first born, my Mango, she’s BY FAR, the most awesome person I’ve met… and that says a lot because I know a LOT of super awesome people! I mean, like famous and almost famous, and even local celebrity type people. But my daughter is one of my favorite people in the world to be around, hands down.

My baby ain’t a baby no more. 

The funny thing is that this is the time when most mothers are wanting to strangle their teens. I invite mine into my room, we sit up and listen to music and write and talk for hours, she tells me almost everything and I am SO open with her, too. My momma told me recently that I was so lucky because by 15, she was ready to buy my headstone and dig me a hole. I was a mess. And I’ll admit it. Then, she did the worst thing a Southern mother can do to her child… she cursed me. Told me that Phoenix was gonna be the one to get her payback for her. Like, really momma? Dang. Lol. So, I’m just telling y’all right now, ten years from now, don’t be coming back over here looking for another “my teenager is dope” post. It’ll probably be more like, “5 ways to maintain your sanity when raising a diva who can’t even drive…” Lol. But I digress. Back to the one I got it right with the first time.

I know… I know, y’all probably think that I’m biased because she’s my daughter. Well, let me nip that in the bud. I’m gonna give you just the 3 MAIN reasons that my 15-year-old is dope and I bet you’ll be agreeing with me by the end of this post.

Reason #1:

She’s an artist

Her wall of drawings

More drawings and paintings

Ok, let me clarify. I’m a poet/novelist/publisher/editor. I can do ANYTHING that involves words. But Mango… she can do that and then some. Like, she’s a writer/poet/photographer/videographer/editor/painter/graphics designer. Yes, she does all of those things. And does them all WELL. She writes better than I do, and I ain’t even jealous. I mean, we want our children to be better than us, right? She’s on my mixtape as a poet. She hosted the open mic at my Sowing Seeds event back in August featuring world-renown Poet Sunni Patterson, the only teen in a room full of adults and she kilt that shit! Yeah, I said kilt. Lol. She’s reclusive in real life but a powerhouse onstage, man… for real.

She’s a 9th Grader at Ramsay IB High School, and was voted VP of her school’s Creative Writing group. She wrote an essay to get them funding for their newsletter. She wrote a poem about me, comparing me to a flower in a vase whose nourishing water was her own tears. Yeah… that one there, gets me every time. She got her first poem published in the 8th Grade. (Thanks DISCO.) She’s writing her first novel.

I mean, I could go on and on with this one alone. But I’ll just share the song that we did together for my upcoming mixtape, also featuring my sister Poetic Puff, as evidence. Ya know, so you don’t think I’m making it all up. Lol.

Mind of Mango is a private exclusive, only being shared here. Enjoy! (Feel free to download.)

Reason #2

She fed the homeless for her birthday

I’ll forever remember this as one of the many moments that meant so much to me. My daughter came to me and told me that she wanted to feed the homeless people around her school (5 Points South in Birmingham) for her birthday. Now, most teenagers want their learner’s permit. They want a part-time job. They want gifts, but she wanted to feed others. She was going to use her allowance to do it, but, come on… what mother wouldn’t want to make this wish come true for her child?

Mango, the mastermind

The bags

Inviting people over to take the bags

I have no idea what I’m saying here. Lol.

Well, it snowed on her birthday, January 7th. That was dope because she loves the snow and y’all know we barely get that mess here in Alabama. But the next weekend, we were up at 7 in the morning. Well, they were, I was asleep but they came and got me and were dressed and excited. By 9am, we had bought Wal-Mart out of all of their toothbrush travel packs, bought a couple cases of water, juice, oranges, boxes of chips, granola, gloves and skulleys. So… a Facebook post, that got the help of several of my dear friends and fans of both myself and my baby girl, and a couple hundred dollars later, we were ready to feed the homeless.

That face is priceless!

“You’re gonna let ME put this on your hands. Lol.

Phoenix was the official hand sanitizer distributor, happy to help her big sister make her dream come true. My dear friends AJ and Rob (soon-to-be Mrs. And Mr. Danner III) and their children came up from Prattville with more water (and fussed me out for not asking them to help more). Poet Brint Story and the beautiful Jasmine Enriquez were also there to help distribute the food and supplies. It was a MONUMENTAL day, man. Like, worth every dollar, second, and smile. Check out the slideshow below. Photos courtesy of Mr. Danner.

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Still not convinced of her dopeness yet??? No worries, there’s more. Lol.

