#it's weirdly soothing because this is the sort of music he always listens to like in the car and stuff and so it reminds me of him/my youth

[true-bluesargent]

found out today that my dad has music on spotify... where has he been hiding this hello???? but he only has 6 monthly listeners :( so i will be streaming it now on loop. love you dad <3

[sevendeadlymorons]

Ok mc is still unused to devil Dom and the house and the boys so they usually wake up in the middle of the night, if they even sleep at all the first few weeks. Just them their thought a hot cup o any beverage on the big chair in the library at 2 am just lost and a little sad.. who would find them first how would they react? I just had this idea in my had for such a long time and!!!! Sorry but I positively love your works so much!!

Just pretend that Belphie wasn’t locked up and he was there in the start of the game, ok? Ok.

Thank you! And this is so sweet I’m loving it :,)

Brothers Reaction to Newly Acquainted MC Sitting Alone At Night

You’d woken up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night for the third time this week, hyperventilating after the nightmare you’d just endured. You check your surroundings but quickly realise that you weren’t in your room, but in the room you were assigned to when you were dragged to the Devildom against your will. You sigh and hold your head in your hands, desperately trying to shake away the irrational fear you’d embedded deep inside of you the past few nights. You knew you weren’t going to be sleeping tonight so you decide to get up and go grab a hot drink and sit in the huge chair you saw in the library when you walked past with that demon. When you’d finished making your drink and sat down in the chair, ready to start drinking it, you hear the floor boards creak from across the room...

——————————————

Lucifer

Seeing the eldest of the brothers in the middle of the night wasn’t exactly the most comforting situation to be in, but you composed yourself as best as you can when he spotted you and walked in to the room, sitting down dangerously close to you. Lucifer stares at you questioningly, wondering why you were up so late. He was going to say something but felt, since you’re new here, it may stress you, so he kept quiet.

Time passed and you two were still sat in silence, awkwardly sipping on your now lukewarm drink. You wanted so badly to just get up and leave but God, he had a presence that made you stiff. You thought you were about to lose it until he finally spoke, breaking the painful silence around you. He told you softly that if something was troubling you, that he would try and help, his eyes glistening in the ray of moonlight from the open window, making him look like an angel, causing you to feel much more relaxed. You nod politely and go back to drinking your drink, his gaze still locked on you, but now, it felt more comfortable. He went on to talk about Diavolo’s plans for the future and how you were helping them get there, reminding you how grateful he is to have you here. It was a nice thought, honestly.

Hearing such soothing words from him calmed you down, overall, and you both talked about music and hobbies. He wasn’t such a bad presence in the end, and his smile still makes you feel safe whenever you think about it.

Mammon

The demon you knew to be Mammon walked into the room with a surprised look on his face. Obviously you wasn’t the person he was wanting to see at 2 in the morning... Ever since you first lay eyes on him, you knew he was the more eccentric brother, as he quickly became quite vocal and perhaps even comfortable in your presence?

He marched towards you straight away, your paranoia rising as you wonder what he was going to do. But instead of all these awful things you’d thought up in your head, he stopped in front of you and started telling you how late it is, calling you foolish. You thought you saw concern flash in his eyes for a brief second as he was nagging you though. He sighed and shrugged, realising that you may just be overwhelmed, so he took a seat next to you and just went silent, letting you dwell in your thoughts, but not entirely letting go of the fact it was still very late and you had RAD tomorrow and he wasn’t going to be the demon to drag you out of bed.

Weirdly, in the end, he made you feel more relaxed somehow? He obviously showed some care for you and that made you feel a bit more secure in your surroundings. He was just who you needed to see in that moment.

Leviathan

Seeing the third born, Leviathan, came as a shock to you more than it did to him. As soon as he saw you, he rolls his eyes and huffs, then continues on to what you imagined to be the kitchen. You thought he’d left at first, leaving you in a peaceful silence with just you and your hot drink, alone in thought. Then, why do you feel so hurt by him ignoring you...? Your thoughts continue to attack you, until another creak echoed into the room. It was him again.

He looked into the room at where you were sitting; it looked like he was deciding whether to walk on or comfort you. He seemingly made up his mind as he walked in and sat down opposite you. You knew he was awkward to be around as soon as you met him, and you weren’t surprised whatsoever when he pulled out his phone and started playing a game, the light from the screen illuminating his face. You noticed his eyes darting up every few seconds, maybe to check you were still there and you hadn’t left him? He wasn’t going to say anything anytime soon, and you knew that, so you sceptically asked him what game he was playing. He didn’t even look at you when he answered, his eyes glued to the screen as he quickly tapped buttons on his phone. You chuckle, telling him you play it too, and you’ve never seen someone’s neck snap up to look at you so fast in your life. His eyes light up as he begins to talk about his favourite characters, then going to ask you yours. He was like an entirely different person; he even dashed up to sit right next to you, showing you all his rare cards, but then blushing after your legs brush against eachother.

Levi made you feel safe, and like you had someone to relate to. Talking to him was also like talking to an old friend, insults included. He really was a joy to be around.

Satan

From out of the shadows, you realise it was Satan, a face that you trusted because of his tranquillity and ability to stay more or less level headed. He obviously came in to have some alone time as he looked like he didn’t expect to see you sitting alone at this hour. But nonetheless, he flashes you a comforting smile, making you relax just a bit, but you still kept your guard high; he was a demon after all...

He quietly minded his own business and went to pick out a book from the various shelves. Reading at this hour sounded a bit odd to you, but perhaps he couldn’t sleep like you? He pulled out a book and sat down on a large chair besides you. The silence was almost deafening as the two of you sat in complete silence for what felt like hours, the only sound audible was the rustle of paper and the sip you made as you drank your drink. You was tempted to get up and leave but he suddenly spoke in a calm and soothing manor, something you never expected from him. He asks several questions, from what your favourite book is, to your favourite genre, and even told you if you ever needed something, come to him and he’d sort it out. He was a kind soul at heart, you noticed, sharing his love for cats with you and watching his eyes light up as he continues to tell you about the ones he looks after outside.

He made the night just that bit better. All you wanted was a friendly face and Satan provided that, along with a much needed conversation.

Asmodeus

You sighed as you realised it was just Asmo. He was probably the least threatening to you compared to his brothers, but you had to admit, being alone at night with the Avatar of Lust did feel slightly unsettling. He caught on to your presence pretty quickly and casually walked over to you, flashing you a big smile and a friendly wave. You cautiously smiled back and went back to drinking your beverage.

He was unsurprisingly friendly, starting up a conversation, or a lecture, you suppose, about how you shouldn’t be up this late unless you want your skin to suffer. He talked quite a lot about himself, so thankfully you didn’t have to respond much, and instead stuck to drinking and nodding occasionally to show you’re still listening. He even gave you little compliments to try and cheer you up; complimenting your hair and skin to which you laughed and thanked him. But he never took his eyes off your hands for some reason, and you couldn’t understand why until he took your hands in his and you soon realised you’d been shaking. He looked at you with sparkling eyes, his tone suddenly quite serious as he began to tell you that if you ever felt lonely or distressed, come to him and he’ll make you feel all better. You couldn’t help but smile and look down in embarrassment, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand soothingly.

After sitting with Asmo for a while, you came to realise he actually had such a kind heart. His aura was calming and you felt safe. He definitely improved your mood.

Beelzebub

Coming from around the hallway was Beelzebub. He always threatened you in a way, what with his large frame that towered over yours and the way you don’t think you’ve seen him smile yet. How could you not be slightly worried about his intentions? He didn’t see you as he made his way to the kitchen next door. You sighed and went back to drinking your hot drink, staring into your lap and feeling painfully lonely. You heard yet another creak and quickly looked up, but all you could see was a stockpile of food held by none other than Beel himself.

You felt your heart leap out your chest in shock. You didn’t even hear him come towards you. He kept staring at you with that same emotionless expression, but when you looked closer, it wasn’t a scary one, or a threatening one. He sat down across from you and started to eat through the huge pile of food he’d gathered, an entire steak lasting maybe 5 seconds. You got heartburn just from watching him so you turned away and continued to sip your drink, listening to the awkward sounds of Beel devouring his next piece of meat. Not even 5 minutes later and you look up and notice all the food was gone, all that was left was this huge grin on his face. In that moment, you felt peaceful, like his smile was lighting up the room and making you feel better already. He looked at you and smiled that same smile, causing you to smile back. He was actually such a happy soul and you soon started talking about your favourite foods and he even got up to get you some fruits that you said you enjoyed.

He was comforting to be around and your first impression on him was no longer as negative. He made you feel safe and you knew you could be open with him without judgment.

Belphegor

Out from around the corner was Belphegor. You could’ve swore he went to sleep ages ago, so you thought he’d be one of the brothers you could avoid, but apparently not. He didn’t even say anything to you as he walked in, blanket and pillows in tow, and spread himself out on the couch across from you, falling straight asleep.

You had no idea what just happened as you listened to his gentle snores, feeling like you’re intruding on something even though you knew he was the one who walked in here and fell asleep right in front of you. You felt slightly weird just watching him sleep and instead focused on finishing your drink and getting out of there. The drink was still hot so you couldn’t exactly just down it, and leaving straight away would’ve just looked weird, what if he wakes up and sees you staring at him? You couldn’t calm yourself as multiple thoughts rushed through your head at the same time, leaving you with a pounding headache. You didn’t even notice the demon across from you peaking one of his eyes open to watch you carefully. You hear him call out your name suddenly, disrupting your panicking thoughts. You stare straight at him and see that he’s now sat up, the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He apologises for interrupting you and tells you that his twin, Beel, was just snoring too loud and it woke him up, so he came to sleep down here. You smile and nod, but still felt kinda weird. He notices and proceeds to get up and sit right next to you, wrapping you up in his blanket and resting his head on your shoulder, telling you to sleep as you look tired. You blink in surprise but agree silently, waiting for him to fall asleep before trying to yourself.

Belphie was a soothing demon to be around. He never smiled much, but he was warm and made you feel safe and wanted, even if you did sorta play the role of a pillow for him. Falling asleep was quite easy with him around.

I had way too much fun with this, holy shit, thank you to whoever sent this me

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Sugar Plum Fairy - Spencer Reid

“Okay, carefully put the body on the table...Yeah, that’s perfect. Okay, thank you for your work.” I smiled briefly at the policeman. “I don’t know the details, but I heard this one is top priority. Can you finish it today?” he asked, making me grin even wider. “Of course! My colleagues were very diligent, so today I have only this one left. Even better, I’m all alone here, so my efficiency will sky-rocket.” I explain, getting a quick look at the cadaver on the table. “Very well, we will  go now. Take care.” the other policeman nodded his head at me, before they both left the room, and now I was alone in the whole building. “Yes, finally!” I fist-pumped the air. “Time to listen to AC/DC and cut this bitch up.” I rubbed my hands together, putting the music at max volume around the lab, no longer having to listen to music with my headphones on.

The Y-Incision went by with no problem, then the removal and weighting of the organs was just as smooth, and now I started searching the stomach contents, when the phone started ringing in my lab coat.

“Cutiepie is calling. Do you want to take this call, or hang up?” my phone robot asked. “Answer the call.” I vocally activated it and carefully put the gaming headphones on, seeing as they have a microphone attached, so I could speak while also working. “Uhm...Can you turn down the music, please?” Spencer asked softly, making me chuckle. “Oh, yes, sorry about that, I forgot about it...There, all good. So how is my lovey dovey Sugar Plum Fairy doing?” I asked in a sweet voice, which only earned silence on his end, and some giggles and teasing from the background, making me drop my scalpel in shock. “Y-You’re...On speaker...” Spencer managed to say, and I could already imagine his flustered face. “...Oh my God, Spencer, I’m so sorry...You called me from your private number, I didn’t think you’d call me from work...I’m so so so sorry, Spencer!” I spoke frantically, only to hear a tired sigh. “It’s...It’s fine...You’re right, I called you from the wrong phone, it’s my fault. Anyway, I called because that body that was brought over to your work place is a key piece of our latest case. Can you tell me anything out of the ordinary so far?” he asked in a more formal voice. “...Sometimes it’s weirdly difficult not to call you some cutesy nickname, Spence. I’m at the 3rd stage of the autopsy, and the only out of the ordinary thing is how hilarious her tits are hanging to the side...Uhm...Pretend you didn’t hear that...” I facepalmed internally, realising how stupid I was. “Should I call in an hour or so?” he tried to spare both of us the embarrassment, before I gasped in realisation. “No, wait, hold up a second, I think I’m on to something...On her waist, she seems to have an epidermis tattoo...But the thing is...This epidermis tattoo is a shade different from her actual skin colour. I don’t know who did this, but they traced the actual tattoo perfectly, which means I can easily trace it on a paper and send you a picture, maybe it will help you.” I explained, taking off my gloves and started drawing the tattoo on the paper, quickly taking a picture of it and sending it to Spencer. “I tend to forget how smooth and nicely you can draw. This is spot on, I’m sure Garcia can find out about this. Thank you, Y/N, you’re the best.” his voice was sweeter than sugar, and I could already feel my cheeks burning up. “Always happy to help. Do you want to stay on the phone while I look around the stomach contents, or should I call you when I find anything interesting?” I asked, putting a new pair of gloves on. “I...have a few minutes free to hear your voice. Talk to me, I missed you.” he spoke gently, as I opened the stomach. “Well...I missed you too, sweetheart. Wait, I’m not still on speaker, right? I don’t want to embarrass you...Again...” I muttered, biting my lip. “No, darling, it’s okay, nobody’s around, they’re looking for the tattoo.” he explained, making me sigh in relief. “Good, good...I hope we get to spend some quality time soon. Until then, I suppose I’ll have to indulge in my unhealthy obsession with binge-playing video games. Remember my 20 hour speed-run of Diablo 2?” I laughed, taking out a sort of cloth neatly folded from the stomach. “Please don’t do that again. You slept for 16 hours after that.” he sighed in amusement and worry. “Spence...I think I found something...” I muttered, carefully taking the paper and putting it on a different glass dish, where I carefully opened it with the help of tweezers. “What is it?!” he asked quickly, filled with curiosity. “Uhmm...Darling...This looks like an ominous death threat and a meeting arrangement...A-And the same tattoo design is drawn here...I’ve had my fair share of creepy encounters in my life, but this tops it all, I think. She was forced to swallow this paper...That means they knew she was going to be discovered and used for an autopsy...But who is supposed to see this...?” I rant my ideas, while Spencer was silent, and yet, there was a dark atmosphere taking over the both of us. “Spencer...?” I asked in a soft voice, feeling anxious. “I think you should get out of there...Now.” Spencer spoke seriously, but just as he said that, somewhere outside my lab, I could hear a very faint sound. “Spencer...I-I think there’s someone here...And I don’t think they’re nice people. I have nowhere to hide or escape. What should I do?” I asked in a shushed voice, not sure what to do. “Hide the paper back in the stomach and pretend you don’t know anything. We’ll be coming for you shortly...Please, please, please, Y/N, stay safe. I can’t stand the idea of you...I...I can’t even say it. Also...Don’t forget what we talked about before.” his voice was restless as I could hear him talking to his co-workers. “Honey...I’ll put you on mute, just in case something happens. You can hear what’s being spoken, but nobody will hear what you say, so you can discuss with your colleagues.” I explain, biting my lip. “Y/N...I love you. Please be safe.” I heard his worried voice, as sweet as usual, making me smile even despite the fear I harboured in my heart. “I love you too, darling.” I muttered, before muting the phone and putting it in my lab pocket.

I put the headphones around my neck as to not arouse too much suspicion, anxiety surging through my veins, until finally, the door was kicked open, revealing a huge, burly man, smirking down at me...So here I had to start acting.

“U-Uhmm...H-Hello...?” I asked, my voice trembling with fear, not able to look up at him. “Ahh, who’d have thought! Such a lil’ missy taking care of my girlfriend’s dead body! That’s perfect, I wouldn’t have wanted some sleezy ol’ man touching my girlfriend, or...Seeing her tits hanging to the side like that.” he grinned darkly, making me gulp in fear. “So, uhm...Wh-What can I do for you...?” I squeaked like a mouse, not able to look anywhere but down. “You could start by continuing the autopsy. I’m sure you’ll find something rather interesting that would be valuable for me.” he smirked, going to lean on a desk, motioning for me to continue my work. “O-Okay...” I nodded vigurously as I hurried to do my job.

Just then, his phone rang and speaking to it, I had to strain my hearing to try to pick up and understand what the person on the other end was saying, and thankfully enough, I could understand what they wanted to do:

Find the paper and kill the witness.

I started breathing heavily, biting my lip, feeling how my heart was going into tachycardia as I started having a flashback to a conversation I had with Spencer over a year ago, just a few months after we got together.

-----

“Honey, it’s going to be okay! You did nothing wrong! You did everything you could to survive and make sure the mission is a success. Please don’t blame yourself.” I hugged him tightly, stroking his hair to sooth him. “But Y/N...I killed someone. I did. With my own hands. I pulled the trigger. I robbed someone of their life...” he sighed, closing his eyes. “You killed someone who robbed so many others of their lives! He was a criminal, he would have tortured and killed again! Better dead than a fugitive! And think of the victims’ families, you gave them a certain kind of closure by catching the culprit!” I reassured him, kissing his forehead softly. “...You want to say something more, don’t you? Why are you holding back?” he asked, raising his gaze to look at me. “I...It’s...It’s selfish. You shouldn’t hear it now.” I looked down, biting my lip in shame. “Please tell me, Y/N. I want to know what’s on your heart. I want to know you.” he put his hands on my face as if I was the one needing reassurance. “Spencer...If anything...I-I want you to live...For me...No matter what happens out there, I don’t want to lose you. I know it’s dangerous out there, but...But...I don’t want the only person I’ve ever loved in my life to be taken away from me. I-I don’t know what I’d do...” I bit my lip harder, trying not to imagine such a fatalist scenario. “I understand...I feel the same way, Y/N. So why don’t we promise each other something? That way, you won’t have to be afraid of being selfish. We’ll both be selfish.” I could see the glint of mischief in his eyes. “What is it...?” I asked in a shushed voice, as he pulled me to his chest. “If anything happens, you have to live. If I promise to kill in self-defense, so should you. I don’t want to lose you either, but with the work I’m doing, no matter how private I am, I’m afraid that someone might come after you. So if anything happens...You know what to do. I know you swore a vow to never harm a living person, but that is thrown out of the window once that person tries to kill you. What do you say?” he spoke seriously, as I’ve never seen him before - He was still afraid, desperate. “Is that...Really...Okay? I’m not in the law enforcement...I don’t want to go to jail...” my bottom lip trembled in slight fear. “Self-defense will never get behind bars. Trust me, I know the laws inside out better than I know my own house.” he explained with a soft smile. “Okay...Okay, Spencer...We’ll be okay. We have to be.” I nodded, putting my forehead to his, staying like that for a while as we both tried to calm down.

-----

“Didja find anythin’, girly?” the man asked in a rough, aggressive voice, and I suddenly got an idea on how to escape. “Y-Yes, I found this paper, but it’s bloody and I have to clean it up to see if there’s anything on it. It won’t take too long, I promise.” I explained, showing him the paper with my tweezers, and he only nodded, watching me like a hawk.

I put a few water droplets with the pipette after neatly stretching the paper on a glass plate, putting it under the microscope and trying to catch the right angle where the ink would be rather stained from the blood and water I messed it up with.

“Uhm...There’s something written on it, but I can’t quite understand the writing. Normally, I’d take a picture and send it to the police where they have people special for that, but I’m pretty sure you don’t want that. Maybe you can understand the writing style?” I explain, stepping away from the microscope and motioning for him to step in. “Can’t even read some words...” he grumbled in anger as he bent down, looking around with the microscope, visibly frowning. “That’s such a messy writing...What the hell did he do with that hand of his...?” he groaned, as I slowly took out the scalpel from my lab coat. “Who knows...?” I ushered, plunging the scalpel in his carotid artery, hearing him scream bloody murder, as I screwed the blade around, doing more damage, his blood gushing away like a fountain. “Wh-What.......?” was the last thing he could stutter as he fell down on the ground and it took everything I had not to stand there and stare at what I had just done.

