EUPHORIC.

Part of Esmeray feels guilty for breaking up with Elijah, but the other part doesn’t. He never treated her how she deserved and the woman knew her worth. She’d worked her ass off to be in the field she was in and deserved to have someone treat her not only as an equal, but as someone that they could go home to at the end of the day and just be present with each other. She really thought that was Elijah, but she was mistaken. 

He’s lying. Esme has always been able to read him and she knew he was the same about her. It didn’t matter now though. Glad he’s getting right into it, Esme doesn’t know what to expect. Him asking for a favor sure as hell isn’t at the top of the list either. 

She keeps her face as stoic as she can as he discusses their termination. Jesus christ, make it as non-personal as possible, huh Eli? She was no dummy, she knew what this meant. “You want me to pretend like we didn’t break up,” she makes sure to actually say what happened instead of dancing around it, “and keep up appearances for your family? All because you didn’t tell them.” She nods and scoffs lightly, leaning back in the hard diner chair. “Got it. So, what have you been telling your family when they ask how things are? How I’m doing? How we’re doing? Have you been lying to them?” Esmeray leaned forward, her crossed arms resting on the table. “And why should I do this, Elijah? It’s not like for one night you’re going to magically start to pay attention to me instead of work, right? We’re both too smart to think that’s the case and your family is too.” 

-

The wince comes involuntarily but Elijah tries to hide it with a cough. Leave it to Esme to call him out on this; there’s a twinge of irritation at how the woman still manages to pull all his strings. Surely there’s fault on his end on how their relationship reached its demise, but Elijah has always been forthright on his stance regarding his career. While his family adored Esme, they had the idea that he was able to juggle the responsibilities of a boyfriend while climbing the ladder towards partnership at his firm.

He couldn’t.

And so he had to call it quits. In his mind, he was doing them both a favor. Elijah knew that blame would be thrown in her direction once his family start to realize that he’s stuck in his position. He figured that once he got that part of his life together, he would be good enough for her and his parents. Elijah’s still working on it.

“Yes,” he says simply, putting on a brave face. “I didn’t tell them because it wasn’t any of their business, but I now realize that bringing up the news would take away the spotlight from my sister. When they ask about you, I tell them that you’re fine since I assume that you are. When they ask about us, I divert the topic towards a different direction. It seemed to be working fine until, you know -- the wedding.” A sigh escapes his lips and Elijah’s quiet for a moment. He should have known this wouldn’t have been as easy as asking someone for a favor. The thought of payment comes to mind but it’s quickly dismissed. Esme would surely have words for him had he had the audacity to even bring it up. “Because I’m asking for help, Esmeray. I don’t know what else I could do and you know I really don’t want to mess this wedding up,” he starts. “And I can pay attention to you. I know I can. I called off for the week so I can focus on this charade.”

@amurderofcrxws​

▶︎

Ami sometimes had to travel for work, usually to conferences and conventions. And they had given their housemate Mel a head’s up that they were going to be gone for the weekend. But something had come up which led Ami to return home a day earlier than expected. Arriving back home at night, Ami was about to head into their room to knock out when they heard Mel yelp out.

“Mel, chill, it’s just me,” they chuckled as they dropped their bag onto the couch. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust in the dark, but when they could fully see Mel, with just her hair wrapped in a towel and nothing else on her, they paused. “Uh…,” Ami began, swallowing thickly. Mel was… well, Mel. And they liked Mel. A lot. More than they probably should, but the two were just housemates living together. Another beat passed which allowed Ami to compose themself quickly. “You um. I think you’re missing a towel,” they pointed out with a small smirk. “Unless this is how you planned on welcoming me home?”

-

Mel breathes a sigh of relief when her house-mate announces themselves but it’s short-lived when they point out her state of undress. With a yelp, she yanks the towel off her head -- practically dragging her hair in the process -- and wraps it around her body.  “I didn’t --. You weren’t suppose to be --.” Her voice turns up an octave with each word and there’s a moment’s thought of just running towards her bedroom but this is Ami. They’ve seen her in worse positions.

