You can’t really can’t call yourself a plant person when you let your backyard waste away to the state that it did. Patches of dead grass, dried up twigs that once used to be bushes, trees long since eaten up by termites, who have also died off a while back, and even the cacti that you were given have perished. It should’ve been easy, but you never had the energy to do so much as water them when the bed was so much more enticing.

That was, until Crowley knocked at your door, shoving a box into your arms filled with plant nymphs, all surrounding a single potted rose that has yet to bloom. Riddle was the plant’s name, or at least the roseling within the plant.

But that was a while ago. A story for different time. Right now, you’re sitting outside, on a chair you had dragged out to soak in some sunlight, as per the advice of Crowley, who waved at you with enthusiasm as he watered his own plants with a hose. In his very weirdly colored gardening clothes.

Huh, he never does take off those gloves or decorative claws, does he? You would think it weird, but you’ve around him for so long, it doesn’t bother you.

You sat deeper into your chair, feeling sweat collecting on your brow when you felt a tug on your pant leg. Looking down, you spotted a tiny Riddle, able to curl up in your palm if he wanted to, gazing up at you with his ever stern eyes. As ever, his rose petal body was simply vibrant and beautifully healthy. The little leaf crown only made more obvious by the contrast.

It’s a simple rhythm you both follow, routine that just happened without ever having to speak a word. You bent down, let Riddle hop up on your palm and lifted him to rest on your chair’s arm. There was already a doll sized ceramic tea set waiting for him, teapot filled with a special fluid blend for nymphs such as him.

He has weird little habits that you still can’t begin to understand. Sometimes he’d immediately start drinking his blend, sometimes he’d switch the extra tea cups around five times before drinking. Other times he’s wait for the trees to rustle at least four times before sitting down and getting his nutrients.

Well, either way, that’s how he operates and there’s nothing to complain about. It’s just strange is all.

… Okay you think you had enough sun. It’s starting to hurt. It’s been a while since you let yourself linger outside for this long so sunlight against skin is gonna have to be a sensation you’ll have to learn to get used to. But first, you have to wait for Riddle to finish his drink. He’ll throw a tantrum when you get up too early and make thorns catch your shoes.

As Prefect of Ramshackle, there are rules that you must follow, a code of conduct so that you may be an example to all that come your way. While you may be one of two residents within that dust filled dorm, it still doesn’t negate the fact that you must act as a housewarden should.

A meeting was called to order. If even Idia of all people can attend—albeit not physically, but still—it doesn’t leave you much excuse for why you aren’t there. And it endlessly irritates Riddle how easily your presence was dismissed, when he still had time to come and get you.

Naturally, he had to confront you right in your dorm.

“I don’t know what to tell ya, Riddle,” you shrugged your shoulders from your slouched position on the sofa, kicking off your shoes over the arm rest with nary a care in the world, “It’s not as if my being there will bring anything valuable to the table.”

The letter that told of this meeting laid on the table, opened. You had enough care to read it, but not enough to actually show up. It’s one thing to not know a rule and then ignore it, it’s another to knowingly ignore it entirely.

“Putting aside the notion of value,” Riddle glared down at you from the side of the sofa, where you let your head loll about, “you were given an invitation to attend because you hold the same authority as a housewarden. Isn’t it about time you started acting like it?”

While you may not know what exactly being housewarden would mean to a dorm such as yours, duties do vary from place to place, these meetings would provide a perfect opportunity to grasp them. So why aren’t you taking advantage of it?

“Grim and I are one and the same, right?” You sighed in his face, turning to lay on your side, away from Riddle, “Invite him next time. I want to sleep.”

Everyone and their parents knows the kind of temperament Grim holds. He’s not suited for the position, no matter how you twist him around. Besides…

Riddle gritted his teeth, focusing on the material of his gloves before taking a deep breath. He walked over to you, sitting in what little space you left on the sofa. That caught your attention immediately. You had to focus on him. Distance was something Riddle preferred, distance leaves room to assume more authority, so this…this was different. This was…closer.

Riddle can feel the warmth of your legs against his back. He can feel the blood rushing up to his face, the heat radiating from it. Embarrassment aside, Riddle wants you to look at him, to take in what he’s about to say.

“I want you to be there,” Riddle pushed out of himself, past the millions of little thorn-like thoughts that wanted nothing more than to lock away every shard of softness, “I want everyone else to respect you, like I respect you.”

There was a tree in the garden who’s roses have been left white for far too long.

“Huh,” you only tilted your head to the direction of that tree, even though anyone would’ve missed it from how far and obscured it was, “those roses are white again. On the same tree too.”

Had you not point it out, Riddle would’ve missed it. Truly, your skills of observation are something else.

Riddle has given the order to paint all the roses red, and as such, this tree should have been painted a long time ago. He’s even made sure to memorize the faces of the students that were sent to paint this specific tree.

“Housewarden I swear, I painted those roses!” One student shouted on his knees, trembling before the stern gaze of Riddle, “I don’t know why they got white again! I know my magic’s not that weak! Maybe someone—”

Riddle slammed his scepter into the ground, letting the sound snap this rule breaker out of his rambling.

“This isn’t anyone’s fault but your own, the results are made clear and those roses are still white,” annoyance threatened to bubble over into anger, into a silly little tantrum that has caused him so much trouble with for many others, “As punishment, we will walk to that tree and I will watch you paint those roses red. Does that sound sufficient?”

However, Riddle managed to reign it in. And they were both better for it, for the student broke out in a relived smile. A lesser Riddle would’ve offed his head. And while that action feels right to Riddle, he also knows that there might be some merit in what the student says. This is the third time he’s changed the painter, as per the Queen’s rules, and they all said the same thing.

“I don’t know why they got white again!”

Perhaps its sabotage, perhaps it simple coincidental laziness, but either way, Riddle will see to it that the roses on that tree get painted their vibrant red.

But, when they both made it into the deeper parts of the garden that housed this specific tree, you were already there. Digging into the roots with your own hands. Destroying the very property made to represent the Queen of Hearts.

The student stood stock still in fear while Riddle didn’t have time to think. His vision went red and it was, “Off With Your Head!”

“Woah,” you didn’t yell, you didn’t scream or cry in despair—Riddle realized in hindsight that of course you wouldn’t—it was as though you merely lost your rhythm and nothing more, “oh, hello there. Do you need something?”

Never once has Riddle manage to catch you off guard let alone rile you up enough to be something other than this constant vision of calm and composure. An endless ocean is a beautiful expanse to witness, but when completely still, you can only absorb how wrong it feels.

But Riddle isn’t here to express his discomfort. He’s here to see these roses painted, but you’re ruining the very plot of land this tree is rooted in.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Riddle managed to hiss through his teeth, teetering on the edge of just throwing you out.

“Digging out a parasite, or intruder,” you shrugged your shoulders, not at all bothered by the collar, “it took me a bit to notice. It wasn’t acting like it usually would, and I only just figured out why.”

“What do you—”

The ripping of grass and roots was all Riddle could register before thin, nearly translucent tendrils shot out from the hole you made, and pierced the flesh of your back. You jerked forward, the student gave a warbled shriek, and Riddle took out his wand to cast a spell when he noticed you never lost your calm smile.

“Turns out,” your voice was still measured, still infuriatingly calm, “you’ve been inadvertently starving this plant parasite without it even knowing.”

The tree…the thing siphoned out your blood, as though those tendrils were nothing more than tubes for it use to feed. When the blood reached to it’s trunk, the roses turned a pure red.

“Red petals means that it’s full,” you straighten back up, stretching your arms above your head, “and you all have been dutifully turning them red. Quite the cruel trick, don’t you think?”

You reached back and ripped out those siphons. You dropped those squirming things and knelt close to the hole you made.

“You all made it so weak,” you reached in, “so pathetic,” you grabbed something, “and so easy to deal with,” you ripped out a malformed, horrid smelling, pulsing mass of roots and meat, “For that, I have to thank you.”

You crushed it in your hands. The student besides him retched onto the ground below. Riddle would’ve followed had it not been for the relief that filled him.

About three of the roses were missing from the jar. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, blinked again, and recounted them, only to be met with the same number. Kind of redundant to do so when the top is sitting on the floor, as though discarded away, and an open window just a few feet away from the very jar that had some of it’s contents stolen.

You never really considered yourself a deep sleeper—well, not lately, on the account of the pets you have—so the fact that you didn’t wake up as soon as that metal lid hit the floor had you rather baffled. You didn’t think walking back from the store would leave you that tired.

Putting that aside, your candied roses have been stolen, at least some of them. You’re not exactly angry, since you still had a sizable portion to pick from, but you know this was likely to happen again, so might as well put a stop to it before any pet gets comfortable with stealing your things.

You grabbed the lid and resealed the jar. Snatching it from the counter, you unlocked a drawer and stuffed it in there.

Now you can investigate the back to see which little shithead decided to snatch the roses.

You entered the backyard, making sure to keep your steps from being too heavy. Acting normal was usually enough for a guilty party to give away their shame. Your first culprit, or rather pair of culprits, was Ace and Deuce.

The reason why was pretty self explanatory.

However, as weird as it was to believe, they weren’t acting any different than usual. Ace was over there by a hedge, individually ripping out dead or sick leaves with his usual gusto, while Deuce was carefully ripping up said foliage. Seems they’re on mulch duty again.

See, they’re not exactly very smart. If they were guilty of anything, they wouldn’t even be here. They’d be hiding somewhere. So, you simply walked right past them to check on Trey and Cater.

You’re not exactly suspicious of Cater to be perfectly honest, since he didn’t like sweets, but that’s not to say he’s completely off the list. He’s stolen candies for Riddle and Trey before. However, when you made to the rose area, Cater merely waved at you with water dew he’s been placing on the petals while Trey carefully changed out the dirt with freshly made mulch.

Cater, when feeling guilty, was a kiss up while Trey never fully connects with your eyes. So that marks them both off the list.

Riddle was the last one to check up on, and he wasn’t near his rose. If he’s not there, then he’s likely in the rose tree area.

And that’s when you finally found your culprit, standing high on his roots while he tilts his head in confusion at the tree he’s standing in front of, candies roses settled right next to him. Riddle looked down, commanding roots to pick the roses a little higher in front of his face. He squinted at them, patted at their hard petals before looking back at the empty tree. With a tiny clap of his hands, Riddle made roses bloom out of the tree.

But they weren’t the right color. They were too dark, almost dead looking.

A sigh of frustration left the tiny rose nymph. He retracted the roses and tried again, but they came out wrong once more. Too bright this time, with a weird scent that almost hurt your head.

“Riddle.”

He jumped, tripping over a root and would’ve fallen to the ground had you not been so close. He was easy enough to catch.

You sighed out, “Can’t believe you stole from me, Riddle.”

His cheeks puffed up, both out of annoyance and shame. Guilt had him eventually hang his head.

You poked him, correcting his posture. “At least ask so I can give some to you.”

Can’t have any of them thinking you’ll let things slide just because you were napping.

“You can put that table over there, by the tree,” you pointed with your head as you heaved up a sizable statue, “would make for a pretty nice view.”

“Oh this will put a strain on my poor back,” he practically wept, even though he was making the damn thing float with magic, “you truly do not care for my health do you?”

You raised an eyebrow, “You’re the one that offered.” You shook the statue in your hands, “And you’re the one that ordered these for me. Kinda your own fault.”

You know very well he’s just being dramatic for the sake of being funny, but it’s also kinda fun to play along when he does this. It frustrates him a bit and who doesn’t find that entertaining? Besides, you know he’s doing this as a way to get your mind off of things. Trey and Cater may have recovered from that mold but they’re still pretty weak, having to regrow their leaves. Cater still has to regrow his leg.

“Oh, my graciousness will be the end of me! And yet you refuse to bat an eye at my distress!” Even with all that, he still walked towards the tree anyway.

You turn around before your smile broke out on your face. Your ears caught his familiar huff as you walked off to the corner of your garden. Though, just as you placed it down, Crowley’s voice called for your attention.

“Would you look at that.”

You turned towards the overly dressed man, his beak mask pointed towards a quiet little place, right under your bedroom window. Following that direction, you found he was observing the rose.

Once, it’s closed bud was facing towards the sky, but now it’s ends were pointing right at you. And they were just the slightest bit open.

Suddenly, Crowley was behind you, hand on your shoulder as he pointed at it, “He’s taking a little peek at you.”

And he was right. Looking closer, you can a little creature poking out, eyes blinking as it took your form in. When he realized you both you were watching him, the rose nymph flinched then retreated back into the petals of his flower.

“Huh,” you crossed your arms, leaning some weight against Crowley, “won’t be long before he comes out, I take it?”

“Not long at all. Give him time to adjust. Like all newly hatched chicks, he needs time to get used to his body.”

Crowley’s smile was contagious, you couldn’t help but give one of your own.

“Are you sure—” you buried your nose into your shirt, coughing, almost retching at the sweet and rotting scent that collected on your tongue, “This is the place?”

This was a village with no name to it. It wasn’t on any map you’ve scoured over, but as it is, you don’t think this place would be able to cling to any name besides a corpse-filled playground.

You back away when leaves, thorns and roots burst through the limp arms of a standing corpse. The rose waved about, almost as though mimicking a head, nodding to a beat you have no privy to. The stem replaced this body’s spine, ripping through cloth as it entangled itself with the closest things it would find.

They piled together, bodies among bodies, sickly sweet as their sliding flesh was held together by only the roses planted in them. Rose bushes. They all resembled rose bushes, pushing through the cracked concrete below them and bloom with the nutrients they’ve absorbed.

It’s horrible how relieved you are to see that all of them only have roses sticking out of the stump of their necks. There are no face to remember, none for you to possibly recognize.

You almost missed Crowley’s reply. And it seems he knew you weren’t quite listening, if his hand on your shoulder was of any indication.

“Can you, with absolute certainty, say you don’t recognize these roses?”

They were bigger, more parasitic in their movements. They don’t bob with the wind, nor do they face upwards towards the clouded sky, as though desperate to find their sun. They don’t wrap themselves gently together as though soothing one another before a deserved rest.

They break bones. They wrap themselves around limbs once they burst out of their victims necks. They have no soil to rest in, but they have a body. They move, they dance, they cling to each other but they do so tightly. They dig in, as though soil, before they continue moving on.

But even that wasn’t enough. Now they’re taking over modest houses. They’re sapping away at the fountain in the middle. They’re snapping off trees before integrating it with itself.

Even with all this, with the sights, the scents and gloss of horrifically thick ink, you recognize them.

“How can I be so cruel as to lie to myself, Crowley?” This was where you wanted to be. This was someone you had to rescue. As you pulled your shirt tight over your face, you took a step forward. “Let’s go, before this garden suffocates all of us.”

Riddle waited by the corner, tapping his heel on the ground, ear tilted towards the bell towers. He had a basket on his arm, his bag over his shoulder, and a cloak to protect his skin. Uncle Trey has always been a worrier, as though he’ll singe on the stone path if he so much as faced the sun. He won’t deny that it’s an understandable worry, but it does get annoying when he wants to go riding. Or when he wants to help Uncle Trey with his workload.

The bell finally tolled. Riddle turned and went up the stairs to a regular’s house. He gave a solid knock and waited.

“Hello Ms. Spade,” Riddle help up the basket with her name on it, “Here’s the marbled bread you ordered.”

“Thank you, sweetie,” Ms. Spade had already paid in advance, and yet she still spared him a few coins from her pocket, “Here you go, for being so punctual as always. Why not get yourself a treat with these?”

This was common, for others to spoil him so, and while he did pocketed those coins, it didn’t stop him from pouting. “…I’m not a child.” It’s not his fault he stayed short and youthful. But, he supposed this was the natural result of age. After a certain point, even young adults seem like children.

Ms. Spade, joker that she was, smiled and laughed. One could never get angry with her.

Riddle gave his goodbyes and went on his way, bag heavy with coins and trinkets. Already, he was mentally pulling up a budget plan, dividing his savings towards a new saddle, renovations to fix the aging roof on Uncle Trey’s bakery, and a new bed even though Uncle Trey said he would take care of it. Riddle can’t rely on his guardian forever, after all.

Just as Riddle was passing by the fountain, his eyes flickered to the side, to a figure sitting on it’s edge. His toes got caught on his heel, tipping him forward, nearly flat on his face. He was lucky to catch himself on a tree.

By all means, you naturally blend into the scenery. It’s not unusual for people to sit there, resting their feet after a journey to the nearby market. Truly, there’s nothing particular off about you, however…

Riddle watched you as you meticulously cleaned your armor. Not bothered by the wind, by the flowers brushing against your skin as you finished your chore. You placed your armor back on. “Well then, let’s start our match.”

You wear the clothes of a traveler. Riddle doesn’t so much as know your name, and yet, something about seeing you in this wear leaves him feeling vaguely uncomfortable. As though you’re strangely naked.

And suddenly, you tilted your head towards him. Had he truly been staring for that long?

“Oh, apologies if I’m in the way,” even your voice struck a chord in him, “though I will be resting here for a bit. By all accounts, don’t mind me and make your wish.” You waved, not all minding his presence.

Riddle swallowed, feeling heat rush up his face, the back of his neck sweating. Really, he could just simply walk away and tuck this embarrassing moment into a corner, but instead, Riddle got closer. Not so close that he would invade your space, but just enough so that you would have to see him.

Riddle got a coin out of his bag and flicked it into the fountain. It landed with a gentle splash, almost unable to be heard with the rushing spout.

Riddle cleared his throat, “Then, I wish to know your name,” he looked to you, the person that so frequently appeared in his dreams, “if that’s fine with you.”

You tapped at the new roses cushioning the arms of your morning chair, rubbing the petals, fully taking in the smooth texture of these plants.

“How beautiful,” you murmured just loud enough for Riddle to hear, subtly smiling to yourself when you spotted his little face turning red. He’s turned away from you, as though your words had nothing to do with him, but you can tell he’s listening closely to you with how restless he’s being. “Comfy too. I wish I can find out who’s decorating my chair so I can thank them properly.”

You sunk into the chair, still kind of surprised at the sturdiness of the plants. With how soft they are, you half expected them to crumple by now, but nope. They can hold your weight just fine.

You leaned over, brushing your finger over Riddle’s crown to catch his attention. He squeaked and tipped forward, clumsily rolling before catching his balance. All the seeds from the other nymphs he had been organizing were scattered. “Ah, you okay, Riddle?”

Riddle swayed a bit but shook his head to focus. He stood up, brushing off whatever seeds and dust stuck to him. He puffed himself up, crossing his arms, trying to fake his pride back in place but you can see how shaky it was. His face was still flushed with his eyes shining like an eager kid.

“Glad to see that,” you laughed, “say, you wouldn’t to know who’s been decorating my chair, now would you?”

Ah, there goes his composure again. Riddle’s arms uncrossed, flailing about for a second before he rapidly shook his head, denying he knew anything. He couldn’t even look at you in the eyes while he’s doing all that.

