my works back room

sometimes youve just got to hide your favourite local vandal from your overprotective cousin,, and sometimes you fail 

Craigslist room for rent goes sour.

I was in the process of joining the military, simply waiting for the date to enter service. “It would take at least a month, but no more than a year.” Apartment lease had expired, no month-to-month payment option. Looking for some short-term housing. I was single, worked 2 part time jobs, & had cash in savings. I’m quiet, flexible, simple needs. Just needed the simplest of accommodations. I went to Craig’s List.

Met with a woman who advertised a room for rent. We’ll call her “Jill”. Jill was 20something, single, and came from a wealthy family who bought her this small 3 bedroom house, gave her a nice car, paid her bills. Jill didn’t like to work, she just “sold her art”. She made awful graphic art fan fiction on her PC, probably never sold anything but was completely obsessed with her own work and would talk about it constantly. Jill had pets. So. Many. Pets. Like 20 cats, 4 dogs, a room of birds out of their cages, and several acquariums. A bit weird/slightly skewed version of reality, but seemed nice, had a room available and price was okay. I would pay a flat rate for rent and utilities, provide my own food, and come and go as I please. Neither of us ever signed anything, just details via text and email.

She benefited from my moving in as I had transferred my cable internet connection to her house. Got the modem hooked up and used my own wireless router and let her use it for free. I also have carpentry experience so I helper her repair some door frames and some wood trim in addition to patching up some drywall. Helped her out a lot, all while requesting nothing in return. The first week was nice.

Things fell apart rapidly after that. She became manipulative, started making financial demands. The electric bill was high, I needed to pay “my part”. She had bought enough groceries for both of us without informing me, but now that milk had soured and bread molded I needed to pay for “wasted groceries”. Old busted up door knob on the side of the house broke off while taking out trash, so I needed to buy a new one. Etc…

Individually these didn’t bother me much, but there was a pattern. After just weeks, living expenses had tripled the agreed upon amount. I told her that this couldn’t happen anymore. I would pay the agreed upon amount and buy my own food. Period. This settled things…for a week.

Got back from work. In my room my guitar was gone, and in its place, a bill. A bill from a plumber who had installed a toilet. “My bathroom” needed some work done. Jill had “lost all trust” that I would fulfill “financial obligations” after I “freaked out about money before.” My guitar was hostage, locked in her bedroom until I paid for her toilet upgrade. She literally added a padlock to her bedroom door.

Time to get out. I told her I was moving out the next day (a friend already offered me his guest-room). She could keep the guitar (it was a $100 pawn shop guitar). I wasn’t going to pay to fix her house anymore.

Upon packing things came the modem discussion. She was taking an online class since she now had an internet connection. She would get her own connection “in a few days”. I was angry with her but not yet vengeful. I agreed to let her use it until my connection got transferred.

A week later, called Jill the day before the cable transfer. She said she would drop off the equipment, oddly, only while I was at work. I texted a reminder, “please don’t forget to drop off modem”, and she responded, “left it in a bag outside your front door”. Weird, but whatever. I get home that night. No bag. No modem. I text, “did you leave it at the right house? can’t find it”, she responds, “yes”.

Cable got installed, still no modem. It’ll cost me if I don’t turn in the old one. Now I’m vengeful. She’s extorted money, I’ve been nothing but helpful and considerate, she’s stolen my things, now she’s probably lying and stealing more things - which will cost even more money.

Jill took a pottery class on Thursdays, out of the house for 2 hours. Her front door had a combination keypad for entry instead of keys. She claimed she would change the combo when I left, but probably didn’t know how to do that. Waited until after the time she left. Drove past. No one home. Parked a block away, walked to front door, entered the code. Still works. Straight to her bedroom. Not padlocked anymore. Look, there’s my router and modem, right where they shouldn’t be because they’re in a bag outside my friend’s place. Weird. Grab my modem & router, grab my guitar, insert a spare old burned admin copy of Win'98 into her cdrom, boot to CD, set it to work formatting her hard drive. She can complete Win'98 installation later, complained about Vista anyway. Probably won’t be able to retrieve her “art” and homework.