I have to save myself, not stare at life slipping out of him. I carefully changed the scalpel blade and put a knife in his hand, before leaving the room, only to be met by 2 goonies who were definitely of his gang.

“H-Hey, are you with that guy?! He just injured himself! I can’t save him by myself, you have to help me!” I cried out in desperation, praying they will be fooled by my act. “Ehhhh?! That idiot got himself injured? Let’s go check it out.” the one of the left patted the one on the right on the shoulder, before going to check it out. “It’s serious, we have to do something!” I said as I slowly took out the keys from my lab coat and locked them there, as they were too busy checking his body. “YOU BLOODY WHORE, WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!” they roared, as I ran out of there, to the elevator, continuing to lock all doors behind me, as I unmuted Spencer. “In 2 minutes I’ll be outside. Where are you?” I asked, panting, trying to keep myself down. “We’re almost there, don’t worry. As soon as you leave the building, go down the street to your left. We’re getting out of the car and walking towards you, so we won’t attract too much attention to you.” he explained, and I could only nod, barely remembering he can’t actually see it. “Don’t know how I won’t attract attention when I have blood all over me.” I mumbled, stepping out into the open. “Did he...?” he trailed on, not wanting to say it out loud. “Yeah...He’s dead. And I locked the 2 other goonies inside. I just hope there’s no one else.” I took a deep breath, rushing down the street, and thankfully enough, I could see a 2 people coming my way, one of them being my beautiful chestnut haired boyfriend.

Unfortunately, just as I thought everything was okay, I feel myself being grabbed from behind in a choke hold, something cold pressed to my temple - 

It was a gun.

As tears started welling up in my eyes and I could barely stop myself from shedding them, I could see Hotch extending his arm in front of Spencer, so he wouldn’t do anything stupid and that he’ll handle it.

All I could do was look at Spencer while my sight remained blurry and my body was trembling like a leaf -  I had no idea what to do, how to react, all I knew was that I was afraid and I had a scalpel in my pocket.

As Hotch tried to negotiate with the criminal, the man got pissed off, pushing me behind him as he started trashing his gun arm left and right.

That’s when I knew I had to act. I couldn’t have anyone accidentally or intentionally hurting my Spencer...

I threw my arms over his gun one from the side, pulling it backwards, away from the 2, one hand over the gun, while the other stabbed the man’s inner wrist, easily destroying the veins.

Thankfully, this gave Hotch the opportunity to shoot the man before he could do anything bad, and not before long...The enemy fell to the ground with an empty expression.

I quickly kicked the gun away, crouching down to make sure he’s really dead, and when I confirmed it, I got up, shakily stepping backwards, the scalpel falling from my hands as I tried to get myself back together.

“It’s over now, sweetheart. It’s over. You’re here, with me, nobody will hurt you again.” I felt Spencer hug me tightly, and the warmth and emotions behind it made me start crying from the shock, panic and fear that I felt. “I-I was so scared...” I managed to stammer over my words, as my lovely boyfriend put his hands on my face, tilting it up so I could see him, my eyes staring into his. “I know, darling, I know. We can go back home now, it’s okay.” he tried to reassure me, but Hotch came over. “Before you go home, I need you to tell us what you know from the autopsy. I’m sorry to stress you out after going through such a traumatic experience, but we need to catch the criminals.” the man said, and seeing Spencer frowning in protest, I sighed, resting my head on his shoulder. “It’s okay, I understand. Let’s go. I’ll be okay.” I managed to mutter.

Spencer put his arm around me, kissing my temple as we went to his workplace, and sure, seeing his colleagues all at once was rather overwhelming, but my sweetheart easily handled everything and put a blanket over my shoulder, pulling me to his chest to calm me down, while I explained everything in detail.

While everyone was working on the case, two blonde girls that I found out were Penelope and J.J. and they were sweet enough to try to calm me down by chatting with me.

“So how did you and Spencer meet? You look so cute together!” Penelope asked, grinning from ear to ear. “A while ago, at a cafe. There were no empty seats and the waitress asked me if he could stay there, as he’s a regular, so of course, I said why not.” I smiled softly, holding his hand, our finger intertwining. “She was reading Lord Of The Rings, when she got a phone call from her boss and she got out her case files from the morgue and started explaining all the details.” he stroked my hair soothingly. “And then you took a look at the pictures and randomly started giving your theories and we managed to solve the case together.” I chuckled weakly, my smile growing wider. “Awwwwww, that’s so cute!!” she chirped. “When is the marriage?! Can I be a bridesmaid?!” she continued, making the both of us blush and hide our faces in embarrassment. “Garcia, be gentle with them! They’re soft!” J.J. grinned, nudging her with her elbow. “Who’d have thought that Genius Boy is such a Lover Boy? Sugar Plum Fairy~! And what’s her nickname? Now I’m curious!” Garcia leaned closer to us. “...Sleeping Beauty...I like to sleep...A lot...” I muttered, feeling my cheeks warmer than before. “And you like to be woken up with a kiss~?” she continued to tease us. “..........Yes.” I managed to whisper, hiding my face in the blanket. “When will I find someone as sweet as Lover Boy?! You’re just SO cute together!” she hyped us up, and we could only sigh and look at each other with a smile. “Okay, okay, we’ve done our job, let’s give them some privacy. We’ll come back to tell you when you can go home. Oh, by the way, Spencer...I’m pretty sure I heard them talk about giving you a week off or something. You’ve worked hard for us, you deserve it, especially now after everything you’ve been through.” J.J. smiled down at us, putting her arm around Garcia, guiding her fangirling self out of the office. “Well, hear that, I have vacation. Where do you want to go?” he kissed my lips gently, looking at me with a tender look. “We’ll think of something. The seaside, the mountains...We have time for everything.” I grinned softly, cuddling closer to him. “I love you, Spencer.” “Yeah, we have all the time in the world. I’m so glad you’re safe...I’m sorry you had to go through all that, but I’m so glad nothing happened to you. I love you so much, my Sleeping Beauty.” he kissed me once again, just as sweetly as before. “I would never leave my Sugar Plum Fairy alone.” I gazed at him lovingly, before settling for a comfortable silence, waiting to go home.

[pleasant-canadians-music]

I don’t know why these two records make me feel so sad and comforted in ways so many other records don’t. I want to theorize, but I don’t want to talk myself in circles.

I think it first became hard to talk to other kids about music when I first started going to school. I didn’t know what Asperger syndrome was until I was in Middle School, but I was already in kindergarten when I started to become aware of the fact that my brain just processed sound differently, that other kids only got songs stuck in their heads - not ‘noises’. For me, sometimes I’d watch a movie over and over again because all of the music, but also the sound effects, the voices (and not even the content of the words, just the cadences of speech, the lilt and tones of voices), all of that together was ‘music.’ I’d sometimes get ‘nature sound’ CDs from the library and be engrossed in them. It felt like I might hear something completely unexpectedly at any moment, and I just kept on listening.

By High School, I was getting way more into any weird music I could find online, the odd side of indie, ‘ambient’, the really esoteric, avant-garde stuff. I was also taking lots of singing lessons in youth choirs back then, and I would get really anxious and worked up trying to sing everything perfectly. I’d bus home from these lessons exhausted and thirsty and tired and just a ball of nerves.

I liked listening to these two records a lot.

Sometimes I’ll listen to Songbook and remember a memory of, I don’t know, a big party my parents might bring me along to as a really little kid. There was a similar feeling of tiredness that those memories conjure up. The lights are all warm and orange, there’s soft jazz playing somewhere, my little kid brain was consoling itself by being only fixated on Digimon or something, and there’s all of these adult conversations in the next room from me that I couldn’t grasp but felt soothing because I didn’t understand them. I miss feeling like that, and then I always chastise myself for missing that feeling, and that’s not good for me.

Nobukazu Takemura does music that sounds like it should be really cutesy but feels profoundly lonely when I hear it. It’s not like a dumb horror movie trying to make a nursery rhyme creepy; there’s a comforting quality to it, yet the music is still weirdly sparse and disconnected. It’s like there are two or three important music elements taken out of it, and all of the rest of the instruments are only vaguely cognizant that something’s off. It’s a weird listen, and I know a lot of people think it’s way too long for its own good, but I put it on and I’m never itching to get to the end.

Theoretically speaking, Storm & Stress’ Under Thunder and Fluorescent Lights should be among the most difficult albums in Ian Williams’ career. I got really enthralled by his work in Battles but could never really get a handle on Don Caballero, and even the first Storm & Stress record kinda exhausted me. But the Under Thunder album is incredibly special in a really subjective way. He plucks weirdly at his guitar and mumbles word salad lyrics and it makes me feel way more centered than I was before putting it on. Kevin Shea pummels his drumkit randomly and it’s like watching rising and falling waves. Eric Emm’s bass glues it all together with pretty ambient drones. Jim O’Rourke’s production seems completely nonexistent until all sorts of weird sonic flourishes and audible musical transitions make themselves apparent. I put this album on and it grows in front of me, and its random little tendrils then strike me in strange, wistful, calming ways.

I don’t know why these two records make me feel so sad and comforted in ways so many other records don’t. I want to theorize, but I don’t want to talk myself in circles.

[heycoyotegirl]

Safe to Shore

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24252283 Relationships: Paxton Hall-Yoshida/Devi Vishwakumar Additional Tags: Pre-Relationship, Panic Attacks, paxton is a soft boy and i will die on this hill, no beta we die like non-honors students, Mutual Pining Summary: Devi has a panic attack after falling into the pool. Paxton helps her through it. A/N: This is my first NHIE fic, so let me know if I got their voices right! It’s also unbetad, so please point out any mistakes.

Paxton was leading her somewhere. She wasn’t quite sure where. He’d said something—about clothes, maybe—but her ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton. And the party continued to rage around them. The bass of too loud music thumped through her body, shaking her bones and forcing her heartbeat to match the racing tempo.

The breeze against her damp skin made her shiver. Made her keep shivering. Hadn’t they just been inside? Why was there a breeze? Where—

Paxton’s hand left her lower back, and she found herself suddenly swaying on her feet. She hadn’t even realized that his hand had been there until its support was gone. What was happening to her that she hadn’t realized that Paxton was touching her? Was she dying? Her chest hurt with every inhale. The air stabbing into her lungs, trying to cut her to ribbons. Her heart was pounding, about to break free from her ribcage. And the world around her seemed muted and muffled and blurry. Weirdly distorted like she was—

Underwater.

Oh, God.

“Woah!”

She felt distant hands grab at her. Pulling her out of the water? Or pushing her deeper? The breeze was ice against her skin. Her pulse thudded in her ears, everything else drowned out by its roar. She had to find the surface, but her legs were numb, useless, paralyzed. Her lungs were caving in—or, no, filled with water. The pressure unbearable. Ribs cracking under the strain. Her throat tightened. She was choking. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe and—

“Devi! Devi, hey, can you hear me? I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

Paxton. Paxton’s hand in her’s. Paxton’s face in her field of view. His eyebrows drawn together, lips tight with worry. Worry—for her?

She managed to nod her head, motions jerky. The motion unbalanced her. Set her head spinning. The rip current threatening to drag her deeper.

Paxton squeezed her hand. A lifebuoy. “Ok, can you name five things you can see for me?”

The world was still swimming. She felt disconnected, trapped at the bottom of a pool while everyone watched impassively from above. She was still shaking. Why couldn’t she stop shaking?

“Devi?” Paxton prompted, voice so soft it made her ache.

“Right.” Forcing that single word out through the water in her lungs was exhausting. But she couldn’t let Paxton down. Couldn’t disappoint him. The last person still in her life. Five things. “Um. Your eyes. Your jacket. The ground. My dress.” With each word spoken, the next came a little easier. But still, she hesitated for a second. Her voice dropped, nearly whispering, “Your lips.”

Said lips curved into a small smile. “Good. Now, what are four things you can feel?”

Her breath hitched, and her vision abruptly went blurry. Her eyes stung—chlorine? She blinked rapidly. Her hand darted to her leg, pinching her skin roughly, nails digging in hard enough to draw blood. “My—my legs. I can’t—I can’t feel—”

Paxton caught her hand, gently prying it away from her leg. He replaced it with his own, palm burning her skin like a brand. “I got you. I promise, your legs still work. Do you think you can tell me four things you feel?”

Devi managed another approximation of a nod. His thumb started to rub little circles by her knee, the repetitive motion soothing enough that she managed to take a deep—shuddering and painful—breath. Still, progress.

“Your hand—hands,” she said. Paxton’s grip on her tightened for a second. She met his gaze and found herself shuddering for a new reason. “Uh, the breeze. The pavement. My awful, wet dress.” She was starting to settle back into herself. Unfortunately, that meant she was all too aware of the way the damp fabric clung to her.

“Good. You’re almost done, and then we’ll get you out of that wet dress. What are three things you can hear?”

Devi stared at him silently for a moment, but if he realized what he said, he didn’t show it. Perhaps she was still more out of it than she’d thought. Eventually, she answered, “Your voice. The music. My heart.” The last, she said softly, like it was a confession. Maybe it was. The fear was receding, leaving bone deep fatigue in its place, but her heart continued to race.

Paxton smiled at her. Had he been that close a second ago? “Two things you can smell.”

“Chlorine and…”—her nose wrinkled—“chlorine.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I’ll give you that one. It really covers everything up.”

Devi smiled back at him. They were still holding hands. Could he feel her pulse fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings? She hoped her hand wasn’t too clammy.

“Last one: One thing you can taste. Or would like to taste.”

You. “Chlorine, again,” she said, sticking her tongue out in feigned disgust.

Paxton chuckled softly, the sound punching her straight in the gut. They were both silent for a moment. His breathing was slow and deep, and Devi found herself unconsciously matching him. He was the metronome, demanding her to keep time. Her lungs twinged as they expanded fully, but when Paxton paused for a beat between inhale and exhale, she mimicked him, relishing in the ache after the suffocating feeling from before.

His voice was quiet as he asked, “Are you feeling better?”

She glanced away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah. Thank you for that.”

“Of course.” His gaze was heavy when she looked up, and she nearly held her breath in anticipation. But she couldn’t afford to screw this up and lose yet another person. She slipped her hand out of his, making a futile attempt—mostly for show—to squeeze some of the water out of the hem of her dress.

“You said something about clothes?” Getting her out of that wet dress, to be specific. She pushed the thought away; she had to focus on being a good friend, not pining away hopelessly.

“Right.” He sounded—disappointed? Her head whipped up. He didn’t look disappointed. Wishful thinking, then. This “being a good friend” thing might be tougher than she’d thought. He gave her thigh one last squeeze—how had she missed the fact that his hand was still on her leg?—and stood, offering a hand to help her up. “I have some extra sweats in the car that you can wear.”

The thought of wearing Paxton’s clothes would have sent her into a tizzy any other day. Today, she was bone-deep exhausted. Which she realized when she stood and nearly face planted into Paxton’s chest. Her knees buckling threatened to send her spiraling again, but she could still feel them, feel the lead weights in all of her muscles and the throbbing from her ill-advised pinch.

Plus, Paxton’s hands were on her waist, saving her from breaking her nose on his sternum or tipping over backwards to crack her skull on his car. He was murmuring at her, not really saying anything, but tone and cadence soothing. It reminded her of someone talking to an injured wild animal they were trying to catch. These days, she often felt like a wild animal, cornered and scared and lashing out at the people trying to help her.

“Devi?”

She shook the thoughts off, starting slightly as she realized that Paxton’s hands were still on her waist and her hands were clutching his forearms. “Sorry,” she said, not moving her hands. “I kind of got lost in thought there.”

Paxton shrugged. “No worries. I should’ve realized that your blood sugar would be low. I’ve got snacks in the car. Think you can lean against the car and stay upright long enough for me to grab them?”

She nodded, albeit reluctantly. But only because his hands were warm and she was cold. Definitely not because standing like that made it very easy to fantasize about kissing him. She half listened to Paxton rattle off an implausibly long list of choices—was he running some sort of strange convenience store out of the back of his jeep?—eventually just letting him decide.

He’d returned quickly, snacks and sweats in hand and watched her like a hawk as she carefully lowered herself to sit leaning against the car’s tire. And thus, she found herself sitting on the ground outside Ben’s house—outside the biggest party of the year—in a wet dress, drinking a juice box and eating banana bread with Paxton Hall-Yoshida, the hottest guy in school. If her thigh didn’t still hurt, she’d be tempted to pinch herself again.

She was on her second slice—Paxton was on what seemed to be his second loaf—when the wind blew sharply, reminding her of the fact that she was still soaked. She shivered violently, and Paxton was on his feet instantly. “You should get changed,” he said, stepping around to the other side of the car. “Wouldn’t want to go to the hospital for hypothermia.”

She nodded and pulled his sweatshirt over her head so that she could maintain some amount of dignity while wiggling out of the clingy fabric. “Thanks for letting me borrow your sweats. This is so embarrassing; you keep having to rescue me at parties.”

“It’s not embarrassing for me.” He shot her a slight smile. “I always come out of it looking cool.”

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Heathers | Sweet Pea

A/N: Part three! 

Act one - Act two 

Words: 2622

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Reader

Warnings: angst, fighting, cursing

Act three: Fight For Me 

Another day, another rehearsal. Today, we’re mostly revising the things we’d already done. Like Beautiful, Candy Store and Freeze Your Brain. Mostly Candy Store since Cheryl didn’t know we’d changed the choreo a little to have both of Cheryl’s and Toni’s in there. “Thanks a lot, Y/N,” Cheryl had attacked me viciously. “Don’t blame me, Cheryl. You should’ve been more professional.” Sweet Pea had glanced back at me with a smirk on his face, agreeing with my statement. The redhead scoffs, but then focuses on my mixed choreo anyway. I could tell Betty and Veronica had a lot more fun on stage since I did the number with them the other day. It’s fun to see everyone getting better every single time. “Let’s take five, guys, and then we’re doing Our Love Is God,” Kevin tells us when the Heathers have finished their Candy Store rehearsal. “Hey, Y/N,” I hear Sweet Pea’s voice behind me as I’m searching for my water bottle in my bag. “Hey,” I greet back when I’ve found it and stand up straight to face the tall Serpent. “I think I could get some pointers on Meant to Be Yours and I am Damaged. Would it be okay to rehearse together tonight?” I can feel my face heat up as a smile finds its way back to my face. “Yeah, sure! Your place or mine?” I ask and sip from my water. “Mine, if that would be okay? My auntie is dropping off my little cousin after school and I need to watch him for tonight,” he explains. “He’ll probably be in bed when you arrive though.” He adds it quickly as though that would be a reason for me not to come. I love watching children. And I love it when guys are good with kids too. Due to the gender roles and double standards, you wouldn’t think guys were good with kids and only women are meant to be gifted in that department. “Oh, that’s fine. I don’t mind. I’ll swing by after school? We could order some pizzas for dinner?” I suggest, making it an entire date. His eyes widen a little at the realization. “If I’m giving you some pointers, I’ll probably be there all night long,” I say in a teasing tone, and it makes him chuckle. “Yeah, after school it is,” he nods and gets to his spot so we can start rehearsing Our Love is God. I’m reminded of Friday night when we were at Pop’s and I’d started singing it softly, only to him, and then he’d continued singing. That was one of my favorite moments I’d ever had with a co-star. “Yeah-lo?” Archie says as Kurt Kelly on the other side of the stage, holding a vintage telephone horn to his ear. “Hi, Kurt. It’s Veronica… how did you guys know it was always a fantasy of mine to have two guys at once?” I ask in an innocent voice as Sweet Pea snickers beside me as JD. “Wow, uh… Lucky guess?” he exclaims, punching Reggie in the shoulder. “Well, if you want it to come true, meet me at the cemetery, at dawn,” I say and then hang up the horn. Archie does the same as he looks at Reggie in absolute merriment. “Free pussy!” he yells, and Reggie suddenly mirrors his expression. “And we don’t even have to buy it a pizza!” Reggie exclaims excitedly and the two boys fist bump, saying “Punch it in!” before heading into the wings, laughing, leaving Sweet Pea and I alone on the stage again. “We can start and finish wars We're what killed the dinosaurs We're the asteroid that's overdue The dinosaurs choked on the dust They died because God said they must The new world needed room For me and you” Sweet Pea and I sing the lines together, moving towards the center of the stage, staying close to one another. Then, Sweet Pea turns me, so I face him, and he keeps his hands on my hips while mine grip at his long trench coat. “I worship you I'd trade my life for yours They all will disappear We'll plant our garden here” Then I echo, “Plant our garden here,” after which we leap into a couple of “Our love is God”. I’m weirdly comfortable in Sweet Pea’s arms. I’ve only met him a couple of weeks ago when we started rehearsing and only really got to know him a bit better on Friday night. It does freak me out a little bit. But for now, it’s only a benefit to our acting performance that I feel this comfortable. I listen to him sing as I’m kneeled down next to Archie, who had been ‘shot’ first, as he’s keeping Reggie at gun point. For some reason, he looks hot when he’s about to fake kill somebody. He then ‘shoots’, and Reggie falls on the floor. “What the fuck have you done?!” I shout at him and get up from my spot on the stage to walk over to him. In the process of doing so, I slip on one of the boys’ shoes as they had to strip for this scene. I prepare for the fall, but it never comes as a hand grabs me by my arm and holds me up. When I turn my head, I’m face to face with Sweet Pea, who simply keeps going like a true theater professional. “I worship you I'd trade my life for yours We'll make them disappear We'll plant our garden here” Then, we leap back into the Our Love is God’s until the song finishes and Reggie and Archie get up again from their death-spot. The others from the cast in the audience, applaud for us, even Cheryl who didn’t used to do that last week or even earlier today when we did Freeze Your Brain. “Are you okay?” Sweet Pea then asks when he finally lets go of my arm. “Yeah, I just tripped over a shoe,” I reply with a smile, “Thanks for saving me though.” Sweet Pea opens his smiling mouth to say something back, but Kevin interrupts him. That’s also when I get snapped into real life again and out of my bubble with Sweet Pea. “That was amazing! Let’s do Blue now, and then we’ll wrap up for today,” he says, “Anyone who isn’t in this scene can go home if they want.” Sweet Pea turns his head to me, his face in a pained expression. I give him a smile. “You can go. Just text me your address and I’ll come over when we’re done here.” He nods his head, grabs the pistol prop from me and puts it in its place, so I can do the scene with Veronica, Betty, Archie and Reggie. I was kind of hoping I could go home with Sweet Pea instead. The ride on his motorbike on Friday was so amazing and so freeing, that I’d give anything to do it again. There was just something about holding him by his torso and feeling the wind whoosh on my face – I was wearing his helmet, so no wind through my hair. Or maybe it was just being so close to him that made it so much fun and easy. Oh no…

