#brb getting acid.

[rickybaby]

Daniel | Day 1 Testing | Bahrain Int Circuit (photo by Rudy Carezzevoli)

[airbrushfather]

i know ive said this before but hiawatha doomed literally belongs to me you're actually physically not allowed to listen to it unless you're me sorry

[daydreaming-en-pointe]

*Barrels through the window in a fireball, burning through the rest of the wall and destroying half of the things in the room.*

WASSUP MUTUAL!!!

oh fuck

[ask-glitchtrap-the-anomaly]

hey im gonna go give balloon boy some batteries laced with homestuck. and some without. in a bowl. with Queen’s All Age Approved Battery Acid. like cereal. brb

No don’t dear fredbear you’ll get him high

[bourbon-ontherocks]

hi 👀 306 was last week but I still wanted to address a couple of things… mainly roxane’s last scene, ouch, she deserved a better exit than parroting the writers’ memo on [gros canard]’s failings 😩 c’est faible. feels like they should’ve axed the scene (it was clear enough they’d break up, anyway) and simply confirmed she left with the voicemail about her sister dropping off the keys. (btw--did we know she had a sister before you mentioned that detail in fic, or was it another of your predictions??)

big fan of the attic scene though, and daphné & [gros canard]’s synchronized "gilles 🙄😵" lol. plot-wise, however, I’d like to know who would put multiple acid tablets in a bottle they’re not drinking, because 1) big waste of money for a student population, 2) it’s probably not the most efficient way to take lsd (les résidus au fond de la bouteille !!!), 3) que fait le bde ? shouldn’t they at least pretend to care about safety when there’s a party in the dorms?

and I’ll admit it was kinda fun to see [gros canard] using his ~"just broke up" privileges to dunk on morgane’s relationship history. the guy woke up and chose violence 😭😂😭 ça va qu’elle le prend bien…

bref. that’s all for me on this one!! brb ✌️

Oh hi anon, it's so good to see you back!! 😘

I tend to disagree with you re Roxane's break-up scene, because let's remember that we are obsessed. We can list all of Adam's misdemeanors in the blink of an eye. The casual viewer can't. So this last fact in itself justifies Roxane's monologue reminding us what a terrible boyfriend he's been. And also, even though it all wasn't fresh news for me, I must say I appreciated hearing them all together and I appreciated even more Adam having all of this said to his face. And Roxane's conclusion "Et tu penses que ça fait de toi un type bien" poooooooow elle tire à balles réelles et ça fait du bien !!!! So yea basically I loved that scene because he deserved it. Period. 😂

And yes, Roxane mentioned her sister in 206!!! ("et pour l'anniversaire de ma soeur, tu as pu te libérer ?" while Adam is cursing Morgane for not capping the ketchup bottle) Now did I mention her sister in PQENCEL, well I'm afraid that's another occurrence of Local HPI anon knows my own fic better than I do lol!

(oh wait no, I mentioned her in the 303 fic, didn't I?)

The attic scene was funny-ish, granted, but it's entirely thanks to Gilles' inability to correctly answer multiple-choice questions! Ok full disclaimer, I'm kinda meh about this episode, I don't understand why so many people, cast members included, claim that it's the season's best, but also I must say that for me, the episode is completely doomed because of some infuriating stuff that happens in the finale 😭

Agreed that there's some very generous dealers on this campus, last time I checked open bars didn't include full bottles of LSD, but hey what do I know, my student years are far behind (also BDEs have never been worried about safety, come on 😅)(but this makes me think of the Palmashow's HPI spinoff "BDE" lol I bet it would have made this ep more interesting)

(speaking of the Palmashow parody, Morgane finding the victim's daughter behind the screen that *happened to be here* reminded me so much of fake Morgane finding the killer behind the curtain lol)

"the guy woke up and chose violence 😭😂😭 ça va qu’elle le prend bien…" -> true, perhaps it was a bit harsh to tell her that, but honestly the return of the flirty bickering felt so refreshing!!!! 😍 And I'd dare to think that maybe that's also the reason she takes it well while she has all the reasons to be hurt by him reminding her that she always gets dumped, because he's FINALLY risking a joke at her after all those weeks of silent treatment and closed face and angry looks, my boy is making amends and holding a timid Olive branch and she couldn't be more relieved....

... which makes the three months window proposal absolutely frustrating!!! I *hated* this part (I mean, before I watched the finale and understood what hating an episode's ending really meant lol *crying laughter*), because even though Adam needs some time to heal (understandable), and is a total control freak who shows up early on dates and probably needs to know his schedule six months in advance, this is like peak non-romance. Where's the passion? The spontaneity? I'd have accepted this scene if we'd seen him showing up at Morgane's door barely a week later and telling her that he, in fact, cannot wait, but this... UGH!

My theory is that he wanted to wait long enough to be sure about his feelings for Morgane (which would explain why he's so enthusiastic to date her in the next ep, unless he's that dtf haha), make sure it wasn't a phase or a fantasy due to being stuck in a relationship, and that's probably the only theory I can accept because it's vaguely romantic at least, and also I need to believe that his feelings are real, which is something that tends to be hinted at in 307-308 imo, so there's that consistency at least...

Speaking of consistency!!! I know I'm just hurting myself at this point but I wanted to make a quick check on the timeline... Surprisingly the show actually manages to speak the truth, Timothée did spend 4 months with the team (he arrived in the summer, two months later around September/October - remember that the months were mixed up in 303-304 - he starts dating Morgane for two months, and here we are!). So WHY would they instantly ruin that effort with the most random line this show's ever delivered:

"Et bah moi, je me suis séparée de Ludo il y a neuf mois..."

GIRRRRRRRRL, you spent two months on a couch after your breakup. Then, admitting that 205 to 208 happened in like a week which is in itself a ridiculous assumption, you left the PJ for six months. And here we are, four months later, as dutifully reminded by Timothée. And I didn't even extrapolate here, I just took point blank the elements that the show gave me.

2 + 6 + 4 = TWELVE FUCKING MONTHS BARE MINIMUM. Was it that hard to follow up? Jesus Christ.

And since I'm on the inconsistency chapter, the way TIBER is written on Morgane and Adam's wrists suggests that it's Morgane who was holding the pen because of the letters' orientation, but in this case she wrote on her left wrist. While she's left-handed. Too bad, huh?

Other honorable mentions include:

Adam playing a Columbo bit on the university's dean re the silver scalpel

"C'est doux en fait. On dirait du mouton" -> this one goes straight in the top ten show's best lines 🤣🤣🤣

The LSD trip scene being WAY too sexual, this is pornography 😆

I know it's fleeting and not properly framed, but did you see the only interesting part of that re-doing the house montage in the end? THIS:

No I will not accept any other theory, this is the handprint. I will justify it further with this shot from 304:

While the handprint is not visible, probably due to the light and filming angle, it's the same spot as above, which ties in with where Morgane landed in the dance scene, and also it's interesting to note that she put a little candle in front of it 🕯️🥹

[thessalian]

Thess vs Horizon Las Vegas

Took a bit of time this evening to do MORE STUFF.

I could check in on Camp Nowhere ... or I could grab some campfires and do some hunting. Camp Nowhere can wait.

First thing's first - REBEL CAMP.

You guys're riding Bristlebacks. Hooboy. And one, and--

FUCK. Okay I need a smoke cloud, like, NOW.

YOU FUCKING STUPID THING WHY IS THERE NO SMOKE? I PRESSED THE--

WHOA what the fuck just--?

Oh. This thing auto-resets to ... advanced spark trap. Well. Other machine and two dudes are proper dead so I guess I can't complain--

OSHITDODGEROLL.

Dude with GIANT HAMMER.

I really, really need to figure out how the spiffy melee moves I've been unlocking actually work.

Sir, I salute you and your armour now FUCK OFF.

Aaaaaaaaaaaand your little friends too.

Right. That's enough of that. Now let's see what we see.

Hrm. More Bristlebacks. And some more parts never hurt anyone. So ... let's see what we can do with ... let's say an acid trap this time. Aloy does keep musing at me that acid is a good thing here.

.........Well. That happened. DAMN. Maybe I should set up traps around my sniper's nests as a matter of course from now on.

There is apparently a slab of greenshine up there and I might be able to climb at least partway to it. Let's see how far I can go.

Okay, so I managed to use a grapple point while jumping off the building. I am definitely getting better at that.

Ooooooh. Behemoth convoy. And that's an Apex Behemoth.

...I wonder if I can shoot it down from here with my sharpshot bow.

.........I can! And there are some very pissed off and confused Ravagers down there who have no the fuck idea where I am and are searching their perimeter at ground level. This is hilarious.

And now they're out of alert mode and back in sharpshot bow range. POONK. POONK. I love my new sniper's nest.

Unfortunately, I cannot stay here forever and I can't find my way up to the grapple point and the greenshine yet so I'mma go down and salvage my kills and keep exploring.

Wow. This is the first time we actually get a look at a heavily built up urban area (or at least, one that's still recognisably a heavily built up urban area) after the apocalypse. I mean, I've never been to Vegas personally so I don't know if there's anything that might be recognisable as a landmark to someone who lives there (at least, not yet) but it's still kind of chilling.

And off we go, getting more campfires-- Ooh. Longlegs.

Aaaaaaaaaand that says Apex. Heeeeeheeheehee.

I love it when I hit them in the concussion sac and take out two at once!

Right. Campfire and-- Settlement. Oseram in trouble. But map says "salvage contracts", so--

Oh. Oh, Runda. I will get you so many things. I would really like it if you won Keruf's little competition but mostly I just don't want you to die because you are so very nice.

Handa? Eh, she can wait. I don't want you dying to Tenakth rebels or starvation. BRB, killing you a Bellowback. Not in my favourite way in the world, but...

Aaaaaaaaand there's my Bellowback.

DODGE-ROLL. DODGE-ROLL. SO MUCH DODGE-ROLL.

HOW THE FUCK IS THE ACID GLOB FOLLOWING ME?!? THIS IS NOT 'WANTED'; YOU CANNOT CURVE BULLETS, AND YOU ARE NOWHERE NEAR AS GOOD-LOOKING AS ANGELINA JOLIE ANYWAY!