Back in my car within 5 minutes, at my friend’s place 10 minutes later. Jill’s pottery class still had another hour. I texted, “finally found the modem, bag must’ve blown into the bushes! Thanks for dropping it off! :D” I love to imagine whatever flurry of emotions she must have experienced at that moment…

Called me in a frantic rage 30 minutes later. “YOU STOLE FROM ME!!!” “What?? Jill…What are you talking about?” “YOU BROKE INTO MY HOUSE AND STOLE FROM ME!!!” “Wait…someone broke into the house?? I’m sorry, I don’t know anything about that… What did they take?” Her remarkable psychological gymnast skills. Walks right up to the ledge of almost admitting that she lied to me and stole my things (after-all, such an admission was required for her version of events to make any sense at all) and then psychologically-backflips away. She couldn’t do it. Her story was not compatible with reality. All she could muster was rage and empty threats and that phone call was the last time I ever heard from her. Honestly, at that point the stuff and the money involved was worth less to me than the fact that she had so much rage but couldn’t do anything about it. It brought me a little joy. The strangest part is that she never mentioned her computer at all…

anonymous asked:

Hi could you please write an 8th year drarry trope where they're forced to work together and end up really liking each other? :))


“Now everyone, listen here while I tell you what your project will be about.” Said Slughorn. Harry wasn’t really paying attention, he just hoped that Hermione would explain the whole thing to him later. He was thinking, as he usually was these days, about the war and of all the people that should be sat around him, but weren’t. If only he had destroyed the horcruxes earlier, or if he had told the people in the Order about their mission Voldemort would’ve been dead much sooner. His trance was broken when the chair next to him scraped on the floor. He looked up to see the tall figure of Draco Malfoy place himself in it.

“So, I say we-” He started before he saw Harry’s confused face staring at him. Malfoy sighed and rolled his eyes. “You weren’t listening, were you?” Harry shook his head. “Well, Potter, if you had been paying attention you would’ve known that we got partnered up for the project.”

Harry groaned and thumped his head on the desk. “No.”

“I’m not exactly thrilled about this either,” Harry heard a little moroseness in his voice. “But we both have to deal with this, okay? I say we put our little petty school rivalry in the past. Deal?” Malfoy held out his hand.

Harry took it hesitantly. “Fine.”

“Alright then. We’ll meet in the library at six.” Malfoy stated. He then grabbed his bag and strutted out the door.

Harry left the common room at ten to six. He walked into the library with five minutes to spare, only to find Malfoy already sitting at a table in the back with papers and books scattered all over. “I never expected you to be so messy, Malfoy.” He teased as he sat down across from him.

Keep reading

The Thrawn Crisis Regency AU 

for @operaticspacestrash 

Welcome to Myrkr estate, Sir Luke…

After being set upon by Imperial agents and left in the woods to die, Luke Skywalker, the secret son of late and unlamented Lord Vader, is rescued by Captain Karrde, a notorious smuggler, and the mysterious Miss Mara Jade. He soon discovers that Miss Jade was once the ward of the former Emperor, and that she desires nothing more than to see him dead. Meanwhile, Admiral Thrawn’s fleet gathers off the coast and no one knows which way the tide of war will turn…

do you think they just walk around the ship like this sometimes?

Eight Years Later

Oops. My hand slipped. Couldn’t resist this bit of inspiration.


My backpack lands on the wide counter with a loud thud that I feel in my shoulders. Stupid AP Biology text book weighs a ton. As I roll my shoulders to work out the kinks, Peeta walks into the back room and smiles.

“Just give me a minute to finish prepping tomorrow’s dough and we’ll get out of here,” he tells me.

I hop up on the counter and pull out a text book while he washes his hands and gets to work. I don’t mind waiting while he finishes a shift. It’s actually nicer than being stuck at home. My house is usually empty and quiet now. As long as Peeta’s mom isn’t at the bakery, the place is warm and welcoming. Filled with rich scents and laughter as Peeta and his two brothers make light of their jobs.

My biology isn’t interesting to me right now, though. What is interesting to me is the way Peeta’s massaging that dough – er, kneading it. My aching shoulders throb in jealousy. The thing is, we’ve been dating for over a year but it wasn’t until last month that I worked up the nerve to admit to him that I wanted to have sex with him. I mean, who wouldn’t want to? He’s hot. But I’ve never been good with words and I’m even worse when it comes to sexy words.