Sweet Pea had texted me the trailer number he lived in at Sunnyside, so I drove my car there and parked just in front of the park before getting out. Just as I shut my door and locked the car, I hear smacking and grunting and groaning. With furrowed brows I walk towards the sound, only to find Sweet Pea fighting some Ghoulie – another gang we should definitely steer clear from. Rumored cannibals. “Hey!” I shout and run up to the two. “Stop it! Stop it right now!” I yell, capturing both the boy’s attention. Sweet Pea’s face is almost covered entirely in blood and it pains me to see him like this. “Ah, Sweet Pea, don’t tell me this is her…” the Ghoulie says with a bemused smile on his face. “A Northsider, really? Out of all the people… I—” before the guy can even say another word, Sweet Pea lashes out and his fist hits the Ghoulie’s jaw, sending him to the ground. “Holy shit!” I yelp, bringing my hands up to cover my mouth. “Sweet Pea, come on!” I grab his arm and pull him away from the Ghoulie. Reluctantly, the tall Serpent backs off and follows me to his trailer. “I can’t believe you fought a Ghoulie,” I mumble as he unlocks his door and lets me in first. “Where’s your first aid kit?” he points to the door on my right, and when I walk through it, I find myself in the bathroom. It’s small. Really small. I doubt you could even move in here when there’s two people inside. Without judging it any further, I open the mirror-cupboard and grab the small red box with the cross on top. If this isn’t it, he needs to sort out his life. “How was the rehearsal?” he asks, hoping for the subject not to be his fighting. “Don’t,” I reply curtly, “Don’t pretend you’re not nearly bleeding and bruising to death, Noah.” I use his real name to get the point across right while wetting a gauze with disinfectant. “Don’t call me that,” he sneers, then hisses when I dab the wound on his forehead from the Ghoulie’s ring. “I was just trying to lighten the mood.” I sigh deeply, then grab another gauze since the first one is now covered in blood. He hisses again as the wet gauze comes into contact with the injury. “It’s not that bad.” “Why were you fighting that Ghoulie? And where is your cousin?” I ask two questions in one go. “My cousin’s in my bedroom, playing a game on my phone. I was just going out to get some apple juice for him from the supermarket when I bumped into the Ghoulie. He started bashing me about the musical and …” he trails off a little before adding, “you…” “So, then you decided to punch him in the eye?” I ask whilst covering the wound with a plaster. “Don’t give me shit about this right now, Y/N. Everything kind of hurts and I’m really regretting doing it all.” My lips pull into a pained grimace as I start on his bloody knuckles. I can’t really tell if it’s his blood or the Ghoulie’s. Maybe both. “Could you…” he starts, but then stops. “Never mind, it’s going to sound stupid.” I stop what I’m doing and look up at him instead. “No, tell me. Nothing you ever say would sound stupid. Anything Reggie says, however…” I trail off suggestively and earn a chuckle from the boy. “Just tell me, Sweets.” I encourage him before going back to cleaning his knuckles. “Could you sing for me? It always soothes me when you do,” he asks sheepishly, and when I look up again, he’s staring at his hand in mine. I take a deep breath before leaping into the first song that pops into my head. Which is also vaguely appropriate for this situation. “Hey, Mister No Name Kid So who might you be? And could you fight for me? And hey, could you face the crowd? Could you be seen with me and still act proud?” I glance up at him, shooting him a small smile. “Hey, could you hold my hand? And could you carry me through no man's land? It's fine if you don't agree But I would fight for you If you would fight for me” I bandage up his knuckles then, whilst still continuing the song. “Let them drive us underground I don't care how far You can set my broken bones And I know CPR” He chuckles a little at my suggesting expression, just as I would during the show.

“Well, whoa You can punch real good” I place a soft kiss on his bandaged fist. “You've lasted longer than I thought you would So hey, Mister No Name Kid If some night, you're free Wanna fight for me?” The next thing I do is grab a salve that I know also works for bruises. So, I put a dollop on my finger and begin to softly massage it into the spots that are already bruising and turning blue. “If you're still alive I would fight for you If you would fight for me!” My hand lands on his cheek and stays there as I finish the last high note. For a moment after, we stay like that; staring in each other’s eyes with my hand on his cheek and panting a little from the endeavor of singing.   “Thanks,” Sweet Pea whispers, and I catch him glancing from eyes to my lips. This can’t happen. I need to stay professional in this. So, I cough and snap both of us from our trance. “No problem. Let’s rehearse now, shall we?” I say and reach for my bag to grab my script. “Let’s order some pizza first, I think Jordan might be hungry or getting bored. Or both,” he chuckles a little while grabbing his phone to call the closest pizza joint. “Hey, why don’t we play some games with him instead of rehearsing? We’ve done plenty of it already and we can get back to it tomorrow. Let’s just babysit your cousin for the night, keep him entertained.” He nods his head with a smile and dials the pizza guy first before getting Jordan. The rest of the night, we spend playing games, eating pizza, and finish by watching one movie with Jordan together before we put him in his bed. “Will you be here again next time I stay here, Y/N?” Jordan asks when I tuck him in bed with Sweet Pea towering over me from behind. I smile at the little eight-year-old and push a strand of his long, curly hair out of his face. “I can’t promise you that, big guy. But I’ll try, okay?” He nods his head in response before wiggling down a little and snuggling into his pillow. “Shall we watch one more movie, and then I’ll get going.” “Or you could stay?” the tall Serpent suggests with a sheepish grin on his face. “Sweets, I—” before I can finish my sentence, he’s already cut me off. “Come on, Y/N. Please, stay?” he steps closer to me, and places his hands on my hips like he does so many times during the musical. “Besides, Jordan will love it when he sees you at breakfast?” he tries, hoping the mention of his way too adorable cousin will win me over. It does. My willpower isn’t that strong. I groan, rolling my eyes. “Fine.” Sweet Pea lets out a ‘yes’, “But we’re watching Heathers the movie tonight.” I point my finger at him as if telling him that would be my one condition to doing this. He nods his head in agreement, and the two of us settle on the sofa as I text my mother I’ll be staying over at Margot’s. If she finds out I stayed over at a Serpent’s house, she will kill me, and him. Even though I have a ‘I don’t care’ attitude towards them, my parents do not share the same morals. So, the rest of the night is spent like that; cuddled up on the sofa whilst watching Heathers until both of us fall asleep. I didn’t think I would have so much fun with Sweet Pea or feel so comfortable around him. It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s that it scares me a little.

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

Gibbous Chapter 7

Chapter Title: J is for Jerk

Summary:  Virgil's life is actually going good for once, Roman aside. However, of course something comes down to knock down the metaphorical house of cards, that something's name being Jerad.

Word-Count: 6046

Warnings:  Crying, Death Mention, Gaslighting, Verbal/Physical Abuse, Panic Attack

Previous | Present | Next

AO3 Link

A/N: Hello everyone! I told myself I'd update this fic on my birthday and well here I am! *inserts The Emperor's New Groove gif of Kuzco going "This is my birthday gift to me! I'm so happy!"*

Many thanks to @theeternalspace for listening to my numerous rants about this chapter, reading over this chapter like three times for me and being a patient, encouraging friend. And also thank you to everyone who has left such nice comments on this fic in recent weeks, I appreciate them all <3

Also a majority of this chapter's events take place before Chapter 5 just to clear things up.

-

Roman aside, Virgil’s miserable attempt at life was...far from miserable at the moment. He actually liked his job, for one. His coworkers were friendly and he found sorting books and putting them away weirdly soothing. He had three actual friends. Something he was still reeling from.

Still, even with these good things his mind was prone to worry.  It was annoying. He knew he should be grateful, that he should enjoy it while it lasted. But anxiety isn’t known to be bend to rational thought. That was sorta the whole point of anxiety.

He tried ignoring the impending sense of doom. It had to be just irrational nonsense and nothing more. Except it wasn’t. Something came, carelessly knocking down the tower of cards. That something’s name was Jerad.

Virgil was like 75% percent positive that the letter J in Jerad’s name stood for jerk. Though, Jerad was deserving of a variety of more explicit, foul names than jerk. Virgil, having a healthy fear of death, chose not to disclose them to Jerad himself. Instead, he thought about them, silently, in his head.

But…he wasn’t a jerk all the time; hence the 75%. For as much as Virgil complained about his roommate, Jerad wasn’t that bad of a guy. When he wasn’t drinking or blasting his music of course. It wasn’t like Virgil was in a position to confront him about either of those things.

Jerad let him go late on paying the rent more times than he could count. Hell he wouldn’t have a place to live it wasn’t for Jerad.

He’d been almost eighteen and panicking. When he turned eighteen, he’d be kicked out of the foster care system. While Virgil hated the system, but it ensured him a place to stay and food to eat. Soon that’d be all on him to figure that stuff out. For such a small amount of space, apartments were ridiculously expensive. There’d be no way for him to rent an apartment without resorting to having a roommate to help pay the rent.

It was something he dreaded, because it meant he had to coexist with a virtual stranger. Which really wasn’t different from drifting from foster home to foster home. It still didn’t mean Virgil was fond of the idea.

When Jerad caught a whiff of his dilemma, he’d came to his aid.

“My roommate Robby left me to pay the rest of the lease on my own—skipped town, the bastard. I figure, you can have his room as long as you pay your part of the rent. Whattaya say?” Jerad flashed a grin.

“U—uh sure.” Virgil stammered, “thank you so much!”

“Don’t thank me, it’s what anyone would do.” Jerad laughed, patting Virgil’s back.

Virgil flinched a bit at the action. He didn’t like how Jared patted his back just a little too hard. However he kept his mouth shut. After all, the guy had just offered him a place to stay. Jerad kept rattling on about details for the apartment, appearing completely ignorant of Virgil’s discomfort.

At the time, he knew Jerad as his friendly-but-annoying-at-times coworker. He had no reason to assume otherwise. Especially when Jerad did such nice things like furnish the apartment with a new couch and refused to take Virgil’s money for it.

Sure, sometimes he used those nice things against Virgil when they got into an argument.

“Well since I was the one who brought the couch, I think I reserve the right to watch TV whenever I want to!”

But he was always quick to apologize a day or two later. Such as the incident that happened when Virgil arrived home from the werewolves’ house the first time. Jerad had been drunk that night, yelling and accusing of Virgil attempting to skip town.

Virgil had been terrified. How was he going to explain to Jerad he might not have a job anymore? It was one thing to pay rent late, it was another to have absolutely no money at all. What was he supposed to say?

“Hey, uh, I kinda got kidnapped by werewolves and spent a night locked in their basement, sorry about the inconvenience?”

It sounded laughable to his own ears. Hell, if he hadn’t experienced it himself, he wouldn’t believe it. It was crazy. Paranormal sightings in the city hadn’t happened in the city for years. It was unlikely anyone was going to believe his story. He’d look like the boy who cried wolf, literally .

There was also the fact that he could possibly hurt Patton in the process and…he didn’t want that. Not after anything he’d done for Virgil.

He had to come up with a story that was more believable than that. A lie, essentially. Lying was not Virgil’s forte. He didn’t like it. Didn’t like how it made his stomach churn and his mouth dry. But there was no damn way he was telling the truth.

He paced the narrow length of his room, hands pulling at his greasy locks of hair. A story, a story—what he could possibly say? He got drunk and woke up three states away with no idea where he was? No, no that’s unbelievable. Jerad knew he wouldn’t pull off a stunt like that.

Virgil would have maybe one or two drinks. But never enough to get him flat-out drunk. He disliked the loss of control that came with being tipsy.

Still, Jerad tried his best to pressure him otherwise. Sometimes when none of his other friends were available, he dragged Virgil to bars to be his drinking buddy for the night. He had to come up with something else.

Could he tell the truth and just conveniently leave out the fact they’d been werewolves? Would anyone believe that complete strangers would do such a thing? Virgil wouldn’t.

Amnesia, maybe? A fib about how he got whacked on the head so hard that he completely lost all his memories? It happened all the time in novels and movies. Real life? Not so much.

Virgil let out a pained groan, collapsing onto his bed. He couldn’t think of anything that would satisfy Jerad. Even telling the truth was sure to earn Jerad’s ire. He’d accuse of Virgil of telling a lie even then. There was only one thing that Jerad would believe. It was the very thing he’d accused Virgil the night before.

His chest tightened at even the thought of it. It was just like any of the other explanation he’d thought of telling Jerad; they were all fake. So why was he more conflicted using that one than the others? He hadn’t even denied it when Jerad had brought it up a second time.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, alright?”

Jerad hardly remembered anything when he was plastered. There was a good chance he’d forgotten about the whole interaction from the night before. But there was always a slim chance that he hadn’t. Virgil didn’t like taking that chance.

Okay, he skipped town. That was his story. But why did he skip town? What had made him come crawling back? Think Virgil, think!

His doorknob rattled as an outside force tried turning it open. Jerad. Virgil sat frozen for the few seconds it continued to jingle. He was relieved he’d had the foresight to lock it in the first place. Virgil knew that his thin wooden door was hardly any protection against him and Jerad, a former star high school football quarterback. It was really only a matter of time until Jerad broke through and beat him to a pulp.

Except that didn’t happen. Jerad would never beat him to a pulp—or he’d at least never done it before. There could always be a first time. That didn’t change the fact that Jerad had physically hurt him before. It was only a bruise, here and there.

Drunk Jerad forgot about his own strength sometimes. Sometimes a friendly slap on the back wasn’t so friendly. Still, Virgil had worse. He still had scars left over from high school bullies and the few bad foster parents he’d endured. He never had any lasting marks from Jerad. Only bruises that faded into oblivion.

“Hey Virgin, you awake?” Jerad asked through the door.

Virgil exhaled sharply at the nickname. Jerad wasn’t the first one in his life to call him that. The high school bullies had really jumped on that one. His name Virgil sounded similar to Virgin—hilarious. Truly, comedy gold.

He’d asked Jerad once to not to call him by that. The other had laughed.

“Oh, don’t be such a pussy!” Jerad said, taking a swig of his beer, “It’s true isn’t it?”

“Well yes—”

“Then I don’t see the problem with me stating facts,” Jerad shrugged his shoulders, “Tell you what? I’ll stop calling you that once you find a hot chick to hook up with.”

That interaction with Jerad left a bad taste in his mouth. It was true—Jerad and the others were just stating a fact. Virgil was a virgin. He wasn’t ashamed of it. But he hated how they said it—like it was synonymous with loser. Worse, he was somehow lesser for it.

There wasn’t anything wrong with being a virgin, was there? Or being repulsed by the idea of sex. There was a term for that. Asexuality. He had come across it on Tumblr. It’d been a relief to know he wasn’t the only one. He hadn’t told Jerad. There was no use when he already knew what his response would be.

He’d laugh and tell Virgil he’d change his mind. Or that he was just imagining he was that way. The last one was what Virgil feared most. What if he was just making it up?

Virgil shoved those thoughts away, taking a deep breath. Shit, how long had Jerad been waiting for an answer behind the door?

With a trembling hand, he reached for the door. He unlocked it before swinging it open. Jerad stood there, grinning. He didn’t know if that was a good or bad sign.

“Hi, Jerad,” Virgil said, attempting to keep his voice level.

“You’re really here…” Jerad’s grin grew wider, “I thought you coming back was a dream or something.”

“About that—”

“Oh boy you missed the wildest party ever—I’ll tell you over breakfast, my treat!”

He swung an arm over Virgil who allowed himself to be dragged outside his room, outside the apartment. He’d been too shocked to protest. He doubted he could wiggle out of Jared’s ironclad grip even if he wanted to. Was Jerad after last night really taking him out to eat? Apparently so, as the two walked through the doorway of a cute breakfast café.

Jerad rambled on the party, but Virgil could hardly focus on his words. He nodded at all the right parts, giving the façade he was listening. All he could hear was the thrum of his heartbeat roaring in his ears.

He moved his food around the plate, merely giving the impression he was eating. Virgil never had much of an appetite but he definitely didn’t have one at the moment. His plate was gigantic. Bigger than the typical American restaurant serving, which was already impossible to eat in one sitting. There was a stack of steaming buttermilk pancakes dripping with syrup. A bowl full of fresh fruit. Lastly, there was also a plate with sunny side up eggs, bacon and sausage. His stomach turned to knots just looking at it.

Virgil, not wanting to take advantage of Jerad’s generosity, had tried ordering the cheapest item on the menu. Jared laughed and told the waitress to disregard that. Virgil didn’t correct him when the waitress looked over at him for confirmation. He gave only a feeble nod, his gaze falling onto the checkered tiled floor.

“You’re my friend, Virgil. No need to go starving for my sake!” Jared laughed, giving him a light punch on the arm. It was just a friendly tap, he knew Jared didn’t mean anything by it. He still tensed up when he saw that hand coming towards him.

Virgil had chuckled weakly in response.

He hadn’t taken a single bite of his meal. He felt guilty—Jared had paid for it and he couldn’t even muster up the appetite. He was too busy thinking about how he was to break it to Jared he probably didn’t have a job anymore. Jared often let him pay his rent late—sometimes allowing Virgil to go without paying that month’s rent at all. But this was different. What if he couldn’t find a job? Would Jared throw him out on the streets?

“Hey Virgil, mind sharing a piece of your sausage with me?” Jared asked, jarring Virgil out of his thoughts.

Jared had gotten the same dish as Virgil. In fact, he still had some of his own sausage left. But it wasn’t like Virgil was going to be eating his anytime soon. Virgil nodded, sliding the plate closer to Jared. The other man dug into it, without saying a word of thanks to him.

“Y’know, you’ve been really quiet, V-Man,” Jared said, mouth half full of food, “What’s up with you? Are you constipated?”

“N—no, I just,” Virgil hesitated, “Why aren’t you angry? Weren’t you mad last night?”

Jared’s eyes darkened and immediately Virgil regretted his words.