Okay. There. Dead Bellowback, big cargo sac intact. Running back to Runda to let her know before something, like, eats it or whatever.

After all that, I'd decided I'd had enough. I am exhausted. One way or another, there'll be time for more salvage quests tomorrow. Probably in the later evening, as I have some errands to run after work and I'm actually really hoping I sleep until my alarm tomorrow morning.

(Bet I won't, though. My body's being a shitheel to me about that.)

[phantommarigold]

beacause i . could drink milk but it leaves an acidic aftertaste and i fucking despise it. bbut for any other drink i have to get out . of the house actually thats not that bad of a trade im going to the shop brb

[lee-minhoe]

like i woke up with four hours of sleep to that and ive always called him a greek god im freaking out

NO SERIOUSLY WHAT THE FUCK LEE MINHO???????

need to stick my head in a vat of acid and then get run over by a steamroller brb

[sungie]

CITRINE: SANZU HARUCHIYO X GN!READER

a/n: payback for my last tokrev kisses hcs <3 brb self-indulgently downing my bag of yuzu and kinkan candies

cw: blood mention, bittersweet fluff, toxic relationship, metaphorical theme of addiction

masterlist

Sanzu kisses you like each time might be his last. He kisses you, and it’s like, each press of his lips to yours must be a game, and he only plays to win. Right?

He grasps your lax jaw with one hand, nudging something into your mouth. It’s warm and smooth, and it stings against your tongue – it's candy. Tastes like freshly-washed kinkan from your grandma’s overgrown orchard, although the scene before you would be more than enough to make her eyes pop. 

Sanzu’s lips taste sweet, they’re swollen and sticky from artificial syrup, and when he pulls away to press his forehead to yours, he laughs and whispers that he's sure he burned his tongue from too much acid. The yuzu-candy kind.

Sanzu tastes sour. Like the coldness settling across his visage when he hears complaints from stuck-up-city-kids about how god-awful their curfew is, and drags against irritating siblings which really mean–look at me, i've got someone on my side.

“Just jealous,” he mutters to you, “that’s all.” And you’ve never known how sour a lie from the one you love can taste. Not until now.  

Sour and corrosive, like the blood on his knuckles washing away beneath artificial light and acerbic faucet-water. Blood Sanzu refuses to speak of, even when you tug down his mask to press your lips against scarred tissue.

Now, he takes pains to hide his bloody hands from you. Like how he hid his face at first, but worse. Deep down, what would you think of him if you pieced together that his skin never broke? The blood, not his at all?

Despite it, Sanzu’s kisses still taste sweet. Grins and laughter lovingly etch their way onto your skin, like if he smiles enough, you'll feel it inside, too. But sometimes even that turns strange. Like, it's not real. At least, not really. Dissolved.

But then. Another yuzu candy slipping onto your tongue. Another nearly-vulnerable expression within his eyes, because this time, Sanzu thinks he can finally try to trust. Let in.  

Sometimes, Sanzu kisses you, and it hurts. Burns like the ache of having indulged in something too sour, too addictingly sweet, that it scratches at the roof of your mouth and draws blood. When something sour becomes sweet, you search harder for that tangy gratification.

Sour and sweet, sweet-sour, too much, not enough. Sanzu kisses you like he’s searching for a fail-safe to figure out exactly how to love without getting hurt. He treats it like a game, something to experiment with, something to have fun with. Something to eventually, win at.

Ironically, you hold the very answer lodged between your throat. How to love you–more like, how long until Haruchiyo kisses you?

And deeper, darker–do you want him to? Because when he does, how long 'til he stops tasting like Sanzu?

[theloneliestshipper]

Book of Boba, Episode 2 Review

Below is my review of The Book of Boba Fett, Episode 2: The Tribes of Tatooine. IT CONTAINS SPOILERS.

When I watched The Mandalorian I often felt like I was watching a short Star Wars film. Every episode had a mini-story of it’s own, with characters and arcs that had a clear beginning, middle and end. Some episodes I liked better than others, but it was shot like an anthology of short films, not a TV show.

By contrast, BoBF is clearly a TV show. There’s a lot of scenes that are Point A to Point B, like the scene with the receptionist at the Mayor’s office. There’s a lot of recapping dialogue about Jabba’s throne. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but this episode made the contrast pretty stark.

Last episode we saw Boba and Master Assassin Fennec Shand take a prisoner. Thanks to Boba’s declaration that he doesn’t torture, the interrogation scene seemed pretty toothless until they dropped their prisoner in the rancor’s pit.

After a pretty funny fake-out the assassin says he was hired by the mayor and off they go to see the mayor. Turns out the mayor may have been a red herring, and the Bigger Bad is actually Jabba’s relatives coming for their inheritance. Boba stands his ground on the principle of finders-keepers-losers-weepers, only, you know, with murder.

Meanwhile in the flashback timeline we see Boba training to fight with Tusken weapons. When a spice supply caravan threatens the tribe, Boba decides to help out his former captors by stealing some speeders from a biker gang menacing Tosche Station and then teaching the Tuskens to use them.

They crash the train and then Boba tells the spice runners that they’ll have to pay the Tuskens for safe passage from now on. With his crimelord training wheels firmly in place, Boba celebrates with the Tuskens and they give him a lizard that slithers up his nose and makes him trip balls in the desert. We see another Kamino flashback as Boba watches Jango fly off in Slave I, juxtiposing his sense of childhood abandonment with being left for dead in the sarlacc and I’m sorry guys…quick cry break. BRB.

ANYWAY, dream/drug trip imagery also in juxtaposition: Tatooine was once covered by water, like Kamino. The tree obviously has significance to the Tuskens but the large tree beside the small tree might also be Jango and Boba. Boba gets tangled up the branches the way he was ensnared by the sarlacc, which could be about moving away from the path Jango set for him.

It’s definitely the kind of character moment this series needs and ends with Boba donning the black robes we see him wear in The Mandalorian. I’m a little sad to see the end of the ragged flight suit, but frankly. It’s time.

Temuera Morrison has spoken in interviews about how he brings his Māori heritage and cultural fighting style into the way he wields the Tusken weapons, so incorporating that into Tusken culture is pretty neat.

Boba seems to be in pretty great shape with the Tuskens, better than he is five years later which makes me wonder if sarlacc acid is degenerative and the logical end of the series is–. Oh no. Mm-mn. Nope. Don’t like that thought. Don’t like that at all.

Things I Loved:

Temuera Morrison’s job in this series is to 1)stare at some huge CGI thing, 2)make unnecessary statements, 3)take a drink, 4)fight everyone. All of which he does like a BOSS.

Master Assassin Fennec Shand’s cutting assessment of the Night Wind assassins. Please give her more to do.

More Tusken content! It was great to see the return of Tusken sign language and to delve deeper into their culture.

Fixer and Camie at Tosche Station! That’s a deep OT cut with characters that were cut from ANH. Love to see it. You think Luke ever shows up for a high school reunion?

Who had a lizard-induced drug trip on their BoBF bingo card? Anyone? Anyone?

Things I Didn’t Love:

Here’s my other side of the Tusken coin: the Tuskens have been on Tatooine literally since it was covered with water and they haven’t figured out that they can just take the machinery of the offworlders until Boba Fett tells them they can?

Boba has apparently decided to stick around with his former captors. I don’t have a problem with that, but I wish we had seen more of that decision. Last week he was pretty set on getting to Anchorhead, presumably to retrieve his ship.

Maybe this is my own fault for spending the majority of the pandemic obsessed with Temuera Morrison’s filmography, but watching this I feel like I’m watching him do Hamlet, and I’m loving the performance but at the same time I’m never not aware that I’m watching Temuera Morrison do Hamlet. Even when he’s fully suited up in armor I’m still unable to lose the actor in the role.

Monster of the Week: The Twins. Jabba has a variety of family members throughout various canon iterations. Like the one with dreads. And the one with abs. And the purple one. These two are new and it makes absolute sense for them to lay claim to Jabba’s territory even if they certainly took their sweet time doing it. Maybe Bib was working for them? I’m very curious to see what role they’ll play in the series and when we’ll get a proper showdown between Boba and the wookiee gladiator.

Final Thoughts:

Between the desert nomads and the dream sequences and trying to rule based solely on conquest Boba is basically Daenerys Targaryen. Let’s hope it ends better for him than it did for her.

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

Brb cuz hmm but you know you’ve been studying for too long when the slides are saying “Solid support facilitates synthesis by avoiding stepwise purifications, especially important with the 30 amino acids that could get washed from purification” and you’re just like “Ah yeah that’s common sense lmfao”

[nochiquinn]

campaign 3 episode 18: aggressive gardening

I'M HERE I was playing persona

!!

now I get to watch everyone spell ashly's name wrong for two weeks and die a little inside every time

(the searchable transcripts do it too which gets. confusing.)

the power of Imagination and Crab

not over matt in a ponytail

I also have a weird affection for Big Scary Monster Noise Face Matt

me trying to tell my partner about the bags but he got a new phone today so I don't exist until at least tomorrow afternoon

"most fairies deserve it"

oh right at the top?? I'm just gonna sleep through this episode huh

MAP

TREES

Big Fanged Thing With A Fairy Tail

I don't know enough about Fairy Tail to dispute that

imogen is the andrenaline jolt that wakes me up out of almost-nightmares

matt stick your hand back down in the map cam I wanna look at your nails

aw he didn't say toothy maw

OH WAIT I didn't get my bingo card brb

a WHAT attack

it WHAT

"I'm going to. shit."

poison bleach spray

"I knew I should have brought the sage"

EXCUSE ME

sometimes flavor text is simply unneccesary

"like you're in young frankenstein"

fcg: help it's again

social link rank up

taliesin: that's a lot of dice

matt: that's is :)

"you can do anything you want, just not move or attack"

"oh it's a PARTY monster"

"it's about to shit another fairy!" "that's how fairies are made"

ashton sounds like me when I fell down the stairs today

"metabolism is off the FUCKING charts"

Shards of Muck

ray of frost should do extra damage bc it's a plant

you split those hairs laura

mala: laura bailey knows her rights

is that rain in the set background? it looks like petals

return of jester

alternately, jotun imogen

OH it was snow, matt's phone made it snow

"that was AMAZING. what is HAPPENING."

laura's been binge-reading the phb huh

I'm just picturing an Ochu from final fantasy ngl

travis trying to whisper at laura across the table before just snatching up his phone to text her

TWO LEGENDARY ACTIONS

"it doesn't mean it's legendary it means I had to buff it to make it fair against you monsters"

did travis "broke not one but two stress balls" willingham SEE a kid chew a pen to death

the return of flaming minxie

pizza hole

"WHAT'S A PIZZA"

what the fuck's a samoflange

"don't go to plantdick.com" alright who's already purchased it

look it's a higher number than 0 and therefore it's useful

pretty sure travis meant "chlorophyll piece of shit", not "chloroform"

"that literally made my eye twitch"

I didn't note marisha saying "I don't have time to make a third character" earlier but I'm noting it now

"roll a d6" ".....why?!"