You could just admit that you knew, that there’s really only one plant nymph that you knew that would be able to make roses like these. But then you’d have to give up seeing this Roseling get flustered whenever you inched closer to his ‘secret.’

“Ah, that’s too bad,” you popped a snack in your mouth, continuing this game of pretend, “I would’ve given the little thing all the sweets in the world for sprucing up my chair.”

Holding back a snort has never been as painful as it is now. Riddle curled up into a ball, hiding his face that you can see was practically steaming. A little seed rolled over, blown by the wind before it touched Riddle’s dress. With a sharp pop like a popcorn kernel, a green sprout burst through the hard shell.

Poor little Roseling jumped in the air like a scared kitten.

Alright alright, you’re stopping now. You’re going to give the him a heart attack at this rate.

You nudged your shoulder against Riddle’s as you gently poured water over the hedgehog. “Hey, pass the soap please.”

Riddle, in all his hiked up pants glory, blinked as though exiting a trance. You can practically see your words hitting him a second later. “Ah, yes.” He reached behind the tub and passed it to you. “Sorry. Here. Remember to rub their bellies at eleven times.”

“And wash them clockwise. Yes yes, I’m aware.” You said, while blatantly ignoring the tedious task. You got most of the mud off doing it your way while the hedgehog in Riddle’s hands was still fussing. “You doing okay?”

He look pretty tired.

“I’m… Alright, I suppose,” he said, not quite sounding sure of himself.

You snorted at the indignant huff the hedgehog did with Riddle. It paddled its little legs, probably demanding him to hurry up.

“All that anger took it out of you, huh?” He was yelling quite the storm at some mischievous second years that were having a water balloon fight.

Riddle visibly deflated against the rim of the tub. He let the small creature go. It went for a swim.

“…it did,” he hesitantly admitted, “those students shouldn’t have been making a mess in such a public area. The rules on pages 67 to 73 all say where and when you should play with water.”

He straightened his back, eyes thinned to a glare that lacked any of that fury you saw earlier. Now he just looked annoyed and tired.

“Today was a hectic day,” you simply stated, remembering all the exams that were given to you, “can’t blame you for being so tired.”

You squeezed the little animal in your hands, scratching your nails in a spot you know it liked most. It snuggled deeper in before you decided to let go. It went off to swim with its buddy.

“Even so, I can’t slack off in my duties,” Riddle propped himself up on the tub, watching the hedgehogs have their own fun.

You couldn’t help yourself and gave in to the urge to ruffle his red hair.

You laughed when all Riddle gave you was a weak slap on the wrist. He didn’t bother to fight you a second time when you went right back in.

“Duties or not, you still got to relax when the opportunity is there. And come on, the chance is staring right back at you.” You pointed to the hedgehogs looking at the both of you. “Do you want to ignore them?”

Riddle looked back at you, clearly unamused.

You didn’t falter. “Well?”

“Well…” Riddle sighed, leaning his side against yours, “I suppose a few minutes won’t break any rules”

“Atta boy!”

“Don’t say that like I’m a child.”

“Too many bees out there…” You muttered as you gazed out the window, blinking when one of those fuzzy bugs flicked themselves against the glass. “More than last year.”

Well, not as if you had any plans today anyway. Besides, not as if they’re dangerous. If anything, you bet Riddle is celebrating the arrival of all these bees. It only proves just how high quality the garden is.

As for Ace and Deuce, well, at least you’ll get a good laugh out of it when they’re being dog piled by a bunch of black and yellow insects. For whatever reason, the bees really liked them. Perhaps the bugs like their little chirps for help? What sadistic things they would be if that were the case.

Well, since you’re stuck inside, might as well make a small pie. You recently got some mini pie pans and you kinda want to use them. The thought of having a pie that can fit in one hand sounds pretty nice at the moment.

You made for the kitchen. “Now where did I put them?”

It didn’t take you long to find them. They were just sitting right on top of the pots and pans. Now the question is, what flavor of pie do you want to make?

Just as you slammed the cabinet door closed, you heard a tiny knock from the window above your sink.

“Hmm?” You looked up to find little Riddle, standing on his roots to gaze inside. His face was beaming, reaching out to pat a particularly big bee that was crawling on one of his roses. “Hey there.”

You cracked open the window just a bit, surprised at the audible buzzing from all the flying outside. Don’t exactly want any bees to fly inside. The big one did attempt to come inside, but Riddle was quick to flick it back in the air. It caught the wind and off it went.

“I’m making a pie,” you have some condensed milk, you could do something with it. Perhaps you could make a cheesecake out of it? “You wanna help?”

Despite the glowing aura of happiness that only comes from accomplishments, Riddle was still stiff in stance. Well, to be fair to him, he was standing high with pride but still, he can stand to let himself be a little childish. You can practically see him vibrating trying to contain it all.

You went and grabbed a small glass container. You slid it right next to Riddle as he stood on the counter. “Mind filling this up with nectar then? I feel like experimenting a bit.”

You probably should’ve asked for something else because next thing you know, almost an entire tree’s worth of roses stuffed themselves through your window. You actually had to back away. Big, bright and beautifully red roses, all dappled in dew just to make them look extra appealing. Their scent immediately filled up the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Riddle had his arms crossed, huffing and puffing up with pride. He doesn’t move, as though letting you have a moment to admire his creations. Only one rose broke away from the rest, stretching its stalk to droop over the jar. A steady stream of golden nectar filled up the glass to filling.

“Riddle,” you pushed a rose away from the pie pans, “You’re going to let the bees in.”

He flinched and Riddle retracted them all back outside. He turned his back to you, slightly hunched over with guilt.

Just so he doesn’t beat himself up over his enthusiasm to show off, you patted his head. “Come on, bud, let’s make you a pie to celebrate.”

You can only hope this pie ends up tasting good. You think it will. You’ve been getting better at baking.

You know the thorns growing on his hands will fall off on their own. Well, it actually took a while for you to figure out that they were simply another part of the overblot process, but either way, the knowledge made itself known when his upper arms started to clear up.

Much like how you scrapped off the mold when Trey and Cater had it, you took up a dull knife and scrapped off some of the more stubborn thorns that refuse to get off. You didn’t have to, you didn’t need to, but something nagged at you to do it.

Besides, how else were you going to convince Riddle to just stay with you, instead of hiding away in this dark garden he made for himself?

“You don’t have to,” he says as he gives you his hand anyway, “It’s not as though this is your fault to bear.”

It’s not your fault, dear.

“I know that,” you thumbed a thorn, flicking into the grass below, “just let me indulge. It’ll at least clear my head up a bit when I go to sleep. This is about the only thing I can do to help.”

You’re not strong enough to do a lot of things. You can bulldoze your way into any building and demand answers. You can’t fight hand to hand combat against a group of foes, especially when they have magic at their disposal.

There was smile on Riddle’s face. A fragile, self mocking thing. “You can certainly do more than me—”

“I know.” It bubbled out, after fermenting in your lungs for so, so many years. “I should’ve been able to do more.”

You carved out another stubborn thorn. Riddle flinched, his tendrils grabbing your legs. You soothed a thumb over the spot.

“Shit, I fucked up.”

“It’s…” Riddle dipped his head down and leaned against your shoulder, “not your fault.”

“I know,” frustration made your voice tight, almost a struggling hiss as your fingers skimmed the side of Riddle’s face. He winced, but didn’t flinch. “and yet I don’t believe it.”

If only you could dig into your own heart and scrap these feelings away. If only you could rip the guilt out by the roots and just, let yourself be happy that everyone is here, that they’re all safe and home and that nothing else as horrible will every take place.

But you can’t do that. You can’t pretend. You can’t even do something normal like apologize because the word would expose all the little bits that have been bruised and battered enough.

So all you can do is linger, continue on and make a new routine. Perhaps that will distract you enough to forget.

For a goal to be reached, one cannot afford to slack off in any way. When making your wishes known, it sometimes becomes necessary to demand. Other times, you may have to resort to begging. To Riddle’s mother, this was of the highest insult. Indulging the notion of lowering yourself for anyone would have her brow crease and her back stiff.

And, before now, Riddle was of the same opinion. But desperation can break many, and it certainly broke him. This Unbirthday Party he’s arranged, he wants to dedicate it to you. It why he hounds you so, why he insists on following you all the way back to your dorm, regardless of where his shoes may trek.

What was he? A child? But this was the only way he can get your attention.

Riddle has reached the ends of your patience, he can see that as you force your weight onto your chair.

“If you’re going to beg,” you let your chin rest on your hands. Your anger was not on your face, but it simmered in your words. It burned, but it was aimed at him. Riddle is receiving these embers you’re languidly dropping on him, “You’re going to do it properly.”

Riddle swallowed the lump in his throat. Humiliation was a pill he has already learned to swallow. He wouldn’t be here, following you around like some mutt otherwise.

Riddle bowed. “Please, can you attend—”

“Wrong.” You cut him off with no mercy, no patience. You leaned further into your chair, as though he was losing your interest. You lazily gestured to his legs. “You’re still standing.”

“I’m sorry,” The words were a familiar, almost comforting thing. He knelt, feeling his own clothes lightly pinch and pull, as though rejecting the position. If they tore, well, that won’t matter. You’re worth more than them. “Please, can—”

“Wrong.” A string tied and pinched a nerve in his spine, making all his movements its scared-stiff victims. What did he do? “You’re hands aren’t on the floor.”

You tapped the wooden floor.

“S-sorry.” He strangled out, as though a claw was piercing his throat. He wanted to take off his gloves, but the time it would take, Riddle was sure you wouldn’t simply leave without a second thought. He placed both hands on the ground, making sure they’re level with each other.

On hands and knees, head bowed with his entire body shivering as though he was a feverish boy stuck in the frigid winter. All he can hope for was the mercy of the sun to keep him warm. It didn’t matter if it damaged his skin, he wants it all the same.

“There we go,” You sighed out, anger leaving you like the gentle steam of tea, “that’s a good boy. Barking at me like that, wanting my attention. Really, you’re too much like a puppy. Now, what do you want from me again?”

With the tip of your shoe, Riddle’s chin was forced up. If your smile was a knife, Riddle would let his eyes be cut with them. In the back of his head, he can hear the low tones of his mother, demanding he stand, to be an upstanding young man. But when around you, it’s so easy to drown it out.

Blood had long rushed to his face, making his vision swim with the heat pumped into his brain. Riddle felt, almost drunk as he asked. “The Unbirthday Party…can you please attend it?”

“Ugh, my eyes…” Being in a new environment is really messing with your sleep. And brain. The paint job, the way the floor meets the walls, even the furniture is just…weird, uneven. The colors are nice and does give a sense of deliberate chaos that doesn’t suddenly jut out at you but ugh, this will be torture if you ever end up dizzy or nauseated.

You shouldn’t have spent all night studying the historical origins of the Queen of Heart’s rules. That shit was hilarious. Really, thirty rules made in one day all because a cat stole her tart. So petty. A comedy in the pages of history. You couldn’t help but flip back to the page containing those rules as you laid in bed.

A strong knock on the door almost made you drop it on your face. “What?”

Come on, you wanted to lay here more.

“This is Riddle Rosehearts. Open the door, please.”

Ah, did somebody already make a mess? Wouldn’t shock you. Ace and Deuce already make messes by themselves, you can’t imagine what the rest of the student population is like.

You got up and opened the door, rule book still in hand. “Housewarden Rosehearts. What is it?”

You were still in your pajamas, everything about you unkempt. You’re not exactly insulted by the way this man looked you up and down, you know you probably look like shit. The light narrowing of his eyes and the sigh through his mouth did annoy you a bit.

“Setting aside that you’re not wearing the proper uniform,” oh yeah, that colorful thing was placed on your bed when you moved in, “did you read at least rules one through two hundred and fifty?”

“Huh? Oh yeah,” you waved the very book in your hand, “Read all of them actually. It was hilarious, reading why the rules were made.”

You had a real good time too.

“’Hilarious?’” He cleared his throat. You didn’t miss the frown that crossed his face for a moment. “Well, as long as you fully studied them, then I don’t have to worry about you breaking any of them.”

Wait…

“Hold on, you wanted me to follow all of them?” He’s fucking with you, right? “Really?”

“That was the task given to you,” He nodded. “Now I would appreciate if you didn’t refer to these rules as ‘hilarious,’ as you say. That’s entirely disrespectful, and even if you are not officially part of this dorm, you do have to—”

“No can do.” You’re gonna have to stop him right there. “Eight hundred and ten rules, on top of the fact that I have to follow Crowley’s specific rules. Trying to follow them all would hinder me. You did get the letter he sent you, right?”

You’re here to clean and inspect what should be repaired. Things such as curfew don’t apply to you, among a number of other things.

“I’m well aware of the context of why you’re here, but that doesn’t stop me from enforcing these rules. As someone in a unique position, you have a standard to set along with myself.” His shoulders were raised, lifting up his head as though to reassert himself as your judge and punisher. “As Housewarden, that is my right for as long as you stay here.”

You smiled, an expression with a hint of teeth, as though you’re ready to take a bite. “We’re not gonna to get along, huh?”

“Whether we get along is irrelevant to the matter at hand,” The crossing of his arms, the re-positioning of his feet that made his heels click against the wood floor, this housewarden isn’t going to back down, is he? “These rules are the foundation of the Heartslabyul dorm, a respect to pay special attention to for as long as you’re here. If I were to make a special exception for you, then it won’t be long before chaos is sewn, watered, and made to bloom.”

Fancy little brat ain’t he? Like that’ll convince you to value these inane rules over your paying job.

You tossed the rule book over your shoulder. It missed the bed and smacked against the floor. Whoops. Oh well. You would’ve snorted at the vein popping out of his neck had the irritation not been building in you. You can’t help it. It’s early in the morning.

“Whatever rules I have to follow that relate to cleaning, I’ll follow those. I even have them marked down in my little notebook right here,” you never go outside without it. Has your checklist, calendar and everything on it. “But if you expect me to follow every single one of them at the expense of my schedule, I’ll have to reject that. This dorm is not my sole focus, I still have to clean the main campus of Night Raven College. Simply put, Housewarden Rosehearts, I’m a staff member before I am a student. My priorities are to my cleaning and my studies. You have no choice but to swallow that.”

Before Housewarden Rosehearts could retort, you closed and locked the door. You have no classes to attend to anyway. Your cleaning shift doesn’t start until well after their classes start, when the dorm is nearly empty.

You heard a hiss, probably behind clenched teeth. The sound of heels fading away made you sigh. Finally you can get more sleep.

This particular dance routine felt unnatural to you, like you’re picking up a new tool that was made for another’s hands. You’re trying, genuinely, but there’s something about the rhythm that you can’t get right.

“Whoops,” and there you go again, stepping on Riddle’s foot in the middle of this practice waltz.

The veins in his neck popped out but the fact he managed to keep his cry of pain down was something you can’t help but mentally congratulate.

“… Again, the same step,” Riddle sighed out, almost sounding like a hiss.

You shrugged, not at all worried at him blowing his lid. Even if he does, it’s nothing to worry about. Not with the way you know him. “I warned you.”

You have skills in all kinds of things and hobbies so when you say you’re not good, you’re very much not good.

“Regardless,” Riddle clears his throat, readjusting his arms as the lead for this dance, “I said I would teach you and I’m not going to make myself a liar. Again, once more from the tile near the fourth pillar.”

You didn’t move, an idea has struck you. “Actually…”

“What? Is something wro–”

You tugged him towards you, positioning your hands above his waist, mimicking what he’s done to you. Possibly out of Instinct, Riddle lined up his arm and grabbed your hand. Of course he wouldn’t neglect practicing every role within this structured dance.

“Can we try it like this?” It feels redundant to ask, but you did so anyway. If nothing else, the pause in Riddle’s thoughts was visible on his face, as if he just registered that you’d be leading.

You almost grinned when he nodded. It was stiff in such a way a man would feel in a suit that’s slightly too tight.

“A…change of pace wouldn’t hurt.” It’s fun to see him try to stay professional even though the tips of his ears were red. He can’t even properly look you in the eye.

“Then let’s start!”

From there, it was a glide. An easy, simple yet graceful glide, two figures over ice. A rose blooms from the snow, bobs in the frigid wind but continues to bask in the sun. Not a step out of place. No stutter or crack to break the calm.

A moment dedicated to only themselves and the person they dance with.

Now this felt more natural to you. And judging by how Riddle wasn’t saying anything, you’d say he feels much the same way.

It was a small little thing, little more than beetle sized. So small you could easily crush it in your palm and completely ruin Riddle’s work. You would never do such a thing, but the fragility of this creation, and the fact that its been placed in your hand made the thought pop up for just a second.

It was a little plant hedgehog, at least, Riddle’s recreation of it. Little leaves for feet, and a bundle of mini pink roses all blooming, all pressed together to replace the spikes, and a tightly closed rosebud weirdly shaped enough to resemble a head. The little thing had black dewdrops for eyes. Felt like it could start walking any second, honestly.

“You made this all on your own, huh?” You nudged Riddle as he stood on your knee, “It’s cute. Nice job.”

Riddle tilted his head up high, the dews on his rose petals practically sparking with the prideful way he held himself. It’s as though he was expecting the compliment. He probably worked real hard on this little number. Well, it’s nice to see that.

You patted the little back of the fake hedgehog with your thumb. If you pressed any harder, it would probably end up squished.

Riddle tapped your fingers.

“Hm?”

Riddle stepped back, putting his hands on his hips before closing his eyes. His face got all scrunched up, the petals of his dress ruffling up with the strength of his concentration.

“Don’t blow blow yourself up, Riddle. You know you get sick easily.” The first few days out of his rose and into the role as the lead flower, he practically terraformed your mediocre garden into the lush place it is today. The week the rolled after, Riddle was face planted into his rose, absolutely knocked out and unable to properly absorb water with how overworked his body was. Luckily that was a lesson learned.

You felt a slight tickle from your palm. Looking down, you saw the little rendition of a hedgehog take a few steps. It didn’t move it’s head or sniff at the air like the animal would, but it walked in the way a chubby creature would. It is wasn’t perfect, but it was endearing.

When it stopped moving and held itself stiff once more, Riddle’s body defaulted with a sigh. He held onto your fingers for balance.

You patted his head.

“Good job. Though, you might want to wait a little before doing that again.” He’s still young after all. He’s got a lot of growing to do before he can’t start making little creatures to add to his garden.

Snow had been falling for a while now. It blankets your house in a smooth white sheet, only a few centimeters thick. Nothing really worth shoveling up or playing in. It’s more suiting to just recline back in a comfy chair and relax by the fire. With the birds leaving their nests empty, the trees long having retreated their vitality, there’s this odd feeling that somehow you were stuck in time.

Of course, that’s not the case, not with Riddle struggling to not fall asleep in your hands. You leaned down and exhaled a hot breath over his body. Sleepily, he smacked you on the chin through the fog.

“Sorry, sorry,” you chuckled, “forgot to brush my teeth this morning.”