Reason #3

She pitched and landed her own teen open mic to give herself and her peers a judgment free zone of expression

Mango is an artist, beyond the shadow of a doubt. But, as you can see, she’s also a very caring person. She approached me last year, after she hosted the open mic at my event, and said that she wanted to create one of her own for the teens in the area. She said she feels like they have nowhere that they can express themselves and their voices be heard. Of course, as always, I was all for it. She wanted to start in the Spring and have it at Avondale Park.

Well, the way the Universe is set-up, things happened a little differently than planned. In November, I spoke to the students at Putnam Middle School at the invitation of my dear poet friend, Mojo Mama. There, I met Liz Hughey, who owns DISCO (Desert Island Supply Company). I thanked her for having me, and told her that they’d published my daughter’s first poem. She asked who my daughter was. I told her Mango Miner. She nodded, smiled, and said, “that makes sense.” That, by far, is one of the most flattering compliments that I’ve received to date. Lol. I told her about Mango’s desire to start a teen open mic and she was all ears.

The next morning, I received an email offering the venue to Dira for her open mic. I just want you to read that part again… I’ll wait.

Ok, now I’ll proceed. Now, because I’m a teacher and mother first, I didn’t take it upon myself to do anything else but thank Mrs. Liz and tell Mango about the opportunity. Then, I emailed Mango a pitch that I’d done in the past and she emulated it and… her first teen open mic is on Friday, February 17, 2017. I did nothing. She did it all. On her own, with a little coaching from her entrepreneur mom. Even now, the meetings, the planning, the FB Fan Page, the promotions. All her. She’s fifteen. Hell, when I was 15, I was still trying to figure out why boys were so stupid. (Still haven’t figured that one out by the way. So, anyone with the answer, please feel free to share.)

But it gets better. (I feel like I’m on an infomercial… “But wait, there’s more.” Lol.)

Soooo, she wanted to call it “Mic Check.” But there’s already a popular event here by that name hosted by an awesome married couple, G.I. Magus and Jacqueline Jones. So, on the pitch, by the name of the event, I told her to put “TBD” and explained to her that it meant To Be Determined. Well, she chose to keep that name because she said that, as teens maturing into adults, their lives, their destinies, their everything is still being determined. Pretty cool, huh? (I will take a moment to say that she was heartbroken that “Mic Check” was taken, but she respected the reason that she couldn’t use it. She’s a better bad news taker than most adults I know. Lolbvs.)

I reached out to a few friends and they agreed to sponsor the event through the provision of chaperones every 1st and 3rd Friday night. She was excited about the sponsorships, but livid with me for bringing adults into the mix. See, Mango wants her event to be “by teens for teens.” Of course, all of my adult friends want to come show support, but she ain’t having it. Like, she even told me I could just drop her off. *insert hurt face with pearls clutched here*

Nahhhh, not for real, I don’t even wear pearls, but I was kinda hurt. But then, she explained it to me… she said, and I quote, “Umi, people, especially teens who are unsure of themselves, are less likely to open up and be true to themselves when they are in the presence of someone that they feel is superior to them.” Well… what could I say after that but, “ok, what time do I need to drop you off”?

So, as any proud mom would do, I’m blogging and posting all over social media about my daughter’s first ever artistic endeavor. That’s she’s doing with little to no assistance from grown-ups. Well, her dad did design the flyer… and I coached her… a little… and adults are providing the venue, but you know what the hell I’m trying to say. Sheesh!

Bragging Rights

See, I have an issue with bragging on myself, but I have no qualms whatsoever when it comes to bragging on my children. You know why? Because they are my Magnum Opuses. They are the greatest achievements I will ever have in my life and, books and performances and accolades aside… THEY are my legacy.

Now, are you ready to admit my teenager is doper than yours yet? If not, ‘tis cool. I wouldn’t expect a good parent like you to sell your baby short like that anyway. But… you’ve gotta admit, she is REALLY dope. Grown-ups wanna be her… Hell, I wanna be her! I WAS her one year for Halloween, actually. I told her that on my birthday, I could be anyone or anything I wanted to be (yes, I’m a spook baby), but I chose to be her. That did wonders on her self-esteem, man. She even styled me to make sure I got her swag right… do people still say swag? I can’t even keep up with the slanguage nowadays.

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Always

All

Smiles when we’re together!

Joi Miner as Mango Miner

Mango Miner

But I will say that when it comes to dope teens doing dope things, I truly believe I have the dopest of the dope.

3 Reasons Why My Teenager is Doper Than Yours! Yeah I said it, now what? I was the portal that dopeness chose to enter this world and I ain’t ashamed to say so.