"it's just acid"

marisha coming out of her perch and almost also out of her chair

"because I'm undead motherfucking BITCH"

"do you see visions of whitestone andy flash before your eyes"

"did you see whitestone andy's cameo in legends of vox machina?" "yeah, he was the next rope over"

laura beating liam up

looking forward to this art

"I died AGAIN"

the spidercrawl

NO EAT ROBIT

I gotta step away, nobody die

werechihuahua

what did travis put on marisha's cup

I enjoy the visual of this as a final fantasy limit break

I've said from the start this campaign makes me think of final fantasy, this is the logical extension

life needs liquid to live

"you gotta trust your instincts" "I don't know if I should"

if there is an animal ashley will give it scritches, even if that animal is one of her teammates

yes hype your girl up

"the power to turn blue"

"I've got so many weird rocks on me!"

chetney change back for the love of god

what is An Imogen

despite everything, it's still you

taliesin apologizing to the audience

liam

"last thing I think of before I die"

laura looking at matt like "I see what you're doing and I'm not impressed"

fearne discovers maple syrup

imogen cosplayers swearing up a storm as they order blue body paint off amazon

you could say they're.........turning the air blue

matt's face

"you should totally get some titty tassels"

laudna makes titty tassels with bones on them

travis "push the button" willingham

"this is not a real place, we're fine"

these were apparently done by kami, who did the c2 intro and the d&d beyond video!

oh, huh. missed this at the top of the show

OMAR

that looks like the exact amount of chaos I was missing

but do we get comfy matt back

I enjoy that they have the "glorious" voice line bc they know they're gonna be making gilmore merch forever

AS THEY SHOULD

adder dragonborn ADDER DRAGONBORN

"will it help if they actually sing something entertaining right now" "if it were anyone but sam I'd say yes; it's too easy"

I love that this is just how firbolgs sound

just openly begging fearne not to steal

taliesin

"if you're looking for a book repository......we're in a fucking swamp"

sam broke them all with his gas can

oh she has Rey hair

chetney cannot be trusted with this task

just get one room. you know better.

I am suffering the curse of a high-octane first half: no attention span for the second half

at least !uptime says there's only about a half an hour left

manufactured sideburns

"you couldn't afford me, honey"

"doesn't know where to put them or how to put them back" I am called out

"you're gonna fight the old guy" I mean that's what happened last time

[uninstalladblock4dd150n]

One of those aesthetic character kinnie playlists for glassy except instead of being slowed and reverbed for the vibes every song is nightcored and deep fried to hell and back

Actually gonna go make a glassy playlist brb you don't get a say in this I'll show you when I'm done she's my favourite character and I just drank makeshift battery acid while listening to 100 gecs songs on loop ok bye

this is the scariest ask ive gotten are you okay oh my god

[ickle-ronniekins]

dance with me

request from nonnie! “Hello! Im terribly in love with your writing! I was wondering if maybe, Charlie takes Bill, the twins an (either oc or reader insert) to a muggle party and they’re all super confused but love it and Fred is completely smitten by the OC when she danced and maybe did something weird/special of your choosing. I hope it isnt much, lots of love for u and Mischief Managed! ♥️”

pairing: fred x muggle!reader

word count: 2.2k

A/N: my dudes i don’t even know what the fuck this is but i loved this request so much, didn’t mean to make it sad, sry, also you can interpret this how you will.. personally i think they’re both too vulnerable rn to ~get it on~ but i like to think that maybe fred would open his heart again after this and she’d mend his heartbreak..... brb making myself big sad !!!!!! but listen if you wanna imagine him pinning her against the wall and having the time of his life then go for it, man i'm just...... big into angst;;;;;;; pls reblog & leave feedback & things of the like, thank you loves

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The foggy, wet streets of the city were unappealing compared to the very comforting, open landscape next to the Burrow. The very last thing that Fred and George had wanted to do was follow their two eldest brothers in the frigid, rainy weather to some silly Muggle party in central London.

Especially Fred.

He didn’t want to be forced out of the one place that made him somewhat happy, especially when he was still nursing the heartbreak that had been causing him so much unpleasantness.

But they’d obliged, because Charlie had nearly pounced on the two of them about it, and they’d much rather go to this than be forced to sit inside the Burrow with pompous Percy -- although, since the war, he had admittedly gotten better at not being a self-righteous git.

The twins had a ton on their plate; not to mention, Fred wasn’t in the mood for any of it. They were dragged out of their business shop by Bill, who was adamant about the fact that they’d both needed a night out, and when they’d tried to persist, telling their eldest brother many times that they had too much to do before the newest shipment of magical inventions came in, Bill had nearly hexed the pair of them, causing them both to shut up almost instantaneously.

But now, as bright, fluorescent lights hit the middle of the room, highlighting you, your smooth and effortless dance moves, and the very lazy grin on your face as you sang along to the booming music in between sips of your drink, Fred wasn’t so huffy about being here anymore.

His heartbreak didn’t seem so heavy anymore.

At least right now, it didn’t.

Admittedly, Bill was right. They really did need a night out. They’d been so bloody busy working that they hadn’t even been to the pub in a few weeks’ time. Ever since the war, business had seemed to escalate, which was really saying something, considering it was incredibly busy even before all of this had gone down. The two of them hardly ever had a moment to breathe. Which, they supposed, was good for Fred. Kept him occupied, kept his mind at bay. But they reckoned they probably needed to hire some more help. Ron had reluctantly agreed to lend a hand. It was Hermione’s idea. A brilliant one, at that.

George thrust a beer frustratingly into his twin’s hands. “We’ve got so much to do, mate.”

“Yeah,” Fred replied breathlessly, truly not listening to a word George was saying.

Fred Weasley had always had it easy when it came to the ladies. They flocked to him, really. He didn’t like to admit it so as not to come off like an entitled prat, but it was true. It was probably due to the fact that he was always making everyone laugh -- something that came equally as easy to him. Perhaps it was his bright red hair that the girls ogled over. Maybe it was his wicked sense of adventure, and the fact that he was always landing himself in questionable situations more often than not. But that was school. He could easily impress those girls at school. He hadn’t had too in a while, though. He’d been happily tied up with the same person for years — that is, until he wasn’t. Until she’d picked someone else.

This was different, though. This was a Muggle party, in the middle of central London, in someone’s sweaty, sticky flat with a bunch of people he didn’t know. Fred couldn’t do magic here. He couldn’t impress someone with his inventions or with his stories about adventure without giving away the fact that he was a from a magical background. He couldn’t use his usual tricks in front of all of these Muggles or he’d be in a ton of hot water.

He also couldn’t let his very intense vulnerability and his rusty flirting get in the way.

But he wouldn’t be Fred Weasley if he didn’t try, right?

It was always easy for Fred to be able to flirt absentmindedly with women. But with his heart in a fragile state, he wasn’t so sure it would be easy tonight.

Bill, picking up on his younger brother’s locked knees and fingers gripped tight around his beer, stopped in front of them. “You alright, Fred?”

“Yeah,” Fred said again, clearing his throat and swigging a bit of his drink. He then thrust the nearly full beer into Charlie’s hands, who furrowed his brows in a confused look. Fred continued, “More than okay. Hey, you guys have fun -- I’ll catch up with you in a bit, alright?”

He left his brothers standing at the other end of the room as he pushed through tons of people. When he’d finally made it to the middle, you were gone. He casually swerved around, peering all around the room to try and meet the gaze with the eyes he felt like he’s known for years already. He then spotted you toward the corner, pouring yourself another drink. His feet began moving before he could register exactly what he was doing; so quickly, in fact, that he hadn’t even heard the obnoxious exchange of words and laughter from behind him from his brothers.

“Merlin, can we go anywhere without Fred picking someone up?”

“Give him a break, mate -- he hasn’t seen anyone since everything unraveled with the last one. It’s been almost two years. Reckon this is good for him — for me, too.”

“Wish it was that easy for me to pick someone up, bloody hell.”

With his heart pounding unnaturally against his ribcage, Fred slid next to you and too began to pour himself a drink, glad to have gotten rid of that beer that Charlie was now undoubtedly guzzling. He opened his mouth to speak, but much to his surprise, you spoke first.

“Ahh -- a whiskey man, are you?”

He was taken aback at the sultry sound of your voice; maybe it was because the music was pounding in his ears, or the fact that you were this foreign person he desperately found himself wanting to know, and very quickly. He looked down at his drink, and then up at you. You were already sipping yours. “That a bad thing?”

“Not necessarily -- though I haven’t decided yet.”

The slight eyebrow raise you gave him made his insides twist. It was too early in the night for nerves. He swallowed them down as he took a swig of his very strong drink. “Haven’t decided, hm?”