“I was drunk, Virgin . You know I don’t mean anything when I’m drunk,” He scowled, “Sure I was worried. I thought maybe you pulled the same shit on me as Robby. But I wasn’t angry.”

“You weren’t?”

“Of course not, especially since you came back!” Jared’s eyes brightened once more.

Virgil bit his lips, “Jared, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Now, now none of that chicken shit!” Jared interrupted, clasping Virgil’s shoulder, “I gotta go to work soon, but whataya say that tonight you tell me where you’ve been? We can go hit up a few bars and get fucking wasted.”

“S—sure.”

“A—awesome!” Jared said, mocking Virgil’s stutter, before breaking into a fit of laughter.

Jared never accepted Virgil’s apology or really allowed him a chance to explain. It was probably best, considering Virgil himself didn’t know how. He did allow Virgil to stay at the apartment. He had even been the one to encourage Virgil to go back to Kirby’s to get his job back there.

“C’mon Virgey, man up! Give some sob story about your mother being in the hospital and the old hag will eat it up.”

Virgil clenched his teeth, “Yeah, Jerad, I’m sure that’d work great except my parents are dead .”

“Oh right,” Jerad said, having enough decency to look a bit remorseful, “Well, make something else up then!”

So sure, Jerad was a jerk that played loud music. He was also a jerk that shared his apartment with Virgil and occasionally did nice things like buy him breakfast. So he couldn’t be that bad of a guy, right? Or so he thought.

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

Virgil’s first mistake had been falling unconscious on the couch. It wasn’t even that comfortable, with its’ broken springs and sunken cushions that smelled like liquor. Even his lumpy mattress was a step up to the couch. Really, fifteen paces and he could collapse on his bed within the security of his room.

Fifteen paces, however, seemed impossible to an exhausted Virgil. He worked a full day running on only a few hours’ of sleep in the last 48 hours. It happened when you were an insomniac. Virgil scraped by with copious amounts of coffee. Caffeine always gave him a pounding headache, but it was better than being a literal zombie. He should’ve known all that caffeine would result in a crash.

Virgil shuffled inside his apartment, lasting a few steps in before his vision swarmed. He swayed, his body dipping downwards in a vertical dive. ‘ Oh, I’m falling ,’ He realized belatedly. His last thoughts hoping he made contact with the couch rather than the floor.

“Virgil!”

Someone called his name. He made a sluggish attempt to move his limbs, still fraught with fatigue. How long had he been asleep? It felt like forever. His subconscious threatened to drag him back into its depths. But alas, it was not to be.

Something shoved Virgil off the couch, causing him to collide with the cold hard floor. Virgil let out a groan. The sharp pain coursing through veins jerked him wide awake. A ravenous laughter roared above him. Jerad.

He must’ve shoved Virgil as a joke. That was all there was to it. Nothing to get worked up over. Still, Virgil was on the couch. Jerad’s couch. Jerad was going to yell at him for hogging the couch when he had a perfectly good bed to sleep on--

Virgil’s breath hitched.

This should’ve been where he stammered an apology to Jerad before fleeing to his bedroom. Like he’d done plenty of times before. Except in the midst of Jerad’s laughter, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Without thinking, he pulled it out. That had been his second mistake.

Because it was a text from Patton. The werewolf sent him an outdated meme. Like one might find from a cringey Facebook meme-page frequented by soccer moms and elderly people. But it was from Patton and Virgil couldn’t help the smile that curled across his face.

“Aww Virgie, who you texting? Did you finally get laid?”

A hand snatched the phone away from his grasp.

“Hey give it back!” Virgil lunged toward Jerad, but the former football quarterback easily sidestepped him. This caused Virgil to crash hard into the coffee-table. Virgil stifled a curse as he rose up.

“What? Afraid I’ll see some embarrassing sexts?” Jerad rolled his eyes, his thumb flicking across the cracked screen. His smile dissipated as he scrolled further and further into the text conversation.

“Virgil, what the hell is this?”

Oh no . There wasn’t any reference to Pat being a werewolf was there? Aside from memes, there wasn’t much on there as far as he could recall.

“It’s a text conversation with my friend Patton.” Virgil swallowing, trying to push down the fear that threatened to engulf him.

“Steven Universe? This guy watches little kid shows? Are you friends with a five-year-old?! C’mon this is paaaathetic .”

“Jerad, please give me my phone back.” Virgil begged, reaching for the phone but Jerad held it high above his head.

“Nah, this shit is hilarious. I can’t believe this guy really thinks he’s your friend!”

“Thinks? Jerad, he is my friend.”

But his roommate just laughed as if Virgil told a joke.

“Psh, yeah right. You’re telling me you’re friends with a guy that thinks puns are funny?” Jerad rolled his eyes, “Like this one, ‘don’t go bacon my heart’?”

“Jerad, give it back!” Virgil growled, his eyes shiny with righteous fury. It was one thing when Jerad teased him. It was another thing entirely for him to attack Patton. It didn’t matter the werewolf wasn’t there to hear it. It also didn’t matter he’d have no idea unless Virgil told him. Virgil’s vision still went red.

He hopped on top of the coffee-table, using the added height to make a better grab for the phone. Jerad leapt out of the way, finding the attempt amusing. They began a chase around the cramped apartment, no doubt causing a ruckus for their neighbors to hear. Jerad continued reading the texts in a mocking, shrill voice. It only drove Virgil angrier, making his reaches more frantic.

They had ended up on their apartment balcony when Jerad suddenly halted. Virgil almost ran into him, stopping just in the nick of time. All signs of teasing had left Jerad’s face. It was blank and it was honestly starting to frighten Virgil how he kept scrolling up the text conversation with a blank look on his face.

“Um,” Virgil began nervously, “Jerad, dude, you okay?”

“Are you planning on fucking leaving me without warning, like Robbie?” Jerad demanded.

Virgil took a step back, “What? No!”

“Then what are these texts?” Jerad demanded, before reading them out in a disgusted tone.

Hi Virgil! I noticed some new apartments going up a couple blocks away from the library. They look super cute! It’d only take you five minutes to walk to work!

I heard there was a shooting near your apartment last night, u ok?

Your landlord should really take care of that, it’s a safety hazard!

Wow, I’m sorry to hear that. Your roommate should be more considerate and not play his music so loudly.

Shit . Shit, shit, shit. He’d forgotten about those texts. Patton was unusually concerned about Virgil’s safety. Or at least, Virgil wasn’t used to other people caring for him in that capacity before. He’d been trying to encourage Virgil to find a better living situation for weeks now. Which was great, except Virgil couldn’t do it for a multitude of reasons.

Finding a new apartment would most likely involve finding a new roommate. As Virgil sure as hell wasn’t going to be able to afford an apartment by himself. He couldn’t move in with Remy because the vamp lived on campus. The werewolves’ house was also a no-go because Roman. And besides Jerad would be so upset after everything he’d done for Virgil.

Of course Jerad would come across those texts. Virgil was certain he must’ve broken a mirror or something to deserve this amount of bad luck.

“Dude, I swear it isn’t like that,” Virgil protested, “Patton, he’s just been concerned that--”

“Oh don’t give me that bullshit! Don’t you see what he’s trying to do?”

“W-what?”

“He’s manipulating you--duping you into thinking I’m the bad guy when I’ve been the one helping you longer than he has! I’ve let you skip rent a few times, let you use my couch, my TV and you’re really gonna listen to him? What has he or anyone else have done for you?”

“It isn’t--isn’t like that! Patton, he--he offers good advice, he’s just looking out for me! So is Remy. He helped me get a new job--”

“A new job?” Jerad asked, “why didn’t you tell me you had a new job?!”

Virgil just stared at him, stomach sinking. He told Jerad this weeks ago. It’d taken a lot to tell him, and Jerad, he hadn’t--he didn’t retain any of it?!

“Why do you care so much?” Virgil snapped, taking a step forward, “I’m still paying rent regardless of where I work or who I hang out with.”

“I’m just trying to look out for you, that’s all! Don’t you think it’s a little sketch that after you got a little new job, Virgin--”

“My name is VIRGIL,” He snarled, “and if you’re keep acting like a jerk about this, maybe I should just move out!”

Virgil wanted to rip Jerad into shreds and not just with words. Oh no, words weren’t enough. His fists itched for violence, to be red from his roommate’s blood. It scared him how close he was to murdering the 6’4 former quarterback. ‘He deserves it, ’  A little dark voice in his head whispered, ‘He belittled your friends.’

Worse yet, he shouldn’t have said those last words to Jerad. It’d been his third mistake.

He knew it by the way Jerad clenched his teeth, his eyes trailing towards the edge of the balcony. Jerad glanced back at Virgil’s phone and then back at the streets below. He took a step towards the balcony railing.

“No!” Virgil screeched, rushing forward. He snatched his phone away from Jerad right then and there. For a triumphant moment, he held most prized possession in his grasp once more. Then a hand clamped down on him, onto his wrist and he yelped in pain. Jerad. He tugged uselessly to free the grip with his other hand. It was no use. Jerad was so strong, and oh my god he was going to kill him, wasn’t he?

“Jerad, please!” He called out, but his roommate remained resolute in his fury.

He squeezed Virgil’s wrist tighter, attempting to force him to drop his phone. But Virgil refused to let it go, even as tears pricked his vision. It only angered Jerad further. He threw Virgil against the balcony railing. Virgil cried out as Jerad practically dangled him over it, towards the cement sidewalk a hundred feet below.

For one terrifying moment, Virgil thought he’d be sent airborne, flying rapidly downwards to meet a grisly death. It’d be so easy for Jerad to do that. He could get off scot-free, claim Virgil’s death was a suicide. The police would believe him. After all, Virgil was such a nobody that no one would care to look further into it.

With those thoughts swishing around in his brain, he let go of his phone. He watched it fall. Down, down, down until it made brutal impact with the ground like a rocket failing to launch. Jerad released his hold on Virgil. He fell, stomach plummeting as his arms waved wildly in the air. He swore he was falling to his death. Instead his back made impact with the floor of the apartment balcony.

Virgil didn’t stay there. He jumped up at once without sparing a second glance to Jerad. Heart in his throat, he fled the apartment. He ran out of the apartment building, his legs feeling like a pair of unstable Jenga towers; ready to topple at any moment. He kept on running though. He ran until he arrived at the smattered remains of his phone. He collapsed to the ground, hands reaching forward.  As he gathered the pieces into his hands, a pathetic wail escaped his lips.

Everything became one dizzying, gigantic blur after that. Virgil placed the broken phone pieces into his jeans pocket. He remembered that. He must’ve stood at one point, cradling his injured wrist with his other hand. He didn’t know when he started running. It just happened. He ran off, heading to a destination he himself wasn’t sure of.

Each breath felt like a struggle, his lungs straining to take in oxygen. The world looked like he stepped into a watercolor painting. Except it was a ruined painting, all the colors running together to create an ugly blobby mess of something meant to be beautiful.

One thought echoed in his mind on repeat.  He pushed to keep moving forward, to get as far away from Jerad as possible. He had to put distance between him and Jerad, because what if the ruined phone hadn’t quelled Jerad’s anger? What if he ran after Virgil and beat him to a pulp until he felt sated?

He knew he shouldn’t fear such things. Jerad was a jerk, but he wasn’t that bad. Even he wouldn’t dare resort to murder...right?

However in the midst of the moment, all of Virgil’s fears sounded like believable, feasible things. Even if Jerad didn’t chase after him, there was no way he could return to the apartment tonight, if ever. Even just to collect his meager belongings.  Oh god, he left not only his wallet but his hoodie behind in his panic. The hoodie was the last thing his parents had given him--the last thing he had of them.

He choked, almost running smack into a brick wall. He regained his balance halfway, stopping mere inches away. Why had he gotten so angry? Stupid, stupid. He shouldn’t have done that. It was his fault. Virgil could control his temper, whereas Jerad couldn’t help it. Now his phone was broken and he had nowhere to stay for the night. He had no money, no way of contacting the others.

He was going to end up sleeping in an alleyway. A cold, damp alleyway where muggers lurked and he was going to die. He couldn’t count on Patton popping up to save him a second time. He was so weak, so feeble and idiotic, maybe he deserved to die that way. Somewhere in the midst of these erupting volcanic thoughts, he ended up slouched against the brick wall.

Breathe. He needed to breath! But the air around him felt like sulfur poisoning his lungs. Black dots invaded his vision, his head feeling increasingly fuzzy. He was going to pass out. No, he couldn’t allow himself to do that.

He forced himself off the ground, fighting gravity to remain upright. He ran forward in blind panic. It didn’t matter what direction he went, all that mattered was that he kept moving forward. In his state, he could’ve easily ran into the street and got hit by a car. He did indeed run into something. Thankfully it was not a car. Still, the collision sent him reeling backwards, falling towards the cold, unforgiving concrete.

“Holy shit!” Someone cried out, their hand catching his bruised wrist last second to stop his plummet. Virgil hissed at once from the pain the touch brought.

“St-stay back!” Virgil said, stumbling back until he hit the brick wall of a building. Tears obscured his vision, turning the person into a distorted, twisted shadow being.

“Virgil, whoa hey. It’s me, it’s okay.” The stranger insisted, drawing closer. Virgil shook his head, taking up a defensive, curled fetal position. Jerad. It had to be. Virgil wasted too much time lingering in one spot and he paid the price.

“I’m sorry--I--I sorry, I shou-shou-shouldn’t--” He trembled, waiting for a blow that never came. Instead, they fell down beside him, giving him some space.

“Shhh, deep breaths,” They instructed, “One breath in at a time, okay? Can you do that?”

He tried, failing miserably, “N-no--I can’t--sorry--”

“Hey, hey, hey,”  The person hushed, “no more of that. You don't need to apologize. You’re okay, okay?”

“But--but I can’t--” Virgil stuttered, sobs scraping against his throat like jagged pieces of broken glass. No scratch that. It felt like the broken, sharp pieces of what once was his cellphone.

“Shit--hey, I’m gonna just--is this okay?”

An arm slung around his shoulder and Virgil tensed. He was waiting, expecting it to wrap around his throat to choke him to death. But it wasn’t a forceful, bullish grip like he expected. No, it was a light, tentative weight--loose enough for Virgil to escape if he needed to. Virgil sniffled, finally risking a look up. Knitted eyebrows behind dark shades met his gaze.

“Remy?” He whispered.

“Hey there, Virgil,” He smirked thinly, “it’s me, ya boi.”

Virgil kept staring with his mouth agape. It was Remy, it was really Remy and not...him. No way this was real. No way he actually ran into Remy in such a sprawling, densely populated city. Maybe he blacked out, Virgil thought as he started laughing. It was all too much. The pieces of his broken phone digging into his thigh, Jared, his accelerated heartbeat that threatened to send him to cardiac arrest. Everything. And now Remy? Remy is here? It was too much.

“Um, Virgil?” Remy frowned, “You still with me?”

Virgil didn’t respond, still wheezing with laughter. He wanted to sob. He wanted to scream. He wanted to keep on running without ever stopping. He didn’t do any of those things. He just sat there as he laughed, gasping for breath. It sounded weird to him; too high-pitched.

Was Virgil sure he was laughing? Maybe it was Remy. Maybe he decided Virgil no longer worth his time. He was pathetic, an anxiety-riddled loser who was going to die alone and forgotten. He didn’t deserve the kindness Remy offered him, he hadn’t done enough to pay it back.

A voice tried talking over the choked laughter. Their words came out stilted and hesitant. It couldn’t be Remy speaking. The vampire was too confident, self-assured in ways Virgil could never be. Virgil’s lungs burned, he noted distantly. They felt like a tiny microscopic arsonist climbed inside of them and set them on fire. Would microscopic firemen come to put it out?

He knew he had better things to worry about. LIke the possibility that he was in a coma and everything leading to this moment wasn’t real. Remy wasn’t a vampire, just a normal, human work acquaintance. Patton hadn’t saved him from the mugger. In fact, he was probably just a fabrication of Virgil’s mind. So were Roman and Logan. Yup, that had to be it. The mugger had actually shot him and Virgil was in a coma. He was lying unconscious in a hospital bed racking up hospital bills. God, maybe he should just stay unconscious. Have them pull the plug to his miserable existence.

But he didn’t really think hard about these things. Not when he was too busy thinking about microscopic cells wearing fireman hats.

Virgil’s vision went black. For a moment he thought he died, or at the very least went unconscious. It took his exhausted, panicked brain a hot second to realize he was squished against Remy’s black leather jacket.

The vampire had wrapped his other arm around Virgil, embracing in a full-on hug now. It should feel threatening, suffocating even for Virgil. But it was Remy , his heart cried out. Remy who liked the same music as Virgil. Remy who brought him Starbucks. Remy who encouraged Virgil to venture out of his comfort zones.

Even now, he held Virgil in a loose, relaxed grip. As if his aim wasn’t to restrain or throttle Virgil but to comfort.

Virgil didn’t trust like that. He took a deep breath--or well, he tried. It spluttered into a coughing fit. He mustered on with his plan. He pushed away, scrambling backwards from Remy. It hurt more than it should have to do it. He felt all warmth leave his body at once. Remy didn’t fight it. He didn’t pull Virgil back, yanking him back into the embrace. He let him go, simply watching him. Remy’s shades pushed up against his messy bangs, no longer covering his red eyes. Virgil squinted up at him. Huh. Had Remy’s eyes always been red? Virgil had never noticed before.

“Virgil--”

Remy didn’t finish. Because by the time he opened his mouth, Virgil already dove back into the vampire’s arms. He pressed his face into Remy’s chest, his whole body trembling as a low, strained whine emanated from him.

Remy, for his part, just hugged him back. No words, just tactile comfort. It was exactly what Virgil needed. His adrenaline fell away from him, like bathwater rapidly disappearing down the drain. His rapid, frenetic  thoughts halted to a slow, sluggish trickle. His limbs grew heavy, his grip on Remy’s black leather jacket slackening. He was going to lose consciousness soon, he drowsily realized. Weirdly enough, he wasn’t as afraid of that happening as before.

Remy whispered a question and Virgil nodded. He didn’t know exactly what Remy asked. It had something to do about if Virgil thought it was okay to do something. It didn’t matter what that was.

The words could’ve been anything and Virgil would’ve responded the same way. Because Remy was safe, he was good and most importantly, he wasn’t going to hurt Virgil. Not yet, anyways. With that reassurance, Virgil finally let go of his remaining frays of consciousness.

[aliceslantern]

Retribution, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 6

Newly a person again, Ienzo is weighed down by guilt and his humanity. He's prepared to do whatever it takes to atone... only to find unexpected solace in a familiar face. With more insight into the bonds between people than ever before, Ienzo reaches for a dangerous element from the past to help Kairi and Riku in their search for Sora. What is his life if it means saving another, brighter light?

Chapter summary:  Ienzo grows closer to Demyx, but that closeness quickly becomes a confounding variable.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

He tried to let himself grow . He spent those few hours in the lab, with Even and Ansem and Kairi. Dutifully, he continued to feed himself and sleep the requisite eight hours. He practiced normal black magic, unrelated to his power. Occasionally, considering they were now “friends,” he spent time with Demyx.

Ienzo wasn’t sure if he were simply unused to casual conversation, or if Demyx were truly eccentric. He did have quite a lot of amusing stories about his customers, as well as Scrooge, who was by all accounts quite the character. So slowly, Ienzo began to stop seeing their relationship as it used to be, and began seeing it as it was. After all, Demyx was one of the only people he knew roughly his age.

They walked, got lunch and endless cups of coffee. Ienzo found himself… looking forward to it, whenever Demyx asked him to meet up, rather than dreading those texts. A handful of times he accompanied Demyx on deliveries, and found to his surprise that he was indeed competent at his job. Scrooge tried to rope Ienzo into porting as well, in his own jovial, oddly-accented way, and he had to evade out of the conversation quickly.

But beneath these pieces… something else began to emerge, something Ienzo initially confused for companionship, or kinship. A warmth, a start of the heart. He no longer minded when Demyx touched him casually in conversation--a hand on the shoulder, a playful punch, a “hey come on” take of the hand when going somewhere. The touch… evoked something in him, vague and weirdly insidious.

Ienzo began to notice things.