Keep reading

Hey so since school is starting up again and a lot of people I know are going to college for the first time, I wanted to compile some advice/info I’ve learned from my first year. There are a lot of tips about general things but I haven’t seen much about how college can really deal a blow to confidence, social skills, and mental health. Some of the stuff is under the cut since this got long. 

  • Loneliness is pretty common in college. It doesn’t seem like that because everyone keeps a facade up for social media to make it look like they’re constantly having a good time with friends. It’s easy to think that maybe you’re missing out on something, or something’s wrong with you if you aren’t having a blast and going out on weekends with a big group of happy friends–after all, that’s what all your facebook friends are doing right? In reality, what you see on social media is just the highlights of people’s lives; you’re not seeing any of their lows or stressful times. You aren’t alone if you feel lonely or stressed because you aren’t living a perfect social life.
  • Chances are, you’re not going to find a close group of friends immediately. In fact, it might take a while to establish a solid friendgroup–don’t expect that you’re going to find a ride or die/tight-knit “squad” right off the bat.
  • Sometimes you won’t even form a friend group by the end of freshman year and that’s ok. It’s hard to make friends when you’re placed in an unfamiliar situation surrounded by people who are suddenly very different from you (esp. if you don’t stay local or school demographics are very different from high school); but don’t lose hope. There’s at least one or two people at your college/uni who will get along really well with you and become good, if not close friends. For some it may not take long to find them, but for me it took 4.5 months before I found someone other than my roommate I could really feel comfortable with and whose company I enjoyed.
  • As tempting as it might sound to spend the entire weekend chilling in your dorm/room, it can be really helpful to go out, even to a cafe, library, or any place with people. I’m an introvert who enjoys her own company but I started feeling like shit after a few weeks of not getting enough exposure to other people. You need social interaction at some point to survive.
  • If you find yourself thinking “I have no real friends” (which to be honest, might happen at some point), think about any people you’ve met who have been genuinely warm and welcoming to you. Even if it’s a professor, that cashier at the cafeteria, a library worker, your major advisor, the lady working in the career center. Reach out to them and ask if they want to grab lunch or coffee together. It’s so, so tempting to wallow in self-pity and quit trying to befriend people but you can’t give up. If someone’s reached out to you before and you declined their invitation, now’s the time to take them up on that offer. There are people who/will care about you, but like any relationship, you have to try too. When I was feeling my peak suicidal (and spent a day crying in my room reading reddit threads about how lonely someone was in college), I messaged a hallmate asking to eat lunch together the next day. Lunch was a little awkward since it was a big group at a circular table, but that’s how I met my closest friend on campus (we send pics and videos of cats to each other on discord regularly).

Keep reading

Give me more work? Hope you like waiting!

I work a crappy retail job, and we just started putting out our christmas stock (It kills me to say that when it isn’t even Halloween yet). I was working the register while my coworker was in the back room handling a delivery. It was a quiet night, no customers for about half an hour, and in walks a woman with her three year old daughter.

They start looking in the christmas aisle. I happen to walk by it about ten minutes later, and the aisle is completely trashed. I watch as her daughter pulls three pegs worth of garland off the wall, then as her mother picks out the color she wants and leaves the rest on the floor. This woman had allowed her daughter to do this for nearly everything in the aisle. She saw me, took her daughters hand and said “Come on honey, lets go check out while this nice lady cleans up.” And she leads her kid toward the check out.

Well, jokes on you, lady. I’m the only one working them tonight! I start cleaning the aisle (very slowly) while she waits at the register. After a few minutes, the lady looks at me and clears her throat. I look up, smile and say “I’m sorry, but company policy states that I can’t leave any obstruction in an aisle unattended. I’ll be with you as soon as I can.” And I go back to cleaning. Made her wait for a good twenty minutes trying to entertain a bored, increasingly whiny toddler before I came up and wrang her stuff up. I made sure to give her my biggest smile as I handed her her change and said “Have a nice night!”.