You turned to him and then around to face the rest of the party. You inched closer and crossed your arms over your chest, and nodded. “There are three different types of men here tonight, you see. Those, over there,” you pointed with your pinky finger to a bunch of very frat-like men sipping lazily on their beers or glasses of wine, “they’ve come looking for something casual. Not so casual as far as one nighters go, but a fling. Something of the like. Those over on that end,” Fred followed your finger over to a very messy looking group of men who were dancing far too close with some women in the middle of the dance floor -- they looked like they all needed to get rooms. Separately. Merlin. “You know the type of night they’re looking for.”

Fred couldn’t help but snort a bit as he sipped casually.

“And then there’s you. Sipping your whiskey. Cute as ever.”

You turned back toward him and he raised an eyebrow. He was now feeling a bit self-conscious — he was both thrilled and equally embarrassed at being called “cute” by a woman as stunning as you, way out of his league and probably having quite a laugh yourself. He didn’t even know your name. What would you say next? You’d already deemed him the “third type of man” in the room, but the fact that he was a standalone, and not lumped in with another group, made him feel both overwhelmingly relieved, and also slightly terrified. But he tried to play it cool.

“What about me?”

You brought your hand to your hip and wet your lips, pondering this. A small smirk spread itself across your face, the fluorescent light flashing across your eyes. “I dunno yet,”

He liked that. He liked that you didn’t know anything about him. He liked that he didn’t have to be the bloke who made jokes to lighten the mood, the guy who loved messing with people, or the boy who got his heart broken by a girl who’d never really cared for him at all. He didn’t have to be any of those people. He could just be Fred.

“Haven’t decided, I reckon? Like the whiskey?”

You smiled; it was bad enough that Fred was losing his mind solely at the perfume you were wearing, and the fact that this conversation was going absolutely nothing like what he’d planned. Your eyes met his and your voice was soft when you leant in closer, “That’s what makes it so bloody dangerous.”

He didn’t know what the bloody hell you meant by that but he didn’t seem to mind, especially when you grabbed him by the shirt and led him to the dance floor again, slinging your arms around his neck and pulling him close to you as some slow song he’d never heard blared through the speakers in the corner.

“And to think — I was just going to come over here and see if I’d even be lucky enough to have a chat,”

You laughed at this, shutting your eyes whilst doing so, and Fred noticed something sparkly painted on your skin toward the edges of your eyes. “What can I say? You’ve intrigued me.”

Perhaps he could do this without any magic. Bloody difficult to not talk all about it, though.

Perhaps his vulnerability would subside, and he’d be able to talk and flirt and dance without thinking back on his own overwhelming heartache that had rendered him nearly useless the last few months.

But after a while, he stopped worrying. The music was so loud, your laughter so infectious, that he’d forgotten all about all those stupid jokes he’d wanted to make about his shop, about Hogwarts, about the magic he’d learned growing up. It wasn’t until you’d asked him to be in the moment with you that he’d truly remembered them.

“Just,” you’d started, tugging gently on the collar of his shirt and biting your bottom lip as another song played loudly, “just be here with me, okay?”

Fred wondered, as glassiness seemed to fill your eyes through a grin at him, if you, too, were in need of this night out.

Maybe you were nursing some kind of heartbreak, too.

Maybe you were also trying to find some type of normal.

It was in your tone — in the way your voice trembled slightly when you’d said be here with me. He didn’t think you were looking for something like a fling, like those guys you’d pointed at before. And he definitely knew that you weren’t looking for one night and one night only, like those sloppy people he’d kept trying to avoid on the dance floor. Maybe, like you’d said, you just needed him to be here. In the moment. Just the two of you, shoes heavy against the hardwood floor, eyes sparkling underneath the lights.

He realized, when he peered down at you and felt some type of warmth for the first time since his own heart was crushed in its vulnerability, that he just needed you to be here with him, too.

So when you leant forward slowly, trying to read his expression, to see if it was okay to do what you wanted to do, he leant in too, pressing his lips gently to yours in a spark of electricity for the first time in Merlin only knows how long.

And what he tasted on your lips sent him spiraling.

When you pulled apart, he raised an eyebrow and smirked at you. “What?” You asked nervously, biting down on the bottom lip, desperately trying to hide the smirk that was growing on your face.

“A whiskey girl, eh?”

You shrugged casually, as if it meant nothing. But you both knew it meant everything. It was just strange, he thought — your first interaction just hours ago, the conversation you’d held, and how you were here, now, entangled together. You wiggled your eyebrows at him — and he was surprised that he found it both innocent and incredibly alluring. “Told you it’s dangerous.”

You sipped the very last of your drink before tossing your cup into the waste bin. Fred reckoned he could stay here all night, forgetting about all of the things that kept him up at night, the things that had been making him so bloody prone to unpleasantness for such a long time. He wanted to laugh again. He wanted to smile again. He wanted to love again.

When you cocked your head to the side and smiled softly at him, beginning to mouth the words to the music, he reckoned he might just be able too.

Then you tugged on both of his hands, placed them delicately across your waist as you locked your arms around his neck again, you said over the booming of the next stupid song you’d undoubtedly sing every word too,

“Just dance with me, Freddie.”

[stephkaylor]

FAVES & FAILS: #1 (Teen Wolf)

I’ve decided to do this questionnaire when a show/book series/movies where I answer these questions with fun gifs too (its Tumblr, what did you expect?), if you want more info, the original idea post with links to each of my completed lists is here ⚡️. A bunch of my faves have already ended so getting all of these out will take a minute, but I’m aiming to post a new one twice per week. 🤞🏻Anyway, enjoy!! OH!! ALSO, I’ll be discussing plot elements in this list so...SPOILER ALERT!!

TV Show FAVES and FAILS: TEEN WOLF

FAVORITE MALE CHARACTER: STILES STILINSKI

HANDS DOWN, no question about it! He was the soul of the show, and funny, and so incredibly human on a show full of the inhuman, and that was what made him so integral.  Anyway, I could go on forever about how much I love Stiles, but here’s a gif:

LEAST FAVORITE MALE CHARACTER: GERARD ARGENT

There isn’t really a male that makes me want to punch something, so good for the writers, I guess?

FAVORITE FEMALE CHARACTER: LYDIA MARTIN

I really want to say Allison but it HAS to be Lydia, hands down! Her character development from a girl pretending to be vapid and shallow and who hid her genius so she could “fit in”, to a strong, powerful, confident woman secure in who she really is and the power inside of her (figuratively AND literally, lol), this girl is the real MVP.

LEAST FAVORITE FEMALE CHARACTER: MONROE

This was hard because there are several female characters that made me want to throw my laptop out of the window.  The short list is Kate Argent, Allison’s mom... I could go on... but Monroe’s systematic attempt to wipe all supernaturals out of Beacon Hills and then maybe the rest of the world gave me fucking high blood pressure and a rage issue. I don't care how “scared” you are, killing a kid who hasn't done anything wrong just because they are different than you is some fucked up, borderline genocidal bullshit. And she survived the finale!!? Like I had to deal with her self-righteous smirky attitude and you didn't even have the decency to punch her in the face and let me watch?!? Rude.

THE CHARACTER THAT DESERVED BETTER: Aiden (and kind of Ethan)

I badly want to say Allison again here because I love and miss her tons. But she died protecting her family and friends and I believe that she is happy wherever she went afterward.  Watching Aiden die in his twin brother’s arms I don’t know who I felt the worst for.  The boy dying, or his brother who now has to live without him... I’m gonna go cry now, brb.

THE DEADWEIGHT CHARACTER WE SHOULD’VE DUMPED IN 2009: Kate Argent

Luckily she was not a regularly appearing character, but when she showed up it was always “for revenge” and I'm like...can we just...not this season? I was having a lovely time and then you showed up with your petty anger for whatever fucking shit that happened in, like season one.  Like, honey... if it’s been so long since you’ve been relevant that I have to google what you’re upset about because I have honestly forgotten...maybe it’s time to let that shit go.  Kindly fuck off now, please...

OVERHYPED CHARACTER: Derek Hale

Like, don’t get me wrong, he’s great and I loved when he was on the show, but I feel like some people think he carried the show and it wouldn't survive without him.  Well, surprise! because he went away after season 4 and I still think some of their best shit came in season 5 and the beginning of season 6.  

UNDERHYPED CHARACTER: Deaton

Um, he was basically Scott’s druid emissary and he got no recognition for it.  He saved all of the main pack members’ lives at least once.  Also he didn't make Stiles pay for the windows, so he’s apparently not an asshole. 

OVERHYPED SHIP: Scott and Malia

I feel like they had to adjust the final season A TON because of Dylan’s injury and Kira not coming back and I think the writers panicked when they didn't know who to put Scott with (because our leading man could never not have a girlfriend, *gasp* THE HORROR!) because Lydia needed to be with Stiles and I think they picked Malia because she was basically the only one left...I was never into it.  In fact, when my friend texted me after we watched the episode where they get together, my response back to her was literally “meh 🤷🏻‍♀️”.

UNDERHYPED SHIP: Allison and Isaac

It would’ve been so nice to see where that relationship went.  Don’t get me wrong, had she lived, I would’ve wanted Allison to end up with Scott.  But I loved that the show was willing to say that it is okay to fall in love more than once in your life.  Sometimes the shows aimed at a younger audience have a tendency to act like your first love has to be the one you’re with until you die and that’s just not realistic. It was nice that the writers didn't box these characters into that mold because it gave them more depth as characters. 

FAVORITE SHIP: Stiles and Lydia

I don’t know how to explain how much I love this pairing.  Like, from the beginning he saw her for how amazing she was and he supported her as she came into her powers and then she was always there making sure that someone was taking care of him when he was taking care of, literally, everyone else, and then when he disappeared SHE KNEW something was wrong nearly instantly, and ‘remeMBER I LOVE YOU’ I need to stop before this run-on sentence goes on forever.  ALSO they’re canon official, which never fucking happens for my ships so I’m fucking excited, sue me.

FAVORITE VILLAIN: Deucalion

His backstory was well-developed and deep, he was clear with his goals, he actually executed said goals in a logical and timely manner, he was a fucking ALPHA OF ALPHAS, nuf said. 