The subtle way his hair blended, brown to blonde, the way he seemed to be so slowly growing it into something different. The precise color green his eyes turned when light hit them just right. How easily he moved through space, how comfortable he was in his own body. The way his lips moved when he spoke, the rhythm of his speech.

Why was it Ienzo was focusing on these things? What did it mean?

On the verge of sleep, weighed down by one of his pills, it came to him.

Oh. Oh no.

In his brief hours in the lab he was distracted, terrified. He thought he’d understood this as a Nobody, but it was clear he’d had no idea.

His humanity was waking up. So were… other things.

Demyx had mentioned a desire for a partner of some sort. Unlikely at the time he’d meant Ienzo. Ienzo had written all of that off as too difficult to compute. He figured he may be asexual and was fine with that. He’d no need for anything physical. Messy. Complicated.

He… was not asexual.

Ienzo began to feel something almost like a pull, between them. A desire for that innocent touch, a squeeze of the hand. Was it possible he felt this way because, again, Demyx was the only person he knew his age? It seemed natural that, with the awakening of these feelings, he’d latch onto whoever was closest.

It made him feel pathetic, and not quite in control of himself, not that he changed his outward interactions. If emotions were difficult to reign, hormones were completely impossible. He started having vague dreams of longing--arguably worse than the nightmares--and woke up frustrated in a wholly new way. Difficult, and embarrassing, to be finishing puberty at this age. He said nothing about it to anyone. Those few times he woke to find stains on his sheets and clothing, he took care of it and pretended nothing happened.

Why did this have to be happening now ? Of all the confounding variables?

Ienzo needed to ride out this attraction until its inevitable end. To even entertain the idea of anything more substantial than quickly-quashed daydreams was insane. So, sweetly he asked Even if, considering he’s feeling so much better , he may add a few more hours to his day, and thank you so much for the medicine . Ego stroked and paternity soothed, Even agreed. With his remaining hours, he began so tentatively to work on his power.

He could still manipulate the lexicon with relative ease, so that had been gained. Finding the illusion was going to be so much harder. He spent hours trying to recall how that felt, to create things where there was nothing, then trying to draw simple objects from memory. And they were drawings, barely-perceptible flickerings in the air, but the exertion still made him gasp for breath. Though it was progress. At least Ienzo had something to tell Kairi and Riku when he saw them face to face, or over the phone. At least he could give them hope.

But Demyx wasn’t that easy to brush off. “Zo, are you ignoring me?” he asked. His tone was joking, but Ienzo felt vaguely caught. (And vaguely angry that “Zo” was growing on him.)

“I’ve been taking a few more hours since I’ve been doing better,” he said.

“You’re not… pushing it too hard, are you?” he asked.

“I’m trying not to.” And he was; with magic use, he needed to be doubly careful how he treated his body.

Was it the light, or did he blush? “I miss our hangouts.”

Just the right thing to trip Ienzo up, to make his heart flutter-- it’s merely hormones, control yourself. “As do I.”

“I mean, I know this is like, important, big-picture stuff. But…” He hesitated. “Do you… have time, later? Just to talk?”

The sensible thing to do would be to nicely brush him off. “Maybe a few moments,” he said instead. How strange, to be at odds with his mind. A first.

He smiled. It was a wide, uncontained grin, one that changed his face, made it seem softer. “The greenhouse?”

Ienzo nodded once. “I’ll see you then.”

Only once he had returned to scouring data did he realize that getting both of them together in an enclosed, private space was one of the stupider moves he could’ve made. Demyx had blushed. Demyx had smiled. Was it possible that this… whatever it was… was mutual? Or was Demyx also merely feeling the backlog of hormonal impulses blunted by Nobody biology?

(And did it matter? Would it be so terrible to explore these feelings?)

(Yes, it would. Should it go south--the likely conclusion--they still lived together. He didn’t need more tension in his life.)

Ienzo should’ve made up an excuse that night and stayed in. He didn’t. He was so unused to managing impulses that he simply didn’t . Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

The summer evening was cool, and he could hear the soft chirp of crickets. The air felt nice on his skin, freed at last from that infernal white coat and ascot at the throat. There was already a warm light emanating from the greenhouse, meaning Demyx was already there.

Not too late to turn back.

He took a deep breath. Took two.

The music he heard was soft, meandering, inviting. He’d never really listened to Demyx before when he played sitar, stubbornly tuning it out. Ienzo realized he was rather good , technically and aurally; it sounded light, effortless, the notes graceful and leaping like water. The boy’s power made sense, now. It all flowed.

Demyx wasn’t a scientist, but he was a student in his own ways. Ienzo felt the blood rush to his face. His hands trembled. His own internal protests were quickly waning. He opened the door. “Are you early, or am I late?”

Demyx looked up. The melody didn’t quite cease. “Believe it or not, I can actually be on time.”

“...Sorry about that.”

“I wanted to work on this anyway.”

Ienzo sat on one of the cushions. The space smelled vaguely like incense, a heady but oddly clean scent. “That’s something of your own creation?”

“Yessir.”

“I suppose you were always… composing, creating. Is it very much different, now that you’ve a heart?”

Demyx snorted. “It’s harder.”

Ienzo cocked his head. “Really?”

“It’s easy to… approximate emotion,” he said, with a wave of his hand. “You know, this sounds like love, or anger, or whatever. To really feel those things, and then, say, to try and work on something with a completely different theme, is like wading through concrete.”

Hearing him speak so technically made Ienzo’s blush worsen. He wanted to reach out and take one of his hands. He gripped his ankle in an attempt to stop himself. “Have you been at this long?”

Demyx chuckled. “At least five years. Probably before that, I would guess, but… there’s nothing.” His expression changed, became wistful.

“Still? After all this time?”

He let the sitar vanish. The silence was particularly notable. “Yeah. I…” A laugh. “I had Even look at me. Neurologically, I think it’s called? There’s nothing… physical about the memory loss. So it must’ve been… whatever brought me here, from the past.”

“Forgive me… I quite forgot that’s the truth of your life.” Even had told him as such, scowlingly, in disbelief.

Demyx shrugged. “You’ve got a lot on your mind. Sometimes I forget.”

“Do you want your memories?”

He leaned back on his hands. “I go back and forth,” he said. “On the one hand, not knowing about the trauma that’s, uh, for sure there is awesome. On the other… it’s like… who am I really, you know?”

“I remember everything, and I feel much the same,” Ienzo said softly.

His smile was sad now. He reached into a crate and pulled out two bottles.

“Beer?”

“Nah. I hate beer. Cider. It’s sweet. Want it?”

Ienzo doubted one drink would kill him. “...Why not.”

He popped the top for him. “Ha. That’s the spirit. I mean. You are legal.”

He scoffed a little. The drink was fizzy, sweet and also metallic. It was a taste of summer, he thought. “I’m sure it doesn’t surprise you this is my first real drink.”

“Really?”

“...I was too young. Then, I never wanted to… cloud my mind.” Ienzo sighed. “I wouldn’t mind taking the edge off things.”

Demyx laughed a little. “Hate to break it to you, but I only have the two and I doubt you’ll get turnt off that.”

“...You’re probably right.”

“Maybe you and me could go to the bar some time. Try it out.”

He looked into the mouth of the brown bottle. “Not sure nightlife is for me.”

“You never know until you try something.”

“I… suppose I should never say never.” After all, he’d never thought he’d like sitting here with Demyx, their knees almost touching. “Maybe. Yes, that might be nice.”

For a few moments they finished their drinks in silence. He definitely wasn’t drunk, or even tipsy, but he did feel a little warm. The lantern cast softened the room, almost pinkish. Perhaps it was the memories of calm here, perhaps it was the ambiance or simply not being alone, but Ienzo found himself… relaxing. The sudden lack of tension in his muscles felt strange. “I remember why I used to love this place. It’s very calming.”

“On a good day you can see the stars,” Demyx said. “Look. Here.” He reached over and snuffed out the lantern. “Lay back.”

The cushions were odd, lumpy. It wasn’t totally dark; there was enough moonlight for the silhouettes to be clear. Ienzo looked up through the crystal ceiling. “Been a while since I looked up,” he said.

“Yeah.”

“The feeling of insignificance. But it’s surprisingly reassuring.”

“You think?”

“Well, the world is bigger than just us, don’t you think?”

“I do,” he said softly.

Ienzo could feel Demyx looking at him. A nervousness, a fizz, spread throughout his body, completely different than anxiety. Arguably, the opposite of it. He should fight this. Should get up and leave right now. Instead, he shifted, just slightly, onto his side so they were locking eyes. With a shaking hand, Demyx touched his cheek, a touch that made him shiver.

“...I…” Demyx’s voice cracked. “Have you also been… feeling this?”

So it was mutual. Oh. Oh, no. He tried to keep it together. He had to fight this. Didn’t want to. “Yes,” he admitted.

“Oh,” he said, very softly, with the same sort of fear Ienzo felt.

“I know.”

“I tried to stop.” He almost sounded as though he might cry.

“Me too.”

“What do we--do?”

“Well…” That touch did feel so nice. “As I see it… there are two options. We both walk out of here and forget this ever happened.”

“Or?”

He took a trembling breath. “We see it through.”

“What do you want?”

“I think…” He was trembling all over. “I think I would like to stop thinking.”

There was a moment when they both very clearly knew what was about to happen, but did nothing. Demyx inched closer to him, so they were almost touching; Ienzo could smell him again, the salt and ginger. He rested his hand on Demyx’s waist, and feeling the warmth of him under clothing was purely too much.

They both met in the middle, awkward, not quite meeting one another’s lips the first time. Ienzo shifted up a little and tried again. Demyx’s lips were so soft against his own. It became clear very quickly that neither of them had done this before; they weren’t sure what to do. For some reason Ienzo figured Demyx had some experience. After a moment they pulled apart.

“I suppose,” he began softly, still reeling more from the fact that he’d kissed more than the kiss itself, “It’s rather obvious I’ve never done this.”

He laughed a little. “I don’t think I have either--if I did, I don’t remember.”

“A learning curve, then.” He’d figured it’d have been natural, instant. He thought of the feel of Demyx’s lips. “Let’s try again.”

“Okay.”

It took a moment or so of fumbling and discomfort before they seemed to get it. This was more what Ienzo thought it would feel like, a fragile give and take. It was all so gentle . They were both shaking. He hadn’t realized how exhausting fighting this attraction had been. Giving into it made him feel more awake than he had in days.

He wanted to go further. Couldn’t. Already a dangerous frazzle of overstimulation was breaking over him. He wasn’t used to platonic touch, much less this; he was overloading his own wires.

“I like this. I do,” Ienzo said. He felt his eyes watering, an anxiety of too much too much threatening his tenuous moment of joy. “But I’m so… it’s so much. I have to…” He sat up and pulled away, shivering as if he were cold.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m afraid as a human… I get very overwhelmed by stimuli,” he forced out. “I used to as a child.”

“Oh,” he said softly. “Can I… how can I help?”

“I need space. Calm, quiet.”

“Should I go?”

He considered. Despite it all… the last thing he wanted to be was alone. “No, stay.”

[zmediaoutlet]

5 and 23 for the fanfic writer asks?

aw, kisses--let’s see:

5) If you had to choose a favourite out of all of your multi chaptered stories, which would it be and why? 

Hmm--this one’s interesting. Multi-chapter tends to just mean long, and for longer things I tend to do series rather than chapters, so I’ll look at those and have a think.

...after fully a half-hour delay of staring at my AO3 and rereading bits, I think I’d pick... my series there and back again, at least for my mood today. [NB: this is why I’m so bad with favorites; it depends on the temperature and if I have a headache and what tea I’m drinking, etc.]  They’re a little too porn-heavy, I think, those two stories, but even so the feeling in them is just right. Exactly the tone I wanted to convey, and the melancholy, and also the sort of beacon of love the Winchesters shine forth, which Benny gratefully soaks in, as he can’t do with sunlight. It’s a more self-indulgent AU than I usually do--Benny lives, damn it, and he gets a sort of life--but it’s also indulgently... flat, with no plotty nonsense dredging up drama, and no twists and turns, and no structural tomfoolery. Just the emotion drawn out as long as I could bear it, a clear and continuous note. I really like it, and I think it tells a complete thing. It’s just nice. I hope other people like it too.

23) Do you prefer listening to music when you’re writing or do you need silence? 

Depends on the day! Sometimes I find it immensely distracting, and find myself all annoyed and fretful until I realize, oh, and turn it off. But other days it’s helpful--I find myself listening a lot, when I try to write lately, to soundtracks--The Social Network soundtrack in particular is nice, in how it drives you along. I’ll also listen to the entire A Perfect Circle catalogue, because I find it weirdly soothing (which is probably why APC tends to always be one of my top-rated artists on Spotify). Today, I think it’ll be Nine Inch Nails--that seems to fit my mood. :)

(ask questions about writing)

[imagine-organization-xiii]

How about the members with their s/o pre bedtime rituals?

Yes hello it is I with yet another headcanon today. I know, it’s completely unreal.

Xemnas

After a stressful day, Xemnas will often wind down with a glass of bourbon or whiskey to warm him from the inside out.  He’ll sit in a chair in front of a fireplace or on the balcony of your room and just decompress as he thinks about the events of the day.

Always sets an alarm for six in the morning even if it drives you insane, no matter how late he happens to go to bed.  You’ve gotten used to getting up early after doing it over a long period of time, but there are still times when you want to sleep in and Xemnas’ alarm blares at 6 AM like clockwork.

Tries to clear his thoughts before bed, and you’re seriously great at helping him do that.  You’re a nice distraction from the rest of the world when you want to be and you help to keep his thoughts from going too out of control.

Xigbar

Listen, Xigbar has some magic hands, so part of your bedtime ritual - when we’re eliminating sex from the equation, because we all know sex is a good way to wind down - is to have Xigbar massage your back, feet, or shoulders.   He is so good at massaging, it is practically 100% guaranteed to put you to sleep.

Showering together, and once again i’m not even talking about sexually - but it’s okay if it turns into that. Showering together is something intimate and relaxing that you can do with your partner and the two of you love showering together before bed.

Xaldin

If he’s in a really bad mood or particularly stressed, Xaldin will work out before bed until he’s gotten rid of any of his excess energy.  Working out tends to give you more energy instead of taking energy away, so you’ll sit in the gym with him while he works out.  You’ll eventually have to drag him away and to the shower when you just get too exhausted to keep your eyes open anymore.

Other days, he tries to avoid anything overly stimulating before bed.  Not really a yoga or meditation fan, but he’ll definitely do a few stretches that will relieve his body from any excess tension.

Vexen

It’s hard to pull Vexen away from all of the technology in the lab to get some sleep, but when he does sleep, he can’t have any type of tech whirring around in his presence or he’ll get distracted and never get any rest.  Screens will flash and keep him awake thinking about things he’ll have to do the next day.

When he’s with you, you’ll let him read one of his various scientific reports aloud because 1) it helps him find any mistakes and 2) the stuff is so boring that it puts you right to sleep.  By the time he’s finished, he’s ready to fall asleep too, so it works for everyone.

Sometimes, he’ll write in a journal.  He’s not really the type to scribble out his own feelings, but he’ll definitely write down a few ideas he’ll want to experiment with the next day.

Lexaeus

Will often go for a long walk, if not a jog, before bed time. Then he’ll head to a nice hot shower and be ready to pass out in bed after.  It’s nice to go on a small walk together through the castle grounds and enjoy the night air together, even if the two of you don’t talk about anything. By the end, your muscles are pleasantly tired and you’re yawning throughout the entirety of your shower.

Look, Lexaeus will never admit it to anyone else, but he’ll definitely knit before bed.  It takes him a while to get comfortable doing it in front of you, but it’s become super relaxing for you to watch his finger work the knitting needles and create a cute scarf or blanket.  Sometimes, if you’re in the mood to participate, you’ll work on a puzzle together.

Zexion

Zexion reads before bed, obviously, but depending on what he reads, he may or may not actually get sleepy.  Sometimes he’ll start a book, look up at the window, then see that the sun is up.  You like it when he reads to you, but sometimes he never knows when to stop.

Back when Zexion used to have trouble sleeping, he used to count sheep.  However, he can definitely fall asleep if you read to him.  It keeps him from reading too much and getting too into his book, plus he can listen to your sweet voice tell a story.

Likes to have coffee before bed, but you refuse to let him have anything with caffeine.  It’s decaf, tea, or nothing because he’ll end up being awake all night otherwise.

Saix

Saix is one of those people who’s already thinking about what he has to do the next day by the time he’s ready to head to bed.  After he’s showered and sitting in bed, he’ll often make a list of things that went well that day versus things that need improvement - usually the things that need improvement involve the other members.

He’ll also make a To-Do List for the next day.  He feels that a clear and concise list helps to ensure that he’ll wake the next day with purpose instead of just lazing around in bed.  It also helps to set his mind at ease.

The two of you have found several podcasts you like to listen to together, so you’ll often catch up on your podcast listening before bed.

Axel

Has to sleep in the dark. It doesn’t matter if it’s the light of a phone, from the hallway, the moon, whatever.  He can’t have any light in the room if he’s trying to get a good night’s sleep, so it’s become routine for him to walk around and shut off or cover anything that may emit a bit of light.

Also will bring snacks into the bedroom even though he knows that he shouldn’t.  He’s not much of a midnight-snacker, but he likes to be prepared.  And if he ends up having a random craving, you’ll definitely be in the mood to share with him.

Demyx

True to form, Demyx likes to listen to music before bed, but it can’t really be anything exciting or loud. He likes peaceful, comfortable music to lull him to sleep, maybe something soothing and instrumental.  If he’s not caring too much about what he listens to, he’ll let you choose the music!

Cuddle bug when it comes to sleep time.  Can’t get a good night’s sleep unless he has at least twenty minutes of cuddle time with you.  You can’t complain because cuddling with Demyx is one of the best parts of your day.

Plays with his phone before bed even though he knows it’s bad for his eyes.  He likes to stay in touch with what’s going on in the rest of the world.

Luxord

Luxord has a specific system of bed-time rituals he must perform or he won’t get a good night sleep.  It starts, of course, with a cup of chamomile tea or even tea with valerian root if he’s feeling particularly stressed.  You’ll share a cup with him and maybe some scones if you’re feeling up to it.

He also tries to go to bed at the same time every night, even though you might not always be going to bed with him.  He likes routines and he enjoys being able to do the same thing every night.

Weirdly, Luxord also likes to wash his hands right before he heads into bed, after he takes his shower and finishes the rest of his routine. It’s his way of cleaning off everything he’s done during the day.

Marluxia

You’ve gotten in the habit of joining Marluxia in doing some yoga, stretching, or meditation before bed.  It’s a fun bonding exercise and it also helps to make you pliant and relaxed whenever you’ve had a long day. It takes some time and patience to be able to silence your mind to meditate, but Marluxia is a great teacher.

You’ll often join him on a walk through his garden before bed, too.  He’s really just looking for little weeds he can pull along the way, but he’s mostly just enjoying looking through the plants to see all of his hard work.

Likes to have a diffuser in the bedroom, usually filled with lavender or other scents that help you both sleep.

Larxene

Larxene knows that bedtime routines are supposed to help a person relax and de-stress, so she always starts off her nighttime routine with a hot bath or shower, especially if it’s right after she’s had a good workout and worked up a good sweat.

She tries not to drink before bed because it doesn’t really help her get a good night’s sleep, but she’ll definitely chug a bottle of water.  Always good to stay hydrated!

You both have to be in the perfect sleeping position before you actually fall asleep.  Larxene doesn’t like to have anyone touching her before sleep, so you often put a pile of pillows between you and curl up on your own sides of the bed unless you’re both feeling uncharacteristically cuddly.

Roxas

Baby boy likes to have a cup of warm milk before bed, and it’s a habit that you’ve definitely adopted from him.  There’s something about it that just makes you super relaxed when you curl up in bed.

Speaking of curled up, part of his bedtime routine is to be curled up under the covers but with the temperature really cold.  It took some getting used to, but eventually you got used to sleeping in a freezing room at night.  He thinks it’s the perfect atmosphere for sleeping in and even though you’re skeptical, you let him keep his routine.

Sometimes, he’s in the mood to watch a movie or a TV show before falling asleep.