Your breath probably smells horrible and you’d hope the cold would somehow dull it. Though, that’s not how scents work, huh?

As you walked through the garden, all bundled up in a nice coat and a blanket just because you could, Riddle was resisting the urge to sleep. He sits in your palm, grabbing your fingers to keep his balance, but you can see his head bobbing up and down.

“Really Riddle,” you said as you opened the door to the temporary greenhouse, “you don’t have to force yourself. You guys need to rest and it’s not like I’ll be lonely. I have plenty of company.”

Riddle’s rose, a rather large plant that continues to grow, now at shoulder height to you, was open and ready to accept its other very sleepy half. Below the large flowing petals were four other roses, all of them tightly closed with the other plant nymphs that couldn’t keep awake.

This place was certainly warmer compared to the sharp winds outside, but not enough to have them awaken early. You just needed some decent shelter in case a storm of any kind comes in.

You shrugged, “I suppose it’s my fault for entertaining you.” There was a mirth to your tone. “To sleep with you, Riddle.”

You stretched your hand to the center of the open rose, but no matter how gentle the motion was, it still causes Riddle to stumble forward and bump his head against your fingers. He shoved himself back, as though shocked away as he shook his head. He took a moment to look around, adjust the petals of his body before standing in all his glory.

“Well?” You said, subtly pushing his back with your thumb, “Get some shut eye. I’ll be here when you all wake up.”

The Roseling turned to you, face scrunched up in the way he does when being told what he has already set out to do. But there was no fire to it. Poor little guy was so sleepy, he looked like he could fall right over.

Riddle took a step down with a huff, but stopped. His head inclined down, then he turned to you, giving you a flash of puppy eyes before he caught himself and looked forward.

You snorted but didn’t say a thing. Riddle took another step, then another, then finally hopped off your fingers like a diving board, landing safely and softly in the rose he was born from. The petals were so thick and fluffed up it nearly swallowed him. Only his head was visible.

“Have a good night, Riddle.”

Until spring comes, Roseling.

Riddle didn’t walk up to you so much as he rocketed to your shoulder with a jump from his roots and planted his butt down with a cross-armed huff.

“Hmm?” you tilted your head, giving his back a little scratch that was met with a whack from his arm, “What happened this time little buddy? Who pissed you off?”

His little rose body trembled with the anger of a thousand suns. You could probably put a soda on his head and he’d make it explode. As though popcorn kernel, Riddle stood up and yelled out a combination of leaf-rubbing squeaks, crisps clicks and just general high-pitched screams.

You do not understand a word of it but you knew it best he let it all out. Though, in all seriousness, what did set him off? His face was getting rather dark.

Finally, he ran out of breath, puffing in and out as though Riddle can’t handle the sheer force of his rage. And from behind you, you picked up some frantic rustling.

A chorus of little pips and squeaks sounded out before Trey, Cater, Ace and Deuce all jumped out of the grass. On their necks were little thistle-collars, absolutely forced on them by an angry Riddle.

Held above their heads was a rich red rose, its petals crystallized to look like those candied roses you still have. Honestly, it would’ve been a copy had it not been for the golden sap leaking out of the base of the rose. Clearly it was slapped on just now to hold all the petals together.

And as though to prove your point, a petal slid right off and onto Cater’s face. He struggled but Trey was close enough to grab it and slap it back onto the rose.

“…oh boy…” The attempt to stick it back together was endearing, but, from what you’ve gathered, this was rose was probably Riddle’s very first success after months of trying. You can understand the anger of this perfectionist of a pet you have.

You sighed and placed a hand on Riddle just in case he decided to dip elsewhere. You gently shooed the bound nymphs away.

“Give him some time,” you said, knowing that attempts to apologize will only get Riddle more riled up, “go do something else.”

While the sad pull of their small faces did sting a little, you knew what the results of trying to force a reconciliation would be. Whenever you got too angry to properly get through the day, Crowley’s attempts to talk you out of the bad mood only irritated you into not talking to him for a few days. As such, you’re pretty sure Riddle needs time to sort himself out before attempting such a thing.

And just to give Riddle some privacy, since you can see little tears at the corners of his eyes, you turn just enough so your neck hid him.

“It’ll be alright, just continue on with your day without him, I’ll be with him.” It certainly says something for Riddle to always come to you when his anger reaches this point. You guess he just really hates being alone when he gets this way.

You patted his head, smiling when he didn’t move away. If anything, he adjusted himself and hugged your palm.

You’re sure Riddle can make that crystal rose again. He just needs time.

This was always embedded within his blood. The instinct to reap more.

“I take,” he stabs, “I take,” he grinds his heel into bone, “and I take!” he tosses the corpse to the ground.

Appreciation? Protecting others and having their backs? Trey spoke of it once, and has yet all he did was take advantage of their kindness to hide in his bakery! While everyone out here was getting slaughtered, he was quietly tucked away in the safe room, hoping all of this would pass.

He had blocked his own ears to the screams, ignored the villagers that so kindly took him in, despite his uniform that clearly belonged to the Kingdom of the Red King. Despite the fact he himself was once close to him.

Trey had abandoned his mission, his king, his allies. And now he has abandoned these people as well. Why must he pay a price for choosing to do nothing?

…no, of course not. No one can truly choose to do nothing. No one can abstain from choice. Trey is here, pretending to be a simple baker, shutting his eyes from the all the sins he’s accumulated, all because he was afraid of paying any price.

Nothing in his muscles stays quiet as he runs upon the blood caked road. They twitch about, awakening old instincts to go out and search for more enemies. Trey grips his kitchen knife tighter, already spotting a group of card soldiers exiting once humble, friendly homes.

Hundreds are here, all perfectly uniform, all perfectly following the rules and methods that have been hammered into them. He didn’t wait for them to turn around. He dove into the fray, with only a knife and a broken, howling spirit.

“Any and all who show even the littlest hint of rebellion, cut off their heads! Them present them before my feet!”

Trey’s own head would make for a fine gift, wouldn’t it, Riddle?

…

“Answer me this question, Trey Clover,” within this black space, right at the crossroads of choice and possibility, you have appeared before him, “how would you define yourself? A soldier? A baker? A friend?”

He had only heard tales of the Rainbow Winged Valkyrie. The death deity, the one who appears before heroic souls, to judge them. A god who picks soldiers to fight a battle eternal among gods.

“How cruel of you, Valkyrie, to appear before me,” Trey knows he should keep his mouth shut, to placate the Valkyrie and play along, if only to protect himself, but, “Do you not show yourself to souls deemed heroic? To those that hold such potential within themselves? How can you stand to look at me, when you know I’m nothing but a deserter.”

“Is that how you define yourself?” No stutter, no skip, no hesitation. His worries and disrespect mean nothing to you, for he was but an ant. As is the view all gods hold.

“It is the truth. No matter how you may judge me, I must reject to being one of your einherjar.” Leave him back on Midgard, let him be consumed by a witch. He does not deserve to serve anyone, no matter how gentle your light may be.

“Then so be it.” You spread your wings, “A man consumed by guilt and selfishness is not fit to be an einherjar. However, I have made a promise to myself, so I will grant you mercy once more.”

Once more?

“Speak, Valkyrie. What do you mean?” Trey stepped towards you, however the wind from your wings beat him back.

“May your life and love flourish in the next life.” With no explanation, you have left him alone in this space.

Without your light, Trey succumbed to sleep.

His soul needed no guidance. Mortals, clumsy and fickle things, will always find their way back to the world, as new child, in a new life. The sacred feathers of the Valkyrie will be left untouched.

“Hmm?” You felt little pats against your cheek when you woke up. You ignored it the first few times, thinking it was Leona’s tail hitting your face, but the pats were very much insistent. You opened your eyes. “Mm, Trey?”

Your eyes were crusty and you couldn’t help but squint from how dry they were, but you could make out the little clovers in that plant nymph’s face. Strange. He isn’t one to stray too far from the group in the garden, let alone be in your room without someone having to drag him in here with them.

Trey’s little limbs grabbed your face and tried to turn it towards him, but he was small and therefore had no strength. It was cute watching him struggle. You did give him eventually and let your head turn.

But then he tried to wretch your lips apart. It’s too early in the morning, you and your nerves barely woke up so it tickled way too much for you to handle. So you blew a strong puff of air. He didn’t tumble like Ace and Deuce do, but he did stumble back.

You didn’t say anything though. You didn’t feel like it. You blinked, watching Trey pat down his body before you just let your mouth fall open.

Trey zipped right to your mouth. You had to keep yourself from retracting back. The secretly mischievous little nymph pushed against your teeth, lightly knocking on it as though fascinated by the structure of it all. You suppose that’s natural.

Though when he tried to push your mouth open to stuff his head in, you hummed in discomfort and pulled him away.

“Nope.” Yeah no. That’s a little too much for you.

Trey deflated in your grip, but unlike the usual rabble, he didn’t fight against you. He really wanted to see all of your teeth huh? Weirdo. Strange creature liking strange thing. Perhaps you should buy some dentures for him to touch? If he went through all this trouble just to check out your mouth, you have a feeling he might be more than curious.

This’ll be an interesting story to tell Che’nya later. If you can catch him. Sometimes he tries to make you chase him when he’s in a playful mood. You really don’t want to tire yourself out. Anyways…

“I’ll get you something later. Just let me sleep.” And stay out of your mouth. You don’t want to wake up with a clover nymph with half his body in your mouth. You might bite him by accident.

Trey didn’t know what he did to catch your attention.

At the start, Trey didn’t think of you as anything remarkable, as expected when attending a college full of magic. If anything, he felt as though you needed a helping hand to get by. This place was always a harsh one to experience, and for someone that has been deemed not fit to be in any dorm, you’d face an even harder trial.

He will admit that he never intended to be anyone close to you. By the time an opportunity came up to talk, you had already attracted quite the number of troublemakers at your side. In that moment, Trey was worried that you were somehow made their lackey, but looking at your interactions, it was made clear to that you weren’t an odd person out. You fit right in with Ace, Deuce and Grim, as though it was always meant to be that way.

In fact, you fit in so well that Trey would often forget that you’re there. Well, no that’s not quite it. Trey knows you’re there, but his expectation are that you won’t come into any conversation with a bold introduction. To Trey, you seemed more content to observe while there was chaos chasing after Ace and Deuce. It was almost adorable, in a way.

But even so, Trey still didn’t intend to be your friend. He won’t be rude, or bring trouble. He won’t think of the times he found you speaking to yourself. He won’t question the substances upon your shirt.

He won’t even ask you where the missing Heartslabyul students went. After all, it was Trey’s own fault for avoiding them when they started to change.

You have your business, and he has his. And yet, when you invited him over to help you bake, Trey couldn’t refuse. He can’t. An invitation as bold as this, rejecting would probably lead to him going missing. Or changed.

Trey can feel your eyes trace up the side of his jaw, keeping a careful gaze upon his mouth as he continued to chew through this rancid mess upon his tongue. He knows he can’t spit it out. You weren’t glaring at him but that smile you had promised him that he would be punished if he so much as retches.

Trey pretends that his tears were ones of joy as he swallows the crunchy, greasy, rotting mess down his throat. Something caught onto the back of his tongue, and Trey hates that he was reminded of twitching bug legs.

You leaned forward, face just the slightest bit more open, waiting for something interesting, an excuse. “Well? How was it? I admit, baking was never my strong suit.”

He wanted to put the spoon down, make an excuse and go elsewhere. He wanted to have the courage to look you in the eye and ask if you hated him. But instead, he smiled, scooped up another spoonful and stuffed it in his mouth just so he didn’t have to speak.

However, Trey didn’t have a choice. The dollop on his tongue changed in texture and became something slimy, fleshy, and alive. He bit into it but it was the same sensation as biting into one’s own cheek. It slid to the back of his mouth, grabbed his tongue, and forced him to speak.

“It’s terrible.”

His stomach, already a churning mess, turned cold and solid. He dropped the spoon with a clatter, stuffed his fingers in his mouth and ripped whatever came alive out onto the table. Trey’s hands slammed down as he forced himself up, but he managed to keep himself from running to the nearest trashcan.

He can’t turn his back to you. He just can’t. Because of that, Trey did his best to calm his gags.

You, however, simply kept watching his crumbling self with a deeply satisfied smile.

“I’m glad to see you’re finally speaking your mind, even if I had to force it a bit.”

You laid back onto the couch, fan and AC on at full blast since the heat is so determined to make and oven out of your home. You mindlessly scrolled through your phone, not really taking in the pictures you were seeing. Though, the occasional one did make you smile a bit, still, it wasn’t noteworthy enough that you’ll remember it a few minutes later.

You felt a tap on your shoulder.

Looking to the side, you saw Cater standing on the couch, trying to lean in closer to your phone. You grabbed him and set him on your lap, pulling the phone closer to him.

You closed the app you were on and opened up a website filled to the brim with garden images of crystal clear clarity.

“Go wild,” you placed your phone flat on your thigh before crossing your arms, leaning back on the couch. Even just looking at your phone is making you sweat. Might as well not move at all for a chance to cool down.

Cater slid his palm up on the screen, eyes very much focused solely on the screen as flowers and gardens moved up. A particular picture caught his attention, a rose with both white and red petals, making Cater give a squeal that would grate your ears had he not been so small.

Cater looked up at you, excitement in his eyes, hand tapping the screen rapidly.

“You want it?” You sat up, rolling your shoulders. Cater jumped up and down, tugging at your shirt as though it’ll make you get it faster. “Okay, okay, I’ll get it. Ah, but you want the seeds right?”

Cater gave a huff, as though the answer to that question was obvious. It was a yes, by the way. This little plumeria was of the kind to want to bloom these plants on his own. He didn’t want the finished product, he wanted to grow it. You can appreciate dedication like that.

Well, you’ll see if Sam has anything like that. Later though. It’s still too hot for you.

You tore the sheets from your bed, throwing your pillows to the ground, keeping an ear out for a telltale weighted thump of your phone hitting the ground. But there was nothing. Just soft landings.

“Where is it?” You hissed to yourself. You just went to the kitchen to get something light to eat and suddenly it wasn’t there on your bed. You pressed your hands against your face, groaning once the bed was completely naked.

“Not here.”

Maybe you left it elsewhere? Ugh, you hope it wasn’t outside. You don’t exactly want someone swiping your phone. You have your bank account details on that thing.

You rushed out your room, turning corners before pausing when you noticed your backdoor was open.

“You’re kidding,” Really? Did someone really get in? “How?”

You really hope it wasn’t anything magical. You have no way of combating that and the pets are just too young to deal with people wielding magic.

You grabbed an umbrella. Heavy is better than nothing.

You walked out the door and then you paused.

There it was, your rather worn phone, propped up against a rock, camera aimed at some very, very tiny green sprouts. The little nymph working the thing, the cameraman that almost sent you into a panic, Cater was taking picture after picture. The screen flashed again and Cater struggled to push the phone for a different angle. But he managed and took another photo.

You sighed, dropping your umbrella to the ground. Both sounds made the troublesome nymph jump twice. He slowly turned around to find your rather stoic expression.

But then he brightened up. He jumped, waved to you to come closer before running to the sprouts in the ground. He knelt, patted the ground before he stood and puffed up his chest.

You walked closer. “The seeds are finally popping up, huh?”

Cater stroked the tiny leaves, humming to himself.

Well, there goes whatever anger or disappointment you had. However, the minute you got within arms reach of your phone, you did swipe it. You gentle tapped the corner of your phone on his head.

“Don’t take my phone like that again. I was about to puke.”

Even though Cater was rubbing his head, it didn’t stop him from twirling around his little garden.

Cater sat on the edge of the washing machine, swinging his legs back and forth as you dumped your blacks right into the thing. You paused when he squeaked at you, waving and arm.

“Hmm?” You hummed, throwing another sock into the machine. Cater held onto the edge and lifted his tinier foot up in the air, wiggling it around until he pulled a laugh out of you. “Yeah, yeah, I can see it.”

It was lighter than the rest of his body, newer as it was. It was comically shorter too, of that Cater was aware. He really likes to make himself and you laugh by moving it around like it was a lizards tail.

You reached and gently pinched his growing leg. Rubbing it, you found it to be soft, the fuzz you’d find on spring leaves. The greenery should be growing in soon, but right now it was rather vulnerable. And ticklish. Very, very ticklish.

Cater burst into high pitch chirps when you speed up your rubbing. He kicked his feet, holding onto his stomach as he laughed and laughed. You stopped when he fell into complete silence. Cater fell on his back, spreading his arms wide as though making more room for him to breathe.

No mold anywhere. Not even in the hidden corners of his body. The danger has finally passed.

“Alright alright,” you picked Cater up and set him on the floor with the little cane Trey made for him, “I’m going to be busy for a bit, so go have fun elsewhere. Remember, no going outside just yet.”

It’s probably you being paranoid at this point, but you’d rather wait another week before putting them back outside. You’re just glad that Cater has his energy back.

It’s become something of a game to Cater, to add in new apps and try out all sorts of strange filters just to see how they would interact with you. At first, this was all nothing more than something to entertain his audience with. He had a blast reading the comments trying to decipher all those glitched photos he posted.

When someone managed to figure out that this was caused by someone rather than a faulty camera, he had to confirm it, and his views only blasted off from there. Of course, he had to feed into it, claiming that, “Come on guys! You’re giving my cosmic lover too much power!”

With your permission of course. Seems you like to cause mischief as well. Thank you for existing, Prefect!

Of course, all trends must die off and the excitement of this joke eventually ran its course. Though that doesn’t stop him from taking pictures with all of these custom made filters.

“Prefect,” Cater poked his head into your class, knowing you like to stick around even though you have free time, “I have another filter I want to try!”

You languidly looked up, “Oh, again? What is it?”

He couldn’t keep the pep from his step. Did he look a bit too giddy? Yeah, probably, but that’s doesn’t matter. You’re the only one here after all.

“Just an age filter, nothing weird this time,” Cater said as he slid an arm over your shoulder, adjusting himself for the perfect angle. “Just wanted to see how we’d look if we were old.”

“I see,” you leaned your head against his, as per his insistence, but he froze at the warmth, “Well? Go on.”

He hates to admit how his finger slipped and nearly dropped his phone. Cater scrambled to grip his phone before a fuzz of warped colors blew out from his peripheral. A thin tendril slipped out from between the both of you, skimming his right over his tight waist before gripping the phone.

You pressed it back into his hand before retracting your extra limb. “There we go.”

“Th-” Cater coughed into his hand, trying to calm his flushed face. He doesn’t want to look at a selfie with that kind of face. “Thank you. Alright, say cheese!”

There’s a click and Cater flipped his phone to see what he got. His skin was shivering with embarrassment still, but it was silenced in favor of taking in every little detail of this photo. Of this perfectly clear, perfectly unblemished photo.

There he was, his hair grayed out, wrinkles all over the place with a longer nose, with you by his side, looking just as old.

“Hmm?” You leaned over his shoulder to get a look, “Something wrong with it?”