MOST HEARTBREAKING MOMENT: Allison’s Death

Hands down, the most heartbreaking moment on the show, and I will fight anyone who comes at me with a different opinion. Because like--she was smiling when she was stabbed because she had figured out a way to help her friends and then she died in Scott’s arms and told him she loved him even though they weren’t together she still loved him and he still loved her, and I truly believe that she had zero regrets when she died, and how bittersweet is that???!  But Scott couldn't take her pain because it didn’t hurt anymore, and Lydia had to feel her best friend die and she screamed Allison’s name and if you are not hurting right now are you a monster???!?!

FAVORITE STORYLINE: Eichen House Escape/Dread Doctors in Season 5

It was hard to pick between the Dark Druid storyline in season 3A, but the Eichen rescue/Lydia learning how to be a BAMF Banshee from Meredith while she was catatonic (ALSO ‘Stiles saved me’ I AM DEAD!!!), and the whole la bête du gévaudan thing was great, and reuniting the pack after Theo had royally fucked it up earlier that season, it was all just superb! *chef’s kiss*

STORYLINE WE COULD’VE DONE WITHOUT: Like, the whole second half of the last season, TBH

It was a petty, counterintuitive, and just garbage. The monster was dumb, Monroe is a royal twat (as I stated above), and it didn't have a conclusion.  Like, the fuck? This isn't Game of Fucking Thrones you guys do not need to leave every season finale with so many loose ends it make people want to throw their laptops off of a cliff into a vat of hydrochloric acid.  And it was the LAST SEASON so there’s no hope of fixing this bullshit storyline. ugh, kill me now. 

BIGGEST PLOTHOLE: Scott’s pretty selective “True Alpha” powers

They, like, kind of tried to pass it off as it taking a ton of energy so he can’t always do it all the time.  But he got through a mountain ash barrier to save Deaton and activated his True Alpha but then couldn't get into Eichen to get Lydia out because of the mountain ash...? oh and also where the fuck did Cora and Isaac go? (I, sincerely, hope he’s not still just chinning in fucking France wondering were Argent fucked off to)

OVERALL MARKS OUT OF TEN (10 being that watching this show has probably increased your life’s worth by at least five percent; 1 being the only thing this show has given me is a stomach ulcer and trust issues): 

8.75 out of 10.  This show was a blessing and I would definitely recommend it to other people. (mostly because I love to get people hooked on my favorite shows and then they're stuck and we can be tortured together). 

THE END! Thanks for reading my overly-long and overly-obsessive list.  Do come again soon.  I’ll probably have another of these up next week.  🤍🤍🤍

[demauryss]

sail the wildest stretch; 1/6

Summary: Lucas is in a mess. His roommate is his ex-crush. He gets years worth of hairfall if he thinks a minute too long about his philosophy class. His penis-drawing talents are just out of the ordinary. And the cupid assigned to his case is a hair breadth short of committing his murder.

But it’s okay. As long as he has to worry about Eliott Demaury getting to murder him first.

or, cupid8776 has a lucas problem. lucas has an eliott problem. and they are not as unconnected as one might think they are.

enemies to lovers/matchmaking au.

ao3

chapter one: april thunders may blunders 

(next)

Dear Lucallecoeur456,

I’m extremely disheartened to announce that your request filed under letter no 654lgb has been denied. According to my records, it is your tenth letter in the past five months which is getting rejected. Personally, I feel saddened as you’re the only person assigned to me who’s over eighteen and still hasn’t found a match. I’d be able to help you better if you consider the following points while writing to cupidint.com next time:

While forming the letter, please consider typing in a computer before you write it down by hand. Or just consider inscribing neatly. You’re the reason our Server turns into a whimpering mess when it transcribes Coup de Foudre - assuming it’s what you write because frankly, your handwriting is garbage – as Coup de Foutre.

Please refrain from using acronyms in your letter. Writing ‘brb’ every time you deviate from a thought does not make you look good. Especially when the abbreviated form has the same number of syllables as the original word. Even better, just totally refrain from straying from an original thought only to come back to it after five pages. Makes me feel like I’m walking through a maze as I’m reading your letter.

While we’re on the topic of refraining, also stop drawing pictures of dogs when you’re asked for what you’re looking for in a partner. I know they are cute, but they can really not be an ideal partner for you.

Consider saving your satirical remarks for the real life. Our Server isn’t smart enough to detect sarcasm and thinks you are being serious when you describe a trash can in the space specified for explaining your qualities.

If you would ponder over these suggestions then I believe I’ll be able to find you a match and it’ll make both mine and your life a lot easier.

Yours truly,

Cupid8776

(They/Them)

*

The day Yann gets his letter, it’s everywhere on the news. local loner boy, Lucas reads somewhere, having qualities worse than the loner boy from gossip girl has a match. There’s a post circulating on twitter which goes friendly neighbourhood pretty man is officially off the market. And another after reading which makes Lucas wants to wash his eyeballs with hydrochloric acid: hot, tall, model-like being ready to dick down some pink canoes. it’s a trip you’ll never forget!!!

It doesn’t help that Lucas suspects Basile’s fan-account for Timothee Chalamet to be behind half of these posts. Especially the last one. And it also doesn’t help that Yann’s latest letter is currently getting glued to the roof of their bunk bed, right where Lucas would sure be made to stare at it for the rest of his puny life in the lower bunk.

“You’re a fucking prick,” Lucas grits out as he smothers the liquid and ugly look to the back of Yann’s letter. His hands are slimy, and Yann’s fucking face is smiling at him from the small chair he’s perched on. “You don’t even have the fucking decency to do it yourself. Can’t believe I ever thought that I like you. Fucking unbelievable.”

Yann tuts, low and too sure of himself. His face is glowing. His eyes are crinkled. And he desperately needs a punch in one or both of these areas, “You’re being dramatic, you know that?” Yann gets up from the chair, a marker in his hands. If it were up to Lucas he would have used that same object to ruin Yann’s pretty pastel pink blanket. The asshole deserves that and even more. Muttering some more curses, Lucas goes back to the task at hand – pasting the paper in smooth cursive writing courtesy of Cupid5644 on the roof of his bunk bed. Yann looks towards him in the middle of drawing a tally across the four small lines marked on the cupboard above the handle. His face is glowing. He desperately needs a punch or kick to dull that fucking shine. “Besides you signed this up for yourself. So shut the fuck up.”

Lucas groans, resting his head against his pillow, the letter he just pasted staring down at him in all its glory. “This whole thing is ridiculous Yann,” Lucas starts, hands crossed on his chest, “I still believe it’s a world-government scam meant to lure people in for their assassination later. Like, can you believe even Sully from 231-9 has a match. There’s no way you can expect me to believe the System is genuine.”

Lucas looks over to Yann who’s now leaning against the cupboard, scrutinizing Lucas from afar, “Are you sure your reason for not trusting them has got to do with that and not with the fact that in the past three months, each one of your request has been rejected with no guarantee of you ever finding a match?”

“Fuck you, Yann,” Lucas scoffs, turning his back to Yann, his front to the wall. Let Yann believe whatever he wants. It doesn’t affect Lucas, nor does it have any ring of truth to it. Fucking douchebag. Let his match turn out to be some astrology-loving, Harry-Styles-listening, ravenclaw-ass-fanatic. She’ll leave Yann’s Scorpio ass in seconds.

He hears Yann’s footsteps before Lucas feels him crouching behind him, Yann’s finger poking the back of Lucas’s shoulders, “Hey now,” he sounds apologetic, Lucas will give him that, “Life isn’t all about that jazz; your match or partner or whatever. Don’t worry about it. At least you haven’t fallen for their scam yet.”

Lucas laughs as he turns to Yann. His face is glowing. Lucas has changed his mind. The former Yann might deserve a slap in the face with a brick but this Yann deserves all the Kit-Kats Lucas has stashed under his bed. Cupid8776 will have a field day if they found Lucas’s current train of thoughts. Shocking, Lucas can imagine the magnitude of their gasp, Lucallecoeur456 does have a heart after all. Who would have thought.

 Lucas smiles at Yann as he extends his arm for him to take. “C’mon now. Basile will have both of our heads on a plate if we waste another second.” He gets up, stepping into his shoes as Yann walks out of their dorm. Something crunches under his foot – Lucas’s blunder; his newest message from Cupid8776. He had thought maybe Letter No 654lgb – lonely gay boy, for clarification – would finally tire them out. But apparently, that wasn’t the case.

Yann had laughed for ten minutes straight when he had read the letter. “Your cupid is going to commit mass murder one of these days. And I think you’re going to be the first.” Lucas had shook his head at Yann’s analogy; he isn’t that horrible. He sighs as he bunches the paper into a ball and bullseye’s it into the trash can – the one he’d described in his letter. Cupid8776 has a big storm coming next.

*

So here’s the thing in quite simple terms.

The world’s currently under the secret matching agency Cupid International. Before that it used to be SoulsBound, with the tagline where we find your soulmate for you. But then the name changed to Cupid Int. after getting involved in one too many scandals which Lucas remembers vividly; bold headlines on the front page of several newspapers: Soulmate leaves Soulmate for another, better Soulmate #SoulsBoundFails. And Soulmate doesn’t buy eco-friendly products. Puts the planet at risk #FixItSouls. And another, much dangerous and serious than the rest, which still gives Lucas nightmares to this day: Gryffindor finds out Soulmate is a Slytherin. Says even pet stones can tell they’re not compatible #FuckSoulsBound.

These outrages demanded an instant name change, so SoulsBound transformed to Cupid International; with a union of specially trained cupids from all over the world designated to find your potential match anywhere on the planet after you turn eighteen. The changes were justified and a long time coming, Lucas would say, as for him the term soulmate warranted a much deeper, not an ephemeral meaning; which couldn’t be forsaken for anything. But the soulmate that they suggested were anything but that.

And that’s what brings Lucas to the now: the thought that why people hassle so much for getting their letters to Cupid International as soon as they turn eighteen. Why instead of trying the conventional dating method - which has been getting much recognition as of late - they relied on some unknown person’s (or spirit? Who even were Cupids?) judging of whom they’d be compatible with. But then he guesses it has something to do with the fact that the conventional method is for people the Agency has dubbed hopeless – whose matches they still couldn’t find after years of research and rejection. Lucas is halfway turning into one of the people what with his letters of rejection piling up in the trash can.