Xion

Xion used to have trouble sleeping, so you tried to help her find a few things that would help her fall asleep at night.  It turned out that she loves having a sound machine playing noises in her room as she falls asleep. She’s particularly fond of crickets chirping and storm clouds rumbling in the distance.

Likes to have some sort of light in the room. Not necessarily a nightlight or something, but she might open the curtains and let the moonlight shine in.  She thinks it’s both pretty and relaxing.

You both usually share a nice cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows before bed.

[europeanguy]

Gotta Gogh [Part 5.2: From Cordonia]

Pairing: Nadia x Maxwell

Words: 2.3k

Tags/Warnings: Canon Divergence, Crossovers, time skips and POV changes, cheesy lines and a sprinkle of angst… maybe

Your brother is the Duke, he manages the duchy of Ramsford and the estate, he has people relying on him and people who trust him, he makes sure that House Beaumonts’ legacy doesn’t go up in flames – where do you fit in?

Where do I fit in?

The limo hits some bumps in the road, and Maxwell hits his head on something weirdly shaped. He comes to a few seconds later, realizing he’s been dozing off on his brother’s shoulder. Bertrand isn’t too fussed, he’s too busy reading something on his iPad. How Bertrand could read in a moving vehicle, he will never understand. He switches it off, uttering something about ‘needing coffee and do you want some?’. But Maxwell knows that his older brother is just being gentle on him, too gentle that it makes his mind race thinking about the worst possible case scenarios. Could all of Ramsford have burned down? Did anyone they know die? Did he get somebody pregnant?

Or maybe it’s just because Bertrand had found him with semi-wet clothes and damp, red, eyes – this sad, sad being that entered through the doors of their house in the capital.

Maxwell shakes his head no to the coffee, then shoves a hand in his pocket to make sure its still there. He traces its rounded edges, feeling its carvings press indents into his skin. And it’s a little bit comforting. He takes it out and looks at this cartoony miniature of the Eiffel Tower, bronze, with “Paris” written across the length of it in big bold words.

He and Nadia had laughed at the tackiness of it all. And yet they wore matching t-shirts proudly saying “Bonjour!”.

So, she bought one of the pocket-sized Eiffel Towers when he wasn’t looking.

Maxwell rolls his shoulders and straightens up, getting stiff in the seats. Bertrand preferred the limo when traveling to Ramsford because of that much needed leg-room, but the carpets and the plush seats made Maxwell feel like the air is being crushed out of the space. Bertrand clears his throat and scoots near the mini-fridge, looking for the cold-brew cans they kept stocked in there with the champagne.

They weren’t going to talk about it.

It must be dragging close to 10 am by now since they left at dawn, and Nadia’s probably already in New York. He can sleep away the rest of the day, judging by how nicely Bertrand has been treating him.

The thing is, Nadia knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t keep his promise. And so Maxwell found out through the other students living on her floor – Nadia left the day before. Her door was unlocked, the room left empty except for the furniture that came with it. And then he found it, the mini Eiffel Tower miniature, on the bed. He didn’t know if he wanted to cry or laugh as he picked it up. Nadia knew he thought the touristy trinkets were ugly.

What Maxwell realized in Paris is that he’s kind of really fucked. That Nadia is extraordinary, and he loves her.

“We’re almost here.” Bertrand says, sipping his coffee. He grimaces lightly, no wonder in need of a real cup soon. Maxwell nods, knowing that it’s a prompt for him to fix himself before meeting with the main house’s staff.

The limo turns down the road that leads to the vast manor he grew up in. The driveway is long and lined with trees, much like the main palace. He has time to brush back his hair – still feeling weird about its shortness – straighten his clothes, and rub the sleep away from his eyes.

After exchanging a polite welcome with the main house staff, Maxwell has disappeared off to his room in no time – and without any complaints from Bertrand at all, who simply asked him to be present at dinner at six. He tosses off his jacket and toes off his shoes, throwing himself on the bed face-down. His mother would always scold him about wearing outside clothes to bed. Maxwell squeezes his eyes shut, waiting for sleep to come – but it doesn’t.

Nadia never did say anything about not calling.

-

Nadia taps the metal ferrule of her brush repeatedly against the paint thinner can’s brim, shaking off the excess. She’s not sure how much time she’s sat there staring at the painting that never seems to be finished.

Back in New York, and she’s literally watching paint dry.

Sighing, she takes the brush again and scrapes it on the drying blob of blue paint, hardly picking up any pigment at first but eventually it gives and seeps through the strands, bright and blue. Blue.

Stop. Have a break. Nadia decides to leave the brush on the container beside the easel and stands up, feeling the strain on her back and her legs as she stretches. Quickly, Nadia opens her window to let the paint and thinner fumes out – she always forgets to, which is why she’s convinced that someday she would inhale too much and just drop dead. Then she cleans up all the candy wrappers (Gran will find out soon enough that she ate all the decorations for the gingerbread house), turns off the lights, and finally collapses on her bed, limbs splayed out – and she sighs, letting her eyes close.

It’s illogical how she hasn’t been able to sleep yet after spending a long-haul flight watching all the romcom movies available and crying. Crying is exhausting. Turns out dramatic airport goodbyes were just for movie screens – and thank god for that. A sharp pang of guilt shoots through her for lying to Maxwell. But he’s stubborn, and Nadia knew he would still try to see her off anyway.

She rolls over and sniffs the soothing smell of fresh sheets, the same old brand of detergent that her grandma always used. Their grandparents’ apartment in New York is small, but it had just enough space for the four of them for when she and Kai visited over the break. It had a small balcony for an herb garden that only their Grandpa cared for. From outside, the light pollution of the city gives casts a bluish glow in tall shadows across her room. It’s closing in on five in the morning, the sunrise late in mid-December but she can see the faint colors of dawn starting to show in the sky.

Her phone rings underneath a pillow somewhere, its muffled sounds making her heart race the longer she leaves it. Her restraint snaps, and she jumps off her bed to rummage through her room for the damned phone. Finally, she finds it underneath an orange throw pillow. She tosses the pillow away and reads the caller ID.

-

You’re not being silly, Maxwell. All this pressure and expectations, they’re insane and being compared to your brother must hurt.

Maxwell picks at his cufflinks – gold with a monogrammed MB. Bertrand hadn’t mentioned that the six pm dinner would be with a fund manager, an estate agent, and the way too slick and smart Chief of Staff; essentially Bertrand’s right-hand man and the one he would sort of replace in the near future. He wouldn’t be taken off the payroll, of course, but he had always been critical of Maxwell and his lack of involvement in estate issues. They all formally wait in line to shake hands with the Duke and his brother.

But I know your brother loves you, and he’s proud of you and all of your achievements.

It still scares Maxwell how charming his brother could be. He lags behind Bertrand and watches him exchange fond greetings with their company. Bertrand turns towards Maxwell and beckons him towards them. His heart swells when Bertrand pats his back reassuringly as he shakes their hands.

He fits here. Right?

I know what it’s like to not feel accepted or competent – but Maxwell, this is your purpose.

Maxwell doesn’t try to dazzle them with whatever he learned that semester, it would be fruitless since these people have been doing this long enough to differentiate the fluff from substance. Instead he sits quietly for once, listening and trying to absorb as much as he could – to no avail. All he can think of was that call.

You’re amazing, intelligent, and caring, and you deserve much more praise. Your brother understands this more than anyone.

You’re starting to sound like my mother and it’s scaring me.

Why do you always joke?

But she laughed. Her laugh sounded like music to his ears, even though it was in bad quality, crackling audio over a phone. Maxwell is broken out of his trance when the first course is served. Bertrand could tell he’s still completely distracted – although thankfully not as miserable as when he had found him.

I can’t handle it, it’s getting too emotional. He reaches into his pocket again to feel the little Eiffel Tower. I didn’t know how I was supposed to let you go.

That’s why I made that decision for you.

Bertrand and the others launch into a deep conversation about estate issues. Maxwell picks at his food, focusing more on the sound of the clatter of silverware against china. Has it really been one whole semester?

Yeah. It was way too quick. I used to wonder a lot if coming to Cordonia was some huge mistake. Since, you know, I didn’t exactly fit in,

He’s not entirely sure that he fits in here too. He tries, he really does. And he wants to help Bertrand who seemed like he aged ten years from all the stress of being a duke.

But Maxwell liked to think of him and Nadia as pieces of the puzzle that come from two different boxes. They had somehow found each other and clicked perfectly. It’s nonsensical, but it happened. It’s where he fits in.

Then I met you and all that went out the window. I was right where I was supposed to be.

Maxwell keeps replaying that part in his head. He took a moment to answer, willed the seconds to slow down.

He remembered everything, it pressed at him, insistent and waiting.

I love you, Nadia.

Nadia yawned softly on the other line, and then all he could hear after that was her faint breathing. Maxwell is brought back to the present, and he closes his eyes to imagine her face under the soft yellow glow of the streetlamps in Paris – wondering what if.

End

.

.

.

.

EPILOGUE

Maxwell steps outside the limo in some street that he vaguely remembers – he could only hope it’s the right one. He tells his driver to come back in a while and smooths down his black button-down shirt, the begins to walk up the strangely quiet street. Well, relatively quiet compared to the rest of New York.

He needed this peace after what just happened, waking up with his mouth feeling like it was stuffed with cotton and a pounding headache. As the one morning person in the group, of course he’s the first to wake up – even though it’s already way past the afternoon. The boys back at their suite sleepily complained about all the noise he made while in the shower.

Ha! “Noise”. Excuse you, I was singing.

After Liam disappeared with the waitress, the rest of the boys decided to fuck off and blow some cash away at the nearest high-end club they could find. He doesn’t remember how they ended up at some rooftop party full of hipsters and catching wind of a familiar name in their conversations. Some rising star in the art world. An art show in Brooklyn. Here’s the address.

-

“Nadia! Hey!”

Nadia turns and spots her cousin, Kai, among the crowd. She quickly excuses herself to pass through all the people – it’s still crazy to think about just how much her work blew up.

“You made it!” She envelops Kai in a tight hug, and holds her at arm’s length. “So? What do you think?”

Kai scans the room with an appreciative look on her face. “Are you kidding? This is insane. I’m so proud of you.”

“Not the show!” Nadia gestures at herself. “Do I look okay?”

Kai laughs. “You look like an artist with a popping art show and not to mention a fat bank account after all this.”

“What?”

“She’s saying you look fine and that we promise to step in once you start unironically wearing… berets.” Damien suddenly claps a reassuring hand on Nadia’s shoulder, holding a drink on the other. His wrinkles his nose at someone who passes by wearing a bejeweled beret.

“You’re so judgmental!” Kai stifles a laugh with her hand.

Damien shrugs and takes a gulp from his drink. “So, who do I have to beat up this time?”

“Ugh, stop it.” Nadia rolls her eyes, but smiles fondly at Damien’s over-protectiveness. “His name is Steve and you guys have to promise me that you’ll be nice.”

Kai nods. “That’s mostly directed towards you, Damien.”

“I’ll be nice, alright.” Damien frowns. “I’m just saying- it’s weird that he’s an investment banker who also happens to be a baker, volunteers at animal shelters, and his name is Steve.”

“What do you have against Steves?” Nadia laughs.

“Yeah! Steves are generally nicer than Damiens!” Kai shares a conspiratorial smile with Nadia.

Damien downs the rest of his drink. “I didn’t ask to be ganged up on like this.”

Nadia’s phone rings and her whole face lights up. “Uh oh, I think he’s outside but he’s not sure which one it is.”

Kai shoots Damien a be nice glare as Nadia excuses herself to go to the entrance. Her heart pounds with excitement as she walks. A cold gust of wind greets her as she pushes open the door, and comes face to face with – Maxwell Beaumont.

She feels like all the air has been knocked out of her lungs as Maxwell looks back at her, shocked.

“…hi.”

FACTS THAT ARE DECIDEDLY NOT FUN BECAUSE THESE ARE JUST DISGUISED AUTHOR’S NOTES also I am sad

-        So it ended! FINALLY!

-        No joke it was so difficult to end this series despite it only having a few chapters. It went through rewrites upon rewrites and even me deleting a WHOLE alternate ending wherein Nadia doesn’t leave early.

-        They don’t end up together in both endings but I have greatly considered just throwing all my plans out the window and have Maxwell follow Nadia to New York. Ah… now wouldn’t that be nice.

-        Nadia literally slept on Maxwell lolol get it

-        If anyone would want to see the draft of the alternate ending I can drop you the google docs link.

-        The epilogue happens on the first chapter of both books where they’re BOTH in New York; Nadia has her art exhibit, and the TRR boys are at the “bachelor” party. Again, I changed what happened in each bc… I can.

 -        Big thanks to @pixieferry who motivated me endlessly to write and her unwavering support, and to @littlecrookedheart for basically greasing the stuck gears (this is a weird phrase) in my brain that finally got me to writing this ending, I appreciate all her help (even the kill someone and Andy cameo suggestions)

- Thank you also to everyone who stuck by this story. I’m so so so happy that I finished it, and I’m so grateful for your patience. This is the first and last fic I will post on this account because I made a separate blog for fics (that’s pretty empty as of now).

tag list: @littlecrookedheart, @femmeshep, @brightpinkpeppercorn, @zaffrenotes, @teamtomsato, @pixieferry

[houkagokappa]

Sarazanmai first episode impressions

OBS! There are spoilers in this text! Not that they’ll reveal a lot because this is an Ikuhara anime, but in case you want to go in completely blind don’t read this!

The episode starts out just like the main PV. It was really weird to watch the first episode for the first time and spend the first few minutes knowing exactly what Kazuki will say and what kind of visuals were coming up. That said they switched things around a bit. I thought the thing with the ア sign falling would be at the end of the episode, but it was at start as something Kazuki saw/experienced as a hallucination/vision sort of thing.

The opening song will grow on me. At first I got YKA vibes from its visuals, but it’s a lot more upbeat and action heavy later on. There was some sort of sound that escaped my mouth when Reo and Mabu appeared. Sara looks super cool and I’m loving that otter gojira!! I’m looking forward to it so so much. Also it ends on a rainbow lmao that’s gay!!!

The first of Kazuki’s three rules is apparently always carrying around that box. That explains why we’ve seen so much of it. 

I wasn’t expecting to see Sara this early. She’s weirdly casual, but I kinda like it!

The animation is looking super good. It was never something I was worried over since all Ikuhara shows look great, but it’s worth pointing out and being thankful for.

I’m a third into the episode and it’s really surreal to watch because I still recognize most of the lines and scenes from all the promotional stuff.

Oh now Mariya Ise’s character appeared!! Wait she’s their teacher??

A clinging sound starts playing and it’s funny because my first reaction was that this is Ikuhara setting up the mood or wanting us to pay special attention to something, but no Kazuki and Tooi actually hear it as well, it’s part of the world! They’ve been turned into kappa and it’s hilarious. I'm surprised to see the scene where they’re eating cucumbers be used the way it is, as a quick joke.

Next up we see the Kouban and it’s now called Kawauso Kouban! What happened to Asakusa Sara Kouban??? I was so excited to see the ReoMabu interactions, but we only get a small glimpse of them and they don’t say anything yet.

Then we see Enta’s home and it’s super cozy! It’s a traditional Japanese home which I LOVE, but it’s decorated and full of various different things so it feels warm and inviting. Mariya Ise’s character appears again and I love her so much. Her voice is the best ever!

Keppi appears and I’m loving this traditional Japanese vibe he gives off. It’s so soothing and aesthetically pleasing.

Then we get the shirikodama extraction scene which is uhhhhhh something I never could’ve imagined. IT’S WEIRD. They go further than I could’ve imagined, but it’s still not really explicit?

I’m happy I was kinda on the right track with the ghosts! Okay not really, but we can pretend!

Then we see Reo and Mabu again but STILL NO WORD FROM THEM, WHY MUST YOU TORTURE ME SO???

I WAS DEFINITELY NOT EXPECTING WHAT HAPPENS NEXT WHEN THE THREE BOYS MEET THE ZOMBIE. WHAT THE HELL??? But also, why does this make so much sense??? NOW I get the comments on Sarazanmai being a sound! Ikuhara has always included musical numbers, but I though Sara would stand for them, not the kappa boys!! I really really love it though!!! Random musical numbers are what I live for honestly!!!

The zombie shirikodama extraction scene is kinda gross. I don’t want to think about it that much, like what all those liquids are. 

The buttsex jokes are there. They’re not to bad, I don’t mind them that much, but I also think they’re kind silly and dumb and I could do without. However if you have to include them in any anime, Sarazanmai it the one to pick for them.

I don’t really follow this Sarazanmai connection thing. It looks incredible though! I love the animation, the sound, the symbols, just everything about it! It reminds me of a VN I once played, but I’m too embarrassed to say which one. It wasn’t Sweet Pool though (side-eyeing @empty-movement)

I wasn’t expecting Kazuki to dress up as Sara, but I think I’ve come across someone who might’ve said that? Or mentioned crossdressing at least! I’ll have to watch that sequence again to fully understand what exactly was going on and why he’s doing it and how it connects to everything else. If them connecting through Sarazanmai will reveal some secret each time that’ll be super interesting!!

I’m loving Haruka at the end, I’m super curious to see how this will develop!

The ending looks amazing! I was kinda expecting it to feature the live backgrounds based on a tweet by Tajima. Compared to the Tsunagaru PV this looks a lot more like his other work. It’s very unique and interesting. The song is also great, I’ll be listening to it a lot!

The after credits scene is so hype!!! I screamed when Reo pointed a gun looking thing at me. WHY REO WHY???? Also those poor kitties. 

All in all it was a strong first episode. There was a lot going on, but at the same time I don’t feel like I got that much new info/material because a lot of it was just from the PV’s. 

I can’t wait to see what’ll happen next!

[blackjacketmuses]

peacock blue, burnt umber, currant, aubergine, honey, anise, new leaf, sanguine, for any/all dr muses!

peacock blue: is your muse honest? what sorts of lies do they tell, if not?

Kokichi: HAHAHA. The boy is absolutely not honest 90% of the time. The concept of honesty scares him. It's a sign of vulnerability and letting someone in that a kid in the system with a truckful of trust issues can't afford. But for the most part, his lies are -- as he likes to put it -- kind lies. He lies to make people comfortable, make them smile and laugh. He lies to himself for the same reasons. He hates telling lies to deliberately hurt people or to be cruel. He will if he has to, though.Nagito: He does his best to be honest most of the time, to rather blunt and tactless levels. He really doesn't register the truth can hurt or that it's not okay sometimes to just be that honest about things. It's just easier to cut to the heart of the matter that way. He thinks it's truly a good thing to be honest with people. Though if he's got A Plan going or A Goal in mind, he'll say whatever he has to to achieve it.Rantaro: He's pretty much average teen when it comes to honesty levels. He tends to be capable of some pretty bold-faced lies if he needs to be, and lies a lot about whether or not he's okay -- he holds himself to Big Brother Standards, and that means he has to keep it together on the outside even if he's hurting or upset. He doesn't like to lie to people younger than him, but he's more likely to lie to an adult or someone he doesn't like/respect.

Fuyuhiko: Similar to Rantaro, he's somewhere in the middle, but he leans a little more towards lying. He's good at the sort of tsundere Fuck All Of You I Hate You lie and acting like and claiming he doesn't care and that he's more of an asshole than he is. It's a self-directed lie more than anything, and he's slowly learning to stop.

Kaito: Generally pretty honest, mostly because he now and forever has a terrible poker face, but he's a bit more prone to lying than he was in the game. He has a few trust issues of his own, funnily enough, and tends to keep most people at arms’ length, so he uses friendly lies to distance himself from others. That’s still the case with strangers and acquaintances really, but...he’s a bit more like his game persona these days, a little more open and honest with people he cares about.

Nagisa: He's very honest! His life's basically taught him that lying only gets you hurt, especially if you get caught, so if he doesn't want to tell the truth he tends to just stay quiet. He also knows how adults lie to children, so he wants to make sure they know they have someone who won't.

burnt umber: how stable is your muse, mentally and/or emotionally?

Kokichi: Mmmm, I'd say somewhere more towards stable, but definitely not stable. He's good at lying to himself, and generally before the game he was happy -- if chronically under-stimulated and constantly bored -- and...even if he wasn't well adjusted at all (see: trust issues and compulsive lying) he was stable. The game kicked a lot out from under him in the worst way, and he's struggling to find where his equilibrium went. While the issues he had going in are oddly slightly better, the game gave him a new set in the form of paranoia, anxiety, and a shakier sense of self. He's not in a bad way, but he's...eh.