Blind Date

Pairing: Chris Pratt x Reader

Author: @star-pratt

Words: 8055

Author’s Note: So, @mf-despair-queen and I were talking about Dylan and Chris on motorcycles and decided to write something with it. Although the fics are different, the do link together in plot/ Make sure you check hers out, cause it’s amazing!

Originally posted by heckyeahreactiongifs

I’ve had a history of terrible dates, so much that I haven’t gone on a proper date in almost two years. There were a few where they stood me up and a few where they were just plain awful, clearly only wanting sex from me. Living in L.A. is basically the worst place to date, because most of guys I’ve met are egotistical assholes, who only care about themselves.

Keep reading


Sorry this took so long. I just really wanted to get this right. It’s a topic that’s quite close to my heart, so it needed to be perfect. I hope you like it. Also I’m tagging @obviouslyelementary because I thought you might appreciate it. Anyway, enjoy. 

The other three weren’t being subtle.

Logan wasn’t sure how they hadn’t figured it out by now. If he, the least emotionally-driven trait, had been able to deduce the reason for the stammered words, lingering looks, and “accidental” touches, surely the three of them should have been able to.

He really hoped they realized their mutual attraction to each other and became romantically involved soon. He could only take so much sighing and pining in the mindscape. To this end, he had begun to leave the three of them alone with each other more. Begging off movie nights, stepping out early from family dinners, claiming the need for work more and more often in the evenings.

He didn’t mind. Really. While he did enjoy spending time with the others, he recognized that they might not be comfortable admitting their romantic affections to each other while he was present. And he understood the importance of such connections to others, despite never experiencing romantic attraction himself. So he could stand to spend a few nights alone.

He made sure to keep this thought firmly in mind as he quietly slipped away from the living room, where he could see the others making a blanket fort. Morality’s idea probably, although the other two didn’t seem to be complaining.

When he reached his room, he went to pick up the latest book he had been reading, The Song of Achilles. It had been recommended to Thomas a while back by one of his fans, and Logan had been intrigued enough by the concept to pick it up.

However, while the book was well-written and engaging, as Logan stared down the pages, he just couldn’t muster up the enthusiasm for it. Perhaps something less romantically oriented would be better for tonight. And besides, he did have papers to grade.

Setting aside the book, Logan pulled the pile of essays into his lap, absentmindedly uncapping a red pen. He hoped the others were having a good night, and that they would sort themselves out. They were his dearest friends, and the closes bonds he would ever have. He wanted them to be happy. They deserved it, and each other.

Thankfully it was only two weeks later, before Logan’s quiet meddling had bore fruit. Somehow, it has seemed crass to press for more detail, one of the outings he had excused himself from had resulted in confessions spilling out, and the three were now happily dating. Logan was glad for them. 

Only,he couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit of dissatisfaction. For him things hadn’t changed that much. Some part of Logan had thought that once all the romantic feelings had been worked out, he could resume his routines with the others. And yet, he still tended to duck out more evenings that not.

It wasn’t as thought the others were unwelcoming, but there was definite sense of awkwardness and intrusion now. Logan had sat in on one movie night after the three of them had gotten together, but had left halfway through the first movie. The way the three of them and acted had felt so much like a date. And well, who wanted a fourth wheel on their dates? They were probably glad he had left.

It wasn’t as if he never saw the others. Morality still made time to cook with him, an activity Anxiety had little interest in, and Prince was abysmal at. Anxiety still let himself be dragged into impromptu debates. And Prince still dragged him out into the forest to identify whatever new creature or animal he had found this time.

So really, this new distance between them was nothing to be concerned about. In fact, it should have been expected. Romantic relationships were prioritized, Logan knew this well. It was only natural for the other three to focus more on each other now. It was logical even.

(And yet, despite all his rationalization. Logan still felt small shred of loneliness slip into him. He forced himself to ignore it. There was nothing to be done)

In the weeks that followed, Logan kept to his new routine. He had to say, it did do wonders for his productivity. And he’d still had time to finish several books he had been meaning to read for quite some time. So it wasn’t all bad. 

He had also been sure to express his happiness for the others at multiple intervals, as well as assuring them that he himself was quite content.

As such, he thought he had been able to conceal his more selfish feelings, but something must have slipped, as Morality had approached him.