Cater propped his elbows on the desk. “…I’ll never get to see you looking like this, right?”

He should be laughing, he should be entertained at the amount of wrinkles this filter decided to give you compared to him. But something in his chest hurt when he saw you and him sitting in that photo, aged together. Like an old couple, like people that have known each other for years and years on with nothing to get in the way.

He knows you and him don’t run on the same time. You’ll see him old, but he can’t say the same for you. He was so disconnected from the concept that he simply shrugged it off, as though it was just another fact of life rather than something capable of hurting.

Cater thought this would be fleeting. That you’d come here, that you’d be friends, that you’d hang out occasionally, and then you’d go back home no problem.

Nothing about that has changed, and yet why is his throat gripping him so tightly?

“Even if you don’t go home, you don’t age like I do. When I’m in the grave, I bet you won’t look one year older.” The words tumbling out of him scare him. He’s exposing too much, he can feel heat from behind his eyes. So Cater clamps himself shut on that faucet with a simple brushoff, “Man, how lucky is that? I bet you’ll get to see so much when you live as long you do!”

When you brushed the back of your hand against his cheek, a whimper got caught in his chest.

“It can’t be helped, Cater,” please, stop carding your fingers through his hair. Don’t make him show more than he already has. “It’s why I try and enjoy myself, whenever I can, even when I know we’ll eventually part.”

Cater hunched over himself, protecting his phone as though it’ll protect his sore heart. “Sorry…”

“It’s okay, it’s okay.”

EXT. PATH TO RAMSHACKLE - DAY

The trees are wilted and the dirt path is clear of any people besides YOU and ACE. You are visibly annoyed, but walking rather steadily.

Ace is entirely limp, staring off into space, letting himself be dragged by the collar by you. GRIM is loudly humming, walking and stomping loudly. Grim jumps up, floats in the air before twirling.

GRIM

Yahoo! See? What did I tell you? The Great Grim has been studying! Now I can cast a paralysis spell just like that!

Grim floats in the air as he turns to face Ace. He point to him with a grin.

GRIM

That’s what you get for messing with me and my under—

You swiftly turned, glaring at Grim. Grim visibly gulped, coughed, and finished his sentence. You face forward towards the now visibly roof of Ramshackle Dorm.

GRIM

A-ah, that’s what you get for messing with me and my partner! Sneaking our snacks from right under our noses like that. You didn’t even save some for me!

Grim gives a sad sigh, looking into the distance. You turn to Grim.

YOU

That’s not the end of it Grim. Don’t forget the mess he left behind. He didn’t make the bed, or pick up the bags, or dust off the crumbs.

Grim crossed his arms, closing his eyes in concentration.

GRIM

Right right. Well, my partner doesn’t mind the small stuff, but I won’t let it stand! You didn’t even leave any money behind.

YOU

He did.

Grim swiftly turns to you in shock. You reached into your pocket with your free hand and flashed your wallet.

YOU

He even left a bit extra and a note of apology. Doesn’t mean I’ll be doing it. Your mess, your problem. Not mine.

Grim leaped at your arm, but you pulled it out of his reach in time.

GRIM

Haa?! How come you didn’t tell me this?! I could’ve gone to the store and restock our fridge with the finest tuna!

Grim made another leap but misses again.

GRIM

Give it here!

YOU

Nope. A tuna only diet will kill me Grim. And I will take you down with me when I become a ghost.

GRIM

But—!

YOU

No.

Grim crossed his arms, miffed. He continues following you and Ace.

You, Grim, and Ace arrive at the RAMSHACKLE DORM GATE.

You prop Ace right up besides the gate. You turn to Grim.

YOU

You can release the spell now.

GRIM

What if I don’t want to?

YOU

If you don’t, I’ll call Crowley right now and say you attacked a student on campus.

GRIM

So what?! I’ll just tell him you told me to do it!

YOU

Then we’ll both get kicked out, that’s if Crowley even believes you. I’m not the one with the dream of being a great magician, Grim.

Grim growls at you but gives up.

GRIM

Fine.

With a flash of white and glitter over Ace’s prone body, Ace twitches and blinks. Slowly, he gets up, looking between you and Grim with caution.

He suddenly turns, attempting to run, but you caught him by the back of the collar just in time. Grim helps by latching onto Ace’s sleeve.

YOU

Oh no you don’t! You’re cleaning up your shit whether you like it or not!

GRIM

You’re not getting away from the Great Grim after all that trouble I went through!

ACE

Oh come on! You used to be janitors! A little mess shouldn’t be a big deal!

YOU

Are we really going to be doing this again? You didn’t learn the first time? You know how this is going to end so quit struggling!

END

Ace was never a morning person. While it’s almost impossible to stay in bed until the last minute now that he’s in Night Raven College, he still liked to lag behind and secretly get some shut eye when he can. Outside the view of his housewarden of course.

This also meant that Ace had no one but himself to blame for what he saw that morning.

The day was a cloudy one, which was perfect napping weather. Had Ace not set an alarm on his phone, he probably would’ve slept right through first class and left you hanging. Well, not as if you’d be willing to get into trouble for him just to wait, no matter how much his heart wished that would happen. You’re too much of a rule follower, even though you have no housewarden to get on your case.

He was lucky enough to have more than enough time to walk to class, so it’s only natural to find you sitting on a bench outside. You were with Deuce.

You were sitting next to Deuce.

You were letting Deuce lean onto you as you both laughed at whatever was on your phone. Without him. You were enjoying yourself without him and his teasing quips.

Since when did you let anyone get close to you? Since when did Deuce of all people get a free pass to feel you up and use you as a pillow?

You never let Ace’s arms or shoulders linger on you for long. He just thought he was too heavy or something, but apparently Deuce was not a problem! What makes him so special?

He can even see Deuce start to doze off even though he’s still laughing. When Ace finally got close enough for you to see, you reached and bumped your knuckles against Deuce’s cheek. He snorted and startled awake.

“Huh?” Deuce sat up straighter, blinking the fog from his eyes, “Oh, morning Ace.”

“You took your time getting here.” You put your phone away, getting up as though you weren’t just cuddling Deuce while leaving Ace to suffer. “Ready to get to class?”

You didn’t even give him a morning greeting. That’s what he gets for being too lazy to spend more time with you. What, did he expect that you would be available for him always? Of course not, how could he forget that he has competition?

But, he can’t be angry. He can’t throw his books down and stomp away, cause he knows you won’t skip class for him.

So Ace swallows his anger, waves a hand and grins. “Morning Deuce, Prefect! Yeah, I slept a little later than usual but I had an alarm set. Let’s get to class before Professor Crewel whips us.”

Your skin. There was something about it that he can’t get enough of, but can’t indulge in. Mostly cause it’s gross, but also because of how obvious he was about it. Ace hates the way his mind goes blank when you so much as brush past him. You breath in his general direction and suddenly he’s your yes man!

Gross. Only kiss-ups do that, and here he is playing the role like it’s his only joy in the world! He keeps saying to himself “I’ll be normal tomorrow!” But that’s never going to happen.

And, at this point, as Ace pockets all your gloves that go with your uniform, he has long given up on the denial.

“Good morning!” Ace bounced through your door, your dorm the designated meeting place before walking to class, “You awake and ready? Cause I’m not.”

There’s a test today, how can he be ready? Ace is already ready to fail but he will fling himself into the air if Deuce ends up scoring higher than him again. Well, he didn’t exactly study hard, but he did look over the material. Kind of. Okay he skimmed it but it’s better than nothing! Besides, if he beats Deuce, there’s a chance you’ll compliment him. Probably not, but it’s not zero.

You just walked into the living room just as Ace came in, whipping corn starch from your gloves.

Your mouth opened, but Ace was focused on your gloves. Your hands were covered, with gloves perfectly enveloping your fingers without too many spacious wrinkles. Where…Ace was sure he took all them.

Ace blinked, flicking back to your face. “What?”

You hummed out a “Good morning…”

“Grim still not awake?” Ace kicked back and settled on the couch.

“No, he’s out,” You sighed as you deflated into your chair. Even after you dress up, it always takes you a while to boot up. It’s cute. “With Deuce. To get more gloves. Again.”

“Again?” He almost lathered the false surprise on too thickly. “What kind of freak takes your gloves?”

Him. He’s the freak. But he’s never going to tell you. He just wants to touch your hands without that annoying barrier. Just once and he won’t do it again!

“Dunno,” you shrugged, “I’m just glad Deuce had some in his pockets. Kinda worrying that it’s becoming a pattern.”

Of course it was Deuce. Ace was more than hoping that he was more delinquent than honor student but nope! He has to care about his friends and he has to spend money from his own pocket to keep your hands covered. It’s just gloves. What’s the big deal?

“Well,” this is a risk but Ace has gotta take it, “if you want, I can stay over. You know, protect your sleepy self while Grim snores in my ear.”

“Nah,” you waved him off, dashing his hopes off once more. “I’m good. Besides, you steal from my fridge.”

You never made anything easy.

Aw, Little Ace has a crush!

Ace can practically hear the voice of his brother bothering him in his head as he toweled himself off as quickly as he could. His skin was red—water too hot—and now he has to hope he’s dry enough to throw on his clothes quickly before the promise you made to him expired.

Hey come on! It was a complete victory! Ain’t ya gonna give me a little hug?

Fuck off, dude, I’m not touching you! Take a shower first!

Well, Ace is stretching the word promise. You didn’t say you were gonna touch him but he’s taking his chances! Implication is better than nothing.

…ugh, he’s real pathetic. His brother can never know about this. He’ll never hear the end of it.

“Hey Ace! Great throw you did there.” Somebody, Ace can’t place the name but he had bear ears, clapped him on the shoulder. “Made the crowd go crazy.”

“Yeah yeah,” He said dismissively. Ace threw his shirt over his shoulder and shoved that hand back. He’s not in the mood. The more seconds wasted, the more likely you’re going to forget. He wants that damn hug.

“Ace, you doing o—”

“I’m fine.” It spilled over, the frustration boiled into anger and lashed out in his words. Just shut up and leave him alone.

Stop getting in the way.

It was probably too much but Ace didn’t have time to care. He shoved past the other player as soon as he got his shirt on. He kicked on his shoes and rushed out the door.

The crowds were still congealing around you, refusing to go elsewhere and just go away. They’re chatting away and taking their time like it was more important than giving you space. Ace ignored the complaints and offended “Hey!” as he pushed them away.

By the time he noticed Deuce and Grim there, talking to you, the promise Ace made to himself was too seeded into his head. He got this far and he’s not stopping now.

He was in too deep for his desire for a hug that he almost forgot to give a joking smile. Can go around looking like a freak, heavily breathing and probably drooling for a hug. Gross. Disgusting. His brother would kick him down the stairs if he ran anywhere remotely close to him.

Ace spread his arms wide, grin almost too wide but the victory high was still in the air to help it pass. “Well? You gonna hug me now?”

You only raised an eyebrow and Ace felt his stomach grow heavy.

“Huh.” You looked around him, judging. Was he too eager? Was his skin real red and moist looking? “You know what, sure.”

Ace clenched his teeth to keep whatever noise that wanted to come out down. “Well, come here then!”

You approached and gave him a side hug, arm thrown over his shoulder as you gently squeezed him. “Congrats on the win, bud.”

And you let go. Just like that. No fuss, no needing to pester you until you gave in—not like he was gonna do that but man was he close—and no silly little bribes! You willingly, however brief, touched him!

Ah wait he’s supposed to be normal!

Ace turned to Deuce and Grim. “Well? Come on, bring it in!” Ugh, he doesn’t want to touch him but he doesn’t want them to think you’re special to him. Well, you are but if they find out, they’ll eventually know just how weird he is about it.

And, knowing them, they’ll kick his ass out.

“I’m good.”

“Same.”

“Tch, tough crowd.”

“Um,” Deuce couldn’t help but step back a bit, “hey, are you sure this isn’t vandalism?”

You blinked at him twirling the chalk on powder coated fingers. “Buddy, this is my dorm. Pretty sure I got the okay to do what I want with it.” You went back to adding more details on the eyes of a smiley face. You adding in the veins only unnerved Deuce further.

If the Headmage decided to pop in from around the corner, he can only imagine the lecture that would foam from his mouth. Would Deuce listen? Probably not but can you blame him? It’s hard not to zone out when people drag out their words.

“Still though…” as fun as this seemed, he still wants to avoid breaking rules when he can. Even if they are tempting. Deuce still holds onto his grip on the chalk.

“If Crowley doesn’t like it, we can always hose this wall down.” You added some freckles on the unnerving face, snorting to yourself before moving onto the next picture. “Or we can tell Crowley to suck a fat one but I know you won’t do it.”

“Prefect, please,” Deuce whispers, stuffing his laughter to the bottom of his lungs. An honor student should be more mature than this. Even so, he drifts to your left side, tapping his chalk once against your cheek before focusing on the art you left behind. “At least give this guy a beard. He feels weirdly bare without it.”

“Be my guest,” you waved him off, giving him permission to go wild with whatever might be in his imagination, “I’m not gonna stop you. Though, don’t draw anything that isn’t for Ortho’s eyes.”

Okay, you probably didn’t mean for your words to hurt him, but still. “You really take me for that kind of gross person, Prefect?”

You looked over to him, giving him a quick scan before shrugging your shoulders. “You hang out with Ace. Honestly, anything’s possible when he’s within close proximity.”

…you know what, you’re right. He’ll just, focus on this picture now.

“You think this face needs a buddy?” Or maybe a couple of buddies? Maybe some animal friends?

“Yeah, give him someone to talk to!”

Deuce looked positively panicked. His body was full of energy, from the way he swayed and paced, wanting to get close but is unable to step over that boundary line he’s made for himself. He looked back at you with wet, expectant eyes.

“Well?” You shooed him off, towards the small pack of quail chicks walking around and pecking at your carpet. “Go. Pet them if you want. They can’t eat you.”

A farmer looking to sell his quail chicks left them in your care as he had to go to the hospital for a bit. Nothing too bad, poor man just fractured his arm. They’re not exactly the quietest creatures either, despite their very small size. They’ve been peeping since you brought them here, and though they’ve stopped now that you put them on the carpet, it still was enough to wake Deuce up from his nap.

The way these quails chirped, it sounded more like a forlorn howl than it did a chirp. It sounded so sad, so you aren’t exactly surprised at Deuce’s face. Little buddy felt too much for his own good.

This little plant nymph—and the rest of them for that matter—have probably never seen anything as small as these little chicks. You could gather a bunch of them up in your hand alone. They’re just that tiny.

Hmm, were the plant nymphs ever that small? You know they have a baby stage, well seedling stage, and are well past it. How would they have looked like as seedlings?

Well, that’s a stage of life you’re not going to see, and you’re honestly kind of glad for it. It would be too much work for you. You’d barely get any sleep.

Anyways, you gently pushed Deuce towards the quails, who have grown curious over this new moving thing that isn’t you. One of them, the smallest one of all, flapped it’s wings and walked over to Deuce. He stiffened in your hand, leaves shuffling tighter around his limb as though expecting an attack.

But instead, the chick sat down right on his foot.

Deuce looked down, up, at you, then down again. He reached a hand out and gently poked it’s fluff. The quail chick already had it’s eyes closed, tired from a day of chirping and eating seeds. Deuce gathered some courage to pat it’s back. When it didn’t move, Deuce knelt down and started to feel the little thing with both his arms.

It wasn’t long before Deuce was buried in quail chicks. Some had managed to pin his legs down, others got under his arms for warmth, and one adventurous one decided to sleep right on his head.

“See?” You leaned your head against your hand. “Nothing happened.”

Deuce wants more than anything to think that these twisted trees with black bark and wayward shreds of clothing are products of Headmage Crowley’s unique aesthetic sense. That he just woke up one day at the crack of dawn with an idea that he thinks would be brilliant. Maybe if it was Halloween, sure Deuce can see that, but right now, it’s the tail end of spring.

One after the other, these trees would suddenly pop up when no one was looking, as though wanting to stretch out their branches to whoever walks down this stone path. Deuce goes through his clothes like no ones business, no thanks to Grim’s temper tantrums. His allowance is crying out in suffering and the trees are gathering closer and closer, but Deuce refuses to attend class with a sloppy appearance. That’s how bad habits start and spiral down.

He can’t worry his mom’s heart again. He’s not worth such heartache.

Deuce felt a tap on his shoulder and instincts had him ducking and curling into a ball. The only thing keeping his ears from bursting into flames was that he didn’t scream.

From behind, you gave a warm chuckle as though you were strolling through a valley of gentle sunshine. “Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. You were a little lost in thought there, huh?”

Right, right Deuce brought you with him. He said it was because it make the shopping trip be less lonely, which isn’t wrong but it’s not the entire truth.

“Y-yeah, I guess I was a little too into my own head,” Deuce coughed and shook his head before slowly starting to get up, “Did you want to say something, Prefect?”

But a guiding hand on his shoulder forced him back on the ground. His knees were forced to meet the stone path and the back of his neck was locked in place. You loomed over him, Deuce can feel your gaze burning onto the top of his skull.

And from the trees beyond with their wrinkled roots and knobby branches, something rustled and cracked. And his unhelpful mind thought of that monster with that bottle of ink for a head reaching through a thick trunk, rebirthing itself into this world just to swallow him whole.

“Keep your head down,” you spoke too loudly for Deuce to feel safe, “looking will only catch its attention.”

What? What thing? What’s coming?

You shifted your weight from one leg to the other, as though you were simply waiting in line, biding your time.

“Nature is certainly beautiful, so beautiful that it has seduced a neighbor of mine to copy its form,” you patted his head, ruffling his hair and Deuce felt his shirt stick to his back, “though, I’m sure you don’t wish to know such a joy, right? You like your body as is, don’t you?”

Deuce didn’t say anything. He couldn’t, because your ‘neighbor’ shuffled over from behind, the passed you by. It dragged, like thick furred leather over stone ground, as though it was struggling to handle its own weight. A lumpy shadow, shape shifting as though sunlight through warped glass, blended with Deuce’s own before shifting off.

“I thought so,” you tapped his shoulder, “alright, let’s hurry to the shop now. It won’t be open all day, since I told Sam to close up early. There’s cleaning to be done and I need to be left alone for a bit.”

He wanted to get up, really he did, but his knees refused to support his weight. You helped him up with a firm grip on his waist and all Deuce could do was lean into you.

“S-sorry,” Deuce whispered out, his own voice failing him with his mind numb with terror, his fingers sinking into your arm.

“It’s alright,” you rubbed his back, “come on. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

Ace was trying so hard to be normal, you can see that, but it’s hard to ignore Grim over at the distance, balancing a tray of eggs and beans on his head. He’s kicking his little feet, mouth wide in a grin, as he twirls and piles more food on his plate.

“Looks like a stupid hat,” Ace spat out, voice warbling with a laugh that wants to come out. Either way, a snort escaped him that minute he faced Deuce’s own red face. They’re both horrible at keeping up appearances.