Nagito: Stable? Nagito? Pffffahahahaha. On his best days he's about 60-65% stable. He's not brainwashed or in Despair anymore, thankfully, but all the same, he's definitely not a stable person, not with his assloads of trauma and anxiety and depression. He's gotten a lot better post Program with Hajime and the others’ help, but given his dementia, he'll never be completely stable.

Rantaro: Stable! He...has some lasting issues from the games he was in -- going in twice was a shitty idea -- but all in all, he’s actually really resilient mentally, and has managed to mostly cope pretty well with his trauma. He does have bad days where he gets anxious and paranoid and a little clingy towards his sisters, but for the most part, he’s actually fairly stable, and enjoys being one of the rocks for the other kids.

Fuyuhiko: Weirdly, he’s...probably one of the most stable members of 77-B. Don’t ask him, he has no idea how this happened. But he is. The worst trauma aside from the brainwashing he took was losing his sister and Peko in the Program, and he managed to pull himself up from that and become Hajime’s second, and fight and be one of the survivors, and...he was actually one of the least eccentric and weird Ultimates to begin with -- attitude problems and being an Actual Yakuza aside he’s pretty level-headed -- so he actually manages pretty well.

Kaito: Again, another really resilient person, he was one of the quickest of the late-game kids to bounce back. He is one of the major rocks and tries to help everyone recover, and even if even he has some bad days where he just doesn’t want to deal with anyone, he’s coping very well. Definitely a stable kid.

Nagisa: Well, I wouldn’t say “stable”, but he’s the most stable of the Warriors of Hope. He has flashbacks and triggers like the other kids, but he’s far more balanced and level than the others, and he tries to be calm and mature most of the time. He’s not okay, but he definitely is the most stable of the kids.

currant: what's something that absolutely disgusts your muse (can be a person, place, thing, ect)?

Kokichi: Killers and murderers. Well, specifically, real life ones. Fictional ones get leeway because they’re not real, but real people? Nope. Hard no. Hates it and hates them on principle. Taking a life is literally the worst thing he can think of out of all worst things ever. 

Nagito: Does Junko Enoshima count? She counts. He hates her with everything he has and then some, just- absolute sheer blinding age and loathing.

Rantaro: Deadbeat dads and men who skip out on their lovers once they get pregnant and men who have lots of girlfriends at the same time and lie to them all. This may be related to some deep-set daddy issues. He’s well aware.

Fuyuhiko: Breaking vows or oaths? He’s really insistent on that kind of thing because of his upbringing, so it really fucking gets him when people just-- dishonorable stuff is a hard no and he’ll be Really Fucking Pissed.

Kaito: Fair-weather friendship. Just...it’s a huge thing for him, and he really hates it. If you’re someone’s friend, you stick with them, you care about them, you don’t just....it really bugs him when people are that shallow and petty about friendships.

Nagisa: Needles and hospital equipment and the smell of disinfectant, also plain oatmeal/rice porridge.

aubergine: does your muse prefer the day, or are they more of a night-owl?

Kokichi: Night time is best time for setting up pranks.

Nagito: Night-time! It’s quieter.

Rantaro: Daytime, more time to get stuff done.

Fuyuhiko: Day, he’s not much of one for staying up super late.

Kaito: Night time, even before the game. Had to get the Astronaut talent from somewhere! He loves astronomy. 

Nagisa: Nighttime, it’s quieter and when adults sleep so he can have time to himself, and time to think.

honey: when your muse loves someone (whether it be romantic, platonic, or familial love), how do they show it?

Kokichi: Affection, gifts -- custom-made gifts at that, nicknames, and most importantly, if he really loves you, he’ll be honest with you.

Nagito: He is absolutely ridiculous when he loves you, he will literally do anything for you, anything at all, the moment he thinks you need something. He’ll praise you constantly, try to cheer you up and make you happy, and be very verbally affectionate. He’s not one to be physically affectionate, but if he is, that means you have earned a lot.

Rantaro: He’s very awkward, but if he loves you, he’ll do things for you. Help you with things any way he can, and make time for you as often as he can, and he’ll bring you souvenirs from his trips.

Fuyuhiko: A Fuyuhiko that loves you is one that’s a lot softer and less prickly than normal, and who will move mountains for you if asked. Or kill someone for you, really, it depends.

Kaito: He’s super aggressively affectionate, nicknames and all, arms around shoulders, just...he’s a very touchy warm person if he loves you. Just try to spend as much time as possible with you.

Nagisa: He loves you? He’ll trust you. He’ll trust you and feel safe enough with you to act a little more like the kid he is.  

anise: when it comes to self-care, what does your muse do to take care of themselves? do they take care to spend time on it, or do they feel they don't deserve it?

Kokichi: On bad days, he becomes a blanket monster and plays video games all day. He just needs distracting and sugar to comfort him, someplace warm and safe. Whether or not he deserves it is irrelevant, he knows he needs it.

Nagito: Pffft, self care. What’s that, can you eat it? (Not that he would eat it if it was edible.) He’s terrible at it even when he actually remembers it’s an actual thing he needs to do, and he really doesn’t tend to think he deserves it. 

Rantaro: Hot baths with as much girly soothing bath products as he can manage and a long nap, preferably cuddled up with his little sisters. If nap isn’t feasible, then just watching some mindless anime with them. He absolutely knows this is necessary to help him heal, so...yeah, he takes his time.

Fuyuhiko: It’s...hard for him to say? What is self care exactly, is that curling up with Peko after a bad day and just talking, or just appreciating that she’s here? Is it letting himself binge on sweets because fuck you if he needs sweets right now he’s going to eat them? If so, then...yeah. After all the shit that’s happened, he deserves some good things.

Kaito: Taking his bike out to a hill outside town at dusk and watching the stars come out. Lying in the grass all night and just watching the sky, maybe bring some snacks with him and listen to music and unwind, lose himself in the night sky. It helps a lot, and it always has. Now more than ever he needs it.

Nagisa: PFFFFT. He’s just as bad as Nagito. He doesn’t even know what that means. He’s not allowed to have nice things unless he Does His Best and Exceeds Expectations. Why else would you have nice things?

new leaf: what message would your muse send to their past self, if any

Kokichi: Don’t sign up for that stupid game, you idiot. or For fuck’s sake, please, please try to trust one person in the game, anyone, just one person. 

Nagito: You’ll learn what hope is one day, and you’ll be loved. Keep going.

Rantaro: It’s not worth it. As much as you love the show, it’s seriously not worth it.

Fuyuhiko: Just fucking tell her you absolute fucking moron.

Kaito: Hang in there, man. It’s going to be a fucking shitshow, but you’ll get what you wanted. You’ll have real friends.

Nagisa: She’s lying to you. Take the others and go before it’s too late to run, make your paradise on your own.

sanguine: does your muse typically have an optimistic, pessimistic, or some middle ground outlook on life?

Kokichi: He’s pretty realistic a person. Tries to be optimistic, but honestly, he’s pretty much a ‘prepare for and expect the worst, be pleasantly surprised when something good happens’ type. He’s not full on pessimistic, though! Life is pretty okay.

Nagito: The worst pessimist ever, though he’s good at pretending to be a bit more optimistic. God, though, he absolutely 100% expects the worst at all times. Even though he has his fixation on hope, it’s...that doesn’t really overwrite how much he tends to be a pessimist.

Rantaro: He’s a realist, but an optimistic tending one. The best isn’t always gonna happen, of course, but...y’know, it’s good to hope for the best.

Fuyuhiko: Very realist, not leaning either way. Shit happens, but he’s learned to have hope at least a little.

Kaito: Optimistic! Or, he tries to be. He’s not quite so good about it in reality as he is in the game. But attempts are made.

Nagisa: Pfft. Definitely a pessimistic-leaning realist, kinda sad for someone so young.

[metamorpheus-blog1]

c h a r a c t e r + q u e s t i o n n a i r e

[ tw for: drug/alcohol use, death, mental illness ] 

Holy shit, why the fuck is this so long

BASICS

Full name: Marcus Christopher Russo

Any nicknames?: Morpheus, Mark, Marky, Russ, plus a slew of unflattering nicknames from old Army buddies that belong solely to that group of people. 

Age: 35 

Birthday/Zodiac sign: May 9th, 1982 // Taurus. Marcus has a majority of the typical Taurus traits: practical, dependable, down to earth. Regardless of his line of work, this isn’t a guy with a hair-trigger temper or the type to get his rocks off on on the violence in what he does, though he does have a very grim self awareness of just what kind of person he has to be to excel without apology at this job. That sense of strong commitment that keeps him nailed down to assignments with single-minded dedication tends to be a double-edged sword in the way it can overwhelm pretty much everything else and push it to the side in favor of finishing the task at hand. He’s the type that really needs and values internal stability in himself and others, which is BIG when it comes to why his lack of it is so self destructive. 

Height: 5′10. Taller guys, don’t talk shit.

Any tattoos, piercings?: 15 y/o Marcus had a bathroom + sewing needle variety of piercing in his left ear that has long since closed up and been forgotten. Cocky young recruit Marcus got the ‘onward to victory’ printed in neat stacked black script on his ribcage, right side, that he shares with three other recruits from his hometown (this phrase picked from several equally dramatic Big Damn Hero quotes they threw around, all freshly eighteen and very full of aspirations of being badasses), and under that, in ascending levels of freshness, are the month/year arrival and return dates for his three deployments. Deployment #1 has one small dot beside it, #3 has two, tallying those in his squadron ‘fallen in line of duty’, as much as he hates that term. There’s no ‘falling’ involved in an IED on the side of the road blasting you straight to hell but - ! Marcus’ bitterness internalized again, we move on to, of course, this classic number on his left forearm. 

FAVORITES

Sound: He likes NYC’s urban flavor of white noise. Anything repetitive without harshness to it: wind chimes, a clock ticking, steady rain. Back when he used to live on the coast in South Carolina, Marcus went in for all those soothing beach sounds, but the bustle on the city streets has its own charm against waves and seagulls. 

Color: Marcus lives in washed out colors, closer to neutrals, with a side of beige and olive green. Even his black is a little less harsh, like a t shirt that’s still being worn years after it’s faded and started collecting holes. His mind is all vibrant orange though, that Mad Max sandstorm orange, Norah’s orange when he thinks of her every time he peels a tangerine, that kind of desert orange that’s still stuck on him after all these years -- even if in the scope of his service, six years in the real world isn’t very long at all. 

Person: He won’t forgive himself if he says Artemis. That’s too much responsibility to put on her shoulders. So maybe not favorite, but most important? That’s pretty hefty too. Whatever it is, Sunny’s calming influence on this guy can’t be overstated. 

Memory: BCT, or basic training. Now listen, a lot of basic is really really shitty. Shitty food, shitty schedule, shitty exercise, the same shitty drills over and over and over every day. You get tear gassed in basic training. You sweat harder than you’ve ever sweat in your life and you go to bed at night absolutely exhausted. But BCT was the first time Marcus actually saw his future falling into place in a way he could be proud of, when he started to figure out his strengths and advance, and where he found people he could relate to and build friendships with. Really, with that in mind, he’d happily take the shitty food again. 

Place: Lmfao his apartment, messy as he and it are on the inside. Always good to have a good secure place to come back to. Weirdly enough though, he is also pretty comfortable with/fond of the Westside Dock, just because of the sheer amount of time he spends camped out there supervising deals from a distance just in case anything goes wrong. Zeus would’ve kept him parked plenty busy on his main trade, but Hades spreads Marcus over more varied tasks, which is what’s led to his familiarity with every boat, rooftop, and shipping container in that yard. He used to frequent the Warehouse with weekly regularity for the good live music, but understandably some work disagreements have rendered that a no-go zone.

Vice: He’s got the holy trio of Drugs, Booze, and Cigarettes going on, but in light of Madi’s favorite vice mini-meme I’m going to go with his complete lack of any sort of positive coping mechanisms or drive to start trying to develop them. Marcus’ constant self-reassurance is ‘it could be so much worse stop being a whiny bitch’, even the very middle of a panic attack, so shout out to that toxic suck-it-up type of masculinity the Army cultivates along with an unhealthy dose of ‘mental illness isn’t that extreme’ mentality. Keep tellin yourself that, bud.

HAVE THEY EVER…

Been in love?: Yes, in both the high school puppy variety and his one experience in slow-burning, real n’ deep adult love. 

Done drugs?: Oh yeah, and a pretty big variety. Marcus’ hard limit is anything requiring a needle, he knows just how easy it is to fall headlong into addiction with something that potent. Most of his heaviest various drug use was high school and right after his discharge, but he’s settled into a routine of pot whenever the opportunity shows itself and the rare bump of cocaine when he really really needs it. The latter tends to allow him to get what he needs done done, but it understandably sends his mental state straight to shit in the fallout, not to mention it’s an expensive for a picker-upper.  Cocaine is down as something that happens a handful of times a year, maybe. Doing a line is, in his mind, a lot less extreme than shooting something up straight to your veins. Marky’s pretty willfully blind to the fact that something you snort can be just as addictive as something you inject. 

Killed someone?: 

Marcus isn’t really keeping track of that number anymore. There’s a lot of the emotional part of his psyche that gets turned off for this process -- it’s not a person, it’s not murder, it’s a mission, you get it done clean and fast and you get out. Never think of a mark as an individual, complex human being. You’re screwed the second you do.

Betrayed someone’s trust?: Not on the scale of large deceptions. Eurydice might just count, positive and unsuspecting enough as their interactions were before Cronus’ order came down and Marcus had a hit to carry out. But, he reasons, it is the mob. Their definition of trust stands on shaky ground. And thinking that, it’s hard for him to resist the urge to just laugh at how malformed his morality has gotten these past few years.

Had their heart broken?: I mean, yeah, but he did it his damn self and he still thinks it was the right thing. Ending the engagement would never hurt as much as going through with it and waking up twenty years down the road, miserably unhappy. Norah is the closest he’s ever gotten to feeling truly understood but shackling her to his troubled ass would only bog her down and foster a resent towards him he could honestly never hypothetically blame her for feeling. We’ll call it heart break in the name of the greater good. 

Lost someone?: Everyone in the combat zone has a story about losing someone, but Marcus never felt his squad buddies were so close to him he had that kind of ownership over their lives to say they were someone he’d ‘lost’. No close family members dead either, Norah might be something closer to loss if their split hadn’t been his choice. So no, there’s no one he’s mourning, just some still strangely vacant spaces in his mental roster and more than enough persistent ghosts left in his memories.

DO THEY…

Have any pets?: Nope, though he is very firmly a dog person.

Have a family they still talk to?: Yes, but he’s not overly fond of doing it, #1 Son of the Year. Maria and Randy are still firmly parked in Newburgh and it’s honestly just depressing to him to call home and visualize them sitting in the same shitty house on the same shitty couch living the same aimless repetitive lives. 

Have a best friend?: It’s tempting to say Artemis again, real tempting in the kneejerk way, but he’s got way too much insecurity around their relationship and how much pressure his problems can put on a person once they’re close enough to know about them to weigh her down with best friend, if that’s even the phrase for what their relationship is. He’s not about to try and compete with the likes of Apollo and Dionysus either, not when he knows how much they both mean to her. 

Want to get married and/or have kids?: Oh boy. Well, there’s a difference between wanting it and actually pursuing it. Marcus is of the give-your-kids-a-better-life-than-you mentality and he doesn’t think he could do that now that he’s pretty deep in an illegal lifestyle. As for marriage, we all know about his track record with that. 

Want to leave?: He might, if he had any idea of where else he could go without immediately falling into the mental Pit of Despair. NYC has pretty much everything keeping him somewhat together. 

THIS OR THAT?

CALL OR TEXT; texting is convenient but there’s too much in tone and word choice left up for interpretation and it can turn into a liability when he’s got time-sensitive information he needs to know. Marcus almost always calls, especially if it’s about a job; texting is for sharing contact information or an address, or more casual ‘off-duty’ plans.

WEALTH OR LOYALTY; loyalty wins out, but just barely. Wealth is mighty tempting to someone who’s never had it, but at the same time, he’s never had it. When it comes down to choosing one or the other, wealth is the one he’s most capable of living without (no matter how sweet it would be to have). There’s the added fact that genuine excessive wealth makes him almost uncomfortable?? There’s the conspicuous feeling off a sign taped to his back that tells more bougie people ‘this man considers Kraft the superior kind of cheese’ and that’s not gonna change if he suddenly pulls the winning lotto ticket at the minimart below his apartment. 

LOVE OR LUST; not that Marcus is some heartbroken cynic cruising bars every night, but lust is easy and manageable and the occasional one night stand gets lost in the big city without any of those pesky loose ends; it’s been six years and the soreness of parting ways with Norah isn’t so fresh he feels her absence like he did first time he went home with a girl in NYC. He’s not about to entertain any fantasies of romance. The pool of people with shared life experience, or at least similar enough experiences to understand, is... small, to say the least. Why rope some poor unsuspecting soul into his personal whirlpool of bullshit? 

5 FRIENDS OR 100 ACQUAINTANCES; that’s a lot closer to his situation now, Marcus doesn’t tend to accumulate close friends, or at least semi-purposefully he doesn’t. He’s good at that kind of (surprisingly) pleasant, simple interaction that tends to fix a version of himself in people’s minds that doesn’t invite further speculation or questions (though if you ask, he’ll nine times out of ten be an open book). What you see with Mark is what you get, unless you stumble into or purposefully try for something deeper. 

SUMMER OR WINTER; you’d think summer, considering Marcus’ open air approach to his apartment (though that’s more of a claustrophobia thing than anything else), but he finds winter a lot more manageable and he’s had more than enough time in the Middle East to properly enjoy heat, even though going outside when it’s warm and he isn’t wearing 60 pounds of gear is a little treasure in itself. People are easier to track during winter too, their patterns are more predictable, there’s less roaming outside when it’s fuckin cold. 

OTHERS:

Wanted plots/connections: will be linked soon!

[news-mashable-yahoopartner-blog]

The Hear app makes trippy sounds, but it probably won't help you concentrate

Anyone who's ever attempted to write for a living (or for fun) knows there's essentially no such thing as a distraction-free environment. Coffee shops are busy and bustling, offices are full of noisy co-workers, and personal living spaces are packed with potential procrastination options.

Like many people who are easily distracted, I often find myself struggling to give that task at hand my undivided attention. So when I learned about the advanced listening app Hear, created by RjDj, I was intrigued.

Billed as something that can "harmonize your listening experience" and "help you to be less distracted and stressed," Hear sounded very promising. I've never been one for white noise machines or soothing spa playlists, so the augmented sound aspect of Hear initially had me a bit skeptical. But I hoped the app would help me focus when writing, make noisy public settings more pleasant to be in, and allow me to filter some of the sounds in my office when I felt I needed an extra level of introspection. 

SEE ALSO: Aloe Bud is a self-care app for self-care app skeptics

Hear is free and simply designed. It offers seven free sound filters (Super Hearing, Auto Volume, Relax, Happy, Talk, Office, and Sleep,) and two additional filters (Trippy and Upbeat) available for $1.99 each. The individual filters each have their pros and cons, so to give you the most complete understanding of the Hear experience I thought it would be best to break the app down by its different listening components.

Getting set up

To start, you can download Hear from the app store. (It's currently only available on iOS.) Be aware that only wired headphones are supported at the moment "because bluetooth audio does not support high quality microphone realtime audio." But Hear audio technicians are reportedly looking into expanding the app's headphone capabilities in the future.

After downloading, you see the app's main deep red and orange color theme, and you're guided through a simple setup. You'll be asked to enable your mic so incoming audio can be processed through the app, plug in your headphones, and then you're free to swipe between the various filters just like you would on Instagram.

Super Hearing

After setup, Hear launches right into its Super Hearing filter, which, I must say I was not entirely prepared for.

Super Hearing lets you hear the world "with superhuman detail and quality," which means every keystroke you make or breath you take is extremely amplified. At first, the heightened hearing felt incredibly strange — like I'd been transported into a seashell. But once you adjust the bass, presence, brilliance, and volume to your liking, it can be pretty damn soothing.