“Hey, buddy,” the more cheerful said, smiling, “What’s up?”

‘Not much,” Logan said, glancing at him. “I’m just doing some prep work for upcoming videos.”

“Anything pressing,” Morality asked. His tone was seemingly light-hearted, but there was an edge of something else. Logan couldn’t place it.

“I suppose there’s nothing too urgent,” Logan replied cautiously.

“Sooo, you can come hang out with us this evening,” Morality said, wheedling. “We can watch Big Hero 6.”

Logan felt an excuse automatically rise from his lips. “I’m sorry, Morality, but I also planned to do some grading this evening. Perhaps next time.”

“Will there ever actually be a next time, or do you plan on avoiding us forever?” Prince interjected, leaning against the doorway.

Morality turned and frowned at him. “Roman…”

“Look, Morality, I know you said you would handle it, but quite frankly, I want answers.” Prince said, coming more fully into the room. Anxiety trailed after him.

Morality sighed, then looked back at Logan. “He, he does kind of have a point. You haven’t been spending much time with us lately. It’s a little worrying.”

Logan felt his shoulders hunch a little. He hadn’t intended to worry them.

“My apologies,” he said softly. “I only hoped to make your more comfortable.”

Anxiety raised his eyebrow skeptically. “Dude, what part of avoiding us like the freaking plague was supposed to make us more comfortable?”

“I just didn’t want to intrude,” Logan explained. “The three of you are romantically linked now. I am not. It was only logical to give you space to explore and enjoy your new affections without the awkwardness of my presence.”

“Just because we’re dating doesn’t mean, we don’t want you around!’ Morality exclaimed.

“That’s not what I meant,” Logan hastened to assure him. He hesitated before continuing. He had never told the others about his orientation. It had seemed unimportant before. But perhaps now was the time to come out, as it were.

“I’m aromantic,” he stated simply, not letting his face reveal any of his nervousness. “I do not, and likely never will, experience romantic attraction. There’s nothing wrong like that, and I’m perfectly content as I am. But back to the situation at hand.”

He took in a deep breath, one hand going up to adjust his glasses, the only hint as to his agitation aside from his pounding heart. The emotionally charged atmosphere was getting to him.

“Despite not experiencing romantic attraction,” he continued. “I am aware of its importance to others. I know that romantic relationships are held to be the most important form of relationships, that they are prioritized over platonic ones. As such, after the three of you got together. I realized that your new relationship would be your priority, and sought to make that easier for you, by excusing myself when necessary.”

He looked up at them. The three of them seemed oddly upset looking.

He gentled his tone. “It’s nothing bad,” he told them “And I don’t mind distancing myself a bit. I’ve become enormously productive actually. Perhaps this all was for the best.”

He pulled his lips up into a smile. It didn’t feel fully natural.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” he said. “I’ll go back to my room to work.”

He turned away from others, and began walking down the hallway. Everything he had said had been true. (So why did he feel so sad?)

Back in the common area, Anxiety was the first one to break the silence that had followed Logic’s departure.

“This feels wrong,” he said flatly. “I don’t know how we can fix it, but this feels wrong.”

The words snapped Patton out of his stupor. “I agree,” he said, running one hand through his hair. “I know he said everything was fine, but this doesn’t feel fine!”

“Yeah, and all that bullshit about how he shouldn’t be our priority,” Anxiety said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “What was up with that?”

“I don’t know,” Patton sighed. “Roman, what do you think?”

But there was no response from the royal.

“Roman?” Patton turned to look at him. The other side was on his phone. When he felt the other two staring at him, he looked up.

“What?” he defended himself. “I was looking up aromanticism. I’d never heard of it before”

“Whatever,” Anxiety said, turning back towards Patton. “Seriously, do you have any solutions? Because I’ve got nothing.”

Patton pursed his lips. “We could try making him show up to things like movie nights?” he suggested uncertainly. “Don’t take no for an answer?”

“If he feels like he’s intruding, that’s not going to stop even if we make him show up,” Anxiety replied, shaking his head. “Try again.”

They went on for a few minutes like that, Patton offering ideas, Anxiety pointing out the problems with each one. Finally Patton threw up his hands in frustration.