But that’s not it. The Agency has more success than its scandals, which puts Lucas off. His grandparents met through the former SoulsBound. His neighbors that have been married for over forty years when he started university met through that. Yann’s parents met through that. Everyone he knows has some kind of emotional success story regarding SoulsBound/Cupid Int,.

And then his father had gone against the system and met his mother through the conventional dating method. Look where it had brought them now.

And here’s a thing in even simpler terms.

 Lucas hates Cupid International with a passion which burns his sternum and makes his stomach coil in disgust. And it has nothing to do with the way he has told Yann how he thinks the whole System is a government scam. But it has everything to do with the way how Cupid8776 has denied all forty of Lucas’s letters sent in the past nine months of him being eighteen. It makes his heart boil in his blood when he thinks about how he’s turning nineteen in three months and he still has no fucking chance of ever being matched with someone. Which sucks because out of all the remaining 6,999,999,999 people in the world, there still isn’t someone with same interests as him.

Which is cool. Fine even. Lucas isn’t petty about it. And definitely an ass. No. He’s anything but an ass about it. Because you see. He keeps in contact with Cupid8776 when he’s not writing to them on the specified days of the week. He asks them about their health, their lives. If they have someone special in their life. If they took their dog to a walk. If they’re remembering to stay hydrated.

He makes sure to send in an email every week, even if all he gets in reply is a monotonous Dear Lucallecoeur456, I’d appreciate if you would stop sending me non-work related messages. This email is reserved for work queries only. I’d also appreciate if you would use the time you took in composing this message on your request letter as I’m sure it would be more useful than this. Yours truly, Cupid8776 (They/Them) every single time.

So that’s what he does every time, much to the cupid’s dismay. He spends more time drafting his grocery list than the letter. Spends more effort in drawing stick figures of his enemy than correcting mistakes in the letter. Takes more interest in Cupid8776’s private affairs than his own. And still complain every fucking time why he hasn’t found a match yet.

But like he said, it’s fine. He’s fine.

*

The first damper on Lucas’s already damped mood comes a little after one. When a pretty fucking important experiment is turned in incomplete. The second comes in the shape of a person. And it’s much significant than the other.

Lucas has just crawled out of a brutal microbiology lab, his clothes tattered, voice bruised from screaming at his group members who don’t even know how to work around a fucking microscope. One would disrupt the lens and the other would somehow mess with the resolution. And then Lucas would curse his life and begin the whole fucking experiment just for the thrill of it, really.

So it goes without saying that after seven unholy tries on the experiment, it had been left incomplete as they ran out of time. Unfinished experiments aside, Lucas was fucking exhausted. He could feel the tired in every cell of his body as he walked from the class to the cafe in the campus where he’d agreed to meet the boys. Now not only was he about to drop down any second, he was also fourteen minutes late.

“You’re so early, Lu,” Arthur drawls out, dull, “Couldn’t have come even earlier if tried.”

Lucas shakes his head and plops down loudly on the bar stool in between Arthur and Yann. He dumps all of his stuff on the ground, wincing as the muscles in his neck scream in protest. “I’m sorry,” Lucas sighs, reaching over Arthur to hit Basile on the back of his head who appears to be sleeping with his head resting on the curve formed by his arms which are folded on the counter. He jolts up, eyes wide, as he looks around the café with hand rubbing where Lucas hit him.  “This fucker left me on my own in the lab. It was a nightmare, honestly.”

Arthur smiles his head as Basile pouts, “What was I to do, man? Daphne asked for my help, I couldn’t say no to her!”

Lucas shakes his head, looking over to Yann as he nudges his shoulder. Yann motions towards Basile, “But you don’t have a match, right? Where does Daphne come from in all of this?”

A proud smile takes over Basile’s features. Lucas finds it funny how the words Daphne and match in the same sentence makes the sadness and the sleep to literally dissipate from his face. “I know that, Yann. But to answer your second question, I sent an email to the cupid and he reassured me that I’d find a match in the next attempt so.” Basile shrugs like it’s no biggie, when to Lucas, in definitely is. “I’m hoping it is Daphne.”

“Here’s to fucking hoping,” Lucas’s attempt at muttering is intercepted by Yann, who looks at him weirdly. As if in a question. Lucas shrugs, no biggie. He also finds it funny how Basile’s cupid is replying to his emails reassuring him about the whole fucking ordeal, while Lucas’s cupid can’t be bothered for anything. Lucas gets this: Cupid8776 definitely has something against him.

They place their orders for their beverages: coffee for all of them except Lucas. He goes with cardamom tea. It’s when the café’s beginning to fill up with people getting freed from classes that Arthur speaks up. “But like, you haven’t met the person before right? What if they have the emotional range of a lentil?”

Out of the four of them, Arthur was the one who cared the least for the System, even less than Lucas did. He hasn’t sent a single request to Cupid International, saying he isn’t the one for dating or love. And Lucas respects all his choices. He looks up, affirmation on his tongue. But then his eyes fall over Arthur’s shoulder, in between the barricade of tired students blocking the door. And he thinks, he thinks – holy motherfu-

“Speaking of lentils,” He takes a sip of his tea, meeting the boys’ confused stares, “Here comes one, heads-up.”

And it’s just that – how Lucas spots him and a murky grey takes over his surroundings. Metaphorically speaking, of course. Something weird settles in his stomach as his friends look over to the ill lentil as a smile blooms across his ugly face. Fucking traitors.

“Eliott!” One of them shouts. It’s probably Basile. It’s definitely Basile with the way he’s waving his hands in the air. Lucas would have probably knocked them off of the face of the earth had it not been for Yann seizing him by placing both of his hands over Lucas’s shoulder. Lucas inhales deeply as Eliott walks over to their little settlement of barstools and idiots, a bounce in his step as he plays with the strap of the bag over his shoulder. Lucas looks anywhere but at him as he comes to stand next to Basile as he yells excitedly, “Good to see you here.”

“You too.”

Lucas just about murders Basile with nothing but his mind as Eliott’s shirt comes into his line of vision. And as Lucas looks up - goes against the well-being of his eyes - his eyes take a quick sweep of Eliott’s tall figure. Nothing out of the ordinary. He’s currently smiling warmly at Basile, then at Arthur. It’s when that his eyes fall on Lucas that the previous warmth in them is sucked out of them, like a vacuum, and they harden like stones as Eliott looks at him. And Lucas thinks he’s probably remembering the latest stick figure drawn on a piece of paper which Lucas had hit him with earlier as he was bent over an old, tattered book in the library.

“Have a seat, mate.” It’s Arthur. Double fucking traitor. Lucas should consider getting new friends. (But then, he thinks quite sadly, who would ever befriend him if not for these completely insufferable idiots?)

Lucas watches, stomach in knots and million things on his tongue, as Eliott’s face softens as he turns to Arthur. He smiles, “I have a class soon so I should get going.”

Basile murmurs something about it being a bummer. Arthur tells him that they’ll see him around. Lucas doesn’t know a bummer or what that is but he knows the look Eliott gives Lucas over his shoulder as he leaves – he knows the menace which is coiled in the white of his eyes, the absolute anger and disgust  he’s reserved for Lucas comes pooling out in that instant, and Lucas almost washes away with it. Fucking pretentious asshole.

Lucas swallows his heart beating in his throat as Eliott disappears from his sight. Un-clenches his hands which have formed a fist without his knowledge. He turns on his stool, passes Yann a smile who’s been weirdly quiet during that encounter, watches as Basile’s contemplative face comes into his line of vision. And curses whoever put him in this situation: A Thinking Basile is not a Good Basile.

“Do you know apparently Eliott still hasn’t found a match either? Which is odd, since the guy’s a deity. I mean, just freaking look at him!”

Arthur side-eyes Lucas as he nods his head in agreement. Lucas should seriously consider getting new friends. The ones he currently have differ largely from on certain matters. And it fucking sucks that they know it too. “Yeah,” Arthur is saying, “he’s pretty. And nice too.”

‘Nice’ my fucking ass. Lucas shakes his head, finishes his cold tea in a second, and picks up his bag which he dumped to the floor. It is common knowledge that Eliott Demaury is good-looking. He’s the person everyone in their uni flocks up to. He’s also pretty fucking amazing at everything he does. Which only irks Lucas more. He gets up, adding onto Basile and Arthur’s conversation with a silent Yann in tow.

“I’m gonna head to the bathroom,” he speaks to no one in particular, not really expecting the three people to stop their oh-so-important conversation about Eliott Demaury to pay him any attention. Shaking his head, he runs through a crowd, past a sulking worker, stressed students and mahogany colored back door to an alley o sheltered light and soft breeze.

Lucas breathes in deeply. His bag makes a sound as it plops to the ground. Closing his eyes, he focuses on calming his heart down which is beating so erratically Lucas has trouble keeping his mind on one place. If he could just wrap his hands around that fucker’s ne-

“Fancy seeing you here,” Oh fucking hell. Lucas fires off every curse he could think of in his heart. There is an off feeling in his stomach as he opens his eyes to Eliott’s hooded figure sitting off to his right, a cigarette placed between his lips. Lucas has to look down to place the full expression on his face, and it thrills him a little. (The act of looking down at him, for once. Not the clever smile which is placed on his face.

“Well, how’s your day doing?”

“Oh, it’s you.” Lucas shrugs his shoulders like it isn’t taking a great deal out of him to plaster the absolute fake smile on his face. “I was wondering why suddenly all the clouds turned grey.”

Even though he’s standing five to six feet away, Lucas doesn’t miss the brie fall of Eliott’s smile. But it’s coming into place faster than Lucas has the chance to feel good about the whole ordeal. He watches, against his will, as Eliott takes a long drag of his cigarette, the end of the stick burns brighter in glowing red embers before he blows white puffs of smoke in the air. He’s just so –

Lucas bites down on his lip to prevent the stupid thoughts from slipping out. Eliott watches him with (feigned) interest.