I first tried the filter while I was working from home, and in my secluded environment I really liked the results. It made me feel like a superhero with otherworldly powers, and transformed the clicks of my MacBook Air into an old fashioned typewriter. But when I tried it back in the office — as was the case with essentially every filter — I found the amplified sounds of co-workers talking and laughing to be far more pronounced, and therefore, more distracting.

Image: hear

While I was at my desk, Super Hearing allowed me to pick up on the faintest background noises, some of which I wouldn't have otherwise paid much attention to, such as the unzipping of jackets, popping open of soda cans, beeping of car horns outside, and hushed conversations between co-workers around me.

To test the app's range out I turned up the volume and slacked my co-worker who sits three rows away from me. I bizarrely requested that he cough to himself. After a bit of convincing he lightly cleared his throat, and it weirdly sounded as though he was seated right beside me.

The verdict: Overall, Super Hearing is a great and even somewhat comforting option if you're using it alone. I imagine it'd be helpful to use when meditating or deep breathing, since it allows you to look deep within yourself and hear each breath and movement so clearly. But in a noisy environment, it made me much more conscious of each individual sound more — essentially, the opposite of what I wanted.

Auto Volume

The app's second filter, described as a way to "turn off the background noise, but still hear when people talk around you," seemed promising. But honestly, it didn't wow me.

The Auto Volume filter starts off silent and only picks up select noise, resulting in sudden bursts of sound and occasionally choppy feedback. This particular filter didn't always pick up the sounds I wanted it to, and would occasionally cut out while someone was speaking to me, which got to be pretty frustrating.

Image: hear

The verdict: While I'm not passionately against this filter, I honestly just didn't see the point in using it. Turning it on in a room alone doesn't add much to your work experience, and though you can change the volume, suppress noise, and remove hiss, I couldn't seem to find a settings adjustment that convinced me otherwise. Overall, I found the harsh distinctions between absolute quiet and sound distracting.

Relax

Hear told me its third filter, Relax, would make me "lose myself in harmonic waves of bliss," and while I was incredibly hopeful at the thought of finally getting a taste of app-induced relaxation, I can assure you I experienced no such thing.

Have you ever seen the episode of SpongeBob SquarePants where Squidward screams "alone" in that white room over and over again? Or in Finding Nemo when Dory tries to speak whale? That's the vibe the Relax filter gave me.

Image: hear

It's great if you want to hear sneezes, coughs, and other sounds echo through your mind for far longer than they should. But I didn't find it to be especially helpful when trying to relax. The filter might not be so bad if you're in the presence of waves crashing on a shore or another soothing sound you'd like repeated. But in an office? No thanks.

The verdict: This filter was fine and the bright side is that there are ways to adjust the settings to make it more tolerable. I highly suggest turning off the echo to get rid of the creep factor.

Happy

The Happy filter is by far the single most trippy experience I have ever had with a piece of technology. The app describes the filter as "turning sounds around you into cascades of happiness," but to paint you a far more accurate picture, imagine the Relax filter just downed some shrooms. 

The filter repeats sounds back to you in different octaves more than 20 times, to the point where you feel like you have voices in your head. It was low key traumatizing and honestly felt like I was in a living nightmare. Pharell Williams is quoted saying the app is "like legal drugs with no side effects," and this was the first time I really understood how much he wasn't exaggerating.

You can adjust the settings on density, spread, space, and volume to make the filter less dramatic, but all using this in my office did was allow me to hear everything my coworkers were saying on what felt like a never-ending loop. 

Image: hear

The verdict: Absolutely NOT. I can't imagine one single scenario, aside from prepping to star in a straight up horror movie, in which anyone would willingly want to use this filter. It's a nightmare. I experienced a roller coaster of emotions while trying the Happy filter out, but let me tell you, happiness was not one of them. I was petrified, uneasy, and honestly think a tear rolled down my cheek at one point. So, um, the hardest of passes here, folks.

Talk

The Talk filter is for anyone who's "fed up with boring voices" around them. Essentially, the app auto-tunes incoming sounds and voices so they sound more musical, which again, is fun as hell, but also super distracting.

With the ability to adjust echo, space, harmony, and volume, you can really manipulate the sounds around you in an impressively cool way, though. Seriously, T-Pain would be proud of this thing.

Image: hear

The verdict: This filter was one of my favorites, partly because it was one of the few I felt produced semi-pleasant sounds, as opposed to cursed ones. I will, however, admit that I got very little done while using it. I spent the majority of my time with Talk singing Daft Punk and Imogen Heap songs, but hey, I had a great time, and it helped me recover from the traumatizing Happy filter.

Office 

The Office filter — you know, the one I'd been waiting for — had finally arrived. It's suggested use is when you can't concentrate and want to "detach yourself and focus," but all I could focus on was how artificially extra it was.

The best way I could describe the filter is as a menacing spa soundtrack. It does keep out the harshness of direct voices, which might be helpful for some, but it replaces them with muffled, distant, creepier noises.

Image: hear

The verdict: I unfortunately was not a fan of the Office filter. In "unhumanizing" sounds, it sort of makes other people sound robotic, which is not something I personally felt my life was lacking. While using the filter I felt like a character in the movies who's just coming to after having passed out, and that was not exceptionally pleasant.

Sleep 

Remember when I said nothing could be worse than the Happy filter? I spoke too soon because the sleep filter is here to literally haunt your dreams.

I don't know how exactly to describe it, but some words that come to mind are evil haunted clown dementors, if that helps at all.

The settings on this filter make all the difference, and while they could thankfully be adjusted to stop me from having a full-blown anxiety attack, they can also be turned up to make the filter far more frightening.

Image: hear

The verdict: The Sleep filter is said to "induce the most deep and surreal dreams of your life," and sadly I will never know if that's true because I can barely tolerate the sounds it produces when I'm awake. It's a bold statement, but I think this filter wins the Most Cursed award.

What's with the paid filters?

While most of Hear's filters are free, there are two in-app purchases you can make at $1.99 each.

The Trippy filter is said to "distort the world around you" with a "fantastically unusual auditory experience." But after experiencing how trippy the first seven filters were, I can't even imagine what this one sounds like. Hear warned it "includes hallucinations without side effects," so honestly, download at your own risk.

The second paid filter, Upbeat, is said to take the sounds around you and "loop them into a one-off audio experience like no other." I think the echo in several of the other apps gave me more than enough looping, so I wasn't really compelled to download this extra, either.

Image: hear

Image: hear

To download or not to download?

Hear is marketed as "a listening experience like no other," and I can confidently say that is accurate. Hear is, quite frankly, like nothing I've ever heard in my life. The only thing that's even come close to the Hear experience for me is the sound-centric John Krasinski film Nobody Walks.

Though my experience with the app wasn't always positive, I can certainly say it is the most unusual app I've ever used. But outside of the fact that it's impossibly distracting and some of the filters are terrifying, the app does have a few other cons.

For starters, if you have a mic on your headphones  it picks up all the sound that gets augmented. So any sounds you yourself make, such as speaking, coughing, etc., can be uncomfortably loud. (If you're using headphones without a mic, this isn't an issue.) Another downside is the fact that the settings bars overlap with the pause feature, so if you try to pause the filter when settings are opened you'll unintentionally raise the volume scale to its max. Ouch. 

It's also worth noting the app does drain your battery if you keep it enabled throughout the day. 

Image: hear

But it's not all bad. I enjoyed the minimalist design — a colorful screen with a circle in the middle that changed size in response to sound waves — and it is nice that each filter can be adjusted for maximum customization.

Several of the filters (like Super Hearing and Talk) were genuinely pleasant and helpful in a solo setting, and while others were more distracting, there's no denying it was cool as hell to distort sound like that.

Would I recommend downloading the app for a fun and interesting listening experience? Absolutely. Pull the app out at parties, share some laughs with your friends, and use it to take a break from reality every once in a while. 

But overall, Hear didn't help me cut down on distractions or focus on anything other than the app. So if you're solely wanting to increase your productivity, look elsewhere.

WATCH: Meet Walker, the smart companion of the future

[littledreamybeth]

Surprise (Harry Styles x Reader)

A/N: This imagine especially goes for the girls who aren’t or weren’t able to meet the boys. Girls I really feel with you because neither did I met Harry or the other boys. But don’t give your hopes up! Maybe you’ll meet them one day, who knows? And to those people, who already did meet them, please share your experiences with me! I’m dying to know them! Btw, I’m so fucking excited for today! I’ve been waiting for this day since “Sign of the Times” was released and I can’t wait to see him performing again!!!  And as Harry would say, All the love and I really hope you enjoy this imagine! I appreciate feedbacks, no matter if they are positive or negative! xo B.

 Ever since I was a teenager, my heart was conquered by the most famous boy band in the entire world. Their music has been accompanying me through my puberty stage. They also saved my life and I would be always grateful for that. I was fourteen years old as I started to fancy them. Those times were pretty hard for me. My family was falling apart. My parents decided to divorce and their decision hit me like a brick. I was never the same after this.

So it felt good to listen to their music because it was the only thing that would soothe me during my time of loneliness. I barely talked to my parents, it hurt to see how two persons who used to love each other so dearly ignoring themselves. I needed time to regain my strength and carry on with my live.

So special thanks to One Direction. The biggest boy band in the 21st century. I was glad to get to know them. I still remember my walls being plastered with thousands of posters and pictures. I owned every album and perfume, I still do by the way. One Direction meant more to me than just a boy band. They were my heroes and perfect role models for teenagers nowadays. Also belonging to the 1D fandom was a great honor and pleasure to me and I loved being a part of them so dearly.

And still with my 22 years, I still adored them with my whole heart. Now that they were being in a break, things got strange somehow. I really missed them.  I loved all of them but one of them stole my heart from the very first moment I saw him. His wonderful green eyes and his cute dimpled smile were burnt into my head forever. Whenever I saw him in an interview, talking and interacting with the interviewer, my heart skipped a beat and a wide grin made its way up on my lips.

His transformation was fucking remarkable. I mean, you just have to look at him in his X-factor times and compare him with today’s Harry. How did he manage some sort of transformation?! He looks handsome as ever and shit, I would do anything to meet him, even for a second.

Yes, I belonged to the fans who never got the chance to see him or the other boys in real life. And that fact hurt pretty much. Every time I asked myself why I could not just meet them? When I was 15, I wanted to visit their concert but unfortunately I had no money to afford a ticket. I cried for days.

My dearest wish was to be hold by Harry, his arms being wrapped around me into a secured and protective hug, his voice telling me not to cry. But I just could dream of it.

And also with 22 years, I still hadn’t met him. Not yet.

***

“Hey (Y/N), it’s break time!” My best friend called as she entered my office, taking a seat in front of me and placing her feet on my desk. I took a look at the clock. It was exactly 2 PM. I leaned back on my chair, rubbing over my eyes with my hands. After working non-stop for six hours I became really tired. I worked for a designer company in New York and we were about to make a new collections for the summer. So I spent my whole day with drawing and drawing some ideas. And I have to say I liked the most of them.

“Would you please put down your feet from my desk?” I sighed. Then, I opened my cupboard, taking a sandwich out of it. I unwrapped the foil and bit into my delicious sandwich.

My friend and also my co-worker took a sip of her cappuccino. “So (Y/N), any plans for your birthday?” I just roll my eyes at her question. She knew I was too busy to celebrate my birthday this year however she insisted and tried to convince me to do otherwise. She’s been like this for a whole month now.

The closer my birthday came, the more suspicious my friends acted. I was aware that they planned a big surprise for me but I couldn’t tell what. Otherwise, I could always tell what they were planning but this time I was completely oblivious about it.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, babe! We’re going celebrate your birthday like every year.” My friend looked at me with a stern expression on her face.

“(Y/F/N), I’m very busy this year and you know it. I have no time for any celebrations. We have to concentrate on the new collections.”

“But baby, you already work and work without taking any break. You need to cool down a bit! Work isn’t running away.”

I sighed and surrendered because I knew, no matter how much I resist, she wouldn’t leave me alone.

“Fine!” I grumbled, earning an exited screech from her. I held my hands over my ears.

“You won’t be disappointed about your present. I promise!” She told me.

I took my water bottle and drank out of it. However, what my friend said in the next moment made me almost spill out the whole content in my mouth on my drawings.

“What did you just said?” I exclaimed.

She acted like it wasn’t anything excited. But for me it meant the whole world. She looked at me weirdly. “Calm down, babe. I just said that Harry Styles is in town.”

Immediately, my heart beat increased and I felt my cheeks getting warm.

“Woah, (Y/N), you’re trembling!” My friend remarked. “If I knew you would react this way, I wouldn’t have told you.”

“W-where do you know that?” I asked her, trying to keep my voice straight.

“You know I’m watching the news and listening to the radio. I’m not like you who locks herself up in her office and isolates herself from life.” She laughed slightly.

“I’m not isolating myself.”

“Yeah sure.”

“But I don’t think that I’ll meet him even though he’s in New York. I mean he could be anywhere,” I sighed. My friend knew about my heavy crush on Harry Styles. The whole office knew actually. They would catch me how I would talk about him constantly. When he released “Sign of the Times” I couldn’t stop but telling everyone how brilliant this song was. I practically forced them to listen to it. Yeah, since everybody knew they wouldn’t stop teasing me about it.

“You never know, babe. Don’t give your hopes up,” my friend remarked.

“You know I’m never lucky when it comes to my favorite celebrity. Everybody meets him. Everyone but me.”

“You’re thinking to negative, (Y/N). Just look forward on your birthday, okay? We’re going to have so much fun!”

She looked at the clock and saw that our twenty minutes break was almost over. “I’m heading back to my office. I see you around, girl. And do not make a sad face okay? I’m sure one day you’ll meet him.” She offered me a smile before she opened the door and left. Little did I feel that she knew something.

***

My birthday finally arrived. I didn’t feel very excited about that but my friends in the office freaked out for an unknown reason. I received some congrats and lovely hugs from everybody.

“You’re finally 23!” Alyssa, a very cute girl from the office told me, her voice showing a trace of joy.

“Yeah,“ I mumbled. “Finally 23.”

“Okay, girl,” My friend grabbed my shoulders, smiling at me. “You’re not allowed to enter the conference room till tonight. We’ll send somebody to get you, alright?”

“Sure,” I said. After that everybody went back to working.

Hours and hours passed by fast and as someone knocked on my door I just realized that it was already 8 PM. Wow, I really worked that much?

“(Y/N)?” It was Alyssa who opened the door and came in. She is such a lovely and wonderful girl. She is definitely one of my favorite co-workers.

“Hey, Ally!” I greeted her. She clapped her hands.

“Are you ready?”

“I think so,” I said. I was kind of nervous though. Who would know what was waiting for me in the conference room?

Alyssa came towards me and took my hand.

“I have to ask you to close your eyes and only to open them when you’re told, okay?”

I nodded my head and closed my eyes. “Alright.”

Alyssa pushed me slightly forward. “And no cheating!”

“I won’t!” I called.

Alyssa guided me securely and safe to the conference room. I heard her knocking on the hard wooden door. Someone opened it. I could perceive some whispers in the background as I was pushed further into the room. My heart felt like I would explode in my chest.

“Okay, (Y/N)!” I heard my friend. “You can open your eyes now.”

And I did. What I’ve seen took my breath away. The walls around me were decorated so beautifully and balloons were hanging everywhere. There was also a big poster and “Happy birthday to our wonderful (Y/N)” was written on it. They also have removed the desks to the side so the middle of the room could be used as a dance floor. I really wanted to cry. I had such beautiful friends and I was grateful for that.

“Do you like it?” Alyssa asked.

I shook my head in agreement. “Yes, fuck, yes I love it! Thank you so much guys!” I breathed out, struggling with my tears.

“If you already love this,” My friend said. “Then you’ll love your present even more.” I looked at her questioningly.

“Turn around, (Y/N).” She smiled softy.

And as I turned around, it felt like everything around me stopped for a second. My eyes meet with some enchanting green eyes that I longed to see in real life for so many years now. There he stood in front of me and handsome as ever, holding a beautiful red rose in his hand.

I didn’t know how to react, I was utterly shook and very surprised. I was expecting everything but this. I finally met him. My biggest celebrity crush, the king of my world, the key to my heart, the reason for my smile. Harry Styles.

He smiled at me gently and handed me over the rose. I grabbed it with my shaky hands. I tried hard to contain my tears but failed terribly. I put my hand on my mouth to muffle my heavy sobs.  I didn’t want to cry. Not in front of him. But I did. And the next thing I felt was Harry wrapping his arms around me and pressing against his chest. I clung onto him like my life was dependent on him. The whole room was filled with cheers, clapping and laughter.

Harry was rubbing my back soothingly, telling my not to cry. I nestled my face in the crook of his neck, breathing his scent in. The scent of his cologne hit my nostrils and awakened every cell and fiber in my body.

He pushed me slightly away, but so that we were still very close to each other. He put his hands on my cheeks and wiped away my falling tears.

“Don’t cry anymore, darling,” He said. “This is supposed to be your lucky day.”

I nodded, however, it was very hard to stop crying. People who already met him know what I’m talking about. Slowly, I regained myself and no more tears were flooding down my cheeks.

“Sorry for ruining your jacket,” I mumbled.

“Don’t worry about that,” He laughed. “It’s totally okay.”

As I looked back into his eyes, just to make sure this was not a dream, it hit me. “Shit, you’re fucking Harry Styles!” My voice was trembling.

“Yes,” He smiled at me. “I am fucking Harry Styles.” The room erupted into laughter.

Harry cleared his throat before he spoke again. “Happy birthday, m’love!”

I blushed slightly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you (Y/N). You’re friends couldn’t stop but talking about you non-stop in the last few months.” My eyes widened. Months? They were planning this for months?

“What?” I could only say, turning to my best friend.

“We all know that Harry is a busy man. We wanted to make sure that he was available on your birthday,” She said. I shook my head, but laughed. This all still seemed so surreal to me. How did they even manage to invite him?

“I’m glad they told me about you,” Harry said. “I’ve heard some nice stuff about you.”

The heavy wooden doors opened and my boss Lana came in. She walked towards me and Harry, hugging me first and then giving him a friendly hug. “Welcome Harry, my boy. Long time no see.”

Harry laughed shyly. “It’s good to see you again, Lana.” 

I was startled a bit. They two knew each other? My boss turned towards me. 

“Are you enjoying your birthday present?”

I nodded. “Yes, mam. Thank you so so much!” I turned and looked at the others in the room. “I still can’t believe that Harry Styles is standing next to me, but I really appreciate your effort with my whole heart. You made a dream come true. Thank you!” Everybody smiled.

“I think it’s time for your birthday cake,” Harry announced then, holding onto my hips. His close proximity let tingles run down my spine and I enjoyed every second of it.

The cake arrived and I blew out the candles. We ate the cake, which tasted heavenly, and then someone turned on the music so we could dance. Harry took my hand, dragging me towards to dance floor.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, his hands on my hips pushing me towards him.

“It’s the best birthday I’ve ever had!” I told him.

“ ‘M very glad you like it.” We danced like there was no tomorrow, but the closer the end came the more afraid I got. I knew that he had to leave soon and I didn’t want that. I enjoyed his presence so much and I refused to let him go. Unfortunately, he had to. The party was over soon. Too soon for my liking.

“Say hello to your mum from me,” Lana asked him, as they hugged each other goodbye. I found out that my boss and his mother were friends so that’s why they knew each other.

“I will. Again, thanks for inviting me.” His eyes fell on me and he smiled. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have known what I had missed.” I blush crept its way on my cheeks.

Harry came to me, holding my hands. “I’m glad I met you (Y/N). I really am. I’m grateful that your friends were bothering the shit out of me, telling me how wonderful you were. “

For the third time on this day, my eyes were filled with tears. He was such an angel. How can I even let him go?

“I don’t want to end it like this,” He admitted, making my heart beating faster.”I would like to get to know you better and I’m staying in New York for a while. So would you give me the honor of going on a date with me?”

Was this really happening? Or was I dreaming? He wanted to go on a date with me?

Without any hesitation, I nodded my head.

“Yes, yes yes yes yes!”

He laughed cutely and then leaned forward to press a gentle kiss on my cheek.

“Happy birthday again, (Y/N).”