“I thought you were coming home tomorrow,” she says once she’s finally gotten the towel around her. “I was supposed to make you a big dinner and -- oh no, have you eaten? I can whip up something right now!” Without waiting for their answer, Mel’s body is on work mode as she makes her way to the kitchen. “And for the record,” she yells out, finally calmed down and just glad she’s not going to die in the hands of some intruder. “Don’t you have fangirls or whatever already throwing themselves at you? You don’t need me to welcome you home like this.” If there’s a twinge of envy that colors her tone, Mel doesn’t acknowledge it. She merely brings out random ingredients and it’s the cold from the fridge that reminds her that she’s still just in a towel, but she’s already up and about -- might as well finish what she’s started. “How was your thingy anyway? Bring home the gold?”

𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢 - 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 , 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢 - 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 as loved by luna containing original and canon characters . mun is twenty six years old and from the pst time zone . fairly selective with low - medium activity . also discord friendly . always open for plotting < 3

She can’t help but smile. “Yes, I think you’re very pretty.” It’s far too easy to ignore their current situation, the death that follows the two of them almost constantly.  There’s nothing she loves more than these close moments between the two of them. He melts into her and she does the same. Shaking her head, she has to laugh. “I knew you would say that. This is why we can’t have nice things.” She teases. However, his comment leaves just as quickly as it came, the two of them enjoying nothing but each others presence. She lets her mind wander to the future. For a while, she wasn’t sure there would be a future. Alessia doesn’t let herself dwell on these things often, but when she’s with Richie, she knows this is where she’s supposed to be. There’s no uncertainty of ‘forever’ with him. Whenever their forever ends, they’ll do it together. “Forever”. She repeats, her eyes closed as he marks her neck. His comment barely sinks in, she’s too focused on their proximity to one another. “I’ll take whatever forever you give me.” 

-

“Well, I think you’re beautiful,” Richie counters, believing the very truth in his words that come naturally as if he’s never been more sure of anything but. Does Richie see beauty in Alessia? Without a doubt -- in every moment she’s blessed him, in every smile she graces him with; awestruck by her presence alone is indication enough.

There’s laughter bubbling inside. Leave it to the man to make such a situation so light. “You knew I would say that? Have I become that predictable?” The question is rhetorical. Richie’s found himself so entwined in Alessia’s life that he’s sure she already knows him -- really knows him -- and the thought itself should be terrifying but it does nothing more than solidify his reasoning for his actions now. 

“Wait. I’m doing it wrong.” It was supposed to be romantic but as he pushes the corpse’s leg away so he can have a better stance at propping himself on one knee, the young O’Riley knows for certain that he doesn’t want to bear a single moment any longer at not being able to call his beloved is fiance. “Alessia, I want to give you forever and by that I mean forever with me. I want to know that despite this crazy life we live, I get to go home to a crazier wife,” he chuckles at his own joke, nerves already making its way through his tone. “I want to make you happy and take care of you every single day until the day I die because I know there’s nothing else I want to do for the rest of my life. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me and fuck, I don’t deserve much, let alone deserve you, but I will work every day to be a man that does.” Shaky fingers retrieve the ring that he’s carried for this very occasion -- something tangible that would link her back to him though there’s no world, no universe out there where Richard O’Riley isn’t unconditionally and irrevocably hers. “I love you with every inch of me and I will love you for always. So I’m asking properly because I don’t want to fuck this up. Alessia Cirrilo, will you marry me?”

Persephone is in the back of the shop, putting together her latest order when her phone finally buzzes on the table next to her again. Immediately picking it up, she hopes it’s not one of her stupid dating apps. Much to her surprise, it isn’t, It’s the messages she’s been hoping for. Smiling down at the phone, she’s quick to tap out a response: 

r0sesarer3d [sent]: no worries! life happens, i get it :)  r0sesarer3d [sent]: hmm tough question. i’d say it depends on her personality. is she outgoing? if yes, you could get away with something more flashy. if she’s quieter however, i would go with something more subtle. something only you know she likes.

Maybe it’s the penname she chose, but these questions were right up her ally and she loved getting them. Funny she received them at work too. Just as she hit send, the small bell to the shop dinged, Persephone immediately called out, “Just a minute!” She could finish this arrangement first, and maybe she’d get a response from him. 

-

It’s juvenile to think that he’d be able to find someone out of a dating site but Hades’ have been on his case after his little stunt with his secretary and he figures that it wouldn’t hurt to ask for a little company. Of course after scouring through countless apps and embarrassing ‘ hook up ‘ stories, he’s found one that seems to be reputable and has actually managed to maintain a conversation with someone who’s not so quick to meet up. Poseidon calls it a red flag but he’s just happy he has someone to talk to. 