“Ahh there he is,” Eliott straightens his back. Even though he’s sitting on the steps to the side and Lucas is standing, it still – somehow – feels as if Eliott��s looking down on him. “I was wondering where the meanie in you has wandered off to.”

He didn’t just call Lucas a meanie. What the fuck.

Lucas heaves in a sigh. Wills his heart to stop hammering. “You wouldn’t know a thing or two about that, now. Would you?”

Lucas notices the little shake of his head, the light which falls over his face making it look like it’s dropped the sneer which has now become a part of his features whenever he’s around Lucas. And Lucas should revel in the thought of getting Eliott to show his real colours, but it grates on him regardless.

Eliott rubs his thighs over his jeans. Lucas traces the motion with narrowed eyes. And when he speaks, it’s to a completely different wave.

“You know, when someone asks about your day, you reply and then ask the question back. It’s called having a conversation, you know?”

Lucas bites the inside of his cheek, words already spilling out before he has a chance to assess them, “And what part of me actually looks like I would want to have any conversation with you?” Just. Who does he think he is? Pretending to be nice and all that. It doesn’t mean Lucas would forget when yesterday he doused Lucas’s workplace in some sticky as hell material which ruined not only his assignments which he spread on the table but left a permanent damper on his mood.

There’s a tilt to Eliott’s lips, his eyes bright and every bit gauging Lucas with the way they’re trained on him. The structure in his chest gives a painful squeeze.

Lucas doesn’t like it. At all.

“I should have known,” Eliott says with an air of nonchalance that has Lucas’s insides firing up in anger and – “You’re not one to have a conversation with.”

“Glad to have that sorted, then.” Lucas decides for the same tone Eliott chose earlier. He turns on his heels. And with Eliott’s eyes digging holes in his back, he returns through the same door he came out of earlier.

*

So here’s another thing in the simplest of terms. Lucas isn’t fond of many things in his life. He hates the System, his philosophy professor, Sully from 231-9. But what he hates even more than all of these things is the fucking lentil Eliott Dick Demaury.

*

There’s a dull buzzing seeping into his bones as Lucas walks towards consciousness. His limbs are still heavy with sleep, his eyes glued shut as he pats around his pillow for the vibrating device around him. He picks the phone up around a yawn, voice groggy as if he hadn’t used it in years.

Well, he hasn’t used it in hours. So. There’s that.

“Hello?” He croaks out, snuggling his face into the pillow under his head.

“Lucas Lallemant! Why are you still sleeping?”

The voice, filtered through the static, still compels Lucas to bolt upright in the bed, eyes now opened wide as he rubs away the sleep with his hand. “Mama!” He wills his voice to sound as if a trail of drool hadn’t had been drying at the side of his mouth. “You’re still up!”

His mama chuckles a little, as Lucas is left to smile sheepishly. Her voice comes clear now, “I would have called you at crack of dawn and you would still have said the same thing. Besides, don’t you have to go to your shift in half an hour?”

Lucas frowns, and then gets out of the bed. He finds Yann gone, his bed properly made. That’s why Lucas was able to sleep that much, considering Yann has reserved a distinct hatred for Lucas’s sleep.

His limbs are heavy as he changes out of the moth-ridden (not exactly, but its appearance justifies the statement) shirt he slipped into before his nap. “How have you been, Mama?”

“Great,” his mother speaks on the other line. There’s a brightness to her voice which lessens as well as increases the cut of homesickness lodged inside the muscle of his heart. Lucas doesn’t let himself dwell on the sudden sadness which grips him. Instead he focuses on the smile he can hear in his mother’s flowery tone, “I’ve been spending a lot of time in the garden these days. You know the plants Willow got me? They flowered yesterday and they’re so beautiful Lucas!”

Lucas smiles as he picks up his bag lying by the door.

She hums on the other line. “And Dr. Noelle changed my medication. We’ve switched to lighter pills instead of those heavier ones that always made me drowsy and loopy. She said I’m doing better so no need for the heavy dosage.”

There’s something like relief travelling with the air he inhales right to his heart. The sun is bright as Lucas makes his way outside. “That’s good, Mama.”

His mother launches into details about stuff about her new medication like the schedule and the amount of pills she’s required to take each time. Lucas walks out of the campus, listening intently to his mother’s retelling of the shenanigans happening in the various clubs she has joined now that she doesn’t feel so drained anymore. Lucas tells her about his classes and life in return.

 “Oh, yesterday in the cooking club, Nadine switched Hira’s container of salt with baking powder. It was quite fun to watch them two bickering afterwards. And there’s a betting pool going around the club about how much time they’re going to take before they get together.”

Lucas shakes his head, a smile pulling up on his face as he crosses the road, “Mama, you should help them sort out their differences instead of enjoying their fights!”

Lucas can hear her shaking her head. She continues, “We should, but it won’t be fun anymore. Besides, I do like some slow burn if I say so myself.”

“You’re spending too much time on the internet,” Lucas muses, “Next thing I know you’ll tell me that you’re reading fanfictions.”

His statement is met with silence. Suspicious silence. He has a minute to be terrified at the prospect before he’s breaking out in laughter, “What the fuck, Mama!”

“Language, Lucas!” She chides, but there’s a smile in her voice which grips Lucas’s heart. Even though he’s kind of wary about the stuff she must find on the web, Lucas knows she can fend for herself.

“Anyways,” she steers the conversation to another direction. Lucas goes with it. “You’re coming on Saturday, right?”

Lucas nods, “Yeah Mama. I’ll try to make it on Friday if the boys haven’t got something planned already.”

The store comes into view, so Lucas says his goodbye into the phone. “I need to go, Mama,” Lucas swallows down the bile which rises in his throat. He misses her so damn much. “I love you.”

“Love you too, honey.” The lines drops, and Lucas is let to chase away the sudden sadness he feels. For a minute, he stands there outside the store, his heart beating with a pang of homesickness. But then he forces air into his lungs, clears his mind, and goes inside the store.

The store is blissfully silent when Lucas enters through the door. There’s a faint smell of lavender still left from the candle Mika must have burnt earlier. Lucas drops his bag behind the counter before he picks up the various records and CD’s piled on the counter and places them in their racks. He starts making his way to the store room for the stuff which was shipped earlier. Might as well get a head-start if he’s early.

The store’s owned by Mika’s aunt, and Lucas works part-time here. It’s a vintage record store; the business is okay. He had earned a full scholarship in the university, but needed a job for the basic necessities in his life. Mika offered a job – and the wage was enough to pay off his expenditures. It is okay, better even. Except – except for the –

Lucas ends up walking face first into a rock-hard chest. His nose gets squished against a set of solid pectoral muscles, the cartilage singing with pain. There are hands grabbing his forearms; stale cigarettes and citrusy bubblegum taking up a better half of his brain. If it hadn’t been for the way the systems operating his reflexes have trained him to be repelled away as soon as the scent hits his nostrils, Lucas is a hundred percent sure he would have delivered a leg straight into the dick in front of him.

“Hey,” there’s an iciness which Lucas feels even though he’s overtaken by the pain in his nose. Lucas looks up, up; and here he is – the dick in all its ugly glory. Lucas tries not to fall on the spot.

“Lucas Lallemant is early? Am I dying or is it really happening?” Eliott cocks his head to one side, lips tilted up a fraction. Lucas smiles back sarcastically. What if he is late to almost everything in his life? That’s none of Eliott’s fucking business. Forcing the very delicious image of Eliott choking to death in his sleep to a dark corner of his brain, straightens his shoulders to stare at Eliott square in the eyes. He’s sad and he’s tired. So he doesn’t have any energy to deal with Eliott today, “Please crawl to whatever grimy hole you’ve crawled out of this time, Demaury.”

Footsteps follow his as he spots up the cardboard box holding the new records in the store room. Mika told him to stack them once he gets the time. He’s picking it up when the slime-covered asshat opens his mouth, “What are you doing?”

Lucas sighs, “Operating a spacecraft.” He moves towards the box, hearing Eliott’s footsteps falter behind him. “What does it look like?” Lucas picks up the box, but Eliott isn’t up to giving it a rest.

“Actually, leave it there. You’re on dusting duty today.”

The fuckin- “What?” Lucas turns on his feet. His stomach is doing weird somersaults. He crosses his arms across his chest and looks at Eliott, whose eyes are narrowed as if he’s examining Lucas. It’s like he’s plotting Lucas’s murder. And Lucas – he has a flashing thought. That would be the highlight of Eliott’s life, no?

He shakes himself into the present. And then gets the words out with great distaste. “Mika told me to stack them so.” He turns around once again, moving towards the box, only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder. Lucas shakes it off quickly.

Eliott stands off to one side, his face in its perpetual state of frown around Lucas. “Mika left me in charge,” he says, leaning his wait on the door as he looks down at Lucas. He won’t be intimated. No.

Eliott’s eyes flick to the box Lucas has picked up as he turns around, heart and head set in determination despite the initial bout of anxiety and something else which still sings inside him somewhere. Eliott almost has a foot of height in Lucas, and if that isn’t enough to make Lucas flee to the mountains, there are parallel lines drawn on the skin his forehead. His eyes are green, the one which reminds Lucas of moss gathered on stones settled to the ocean bed. Solid. Firm. Steady. Lucas wants to reach out and slap that look off of his face.  Preferably with a chair. He raises an eyebrow; a challenge.

Something like light flashes on Eliott’s face, giving Lucas a look into an annoyed feature before turning neutral again. Like the plants viewed from the askew perception of water floating above the surface, Eliott’s eyes turn infinitesimally greener. “You’ll dust off all the records in the A to M section. Or if you’d rather I tell Mika about the time you scratched one of his Stevie Wonders vinyl, I’m down with that too.”

There’s no wonder in the way the box previously in Lucas’s hands retains its original place. No. Definitely not him getting intimated by that giant goo of citrusy smelly being with his head too far up his head. Eliott’s face transforms into one of his ugly smirks; the one which is belittling and totally hateful towards Lucas. Lucas just about launches his self upon him.