“His balance is pretty impressive,” you mumbled out around your spoon. Your words were too quiet, and those two are distracted so your words were missed. Oh well. Your eyes flitted to Jack when Ace and Deuce descended into stifled snorts and chuckles. His arms were crossed, as usual.

“If he drops that, he’s going to make a mess,” Yeah, sticky fur and a whining Grim does not sound like a good time. You could say it out loud, but Jack’s body was more turned towards Epel.

“A pile like that, I wouldn’t be surprised if he gets buried under it. A grave of beans, ain’t that a funny image?” Epel had his eyes glued to Grim, probably mentally wishing he can trip and fall already. Rascal that he is. Jack likely doesn’t want to admit he wants that too, but the ruffling of Epel’s hair was enough to signal that he does.

“I just know the noise he’ll make will give me a headache,” Sebek sits on the other end of the table, rubbing his temples as though it was already pulsing. Right next to him was Ortho, was tapping away on a rhythm game.

“No need to worry. If the chaos gets too much to handle, I can silence them pretty effectively.” Oh you have no doubt about that. It’s impressive to you as always to see his multi tasking at work. Able to play the game with just one hand while he point to Grim with his other.

Instinct told you to look back to Grim. And just so you can signal the group to look, you said, “Oh.”

Grim stepped on a spoon. He slipped and flew right into the air, his foot catching on the table cloth before all his food went sailing to the ground below.

From the bottom of his heart welled a deep lament, and Grim yowled his grief. “My food!”

The whole table started laughing.

You looked to the right. Ace was clapping Deuce on the back, who was holding his gut as they both wheezed.

You looked to the left. Jack was practically shivering like a cold dog, head bent down to hide his smile while Epel was slamming the table in silent laughter.

You looked to the front. Sebek had his mouth covered, clamping his jaw down like the sight was beneath him. Ortho was fully leaning onto Sebek, still somehow keeping a perfect score on his game.

You were laughing too, but you were quicker to calm down. You were still smiling, still buzzing with the humor in the air, but the urge to laugh just went away.

Everyone was still laughing.

You scooped another spoonful of food and stuff it in your mouth.

Before you lost your direction in life and shut yourself in, you used to make an effort to visit the flea market on weekends. You didn’t always go there to buy something. Sometimes the atmosphere was enough for you.

But, circumstances are different now and you have the urge to walk somewhere that isn’t up the river. That and you wanted to bring the youngest of the pets with you somewhere.

So, here you were, padding down a dirt path that’s been trodden by many a shopper. Its been a while, new shops and faces are here, and yet your legs take you to a specific place that you still remember. How long has it been? Probably years. You don’t remember.

It was a humble bakery, with a wooden board that’s messily painted in children handprints and gold glitter. The owner was still there, still a face you recognize. Mrs. Dana. The kind of grandmother with hardened hands that knead dough just as much as she caresses the head of her children. The kind that always seek to pinch their cheeks.

She waved to you, beckoning you to the vast amounts of sweets on display. They ranged from simple cookies to overly decorative empanadas.

“Is there anything you want, sweetie?” Whether she remembers you or not, well it doesn’t matter. The familiarity of it all was enough.

You waved back, “No, not for me.” You brought you bag into your arms, opening the flap. “Come on, take your pick.

In succession, Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Ortho and Sebek all popped out, hanging their little arms over the edge to stay up.

Ace being Ace tried to launch himself at the red thumbprint cookie but Deuce was there to hold him back. What manners he has. Epel, however, successfully jumped out, but did not make a graceful landing. He’s flat in his face in a mess of crumbs.

"Oh my,” Mrs. Dana wasn’t even angry, she was snorting behind her hand.

“Sorry about that,” you strained out as you swiped Epel up. Poor little guy was holding his face. “Don’t do that.”

You looked to the rest still in the bag. Jack was stock still, tail not wagging so much as it was vibrating in place, the trail of fog condensed into a thin line. He was staring straight at a bone shaped cookie.

You raised an eyebrow at the sign above it. “I didn’t know you made treats for dogs.”

“I didn’t but I had to expand my wares. So many people are having pets that I had to make little treats for them.”

Ortho, finally losing his patience, zipped out and dove just above a little cup of custard. He flashed back and forth from white and blue while pointing to the treat. Guess you’re getting that too.

Sebek, on the other hand, was frowning. Well, he’s been frowning since you came here. Honestly you don’t know his issues. He crawled into your bag out of his own volition. You guess he’s not used to being away from Malleus.

You patted his head, watching that little frown turn into a silly smile you’ve been on delighted toddlers. “I’ll get you some butter cookies.”

As for Ace and Deuce, they managed to get down in a more organized manner, shockingly. Now they’ve teamed up to grab those thumbprint cookies. Well, you have the money to spare.

“I’ll be taking all that they pick.”

And, of course, your pets all gave various noises of delight.

Since they were too small, you gave a firm knock on the door and waited. Ace was having a case of stomping feet while Deuce was sweeping over his tiny bag as though a tiny wrinkle will keep him from getting candy. Jack was on your shoulder, tail straight up in the air as he gripped his bag in one hand while Ortho hovered over your head, lazily twirling about while giggling. Epel was heckling Ace by poking at him with his branches. And Sebek…

Well, Sebek was hiding behind your shoe, little arms crossed over his chest like he’d rather be anywhere but here. And yet, here he is, dressed up like the little knight he always acts like, still clutching his tiny bag.

The door burst open and Vargas stepped out in all his loud and muscled glory.

“Happy Halloween!” He shouted from the tops of his lungs and you felt tempted to just, turn around and walk away. How the pets didn’t attack on sight was a mystery to you. Probably has something to do with that bowl of treats and candy in his arm. Thing looked more like a cauldron than an actual bowl, “So, you’re here to trick or treat?”

“Yeah, yeah, Happy Halloween to you too,” you rubbed at your ear, hoping there won’t be any ringing in it later, “I’m not doing the trick or treating. It’s for the little guys.”

Ace, Deuce, and Epel made a chorus of squeaks, sounding rather impatient. Jack grunted, tail lightly wagging and ears twitching in excitement. Ortho laid himself on your head and shove his open bag in Varga’s direction, and Sebek even stomped over and showed his bag.

Vargas bent down and hummed in approval. “They’re all dressed up too. Looks like Divus’s work.”

“Yup,” He did a pretty good job on the costumes. Ace and Deuce in mummy costumes, Epel a tiny vampire, Jack a pirate, Ortho in a rather complicated black set of armor, and Sebek the knight.

“Good thing Sam spread the word,” Vargas dug his hand into the candy pile and pulled out a set of very, very small treats, “Here you go.”

The little pets on the ground stretched themselves as far as they could up. Vargas reached gave little sprinkles of specially made candy right into their bag, making sure not to give one or the other too much. Can’t have them fighting with one another.

“Say your thanks,” you reminded.

And all your little pets whistled in unison. Some obviously louder than others.

“You’re welcome.” Vargas, never one to let himself be beat in volume, shouted back.

“Alrighty,” you sighed, turning on your heel, already anticipating all the walking you’ll be doing, “to the next house.”

The structure of power here dictates that when you’re going out, one of the familiars must volunteer to tag along. With them, comes the pets. With Riddle, it’s Ace and Deuce. With Leona, it’s Jack. With Vil, it’s Epel.

However, this routine has an exception. Should more than one familiar choose to shadow you, the rest of the pets must stay home. This was not a strict order given to them, it’s something they do out of respect for those that clearly hold more power than them. It’s as though their leader form some sort of unbreakable group that they won’t dare intrude upon.

You honestly don’t get it, or at least the point of letting themselves lag behind when the pets clearly wants to come with. But, you’re not one to push it. If that’s how they want to function around beings such as Riddle, Leona, Jamil and Vil, then so be it.

Right now, you’re just ready to nap. The river was calm and the wind was crisp in such a way that it drove the bugs away, while also letting the sun keep its warmth.

“It’s odd,” you heard Jamil wonder, tail swiping over the fallen dried leaves “that Azul rejected the offer the Caretaker gave. And rather enthusiastically as well. What are your thoughts on that?” His face was blank, but it was the kind of blank that came with perfectly knowing the answer.

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” Vil plucked a comb from your backpack, resting his feathers over a nearby rock, “Clearly he has something planned, otherwise he wouldn’t have had such a smug smile.” How ironic that Vil had a similar expression on his face, clearly awaiting whatever surprise Azul might have waiting.

“Anything involving him is bound to cause some trouble, however,” Riddle crossed his arm, closing his eyes as he soaked in the calm that’s tempting you to nap, “I doubt it’ll be anything dangerous. But if it is, I’ll gladly take care of it.” And it seem he too has similar feelings that Vil has. It’s always so odd to see that sly smile on such a soft looking face.

“Whatever it is and whatever it will be,” Leona rolled over, laid on his side and propped his head on his arm, “it doesn’t involve me, so I couldn’t care less. And keep the gossip down, the Caretaker’s trying to nap.” And leave it to Leona to keep track of your lax self. He’s only here because Malleus wasn’t.

Speaking of, he really does love to keep to himself. An independent one, always taking the time to explore at his leisure, forgetting the amount of days that pass before he has to come back. Fae really do run on a different clock. Anyways…

“Ah, sorry,” Jamil spoke first, “we can take this conversation elsewhere, if you like?”

You waved him off, tugging your hat down to shade your eyes. “I don’t mind. Keeping talking.”

The noise’s relaxing. Hearing the banter was better than silence.

The beak on his mask, nearly fully buried in the mud that was made by the rain yesterday, was pretty much the only thing keeping Crowley from suffocating as he lay face down in the middle of your garden. A shoe lay discarded right on top of your fence, a stray sock snagged by a branch of a nearby bush, and his pants were hanging on by only one of his ankles. What is it with him and his love for having heart patterns on his briefs?

But, most importantly, Crowley had a large empty wine bottle clutched in his hand like it was a hand purse. This is not the first time, nor will it be the last, but it certainly is weird to see him in your garden and not on your kitchen floor. Guess he didn’t make it. Too many plant obstacles, you guess.

Well, that’s what you get for ignoring Crowley’s late night singing. You honestly thought he would stay on his side of things.

By his prone shoulders, Ace and Riddle were there, one poking his shoulder with a stick while the other was simply watching with crossed arms, not quite indignant but he’s close.

You poked his waist with your foot, not wanting to be in range in case his stomach decided to make a move. “Doing okay there, Crowley?”

Crowley snorted and Ace jumped. You all paused, taking in the uncomfortable silence before a sputter came out of the drunk man. Still sleeping, still loudly snoring.

“Oh boy,” you groaned as you scratched the back of your neck, “Alright, do I have any blankets I can use?”

And throw away. Because you don’t want to bother cleaning them if he makes a mess on them.

The little Roseling finally walked forward. You watched as he searched around Crowley’s face, taking a little sniff here and there. Crowley burped and Riddle froze before a chill wracked through his body.

Mm!

Riddle lifted his stick/rod into the air. Roots, thick and thin, slithered out of the ground before wrapping about his weapon before retreating. Now there was a large, root wrapped club.

“Uh, Riddle,” you stepped forward but it was too late.

For it was too heavy. Riddle panicked, feet skidding out behind him as the weight became too much and the club landed right on Crowley’s skull.

The drunk birdbrain rocketed right up to his knees, spitting and sneezing out mud that covered his entire face like the time you threw a pie to his face. He scooped the excess off and swiftly looked around, lost, confused and probably with a nasty hangover right behind the eyes.

Ace, right by your ankles, wrapped his arms around his belly as he trilled out his laughter. You would’ve nudged him to stay quiet, but honestly it was a little entertaining.

“W-why am I here?” Crowley clutched his head then looked down. He covered his shame with soiled hands, “Oh. Oh no.”

“Oh yeah,” you nodded, confirming his worst fears, “Told you not drink Divus’s wines. You know how he likes his stuff.”

That cat you’ve yet to nickname has been visiting more often than you’d like him to. You can’t really say you’re shocked, since the state of your garden is not longer barren and wilting with your neglect. More plants means more hiding places and things to chew on. But also because that gray cat’s been eyeing your mini gardeners lately.

You would be more worried if it weren’t for the fact that Riddle can level the house if he wanted to. The only reason this cat’s been able to get on your roof and relax in your trees is cause Riddle lets him. He hasn’t done anything too bad yet, but you figured it’s only a matter of time.

Today’s looking to be a calm day, so you figured this would be the best time to introduce Jack to the backyard. He’s a little too keenly aware of territories and where they lay, so he’s been avoiding this place, though that didn’t stop him from watching through the windows. In fact, he still refuses to touch the ground. He’s on your shoulder right now, taking in the sights with his mouth agape.

Though, when you turned around to get deeper into the garden, you heard Jack’s teeth clack and a muffled bark behind them. The distraction was easy to find. It was the cat again, not really napping but not really moving from his spot in the dip of some tree roots.

“Ah, was hoping he wasn’t here…” You really didn’t want to stress Jack out, so you guess him meeting the others will have to wait another day. “Oh?”

Then, out of the bushes, burst out two little plant nymphs with too much bravado for their own good. Ace carried a big leaf with a sturdy stem, all big and glossy like those of a magnolia tree. Deuce had a leaf of his own, though this one was considerably more spiky around the edges.

With timing and coordination that can only come from life long friends, Ace and Deuce whacked the lazing cat right on the head. He did not move, only blinked very slowly once before opening his mouth and letting blue fire spill out in one steady stream, burning the leaves only.

Ace and Deuce both squealed and retreated behind your ankles.

Ace looked up at you, pointing furiously to the yawning cat. Deuce, on the other hand, was trying to climb up into your pant leg like that’ll keep him safe.

You sighed. “So, what do you think, Jack?”

Jack’s stare could not be anymore devoid of wonder as he stared down at the two nymphs that still weren’t paying attention to him. He gave a sigh of his own before disappearing in a cloud of smoke.

But he didn’t float back inside the house. No, he swept down right in front of the fire-eared cat settling down for a nap. The smoke morphed, expanding then condensing into the sharp and harsh features of a wolf’s head.

The cat stood at attention, arching his back just as the wolf’s eyes glowed gold.

The maw opened and Jack howled.

The stray yowled, scrambled up the wall and left.

You blinked. “Huh. Impressive.”

Though you know that cat’s going to be back to try his luck. He’s a stubborn one. And very arrogant. Honestly could give Leona a run for his money.

Jack puffed back to his usual form. Pride strengthen the length of his spine and shoulders, even lifting his chin up a bit as he basked in your praise and the plant nymphs jealousy and begrudging respect.

That’s certainly a first meeting.

You remember reading a little note about how important it is to receive at least some sun every day. Honestly, you had a hard time following it, mostly because the sun would make you so groggy and you’d struggle to finish your day. In fact, you’re fighting to keep your eyes open.

But, with you sitting on a chair with no back, and Jamil lazily wrapping himself around your neck while perched on your head, you can’t fall asleep without falling over. You can’t see him but you can imagine Jamil braiding his hair. He’s moving a little too much to tell otherwise.

Below, towards your feet, you saw Ace and Deuce doing their rounds, running to and fro from one side of the garden to the other. You don’t understand the path they’re taking but they seem to remember well enough. They’re marching, like little soldiers but as soon as Ace thought you were out of sight—they weren’t, the bush did little to hide their colors—Ace slumped and dragged his feet against the ground.

Slacker.

A buzzing came to the right of you. Instinctively, you swatted out, you hated mosquitoes with a passion but you missed. It flew over your hand, arcing before it landed right on Jamil’s tail. A large, fat, jade green bug who’s shell almost blinded you with it’s reflection. The little antennas twitched at you.

You felt him stiffen.

“Jamil…” you warned, and gave a reminder, “you’re on my neck…”

Do not choke me.

Of course, you can’t reason with fear. A high pitched shriek bordering on a whistle punched out of Jamil. You made to swat the beetle off but his tail went wild and struck against your collar bone. It stung, like you’d imagine Divus’s whip would whenever he used it.

“Jamil! Ow, Jamil!” He needs to hold still if he wants the bug off. “Hold still!”

In a flash of blue, red and green, Deuce and Ace burst from the bushes, but Deuce used Ace as an non-consenting trampoline and jumped, spring-boarded off of your thigh and tackled the bug in one shot. A high screaming tackle, fists out, ready to pummel this bug to death. Like a rubber ball, he bounced off the floor and into the next bush in his path. A grand scuffle was heard, the bush shuddering as twigs broke and Deuce yelled.

Then it was silent. Deuce came out, all scratched up and covered in dirt as though he had the fight of his life. Then, he puffed up in pride right before your eyes.

“Huh,” You didn’t know bugs could put up such a fight, “Nice job.”

Ace, on the other hand, was still faced down on the floor, rag doll style.

Jamil slide off your shoulders, slowly as his limbs were weak from all the tight panic, and poked Ace as though to make sure he’s alive. He is. You can tell. Ace just doesn’t want to face the embarrassment of Deuce stealing his spotlight.

When you noticed Jamil’s tongue flick in and out, you said, “Jamil, stop that. He’s not food.”

Only then did Ace rocket up and away from all of you, leaving a dust cloud in his wake.

Wow, that worked. You were kidding, honestly. You know Ace would never meet Jamil’s food standards. Too unseasoned.

You were complaining, rather loudly, about your day. Well, loud by Ace and Deuce’s standard. It’s hard to for anyone to be quiet when the hallways echo as loudly as they do. Well, at least they can hear you and Rook from around the corner clearly.

“—and this headache refuses to leave! And I can’t afford the medicine cause I spent all my money for the dorm. Can you believe it?” You plopped your head against Rook’s shoulder and all Ace and Deuce could do was watch with jaws dropped as he casually wrapped his arms around you.

“Oh don’t be so sad,” he spouted out, knocking his head against yours, practically shedding tears for you, “if nothing else, I might have a perfect remedy for you.”

“Thanks.”

When the two of you finally departed, Ace and Deuce hounded after you.

“You really dating that creep?” Ace was blunt, had to be on the account that Deuce can’t even get the word ‘date’ out of his mouth.

“Nope,” simple and to the point. No signs of being flustered or anything. Of course they wouldn’t believe it.

“But,” finally, Deuce found his words, “you were holding each other, really closely too. H-hands and everything!”

“Yeah, if you wanted a hug so bad, you could’ve just come to us, you know?” And, of course, Ace can’t help an opportunity to tease.

“Ace, the only hugs you give are bro hugs, and Deuce, you hug me like I’m your emotionally fragile mother.” The definition of friendship that these two have aren’t as flexible as it is with Rook. Rook himself shows his love to any and all things romantic and platonic, and doesn’t care if the things he does is seen as weird.

To Ace and Deuce, holding hands with someone that isn’t your date is just plain weird, but to Rook, he can hold hands with anyone. There’s no fear of him wanting more or expecting anyone to adhere to some vague definition of lovers that many have assigned holding hands to.

Simply put, his lack of shame makes him the perfect candidate to ask a close hug from.