“I give up!” he said. “I just want some way to show him that he’s just as important to us, and that we care about him, even if we aren’t dating him. Why is that so hard to figure out?”

“Actually, I may have a solution,” Prince said, still staring at his phone. Anxiety and Patton turned to face him.

He looked up. “Have either of your heard the term ‘queerplatonic’ before?”

When Logan came down for breakfast the next morning and saw the other three waiting for him with expectant looks on their faces, he could help but to groan internally. He really hadn’t been trying to cause a fuss.

“Salutations,” he said, pretending to be oblivious to the atmosphere. “Are those waffles?”

“Logan,” Morality stepped forward, and it seemed there was no avoiding this. “We have something to ask you.”

“Yes?” Logan said, arching an eyebrow.

“I was doing some research on aromanticism last night,” Prince said, stepping forward, “and I came across something interesting. I assume you’re familiar with the concept of queerplatonic relationships.”

Logan’s brow furrowed.

A queerplatonic relationship, a relationship that is not romantic but involves a close platonic emotional connection beyond what most people consider friendship. The commitment level in a queerplatonic relationship is often considered to be similar to that of a romantic relationship.  

He was familiar with the term, but he wasn’t sure why Roman was bringing it up.

“Logan,” Morality was saying, his voice gentle. “We want to be in a queerplatonic relationship with you.”

Logan’s brain broke. They-they couldn’t possibly be asking what he thought they were asking.

“Wh-what?” he managed to stammer out, scrambling to get his thoughts back in working order.

“We want to be in a queerplatonic relationship with you,” Anxiety said boldly, moving out of the shadows. “Because all that bullshit before, about priorities and stuff, none of that’s true. We care about just as much as we care about each other. You’re not some freaking intruder.”

“I, be that as it may,” Logan said carefully. “You can’t be serious. This wouldn’t be like the bond the three of you share, and quite frankly, alloromantic people tend to hold romantic relationships in higher esteem.”

“Who cares if it’s different?“ Prince said, sounding frustrated. “My relationship with Anxiety isn’t anything like my relationship with Patton, but I still love them both. Neither of them is less important than the other. And as for the second part, do you really think so little of us? That we would value you less simply because of who you are?”

“I, well, no” Logan began, his head now really spinning, but his traitorous heart was oddly hopeful.

“We love you,” Morality said simply. “Even if we’re not in love with you, we love you. And we want to show you that. The only question is, do you feel the same way?”

Logan squeezed his eyes shut.

“Yes.” he whispered. “Yes, I do. I always have. You, you’ve been my closest friends, the deepest relationship I’ve ever had. You’ve been my partners, in everything.”

Arms wrapped around him. “Then that’s the only thing that matters,” Morality murmured. “We can figure out everything else later.”

Another set of arms. “Does this mean you’ll come back to movie nights?” Anxiety asked. “Because it’s not the same without someone else to snark with.”

Prince’s arms wrapped around all three of them. “I’m so relieved this worked out,” he exclaimed. “I love a happy ending!”

Logan couldn’t help but to laugh. Even if he’d had Prince’s imagination, he never could have imagined this. Standing in the kitchen, surrounded by the warmth of his friends, no, partners, Logan felt his loneliness melt away.  He had been wrong before, about the priories.

He had never been so happy about being mistaken.


a series of unlikely crossovers:

“I’m not going to put myself in a situation I know I’ll be uncomfortable and stressed in,” shouldn’t warrant being told to just “give it a chance,” after months of “"giving it a chance,”“ and shouldn’t warrant being forced to do something that will make you unhappy, and after you don’t give in it still shouldn’t warrant the silent treatment and anger.

Handling a situation with maturity and calmness should not result in hostility from the other person.

You should always have the right to refuse going into a situation.

Your Move

The nine times Simon and Baz prank each other and the one time they don’t

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

March 29


Technically, I might have cheated a bit.  Then again, we never clearly laid out any rules.  We never actually decided that each player had to wait until the next day to lay their trap, it was just sort of understood.  So if I made preparations the night before, I would say that it’s completely fair.  After all, how can you break a rule if none were ever written?

           When Baz gets up before me to use the shower, I hide my grin under my blankets.

           I dress as the water runs.  