He thinks about his mother, thinks about the times when she’s had to protect him from her husband, and sends out a quick thanks for the advice. Entering the floral shop, Hades pockets his phone and finally takes a look around the store. There are a multitude of choices and there’s a part of him that wishes he could have just sent Minthe out to do this, but he remembers that his brothers wouldn’t even bother and he lives to be a little bit better than them.

Hades isn’t quite sure what would constitute as a good birthday bouquet and he figures he should go by feel. Petals in between his fingers, it doesn’t make any difference and so he addresses the shop owner for help.

“Is there anything here that says happy birthday but includes flowers that you don’t usually see at a funeral?”

@amurderofcrxws​

There’s something disheartening about needing to always prove your worth. Mel, fresh from her shift at the restaurant, makes her way to the bathroom to wash away any lingering feelings of shame and insecurity. The vigorous scrubbing starts to sting with the dollar tree loofah but it keeps her from losing herself within the voices she’s overheard from earlier. 

It’s not her fault that she’s having a hard time letting go of the only thing tangible that remains of her parents. It’s not her fault that she might be a little too young for taking on the responsibility of taking ownership. It’s not her fault that they’re gone and she’s all that’s left. 

The water does well to hide the tears that free falls. 

Towel wrapped around her frame, the droplets from her hair makes a puddle around the tile floor. Not wanting to leave a trail, she looks for another to dry her hair and audibly groans when she realizes that all her other towels are in the laundry. Mel figures that this late into the night, she wouldn’t be running into anyone and so she takes the one she already has, wraps her hair, and heads for her room.

Through the dimly lit hallway, she spots a figure and maybe it’s because she’s tired or maybe because she’s paranoid, but she lets out a high-pitched scream, scrambling for some kind of weapon. “Who are you? What the fuck are you doing here?”

Somehow Natasha’s convinced herself a cross-country road trip for her best friend’s wedding would be enjoyable but when her own boyfriend ditches her last minute, it starts to seem less likely. And because all the flights are somehow booked and she doesn’t want to go for the ones with stopovers, she’s left to go on her own. Of course her best friend all but mother-hens her into bringing someone but when she’s left clueless at who she could ask, a resolution comes in the form of a man she’s spent most of her childhood crushing on.

She struggles to find comfort in the passenger seat and the high way scenery isn’t exactly what she envisioned when she planned out the route. “Is there a place nearby where we could find something to eat,” she practically whines. Her pout is directed at the man and Natasha removes her sunglasses so she can put on the whole show -- puppy dog eyes and all. 

“Come on. We’re making good time and you do not want to witness me hangry.”

Yasmin only snorts in response and in furthering her embarrassment, the laughter doesn’t come long after. “Adam. How old are you? 50? No one says ‘hang longer’ anymore,” she throws though the teasing remarks are paired with a quick smack on his shoulder. If only she could be less obvious. “But yes, I do admit I can drink you and Violet under the table.” And it’s her mention of her best friend that retracts her hand. 

“Drunkie,” the roll of her eyes is affectionate but she hopes that she doesn’t come across as some burden he needs to take care of. It’s bad enough that she’s not as put together as her best friend is but to have someone look at her with pity --. Yasmin Trinidad is a mess and she deals with it the best way she knows how: by not dealing with it.

And maybe that’s how Adam’s come to be the object of her affection. She’s seen all forms of potential partners in the grimiest, dirtiest parts of the city. She’s seen them flaunt their wealth and show the most disgusting pieces of themselves. Adam is -- simple. He takes care of Violet and in turn, he takes care of her as well. If tonight is any indication of just how patient he is, there’s no question as to why Yasmin is filled with envy. But she loves Violet; she’s like a sister to her and so the feelings are pushed aside because she will not be selfish. Violet deserves this relationship, deserves to be with someone that loves her and isn’t afraid to show it. Yasmin? She’s content in sitting by the sidelines and if her late-night lovers are asked to stay quiet so that she can imagine a different pair of hands on her, then that’s a secret for Yasmin and Yasmin alone.

Grateful at his hospitality, she takes a bite of the food placed in front of her and practically moans at how good it tastes. “Careful,” she teases, playing with the plantains with her spoon. “I’m only called princess when someone wants me to be a good girl.”