“So, yeah,” you stretched your arms over your head, irritation fully melted away now that you hugged a human being, “we’re not dating. I just needed someone to give me a real good hug. And I figured Rook would give me one without being awkward about it.”

Kalim was another candidate but Jamil put a stop to it cause Kalim would insist he can hug for longer cause his class wasn’t that far. It was. He just severely underestimated the time it would take to get there. And he doesn’t need another distraction. That’s a whoops on your part.

You couldn’t help the stiffening of your spine as Jamil slithered up your arm and around your neck.

“Okay,” you hissed out, “we’re doing this now, huh?’

As if in response, Jamil hissed in your ear in obvious displeasure. You really are having a hard time understanding what it is this naga wants from you. He wants to climb all over you, that’s for certain, perhaps affection but with how frequently he’s been hissing, you’re very sure he’s not in the mood for anymore skin contact.

You heard a slam from behind you.

“I’m going to wring his neck as soon as I find him!” Cried Crowley in another fit of despair that has been oh so common throughout your whole life. “A prank, he says. A prank! Messing with memories? A simple prank?”

He stomped over to the seat near your couch and flopped on it, deflating with an angry sigh. His hat fell over his eyes, the large nose of his beak catching it. He pushed his hat back just as you felt a weight settle on your head.

You heard some rustling, felt the movement with the sound before soft little tweets entered your ears. Gentle trills. Not terse peeps or heavy silence. Is this really Vil? You’re pretty sure he hated your guts for not making his meals the proper way.

Either way, you did not move. If this was some sort of prank, you’re not falling for it.

Another hiss came from Jamil, but he was quickly quieted when you felt little feet tap against your scalp and a solid feathered smack against the naga. It buffed your head as well, but you managed to keep your jump of shock to just your internal organs.

“Is this normal, Crowley?” You managed to get out through gritted teeth.

“Huh?” He got distracted with waving a magazine in front of his face, as though a delicate noble who’s a few seconds away from fainting.

“You know,” you dared to nudge Jamil on your shoulder, “all this?”

“Yes, yes all of this is normal. Just, are you sure your stomach is just fine?” He placed the magazine onto the low table, eyeing the bottle of cider he gave you, as though wanting to knock it off the corner.

“It’s fine. Just some brain fog, is all.” You really could use a nap, but when these two here, you really can’t do much other than sit still.

Wait, scratch that, make it three.

Roots managed to open your window, carrying a large bundle of vivid roses, with the Roseling riding them. The plants were plopped onto your lap, dousing the room the fresh smell, as Riddle sat on your knee.

He peeked over the roses, looking at you rather intensely. Not with anger, or even with the shyness you’re used to, he just stared.

You only gave an awkward smile, not knowing what to do. You certainly felt like you did something wrong when Riddle looked down, visibly deflating with the weight of sadness. He buried his face in the roses.

“Sam guaranteed this would wear off,” Crowley granted you his mercy by breaking the tense silence, “Simply take your time. Your body will reclaim those missing memories eventually.”

Easy for him to say, he’s not the one dealing with all of these pets! Oh well, all you can do is take it one day at a time.

It was a violent storm of ink. The bottle on the monster’s head cracked wide open, shards pathetically falling to the ground without so much as a clink as ink gushed out of it in the gallons. You watched as it splashed around, splattering against the ripped up grass as Riddle was consumed by the main waterfall of black.

The scent was overpowering, threatening to coat your lungs as the free ink suddenly took a life of it’s own. It swirled against a still Riddle shoes, climbing up and up until you were only looking at a hungry tornado that wanted to consume this man whole. Never have you thought ink to be so greedy.

You heard the warnings, you heard the noises as Crowley forced students to evacuate the area. But something inside compelled you to reach forward, to submerge your hands deep into this current of ink. For a moment, it consumed you, consumed all light so suddenly you thought the ink ate your eyes.

But you were able to pull Riddle out.

For a moment, relief filled you. You were dripping with ink, but Riddle’s skin has regained his life. He was breathing, tears leaking beneath his eyelids.

And that’s all you remember. That’s all you can recall as you lay in a bed.

Well, you think it’s a bed. It’s soft enough but your eyes can’t really see much. Everything is too blurry, your head too fuzzy and your limbs were pulsing and sore. And all you can smell is ink. It clawed it’s way up from somewhere, sinking into every part of your skin, and your stomach seized.

Everything in your stomach landed on the ground. You felt a hand on your back, a voice calling out for the nurse as your whole body shuddered. Your eyes refused to focus, but you can see what you just gave out was pure ink.

And you fainted once more. The next time you woke up, your vision returned, and apparently a doctor came in to hook you up for a dialysis. Your brain was still foggy, so you were easily distracted by the red and black exiting your veins. It took a while for you to notice the weight on your legs.

Looking down, you saw the heads of Ace and Deuce sleeping on either side of your bed. Ace has his whole arm splayed over your ankles while Deuce had his head on crossed arms. Grim was clinging onto the very arm Ace had out.

You blinked, and blinked again, and did the first thing that came to mind. You kicked Ace’s arm off your numbing ankles.

“Ah!” Ace fell to the floor as Grim was flipped into the air. Deuce shot up and looked ready to punch the falling Grim but stopped himself in time.

“What the…” Grim mumbled as soon as he landed on the bed, “Ah! You’re awake!”

“Ha?” Ace got up as he rubbed his nose. “Oh? Ah, you’re right! Finally…”

“Oh that’s good.” Deuce recovered from his haze. “How are you feeling, Prefect? If you feel sick, I can bring you the trashcan.”

You snorted. You wanted to laugh but felt too tired. “Yeah, just leave it on the side. I think I might need to use it later.”

To think that chestnuts would be enough to make that Rosehearts blow a blood vessel. You’ve seen people blow up for lesser things than that, but it’s a bit of first to see someone lose it over food. Well, in a world of abundance such as this, you suppose people will find other things to complain about.

Still though…

Deuce was shadow boxing the air in front of him, clearly trying to keep from screaming while Ace was letting his voice loose.

“Screw him!” Ace’s voice echoed out in Ramshackle, the windows giving a concerning rattle. Ace gave a sigh when Deuce glared at him, glanced back at you, and murmured, “Sorry, Prefect.”

“Scream in a pillow next time.” You tossed him a lounge pillow, to which he started screaming into. You have to admit, this was somewhat amusing.

You leaned back, tapping your finger nail against the collar forced on you by that Rosehearts as Grim paced around, giving anger filled stomps. He’s probably imagining himself crushing said dorm leader.

This collar didn’t exactly posed a problem to you. If anything, it was somewhat nostalgic of home. When you saw Rosehearts yell out the incantation, you half expected these collars to cut people’s heads clean right off, with their bodies fully under his control.

It reminded you of someone, from a different time and a different place.

Heads have no meaning for soldiers. That’s how these creatures crawl in. There must be no space for them to inhabit.

Nostalgic, but, ultimately, irritating. Tyrants from your world will look for any excuse to exercise their power under the guise of safety.

You chuckled, gripped the edges of the collar, and let your head relax, unravel. Thinner and thinner it turned, until it was nothing more than a single string of flesh and thoughts. Your vision thinned out, but you were in a safe place. With no head to block the collar, you simply pulled it off.

It disappeared from your hands within seconds. You reformed your head.

“Much better.”

You opened your eyes, blinking at the wide eyes of a horrified Deuce, a horrifically disgusted Ace, and a Grim trying so hard to keep it together.

You kept yourself from snorting, instead giving a most gentle smile that you know they can see through. “Something wrong?”

Ace yelled, “Warn us next time! You can’t go around making your head spaghetti like that!”

“I know you’re different but…” Deuce murmured, “but I keep forgetting just how different you are.”

And Grim attempted to show off how brave he was compared to these two, “H-hmph! It’s only natural that my partner would be as terrifying as me!”

You looked to Grim, raising an eyebrow.

Terrifying? Please.

“Though,” Deuce was the first to recover, seems he’s getting used to your antics, “how’s that possible? Isn’t the collar supposed to be impossible to remove?”

…Huh. Good question.

“Hmm,” well, you have one theory, “let’s see. Might have to do with the fact that I have no magic.”

“Bullshit!” yelled an Ace.

You ignored him. “The collar is made to suppress magic, so it probably clings to magic, much like a seal. But if there is no magic present in the target, then it’s just a real simple lock with no purpose. Just had to remove it.”

Via spaghetti head, as Ace so puts it.

If this theory is true, it’s nice to confirm that you do indeed have no magic. Well, it does suck that you can’t do magic, but ultimately, it doesn’t really change anything. You’re still yourself, and you can still do everything that has kept you alive this far.

“It’s your fault,” the words slipped out of Ace, more of out of habit than anything. They lacked any of the vicious bite he would usually aim towards Deuce. “you just had to bash that guy’s skull in.”

Deuce only sunk deeper into his sleeping bag, “Says you. I’m not the one who gouged out his eyes.”

Though, it’s not as if Deuce even bothered to stop him. The conversation, if it can be considered one, lulled from there. It’s less an attempt to actually argue and more just something to fill the silence. A distraction of sorts, from the fact you hated them both.

From the fact you shut them out.

They both had a list filled with people that wanted nothing more than to kick you out of here, or make you their new gopher, or their new target for any all frustrations. It’s easy to find these people, especially when Ace and Deuce were once a part of them. But they know they can’t continue to be with them, not when you were right at the center of their minds. Not when they’ve accepted that their hearts shall beat only for you.

And so they wait. Every day, outside this dorm, leaving you food and water by a window where you can’t see them, because Ace told Deuce that you needed time to cool down, so they can’t just waltz up to the door and hand it over to them.

They had to grit their teeth and stay hidden, until one day, you’ll finally open the door.

---

“Behave.”

A single order fell from your lips after two weeks of silence, two weeks of camping outside your dorm, hoping to catch some of your noises, two weeks of holding onto a weak and fragile hope.

You had opened the door and spoke this single order.

“If you can behave, then we can pretend to be friends again,” you walked past them, past the filthy selves of Ace and Deuce, overdue work and papers at hand, “I’ll eat at the cafeteria, I’ll sit with you, and I’ll pretend you both don’t disgust me with your every second of living.” You turned to them, gaze steady and stern, “But only if you behave.”

Ace is as pathetic as they come. When warmth surged through his body, when he felt his blood fill up with newfound hope and endless love, the first thing he wanted to do was spit at the source and pretend it didn’t affect him, even though it’s been a week since he’s last showered if rain didn’t count. He almost would have too had it not been for Deuce.

Deuce knew himself to be honest to a fault, whether for better or for worse. His eyes heated up, blurring at the corner when you finally exited your dorm, when you finally made eye contact with them. And when you spoke, when you focused your gaze on them as though they mattered more than the twirling leaves around you, Deuce was already a teary mess. Even so, his instincts are sharp, and Deuce slapped a hand over Ace’s big mouth before he could open it up.

“Tha—” Deuce’s hiccuped, jostling both himself and a tearing up Ace now that he can’t say words to protect his soft heart, “Thank you!”

Ace nudged Deuce’s hand out of the way, mumbling out a shy, “Well be good. So don’t ignore us, okay?”

Cold? Was it slimy and slithering?

No, not quite. Ace can certainly feel extra limbs, long and thin, caressing over his arms and back, but none of it quite fit the description that Deuce gave him when he asked.

What in the world was Deuce going on about? None of this feels comfy to him!

“You’re tense, sweetheart,” your voice landed gently over his ear. He shivered but he wasn’t sure if it was the tendrils over his neck or your measured breathing. “Come on, lean back. Relax a little.”

Ace wanted so much to open his eyes, if only see what’s part of you was touching him, but you asked for him to keep them closed. You rarely ask for anything, and while Ace was hemming and hawing about it, you didn’t budge. Honestly, why does he even try? You don’t give in on anything.

“Get off my back about it, I’m trying,” he spat out, discomfort coloring the words rather than anger, “Hey, Deuce. You doing alright over there?”

It’s a lost cause but Ace wants to know if there’s a chance Deuce was lying about the whole thing and he’s actually suffering.

“Hmm?” A silky shift and a sleepy hum gave all the answers Ace needed. “Ah, I’m good, I’m good. Feels nice.”

Something fleshy popped just a few feet behind him, sending a shudder up Ace’s spine. He almost made a noise of disgust but swallowed it instead. This was not the right time.

“Go back to napping Deuce,” your soothing words were farther from Ace, a small hollow space swirled in his chest, “There’s no need to force yourself awake. Go back to dreaming.”

All Ace heard was a muffled “Okay,” and he knew his buddy was long gone into dreamland. There goes the only human that can ground him in this mass that made up you.

“You look like you’re a few seconds from running Ace,” you unhelpfully teased, running a hand up his back. His spine locked up rather than flinch away, “Oh?”

He didn’t like that. He did not like the way your voice perked up with interest. He did not like the way his face started to flush up. He did not like the way his skin yearned for more of your hands.

“What?” And so Ace will pretend like nothing is wrong, “What ‘oh?’”

“Ah, so that’s your preference.” And before Ace could sputter out his fragmented, defensive thoughts your arms—steady, warm, cherishing his smaller body—wrapped firmly around his waist. You pulled him back, flush against your tangled flesh.

Something clicked in Ace’s brain and he was overcome with the heat you feel when returning to bed from an icy embrace. The tendrils didn’t feel cold, nor feel like there’s too many.

This..this felt…

“Comfy…”

You are of the type that doesn’t like to replace old things so long as they work. Sure, they may look dangerous to use, but so as long as it doesn’t kill you, you can afford to keep these things around just a while longer. You had this trusty ladder for as long as you can remember, and the thought of trying to go and buy and new one already has you exhausted just thinking of the options. And how Sam will try and get you to buy more things since he knows how filled your wallet is.

You’re fine. It’s good. Sure, it’s a little shaky but you’re not about to do a dance party on it, so it should hold.

“Where did you guys throw it again?” Grunting, you readjusted the ladder on your shoulder.

The little blue lily rolled his eyes to Ace, staring at him with a disappointment that could rival Riddle’s. Ace, however, refused to show shame and turned away with a huff. You can see the guilt slowly breaking him down.

You rephrased yourself, “Where did you throw it, Ace?”

He deflated, defeated by your voice. He guiltily pointed behind you.

You turned and looked up. Ah, there it is, perched right on the ledge but with a wing caught under a loose tile Leona managed to pry off the other day. You made that thing on a whim cause you had sheets of old decorated paper you knew you weren’t going to use anytime soon, so might as well make planes out of it. Ace and Deuce took the one with the roses on the edges. Predictable, but still, endearing.

It’s not too far up there. You can get it no problem.

“Alright, give me a sec,” you placed the ladder against a beam and climbed up. You swiped it off no problem. “Next time, don’t throw it so—”

You made to climb down, but the step collapsed right under your foot. You didn’t yell or scream, you just plummeted down and landed right on the grass below, all air stolen from your lungs. All you could register was the impact rather than any pain. Your heart was in your throat while you laid there but somehow your body couldn’t remember to breathe.

Ace climbed up your shoulder and pressed his head against your chest. You can see his little eyes were wide with dread while Deuce was pushing your head, as though asking you to get up. One particularly harsh shove and an Ace cry-shrieking and battering your chest was enough to shock your body back into motion and you sucked in a large gasp.

“Ah, fuck…” Pain slathered itself against your spine, coating the backs of your ribs so deeply you knew you weren’t going to sleep right tonight. “Oh, that’s gonna hurt.”

Ace only cried louder, on his knees, practically soaking you while Deuce gave the softest of sniffles against your ear.

“Hey, hey, calm down,” you shakily raised your arm, giving an out of place grin, “I got the airplane.”

They both chirped loudly at you. Right, bad joke.

You remember a long while back about starter pets for kids or expecting families to try on a number of websites. You weren’t looking into them, you were more trying to search for a university that was willing to accept you but you accidentally clicked on it. One of the very first results was the plant nymph.

Safe to say, that article, or tier list, annoyed you with how it framed plant nymphs as these miracle creatures that didn’t need that much care. To an extent, you kind of get why, since it’s more common to find solitary plant nymphs without a main flower to care for. Of course, people would look at them, be charmed by their generally passive nature and keep them as companions. But, much like dogs, they’re pack creatures that have social needs that need to be met.

And, if those needs aren’t met, they won’t be able to produce any seeds needed to refresh their bodies just in case. As such, plant nymphs are horribly framed as having a very short lifespan, much like the equally misunderstood goldfish.

You kind of hate remembering that, especially when you have a newly reborn Ace and Deuce on your palm.

They had almost no features to them, just smooth little green blobs with a head, body and stubby arms and legs. Such a soft and tender green made them look squishy, like if you threw them against the wall, they’d splat and reform like all those weirdly smelling rubber toys. Of course, that won’t happen, not with their hard seed armor shells protecting them, like a walnut sprout just starting to peek out. Made for a very adorable outfit because it was just too big and heavy.

“Careful there,” you kept your tone low as you pressed your thumb against Ace to keep him balanced. A new body meant new hearing, and you don’t want to overwhelm. “Can’t have you falling off my hand.”

To the untrained eye, these two looked the same, but to yours, you can tell. Despite their similarly colored selves, with on eye fully shut as they’re too young to bloom their flowers, their other dewdrop eye had a color you’re familiar with. They were so small, a little bigger than your thumb nail.

“I’ll get the nursery ready,” you said, just to warn them that you’re going to move. Ace made a squeaking protest, and Deuce was right along there with him, but by the nodding of both their heads you can tell they’re very tuckered out from bursting through their seed walls. “Oh quiet there, your bodies are vulnerable and you need it.”

Plant nymphs really have no trouble discarding their current bodies for the sake of a new one, so long as there are plentiful seeds to spare. Ace and Deuce liked to keep themselves new and fresh, and it shows in how many childish antics they all get into. Riddle could certainly also refresh his own body if needed, but it seems they all hold this collective pride on keeping his body as perfectly well kept as possible.

The cultures of these nymphs really does fascinate you sometimes.

Because Deuce’s feet barely reached past his seed clothing, he rolled forward like a ball the minute he stopped standing straight. His round bald head met your palm and you snorted.

“I’m never going to get used to this.” This stage never lasts long but it’s enjoyable every time.

“—so retrace your steps and peel the skin from those fruits before just tossing them into the cauldron. Do you want to make noxious fume—hmm?” Ace nearly melted into the floor out of relief when Professor’s Crewel’s attention went right over to you, dozing away on your chair. Though, he couldn’t help the yelp escaping his throat when the crop snapped against the table. “Be a good boy and remember what I just said. If I smell so much as a hint of burning, you will fail.”

Ace had to keep the urge to kick out Professor Crewel’s knees inside when he turned around. Yeah yeah, he messed up and nearly knocked everyone out, but at least he disposed of it before it got too bad. Doesn’t he deserve credit for knowing how to do that? Apparently not, but as much as Ace wanted to bark all that out, he was more interested in Professor Crewel’s business.