           I take the planned precautions and double-check that I’ve remembered to wear my necklace.

           When the water shuts off, I take my position, sitting on my bed with my back against my pillow, waiting.  The picture of calm, even though I’m buzzing with anticipation.

           I count down in my head as I hear the curtain slide back.

           Three, two, one…



           “Problem, Baz?”

           “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?”

           “I should think it would be obvious.”


           I don’t move.  I stay exactly where I am and straighten out a crease in my shirt. Crowley, I’m starting to act like him.

           There’s a steady stream of cursing from the other side of the door.  Normal cursing, not magical cursing, though he sounds angry enough to curse me right off the school grounds.

           When he cracks the door open, he doesn’t lean around to look at me.  

           “Oh, come on,” I tell him, “get it over with.”

           He takes a step forward and emerges, wearing only a towel around his waist, half of his body hidden behind the door.  Part of my brain registers the fact that I’ve never seen him with this little clothing on, but I’m very much distracted by his hair.  It’s slicked back with shower water, a few strands hanging in front of his eyes, and it’s blond.  Yellow-blond.

           A smirk takes control of my face.  “Well, that clearly worked, then.”

           “Do you have any idea how bloody dead you are.”

           “Could you hurry up in there?  I’d like to use the bathroom.  Oh, and it’s your move.”

           He slams the door in my face and I bury my laughter in my pillow.

           He takes an exaggeratedly long time to get ready, probably to spite me, or maybe he’s busy trying to magic the bleach out of his hair.  Trixie told me it was extra-long lasting, but it is only Normal bleach with no magical properties.  Maybe I did charm it to be a bit stronger, but he could probably magic his hair back to normal if he tried long enough.  I just wait on my bed, studying my nails casually like I assume he does when he’s tormenting me.

           When Baz finally reappears in the doorway, he’s fully clothed and his hair is still blond, but it’s different now.  It’s dry, and instead of yellow his hair is a soft white. He hasn’t slicked it back like he usually does, just lets it fall around his face like snowflakes.

           His skin is so pale that white-blond hair shouldn’t look good on him.

           But it does.

           It’s light and soft and it makes his heavy gray eyes look gentle, even though he’s currently using them to shoot daggers at me. It’s striking against the green of his uniform, and it’s like he’s turned from a vampire into a wood elf, tall and elegant and smooth.

           His hair looks so soft, freshly washed like this, that my hands actually twitch.  I want to take a lock and rub it between my fingertips.      

           Crowley, it looks good.

           There’s a lurch in my stomach, unfamiliar and cold, and I don’t know what it means.  Not that it matters, I’m definitely not thinking about my stomach right now.

           “I thought I told you to run,” Baz growls through his teeth, his cheeks pink.  Maybe from shower steam, maybe from embarrassment.  I wonder what my cheeks look like right now, with how I feel them heating up.

           “I’m not stupid, Baz,” I reply calmly, even though there’s a weird shiver working its way down my back.  “If I leave the room, you’ll just throw me down the stairs or something.  This is the safest place for me right now.”

           “Maybe I’ll throw you out the window and let the merwolves have you.”

           “Try opening the window, Baz, see how far you get.”

           “What did you do to it?”

           “Nothing serious, just a simple precaution, but you won’t be getting it open.”

           “What if I carried you out the door?”

           “You’d have to fight me to get me there, and I don’t think the Anathema would like that very much.”

           He seethes at me for another few seconds before storming out the door.  I can hear his angry steps all the way down the tower.

           I stay where I am for I don’t know how long. It’s like I can’t move, and my stomach is still feeling hollow.  Not in a hungry way, more like someone took one of my organs out and left a giant empty spot, and now the rest of my organs are frantically shifting around to try and fill the space.  I’m cold and hot at the same time.

           “Crowley,” I say aloud to the empty room.

           It looked good.


           Penny and I are out on the hill when she sees what I’ve done.

           “Mor-gana, Simon,” she breathes, her eyes wide.  “How are you even still alive?”

           I shake my head, watching Baz as he disappears into the castle.  His hair is even more ethereal in the light of day.  I can only imagine what he would look like if the sun were shining.  He’d have a fucking halo.