“If we’ve figured that out,” Eliott straightens his body, his eyes have that weird sparkle that they always gain whenever they see Lucas miserable, which is just about every fuckin time Lucas comes in contact with Eliott. “I also would like if you could hurry up. We don’t have all day today.”

Lucas bunches his hands in fists to his sides as Eliott walks out, all pretentious and glad as he is to have the final word. He blesses Lucas with one final boastful look over his shoulder, the green now as bright as day.

 It’s no biggie, Lucas thinks. He can easily refuse. There must be atleast a thousand records in the A to M section. Well, not a thousand but you get the gist. And Céline has been in Léon for the past week to attend her brother’s wedding. Which means the records wouldn’t have been dusted for years. Not only would Lucas have a stellar day cleaning them, but his terrible allergy would cause him immense pain. But the scratched vinyl and Mika’s wrath after knowing about it would cause him a direct ticket to his grave.

So with heavy steps and an equally heavy heart, Lucas stomps over to the racks holding the worn out records covered with dust. There’s something tingling in stomach. He swallows down the feeling, and pushes Eliott out of his mind. That fucking asshole. No wonder he hasn’t got a match.

He goes towards to the record player he persuaded Mika to get for the store. Eliott had brewed a shit storm when Mika had agreed. His ‘Music would be distracting’ was countered by Lucas’s ‘What kind of a music store would it be if it had no music playing?’ and in the end, Lucas had watched a brooding Eliott triumphantly as Mika brought in his uncle’s record player the next day. And so it beings him a great deal of joy as he places in a record in the player that Mika has given his permission to be played in the store.

The records in front of him glisten with the reason Lucas would be walking out of the store with his eyes on fire and respiratory track on a lock down. Elton John croons in the background as he takes out the sticky notes from his pocket (they come in handy when the situation is like this, okay?), tears off a note. Eliott doesn’t, thankfully, surprisingly, bother him once as he gets to work.

*

It’s to a violet and pink merging together that Lucas looks up to when he makes his way out of the store. Even though his eyes are stinging, and his throat feels like the surface of a cemented wall; all rough and scratchy with cheeks stained with the water his eyes won’t stop producing, Lucas still looks up as a bird takes flight into the setting sun, a silhouette of the fucking time and energy Lucas lost removing years’ worth of dust off of records and cursing the asshole parading the halls with a stick in his ass.

Lucas doesn’t know why Eliott has made it the mission of his life to make Lucas’s life hell. And he also doesn’t know why Eliott’s like warm, soft sunshine when faced with anyone other than Lucas. Hell, if Céline had been the one asked for the task, Eliott would have stepped right up as the fucking gentleman he is to offer to do it himself. And it is funny how once he’d spot Lucas, his face would twist like he’s sucking on a sour lemon or something. Lucas doesn’t get that. He can’t.

With a sigh heaved out of his super congested nose, Lucas starts walking back to his dorm, his bag slung over his shoulder. He had been thankful for Eliott’s absence as he was walking out. It gave him a chance to stick the drawing which he made onto the first page of some deep shit book Lucas knows Eliott keeps in the drawer of the counter. Eliott was nowhere to be found, and Lucas was left with the proof to reinforce his theory. He firmly believes that besides being a fucking dick, Eliott Demaury is also a ghost which keeps appearing out of the blue and then disappears as if it hadn’t been there before. And Lucas is quite okay with that. The role suits Eliott in more ways than one – but it’s also sad Lucas’s won’t be able to get the pleasure of murdering Eliott if he’s already dead.

A rain droplet falls from the darkening sky over Lucas’s head. It lands cold in the center, making Lucas quicken his pace as he rounds the final corner near the dormitory. Yann would already be there, and Lucas can pester him all night to get him some chicken soup.

He makes it to his room just as the rain starts pelting on the ground. Lucas kicks off his shoes as he enters the room. Yann’s hunched over the study table, half asleep from what it appears to him. It’s when a particularly loud sneeze bursts through Lucas that Yann looks up.

“You look like a vampire,” Yann snickers as he looks at him. Lucas doesn’t need to look in the mirror to see what mighty image he’d be painting with red eyes and pink nose and tear-stains on his cheeks. He drops his bag, takes off his wet clothes and jumps into the bed in his boxers. Muffling his face into the pillow he lets out a groans, “I hate that asshole so much.”

“Whom do you not hate?” There’s a smile in Yann’s voice. Lucas chooses to ignore it. He sighs, turning on his back and staring at the abomination he glued to the roof of his bed earlier.

“That’s not the point, Yann,” Lucas exhales, “He knows I have a dust allergy. But still he fucking blackmailed me into dusting the records. It’s like he was getting me back on something.”

“Well, you do keep making those drawing of him,” Yann stops just as Lucas sits up. He scoffs, “Whose side are you on Yann? I can’t believe he’s bewitched you too.”

Yann shakes his head. He looks like he’s regretting every of his decision which brought him here, to this second, with a Lucas with a quarter of his brain working. Fucking Eliott Demaury and his fucking charm. Lucas doesn’t get what’s so special about it.

“-and then I had to walk in the rain,” Lucas continues, sighing into his arm. There’s a light pitter patter which is reaching Lucas’s ears. Lucas would have been able to take in the sandy smell that must be wafting in the air if his nose hadn’t been so congested. It’s Eliott’s fault. All of it. “Fucking pretentious asshole,” Lucas mumbles.

Lucas turns his head. Yann has his contemplative face on, “Don’t take it the bad way Lu, but don’t you think you’re kind of hung up on him?”

Lucas sits up, shocked to his very core. With a gasp he splutters like a fish out of water, “I’m not!”

Lucas doesn’t know where Yann is getting these terrible thoughts. Lucas won’t fall a prey to that. Fuck. Yann doesn’t seem fazed. It’s like he’s done this every other day of his life. What, Lucas doesn’t know. “If you ask me, or Arthur, or Basile, it kind of seems that you are, Lucas. You bring him everywhere, you know? Even if the situation doesn’t call for it, you’ll somehow make it so it has something to do with Eliott. And I think that’s where your fault lies: You give him too much thought.”

And that is…..totally not wrong. Maybe partially, but – Lucas does bring him everywhere with him. And that’s totally on Lucas. It’s maybe the reason he’s so miserable half of the time. He gnaws at his bottom lip, then, as in afterthought, speaks, “Well, then, fuck the rain, I guess?”

Yann’s face lights up as a chuckle passes his lips, “You know what they say Lucas: April showers May flowers.”

Lucas looks at him from the corner of his eyes, “More like April thunders May blunders but whatever floats your boat, I guess.”

And like expected, Yann starts shaking his head, exhaling heavily. The sound makes Lucas grins and he looks up just as Yann clicks his tongue, “You’re a hassle, Lallemant.”

 “What do you mean? I’m a delight to have around.”

Yann clocks his head to the side, eyes narrowed, “Listen, I know atleast one person who would greatly differ with your statement.”

Lucas sighs, plopping his head back on the pillow, “Yann, you and I both know that Eliott hates my guts, so.” He shrugs. It’s common knowledge now. And wasn’t Yann just lecturing him about giving Eliott to-

“I was talking about your cupid, actually,” Yann has a terrible looking thing crawling into the fibers of the cells constituting the skin Lucas so badly wants to punch right now. The corner of his lips hitch up a fraction before he gets up from his chair, slinging his leather jacket over his shoulder. “I’m gonna go out for a smoke,” Yann says, a smile crinkling his eyes, “You sit here and think about him, okay?”

He’s out the door in a second; the pillow Lucas throws at him landing on the ground after harshly colliding with the door.

Fucking assholes.

*

 cupidcollns@cupidint.com

Dear applicants,

Requests for the new sessions have been opened. Kindly take out the prints of your forms from cupidint.com. Please make sure to send in your requests to your designated Cupid before Friday. Any and all requests received after the deadline will be rejected.

Yours truly, Cupids

Lucas stares at the bright flashing and too depressing email displayed on the computer screen. There’s a dull throbbing behind his left eyebrow, his eyes are burning, and Yann still hasn’t returned with the food Lucas messaged him to get for him a few minutes after his departure.

His eyes move from the screen severely damaging his brain to the ugly yellow form Lucas keeps stashed in case of emergencies. His pen rests on top of in a bit slanted. Lucas hates the very sight of this form; apart of tree wasted for nothing. He remembers the many papers like this he sent many times before, and still end with fucking disappointment. What or who is to say this time won’t be the same.

With a dejected sigh he picks up the pen and presses the clicker. Might as well sign up for another disappointment. It is as he starts reading What would you pick to describe yourself as? Please pick one of the choices and is in the process to bang his head against the table cover over the answers that his phone pings with a notification. He unlocks the device, squinting at the light flooding his burning eyes. His stomach coils in on itself.

Eliott D 💩         

céline will be back on friday

so it’s your duty to dust the records till then

also, you draw terribly. thought i should let you know

Lucas stares at the words with a newfound hatred which now boils beneath his skin and rises up like a tide ready to consume all of him. But if that happens Lucas would so something extremely petty and stupid. Eliott won’t let him live, and besides, Lucas is above that. He turns his phone off, and with a bout of energy coming from somewhere inside him, underneath his sternum, he picks up the pen and, because he’s inspired, starts drawing penises everywhere there’s a blank for answers he’s supposed to write. The letter’s going to be rejected anyway; Lucas might as well go down with dignity.

This is it, Lucas thinks, when Cupid8776 finally gives up on him. Ha. Lucas would finally be free of their trap.

(And, because he’s inspired, he also takes a picture of the penis, lines them up with the various shots of the stick figures currently accumulating in his photo library, and sends them all to Eliott D (Poop Emoji). In response to his last message, Lucas provides: i don’t think i’m terrible. i’m getting better at drawing your portrait, see and presses send.)

Lucas folds the letter into an envelope and is on his way to mail it. And when Eliott replies back with a chain of messages including some very gruesome you are fucking annoying and extremely threatening crawl back to the whole YOU have come out of, psychopath somewhere between that, Lucas doesn’t feel any remorse.

Like he said, he’s above that.