Well, not just him, the part of the classroom that wasn’t made up of good little dogs all either slowed down or paused what they were doing as soon as the professor got within proximity of you. Ace can practically see all the perked up ears. Can’t really blame them. While a lot of things happen in this college, it’s usually of the magical variety. Nothing to do with personal relationships.

And this is Professor Crewel he’s talking about. Ace has been around campus long enough to know the sort of habits the professor had. Rarely did he ever get closer than crop whipping distance with anyone. Much like Vil, he kept a certain distance as though his very presence was a reward that should be seldom given, that one should be proud that they given you the time of day.

People like that naturally piss off Ace with only a smile. Makes him want to wipe it off by dumping paint all over their clothes. Yeah yeah, the things they’ve done to be the way that they are are impressive, but still!

So, of course Ace wants to see if the rumors about their relationship are true. Because then he can nag at you until you drop all the deets and little secrets you probably have. And then Ace can look forward to those A’s rolling right in.

“Is my class really boring you that much?” And already, Professor Crewel was way closer than he usually is with anyone. He wasn’t in front of you so much as he was to the side and leaning in, his smile promising mischief.

You didn’t react or retract back, as though this proximity was natural. You just nodded and propped your chin on the back of the chair. “I wouldn’t know. Wasn’t paying attention. Had to clean last minute last night, Crowley’s orders.”

The smile was wiped off and for a second Ace thought he was going to bring out the crop and snap it against his desk, but instead he actually set the thing down. He turned back and Professor Crewel cupped your face with his palms and tilted it towards him.

And you didn’t mind. You were practically too sleepy to do so.

“In that case, you should’ve messaged me. You already get little to no sleep as is.” Soft, Professor Crewel’s voice was soft as though he was genuinely concerned for you. “I would’ve understood. You’re practically falling off.”

“I’ll be fine, I just don’t want to leave it to the faeries. Don’t want to give the impression that I like using them,” you sighed out and opened your eyes, “Anyways, you can let go of me now, Divus.”

And he promptly retracted his hands, “My bad.” He said, even though the smile he has says the opposite.

You rubbed at your face, as though trying to get the sensation off, “Do I really look that bad? You keep touching my face.”

…wait a minute, so does this mean you and Professor Crewel aren’t in a relationship?

“Only sleeping for three hours at a time will make anyone look their worst.”

“That’s a yes then.”

What is going on? Are they shagging or not?

Never try to imply that Jamil is too used to the smell of your home, he’ll come up with about a hundred excuses as to why that isn’t true. They can range from things simply not being done right, or that you need him more than you think. Really, anything he can use so long as it doesn’t put him in a position that implies he hates being away from you.

Which, while true, Jamil has already put himself in a rather seemingly neutral position. That he’s this very independent familiar that has no need for any companions that aren’t himself. Jamil is very sure that many see right through him, you included, but because everyone plays along, Jamil continues with this charade of his.

That being said, while Jamil was silently slithering through the doorway with a blanket ready for you and Kalim, there was something amusing about the little plant nymph Ace standing on the latter’s head.

Ace’s shoulder’s were hunched, like he had too much anger bottled up in that tiny body of his. In one hand was a long blade of grass. As Jamil got closer, Ace brandished that plant high in the air, as though ready to slay a foe. Carefully, Ace laid on his belly, gripped Kalim’s hair, and tickled his nose using the end of that grass.

“Think you can steal my beignets…sleep in my couch…with my caretaker…” If you were awake to listen, you’d certainly be laughing at him. Jamil can tell Ace tries so hard to sound serious and cool, but usually falls just a few inches short of that.

Besides, those beignets were not his. Jamil made them cause he knew Kalim liked to snack while he was here and he didn’t want you to deal with him hunger whines while you cooked. And his caretaker? Please. Jamil has more to offer than what this bundle of leaves and tulips can.

…but, Ace’s certainly petty, isn’t he? Well, at least his response to jealousy was harmless. However, Jamil is here and he’s not really in the mood to have you and Kalim know that he’s here. He’ll do nice things here and there but he doesn’t want you to attach his face to those deeds. Even if you do know that’s him, he wants to leave a certain level of plausible deniability.

“Hey,” Jamil bent down over the back of his couch, hissing into Ace’s ear, “what are you doing?”

Ace didn’t squeak or scream. He couldn’t. He went so still and stiff his noises got caught in his chest. He dropped the grass and would’ve fallen over with it had Jamil not scooped him up with the end of his tail.

“You’re going to wake both of them up,” Jamil jiggled Ace a bit just to get him focusing on him, “and you do realize if you do, the Caretaker’s going to mess with you, right?”

Pranks beget pranks, as you once said. You don’t like leaving a deed unpaid.

“I..I wasn’t doing anything that bad…” Ace wretched his arms out, crossing them over his chest, “I was just having a little fun, is all. But what are you doing here? I thought you liked being alone cause everyone is so bothersome.”

Now he trying to get under his skin since Ace’s fun was interrupted. Jamil can hear the sneering grin in his voice.

“I was going to grab some snacks for myself, but I saw Kalim there without a blanket. If he catches a cold, there will be trouble.” But Jamil was undeterred. He’s practiced his excuses many a time. Some more flimsy than others.

“Sure, sure.” Clearly, this was one of them.

Jamil had a fun time tossing Ace like a baseball through his mirror.

Ace has taken to watching your TV more and more often ever since he figured out how the remote was connected to it. One of the things you couldn’t help but notice was how he would always flip through the sports channels until he found the one he was looking for: basketball.

It was kind of cute to you, the way Ace would squeak and grunt with effort trying to copy the slam dunks and the fake outs. He even took the time to find a suitable sized marble on your cabinet and painted it to look like a basketball, but was sorrily disappointed to find that it didn’t bounce like one.

So, because you didn’t want to deprive Ace of the enrichment he so craved, the next time you went to the store, you got him this finger basketball set that’s been refashioned for pets of his size.

The moment you set it down under the coffee table so you wouldn’t stumble over it, Ace had at it. Practically dove for the little rubber ball in the middle of the court.

You left him to his devices for a moment to grab a snack, and when you came back, you saw Jamil had joined in.

“Huh,” you set your snacks besides yourself on the sofa, “well, aren’t you having fun?”

Wrapped in a coil was a struggling Ace, his little arms smacking against his hard scales as Jamil dribbled the ball with the tip of his tail. Ace was yelling his little head off and you almost wanted to snort at the indignant sounds.

Jamil had quite the large smile on his face. Well, large for him. His tongue was even flicking in and out as he lazily slithered down towards the hoop. He did a pretty harsh dunk and only then did Ace finally escape Jamil’s grip. He slid on his belly and stole the ball before Jamil would swipe it up and ran out from under the coffee table.

Ace held the ball high over his head, as though a trophy as he ran behind your ankles. Jamil slithered after him, not quite angry but certainly irritated. Ace peeked out from one side and the other, Jamil mirroring him as they both tried to find an opening in each other.

“Don’t fight,” you warned, not really moving since you just found the perfect sitting spot for your lower back, “I will kick you instinctively.”

Jamil inched forward just a bit and that was all Ace need to slide out from right under him. Little plant nymph Ace dribbled down all the way to the court, clearly out of breath from his yelling. He stopped just before the hoop, positioned himself and tossed the ball towards it.

He was so close that the ball simply slid in.

Ace shot both arms in the air, his voice at the beginnings of a victory scream before Jamil came up from behind and took the ball back.

“Oh boy,” you leaned back, already feeling tired, “Play nice with each other. It’s supposed to be a fun game.”

The amount of texts Kalim has sent you, apology after apology for things he couldn’t have possibly have predicted has left your mood just the slightest bit sour. Not with irritation at Kalim, of course not, but with guilt of knowing that Kalim likely does not know what to do with his own swirling storm of emotions. Of the guilt, the sorrow, overwhelmed at the possibility that you might perish suddenly and without warning. You suppose it would be shocking to anyone that a constant in their lives can easily be cut out of it.

Before you went to bed, you had to call Kalim to prevent him from getting out of his house to check up on you. The fact you were able to talk at all is a miracle, and while you did want to reassure him, you think you failed in the task considering how nasty your voice sounded. Scratchy, dry, a few seconds away from dying out like a leaf in a dessert.

But, the doc said that you’ll be fine. You have your meds, you have your water, your mini fridge, and a bathroom within crawling distance. If the worst comes, you have Crowley to rely on. He’s the one that took you home in the first place.

When you woke up, your fever was still sky high. Fatigue laced through your bones in a binding grip, tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth, and your vision was swirly, but not as bad as it was yesterday. That, and the nausea was gone. So that’s already a good start.

You drifted off for a bit, letting the fever haze over your mind before you caught brilliant red entering your vision.

The scent of roses carried into your nose, your head facing the window as you laid on your stomach. Roots retracted from the sill as Riddle slid down his makeshift root slide right next to you. In his hands was what looked like a water globe, tinted pink and glowing just enough to grab your attention. When he stopped right by your face and knelt, you blinked but opened your mouth just a bit to let him slip the drop through.

Nectar. Riddle took the time to gather nectar, probably from his flower to feed you with. The sweetness of the treat cleared your head a bit.

You push yourself up, looking down at Riddle. “Thank you, Roseling.”

Riddle puffed up with pride just as the other four nymphs tumbled down the roots the roseling was controlling. Trey was the only one to keep his balance, despite carrying a large pile of clovers in his arms. He helped the others up, before skittering off to put his plants around your room. When he stopped right at the edge of your bed, Cater came over to his side and duplicated himself until there was enough of him to make a strange ladder down. Riddle used his roots to get back on the sill, still watching you.

Speaking of, it’s only now you noticed just how decorated your room has gotten. Lilies were on your night stand, tulips on your blankets, roses on your window sill, and branches of plumerias were tied around the cane Crowley let you borrow.

“Morning,” you snorted at the running nymphs, Ace tripping over Deuce, then looked over to the clock, “or afternoon. Ah, fuck!”

Feeding! You have to feed—!

Your legs swished under the blankets, bumping into a pile of something that was resting in the space between your ankles. Luckily you didn’t have the strength to accidentally launch anything into the wall. You angled yourself, looking back. “Ah, sorry Ruggie. Oh, and hello Leona.”

Ruggie had his head resting against your calf with Leona resting on the other side of the bed, on your other pillow. Despite your sudden movements, the only reaction Ruggie gave was a sleepy shake of his head, as if only his ears were tickled, a yawn, then laid back down. Leona stretched, going from his curled position to a spread eagle one. So that’s what was tickling your face throughout the night.

You pulled yourself up, adjusting your pillow to support your back as you rested against the headboard. Ruggie followed, chasing after your legs, his new pillow apparently. You stretched as far as you could handle, only stopping when dots started to cloud your vision. The hot air blowing through the window was not making it better.

“Can someone close the window? I’m still sweating.” You may be shivering, but you don’t need any hot winds right now.

Something hissed from the space between the pillows. In a graceful slide, Jamil popped out, eyes thinned to a sliver from sleep.

“Hello, Jamil.”

He only nodded to you, yawning as he slid over your belly, past the stray petals on your bed, and up the roots. When the roots have fully retreated, with his tail, Jamil pulled the window closed. What strength his body has, to pull the tricky window. There’s a trick to it, but brute force also works.

On the journey back, Jamil used his tail to grab your medication, dropped it off onto your lap, then dove right back under the pillows you were resting on. All you could see was just the tip of his tail. When you lightly pinched it, he retreated fully. You guess it was a sleeping day for him. Ah, but before you can take your med, you need to brush your teeth. You mouth tastes awful.

You carefully slid your legs off the bed, pushing the blanket off of you to bury Ruggie in. As you were reaching over to grab a pair of socks, you saw the cane suddenly stand up and move towards you. Looking down, you saw Jack using all of his strength to carry and balance to cane closer to you. He only dropped it as soon as it touched the side of your bed. Well, now you don’t have to shakily try and grab the cane that Crowley accidentally put too far from your reach. You would bend down to pat Jack, but you don’t think you can do that right now. Instead, you beckoned Jack to get on your bed by patting the space next to you.

Agile little thing that he was, Jack took to your command and skittered up the sheets. Though, rather than standing and waiting for your next order, Jack, with some stiffness in his limbs, walked over to lay his head against your thigh. You smiled, playfully patting his ears, watching them twitch.

“I’ll be fine. Stay here for a bit. I’ll be right back.”

Leaning some of your weight on the fancy, and improved, cane, made your way to the bathroom. Just as you were about to take a look into the mirror above the sink, you gasped when you looked at the tub. The filled tub. With three little seafolk staring up at you from the rim. Floyd was on top of Azul’s head, who was on top of Jade’s, who was on top of the tub.

“Ah, did I leave you there?” you hissed to yourself, trying to grab at whatever memory was left behind in the haze of yesterday.

You remembered that Azul had inked up the tank pretty badly, to the point you had to completely drain the tank and take out the decorations to clean them up. Azul, Jade and Floyd were dyed black, and since you figured you wouldn’t be gone for that long, you put them in the tub in your bathroom along with the rest of the decorations. You did have enough time to clean, just not put everything back. You really didn’t think you would out for long, since all Kalim wanted to do was visit a few street vendors and that’s it.

Azul, Jade and Floyd were stuck in the tub since yesterday. And yet, none of them looked angry. They haven’t even made a single noise. They just stared.

Carefully, you sat down on the toilet, dipping your fingers into the water. Cold. Of course it was. The three seafolk immediately dived towards your hand, Floyd grabbing your thumb, Jade wrapping himself around your wrist and Azul just straight up started to climb up  your arm, stopping at your elbow, staring at your mouth.

“I’m fine, little guys,” you breathed out. You’ll survive. Sure, food doesn’t exactly sound appetizing at the moment, but you’ll get your hunger back in time. Certainly better than yesterday. “See, not puking anymore.”

Poor things, you probably frightened them with all the sounds you were making on the toilet. Hopefully they don’t have to witness that again.

Faintly, you could hear a knocking at your door.

“Are you awake and decent yet?”

Oh, Crowley. Did he even go home?

“In the bathroom.” It wasn’t a shout, but it was loud enough, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

More like you’ll be there in half an hour. You can see the rest of the pets making their way towards your bathroom. You’re going to be here a while.

On a hot day like this, when the sun is high in sky with shade absorbing too much heat to be cooling, you tend to stick to the indoors with a cold drink. Away from direct sunlight, you like to sit by the window leading to the back garden, just so you can see the plant nymphs sitting in their special spots, taking in the sunlight.

But a cursory glance out the window as you sip on some juice yields an empty yard. Only bird song and yelling cicadas entered your ears, with the hot and dry wind rustling the garden rather than the nymphs themselves as they argued among themselves.

“That’s not right,” you murmured, pushing yourself off the chair to unlatch the backdoor. You walked out.

The heat enveloped you like a preheated oven. It’s almost concerning how quick your skin was to start sweating, but that’s not your main focus.

What has your attention was the mass of roots right around the corner of the backyard. It was quivering, but not obviously so. It would’ve been easy to dismiss as just an illusion of the heat but a closer look was all that’s needed to dismiss that. And getting even closer, you spotted little eyes peeking through the gaps in the mass.

You knelt down and brushed a root aside. “What’s up with all of you?”

Ace and Deuce were huddled at the front, Riddle in the middle with Trey and Cater at the his sides. Ace pushed through the tight knit root system to grab your finger and try to pull you in, but he lost his balance and would’ve been left dangling had Deuce not grabbed him. And then it became a weird ladder with Riddle grabbing Deuce, then Trey, then Cater.

Did…did Riddle really forget he can use those roots to help them out? Forgetfulness aside, what are they so jittery over?

They went stock still when you felt something land on your head. Whatever it was, it spread it’s entire body over your scalp until leathery wings covered your ears. You grabbed the creature off your head and dangled it in front of your eyes.

“Lilia?” Poor bat has his energy stolen by the summer heat, but he still had enough to flutter his wings over your face in greeting. And then he let himself go limp once more. Then something bumped against your shoes, giving a rather high and very pathetic whine.

Looking down, you spotted Sebek and his fat tail. He was flopped against your shoe, little hands buried in the grass from probably dragging himself over to you. You gave him mercy and pushed the little guy into the shadow your body cast. “What are even doing all the way over here? It’s too hot.”

Then a familiar trill from high above caught your attention. You felt Ace flinch from your finger and suddenly your entire hand was covered in roots before being yanked into the cluster. It was too small to cover more than your hand, so the mass closed over your wrist.

With a light tap, Malleus landed on top of the quivering root cocoon, smiling a little bigger from the amusement of it all, completely unaffected by the muggy heat that threatens to boil your own sweat. His little fairy lights flowed in and out of his wings, dancing in the air with the familiarity of fire sparks.

“Ah,” you wiggled your fingers around, feeling all five plant nymphs huddle close to you, “you’ve been freaking them out.”

The little dragon sat down, tilting his head as though he did nothing wrong. Little shit. He knows the pranks he’s pulled on them.

“Alright, alright,” you stood up, the roots letting you go quite easily as they never had the strongest grip on you to begin with, “before we all bake, let’s get everyone inside.”

You want more juice anyway.

You really are shocked at the durability of this garden these nymphs have made. Sure, there are leaves and whole pieces of hedges thrown everywhere, but by all means, this mess was something you could get done with a simple rake. Well, you could get the tools from the Crowley’s shed, but you’re also feeling pretty lazy. Where’s the fun in doing everything yourself?

Well, you say that but you also knew that the plant nymphs would help one way or another. While it is your property they’re using, this garden is still the result of their handiwork. They know this place better than you do, and you’re not exactly in the mood to find out about Riddle’s specifications. That sounds like a headache and a half.

Oh well, better to leave that to Trey and Cater. Sure, you’re concerned about how Ace and Deuce might mess things up, but their mistakes are always covered up quickly enough that you stopped worrying altogether. That and you’re sure that in the case Riddle really lost it, it wouldn’t be at the expense of your house.

You did grab a net though. While Riddle was using his roots to remove some sticks and branches from your roof, and the others were stacking up leaves into tall piles that you’re sure Ace and Deuce will dive into later, you were carefully scooping out the litter that fell into the pond. Most of said junk was just stray leaves, rotted branches and berries, and while you know Idia and Ortho would love for it to be a bog, you do not want to deal with the bugs that it will attract.

In fact, you can already spot some mosquito larva swimming in it, doing their gross little dance as they flick about.

Hearing a buzz close to you ear, you slammed a hand against your cheek, nearly dropping your net into the water. You wiped the corpse on your pants, mentally noting to get some bug spray later. Though whether you’ll get around to it is the question.

A few bugs flew about the edge of the pond. You were tempted to shoo them away with your net, but Idia came from between blades of grass circled around, flames red with irritation, making little sizzling noises as bug after bug were burnt to a crisp.

You’re very grateful for the fact Idia hates these buggy intruders.

Ortho, younger and not nearly as fast as his brother, came over to your side instead, hoping down the net and collecting trash you missed before plopping them into your net. He went over to the lilies in the water, trying to stand them up but finding their stems too broken to hold their weight.