           “The better question is, why has he left it like that?” Penny muses, squinting at the doors even after Baz has passed through them.  “Couldn’t he magic it back to normal?”

           “Maybe the dye is too strong.”

           “How exactly did you pull this off, anyway?”

           “I poured hair bleach in his shampoo last night.”

           She shakes her head with a disbelieving laugh. “Crowley, Simon,” she says, “when is this game going to end?”

           I shrug.  I hadn’t thought about it.  “When there’s a winner?”

           “And how do you determine a winner?”

           “Maybe just until one of us concedes.”

           “I know you two,” she scoffs, “that’s not going to happen.”

           Something about her saying you two makes my heart beat a little louder in my ears for just a second.

           “So let me get this straight,” she continues. “First you changed his sugar into salt, so he turned your scones to rock.  Then came the necklace thing, and the glue on the doorknob.  I know he kept turning your music up yesterday, but there’s something missing in between.  Did you forfeit that day?”


           “What did you do?”

           The memory is sour and I grimace.  “I don’t want to talk about it?”

           “Why?  Did it not work?”      

           “I cursed him.”

           “So what?  He’s cursed you loads of times.”

           “I gave him nightmares.”

           Penny doesn’t answer for a second.  “You did what?”

           “They were only supposed to be minor ones, but something went wrong, they were never supposed to hurt him.”

           “How bad were they?”

           I want to scrub the memory from my eyelids. “I had to wake him up because he kept shouting.”

           “Simon, that’s… terrible, actually.”

           “I told you, they weren’t supposed to be scary.”

           “Still, you attacked the mind.  Worse, you attacked the subconscious.”  She looks at me like I’ve taken her food without asking. “Does he know it was you?”

           “I don’t think so.”

           “Is that why you didn’t get mad yesterday when he pranked you?”

           “Why would I get mad?” I shrug.  “I deserved it.”



           “I never thought I’d see the day that you felt bad for hurting Baz.”

           I shake my head.  “He might be a twat, but you didn’t hear him.  No one deserves whatever he was dreaming.”

           Penny watches me thoughtfully.  “Hmm,” she muses.


           “Nothing, just… maybe you guys don’t hate each other as much as you think you do.”


           Baz’s hair is still white-blond later at night when we turn in.  I still have to consciously remind myself to stop staring at it.

           He hasn’t said anything to me since this morning, but I don’t think it’s because he’s mad.  More just the normal silence that exists between us when we’re not actively fighting or shouting abuse at each other.

           I wonder as he turns out the lights if his hair has always looked so soft, or if I’ve just noticed it now.  When he turns it black again, will I still have the urge to touch it?  Is it something I’ve always wanted to do but only just realized?

           A thought occurs to me as his breathing starts to deepen across the room.  “Hey, Baz.”

           “What, Snow?”

           “We match.”

           It’s ridiculous and not even close to true. My hair is the blonde of honey, while his is currently the blonde of fucking snow, but that makes it even more ironic and, naturally, even more funny to me.

           Baz doesn’t say anything, just sits up and punts one of his pillows at me, and I can’t hold in a giggle when it hits me.


Chopin - Nocturne no.20 in c# minor, op.posth

This ‘nocturne” was actually a little exercize Chopin wrote for his sister Ludwika as a practice for his second piano concerto. The nocturne is built out of the main theme of that concerto, and is a charming solo piece, and it had become popular from its performance by Natalia Karp, a Polish pianist who was imprisoned during the Holocaust, but had performed this work in front of a Nazi soldier who spared her life. This story became famous and this work accidentally became associated with the holocaust and Poland’s struggle through the war, and it became a staple of pop culture through T.V. and film, most notably in Roman Polanski’s The Pianist. This short piano work is very evocative, and even though it is “just” a little exercise, there is so much emotion in its few bars that I can’t help feeling kind of depressed here alone in my room this night. I first heard this work back in high school in a version for violin and piano, and it’s stuck with me since.

((OOC: I am so sorry for not stating when my lunch break was over. Thank you all for the questions, please feel free to always ask me stuff, because I love that.

I’d make an “I love you” gif, but I am currently buck-ass nude, so here is an old gif of me with one of the cats. Know that it means that I love you. ))