“Those need to be replaced,” you muttered, remembering seed packets in Sam’s shop. Maybe you can find a different color this time? Maybe a nice blue? Or a red? Or both? The possibilities are endless.

It was one of those summer nights where the humidity continued to persist long after the sun had gone down. Your AC was a high quality one, it can handle the worst of hot days, but while you were napping, Ace and Deuce managed to open a window and sneak into your kitchen for a snack. They ate so much, they slept on your counter, letting all the cold air escape.

You woke up right after sunset, sweaty and irritated.

So, here you are, soaking your feet in the nice cool pond. You don’t know when the plant nymphs built the thing, but you’re not here to complain.

Sharp pain nipped at your toes. You kicked your foot out, Floyd rocketing out of the surface with a squeal before he splatted right back into the water, missing the calla lilies. He didn’t slowly sink down to accept his death, instead he sped right back to your foot, grabbing it and trying to yank it to the surface for another fly in the sky.

“Quit. Biting. Me.” You leaned down, giving a hard tap on his head with every word. Floyd pouted before swimming away. You leaned back, relaxing once more. Carefully, you swayed your other foot back and forth, rocking the weight of Azul who had clung to you as soon as you placed him in the pond. Jade was… Well, Jade wasn’t even in the water. He climbed into the tallest lily he could find and is looking for something. You can’t tell. But he’s having fun, so that’s all that matters.

Seafolk can survive in any water, despite their name. They’re mostly found in the sea, hence their name. The newness of the water had Floyd a little excited, and honestly you’re starting to regret entertaining your whim to bring the seafolk out.

You leaned back to relax, but you bumped your hand into something before you could. You looked back, finding Riddle flat on his butt, with the rest of his group trailing behind him. Maybe because it was late, or maybe you caught him on a good day, but Riddle merely shook his head and stood back up, stance puffed up with pride. He looked at you expectantly.

You chuckled, letting Riddle hop up on your hand. You tried to coax the others to join, but they refused. Surprising too, you’d expect Ace and Deuce to take the opportunity to stand upon your palms. Well, more so Ace than Deuce, but the surprise remained the same.

You blinked when you felt Azul scoot up your foot. His face broke the surface of the water to look not at you, but at the plant nymphs on your hand and scattered about you.

“Oh right,” you lowered Riddle, letting Azul get a clear view of him, “you guys never met each other, huh.”

It’s not as if you were keeping them apart on purpose, it just happened that way. When the seafolk were first brought here, Azul was extremely paranoid of every little thing that wasn’t familiar to him. He hid from the glass of the aquarium for a while cause of how much he didn’t like it. And Jade and Floyd’s brand of expressing their curiosity was to bully the thing that caught their attention. At least at first. Doesn’t help that they’re most active at night, while the plant nymphs are active during the day. Things just didn’t match up.

Riddle gave a firm nod to Azul. Azul blinked, gave a sniff before his face scrunched up like he smelled something disgusting before sinking back under the surface. You wheezed at Riddle’s stiffening shoulders.

Then you heard twin squeals of terror. Skidding the pond’s face was Ace, being pulled to and fro by Floyd who had a large grin on his face as Deuce was clinging on the end of his tail.

A glace to the side had you catching the tallest calla lily horribly bent to the side, the petals touching the ground surrounding the pond, being held down by multiple Cater’s. Jade had a helpless look on his face, looking absolutely pathetic as Trey walked to him, probably to help him out. But then Jade’s face broke into a vicious grin. In a split second, Jade lashed out his tail, sweeping the Caters into the pond and grabbing Trey just as the lily shot straight back up, sending the both of them flying into the water.

You could feel the ground begin to rumble, catching some roots threading through your fingers. Even so, not a speck of panic was in you. The sigh you gave had laughter laced in it.

“Oh boy.” Oh well, it’s nothing you can’t handle.

It’s usually incredibly hard to spot him when you want to find him. Predictability isn’t exactly a word to associate with him. The minute you think you figured out his routine, he’s change it up and suddenly he’s on a different part of your home entirely. You could ban him from your home, but honestly he’s not doing anything that would warrant a kick to the curb.

Besides, despite his odd days in his visits, and the odder hours he comes by, he always stays outside, lingering on the edge of the garden that has caught his attention so much. Despite his ability to hide, you caught onto his floating eyeballs following the plant nymphs around.

You caught the way a floating hand moved a branch under Ace just as he tripped on the hedge and fell. You saw the way he tickled Deuce’s cheek with a floating tail when he got too distracted and almost drowned the roses he was watering. You spotted the way a disembodied hand dropped a gold gilded broach near Cater, catching his attention with a snap of his fingers. You noticed the way a hand draped a leaf over and overworked Trey’s body as he napped.

And, of course, you noted the way Che'nya nudged the tea set in the right place when supposed errors were made, right when all the plant nymphs had their backs turned. You had no clues as to how he figured out Riddle’s specifics, but he did either way. At first, you thought he was doing guess work, but no he was right every time with every little adjustment.

There was one thing that’s always consistent, you have to admit.

Every year, when the first day of spring comes around, when the sun is at it’s highest, a full strawberry tart was waiting for you on your window sill, right above Riddle’s rose. Of course, all the plant nymphs are there, waiting for you so you can share a piece.

This year, a note was left under the plate. Nothing more than a simple, “Thank you.”

You always get two slices. Riddle was certainly miffed about it, but he never threw a tantrum over it. You’re glad for that, since you need to leave a slice for Che'nya. Whether or not he eats it doesn’t matter to you. You just don’t want to pretend that he’s being left out on this special day he made. You don’t know why it’s special, but you’re not going to question it. You take things at your pace, so you’ll let Che'nya do the same.

Contrary to popular belief, most robbing don’t actually take place at night. It’s usually during noon, when people are at work or grocery shopping or doing fuck all. It’s not the first time for him, he wouldn’t call himself a newbie nor would he call himself an expert, but Voliar at least had this much experience in him to know stealing at night was kinda dumb. The skittering of rats was enough to wake him up and he’s not about to make a coin toss on whether the home owners are light or deep sleepers.

See, a client of his was pissed. Not at him but at some other dumb fuck who couldn’t nab the precious dragon of the Draconia family—even though it was right in his fucking hands, the shithead—so in his frustration, the client told him to grab any of the pets from this specific address. Well, not just any pet, it had to be magical in origin, so Voliar couldn’t just grab a dog or something and be done with it.

Voliar honestly thought he had the wrong address. Like seriously, look at all these mansions! With their pools and their fancy brick, oak and glass walls! And fountains, can’t forget those. And then there was this house. A simple two story house with a paint job that was probably done by the owners themselves. It wouldn’t look all that out of place in a gardening community that was recently abandoned. It’s just so small and not new.

Well, that doesn’t really matter. This address was the one sent and he needs to get in there and then out with the goods. From what info was gathers, most of the pets in this house don’t actually belong to the home owner. Sometimes they have land spirits, a naga, or even a siren and dryad duo. As much as it’s tempting to try and nab them—he was given a time frame so he could’ve waited for them to come around—but he was given the order to nab any of these pets.

So, he’ll just grab the ones in the back, the plant nymphs that were making all these plants grow in the backyard. No magician worth his shit would be able to ignore the sheer amount of magic coming out of there. Now that’s a telltale sign of a happy nymph garden. Happy, healthy, and most likely very pretty. Oh the client will pay him big bucks for these little things.

Layered in too many enchantments to count, Voliar jumped over the brick wall separating the backyard from the rest of the neighborhood. His steps were silent even though he made no effort to control his weight or footing. Not even the grass crunched. In this garden, there was a certain controlled chaos to the placement of these plants. The trees had trunks that looks thin and sickly, but the leaves were a vibrant green, the hedges were shaped in such a way that looked as though it was plucked by hand to be that way, with harsh thorns hidden beneath them.

However what truly caught Voliar’s attention was the root system peaking from under the grass. Thin, reedy, delicate looking even. All of it leading to a large rose placed near a window of what he assumes leads to the owner’s bedroom.

There it is. The leader plant nymph had to be there. And the best part? The rose was closed. It was sleeping.

Voliar stepped over the roots, almost making a game of skipping here and there before kneeling down. He took out a knife. With practiced words, began to lay down a spell. Nothing too potent, just enough to nudge the leader nymph into a near coma. Can’t have the thing waking up when he cuts it out. The glamour appeared, about to land on the red petals, but then a blue lily bloomed right in front of it, proud and tall. It took the spell instead.

Huh?

He dropped the knife and nicked a root.. Just one single root, and then the rest of the system grew wild and seized Voliar’s entire body. The roots morphed into painful thorns, digging through his jacket as the rose behind the lily bloomed. A small rose nymph laid in the center, face completely red as it locked its gray eyes with his. Above him, on the window sill, there was a lily nymph and a tulip nymph, arms crossed. And surrounding of thorns that continued to restrict him was hundred and hundreds of plumeria nymphs. Some sitting on the walls, others sitting on the roof. Either way, they watch him.

The blue lily twitched once, then spat back out a glittering glamour right in his face. A drugged up tiredness flowed through his bones, tugging his eyelids downward. At the bottom of the mess he was in, Voliar saw a glimpse of a clover nymphs, touching the root system right at the base.

Nymphs…they’re supposed to be weak little things, completely reliant on the plants they came from, and just as weak and fragile. These things, they’re not normal.

Really, it was only due to coincidence that you had the ingredients needed to make something semi complex as tea cakes. Well, complex by your standards. You have to stand up, mix things together, knead the dough just the slightest bit. It’s a lot of steps when you’re so used to just, stuffing things in the microwave or boiling things.

Anyways, in a rare burst of energy, you’ve taken to organizing your spice cabinet, finding that a lot of the spices and herbs stuffed within actually haven’t expired yet. Well, they’re getting close but they’re still good by all means.

So, here you are, mixing together butter and sugar as best you could without a mixer, Trey sitting on the window sill watching you carefully since you had the window open. You nodded to him, but he was more fascinated by your mixing than anything else, his clothes stained with a variety of colors, red being the most vibrant. Seems you got some pretty impeccable timing. Another tea party is going to be arranged soon.

“Oh the egg,” you forgot to take one out. You left the spoon in the bowl near the window, reaching over to grab an egg from it’s place in the sink—you don’t trust round-ish objects to not fall over edges—when you saw Trey grab the end of the big spoon with his small hands and tried to mix it. He only succeeded in pushing the spoon to one side.

There’s always something so precious in seeing creatures try and copy you.

Your fingers skimmed the bottom of an empty sink. You looked down, finding the egg to be missing. It didn’t fall down the drain did it?

Luckily, that wasn’t the case. Cause, upon a brief glance, you spotted a cheerful Cater balancing himself on the egg, rolling it right towards the bowl with a little song without words escaping his soul. He fell as soon as it bumped into the thing. You couldn’t help but smile at his silliness.

“Alright, be careful, Cater,” you righted him, picking him up by the collar, “and let me handle that Trey. Oh, but can you grab the vanilla bean over there?” you gestured to the small cup filled with the sticky stuff.

Trey hopped off the sill and rushed to the vanilla bean just as Ace popped into view. With a tiny grunt, he pulled a small bag onto the sill, opening it to spill out a variety of leaves and petals. Pride puffing his chest, Ace patted the sack, looking at the bowl, then at you.

You were still smiling, but you shook your head. “Sorry, little buddy. I don’t need those.”

He huffed, crossed his arms and turned his back towards you. You patted his head with a finger. He’ll cheer up eventually.

Deuce was next, looking just the slightest bit shy before dipping down, only for a rose to take his place. A small one, barely bigger than the size of your finger. Deuce looked at you from behind it, holding the thing.

“Oh, did you bloom it yourself?” Trey came around, nudging the cup to your hand. You put the vanilla bean into the mixture. “Good job, Deuce.”

Nymphs have no trouble growing their own flowers, but to be able to grow the flower of their leader? Now that’s a special sign of devotion and loyalty.

Speaking of roses…

“Now where did I put that rose water…” You stopped mixing again.

Lately, Riddle has been taking to leaving roses in places he knows you’ll see them. They’re smaller, no thorns to be seen on them, and are always lightly sprinkled with nectar upon their vibrant white and red petals. You have many on display, many others dried up to last longer, and you even made rose water out of them.

Though, it was missing from your drawer. Or did you even put it there in the first place.

“Huh,” Well, not that it really bothered you. You lose things all the time. It might show up eventually, or not at all. You can always make more.

Then you heard a tapping, of something like hard plastic against wood. You turned back to the window, Ace sitting on his bag, Deuce hugging his rose, and Riddle right between them. Next to him, almost dwarfing the little roseling, was your bottle of rose water. His expression looked just the slightest bit miffed.

“Oh,” well if he has it… “then I did lose it, didn’t I? Right in your garden.”

The fact Riddle huffed at you confirmed it. He pushed the bottle along, stopping before the edge of the window sill. You approached, grabbing the rose water.

“Thank you Riddle,” you patted the side of his face, “and sorry for littering the garden.”

With this in hand, you can experiment a little. Tea cakes with the slightest bit of rose water should be well suited for the tea party later on, shouldn’t it?

Your alarm rings and you blearily register this as day four. You press your palms against as your eyes as you stretch, sighing all the old stress out as a new weight replaced it all. It wanted to keep you bound to the bed, and a part of you yearned to agree with it, but you know you can’t.

You push through your sore muscles and stood up. Blood rushed all at once towards your limbs, dots blocking your vision for just a moment, but you managed to grab the nightstand before your heel slipped.

That’s what you get for not eating enough.

Luckily is was another bright day. Plenty of sunlight for any plant to absorb, and for any invasive mold to die under.

You pushed back the curtains partially covering your windows, squinting at the sunlight. You held your breath and let it go as you spot the gentle rise and fall of Trey’s and Cater’s chests. Both of them were in sizable terrariums, the bottom patted down with rich soil you made sure to change daily, making sure to keep them warm, but not moist. Moisture would only stimulate the mold on their bodies to grow faster.

Black little spots dotted both their green bodies, the plants in their eyes haven’t wilted but you spotted a small buried pile of molded plumerias in the corner of Cater’s tank. The plumeria nymph laid on his side, hugging his remaining leg inside a little indention in the dirt he made, curled up but otherwise sleeping.

Trey, on the other hand, was awake, if barely. His tank was remarkably clean, but that still didn’t stop him from stumbling forwards even though he’s using the wall as a guide. He’s trying to get back outside.

Behind the window, you can see Ace and Deuce, tapping away at the glass. You placed a finger on your lips.

“Quiet,” you spoke, the steadiness of your voice an illusion more than anything, “you can’t come in yet.”

They’re still not out of the woods, but at least they can sleep peacefully. Their bodies have gained more color and they’re no longer ripping at the leaves that made up their limbs. They’re no longer crying while awake or asleep.

You just need to continue pushing on. Everything will be alright. Everything will be fine.

You put on gloves before popping open Trey’s tank. “Come here a moment.” You nudged him onto your hand, keeping calm even as he made high pitched noises of discomfort. “I know, I know. Let me help you out, please? It’ll be okay. Let me see.”

A leaf on Trey’s leg was practically consumed by the mold, threatening to spread even further. It had to come off. Setting the clover nymph on a clean wipe, you reached for a knife.

“Stay still for a bit,” you said, holding him steady, as he’s unable to hold his balance. With practiced hands, you sliced it off. Luckily the mold didn’t grow deeply. None of it hit the delicate white layer that hid under the greenery. And as such, Trey felt no pain. “There we go.”

You dropped the leaf into a small disposable cup. You’re glad that’s all you needed to cut off today. You know they’ll regrow it all with time, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

You popped open a couple lotions with your thumb, pouring the mixture you drilled into your head into a cup. You mixed it with your finger and slathered it onto the exposed parts of his body. Truly, your neighbors are life savers.

Trey leaned against your palm, his small face hot against your gloved palm. When all was said and done, you wrapped up Trey and placed him in the pocket of your sweater. You were so exhausted yesterday, you didn’t have time to take it off. Trey didn’t struggle, instead, he snuggled deeper in.

“You can sleep. I’ll wake you up once I cleaned up your terrarium, okay?” You need to properly dispose of everything lest the mold spreads further. You’re just glade Ace and Deuce didn’t get it.

But first, you need to tend to Cater, who’s also starting to wake up.

You changed your gloves, “Morning to you too. Come here.”

You should’ve have kept a closer eye on Trey and Cater. Had they not continued to wander outside your garden, looking for new and interesting seeds, they wouldn’t have caught that mold in the first place.

But that’s a worry for another time. Right now, you need to focus on their recovery. Hopefully they’ll learn from this.

“And, off you go,” Like a pack of dogs being held back by leashes, you loosened your grip and watch as Ace, Deuce, Cater and even Trey skitter across the floor. They made straight for the little shelves packed neatly with little bags of seeds. All of them had little slashes over the original prices. A sales day.

“Look at those little imps go,” Sam almost sighed in wonder, but then looked down to the roseling still on your shoulders, “Oh? What’s wrong? Is the sale not to your liking?”

“Nope,” you said, slowly getting up so as to not make Riddle fall, ”Riddle likes to pretend he has more class than the rest of them.“

“Pretend?” Sam hopped over to your side.

“Just look at him.” You gestured to Riddle. His arms may be crossed, but his eyes kept shifting to the packets of white rose seeds. One little foot would shift its weight to the other. Just so he doesn’t fidget himself off, you swiped it off the shelf and handed it to him. “Here you go.”

Riddle squeaked, holding the packet high in the air before you heard the telltale sound of something ripping.

“No,” you pressed on Riddle’s head, “patience. I have to buy them first.” You looked out to the shelves before you, spotting Ace carrying at least eight colorful packages of seeds upon his back, Deuce with only two, Cater pushing a huge pile with his clones, and Trey with his modest one, “Don’t go opening them yet! I have see if I can afford them.”

You probably can, you have a decent amount of money left over but still, you like to have a healthy portion in case of some disaster. Better to be safe than sorry.

“Seems our little customers have spoken!” Sam clapped his hands and winked, “Let me just ring them up for you.”

“Wait a minute!” You waved him down, “I need to check.”

It’s your money you’re spending. Besides, too many seeds means they’re gonna try and expand the garden beyond your walls. You don’t want them potentially getting into any territory fights with any of the local wildlife.

You crouched down when the little servant plant nymphs made it to your feet. Out of annoyance, you poked Ace and Cater on their heads.

“You both have no self-control. My backyard doesn’t have enough room for all those flowers.” Nemophilias, marigolds, petunias, iberis, hepaticas, foxgloves, heleniums, orchids, not to mention all the various color varieties they got. Really, that’s just too much. “Pick five and put the rest back. Deuce, Trey, you can get more seeds if you want. You too Riddle.”

Ace, with all the anger that can be packed in that tiny body, stomped his little foot. Cater took a different route and gave you his best watery eyes. Even made a clone of his start to weep as though your words were the very definition of cruelty. You just gave Deuce and Trey pats on the head, gently encouraging them to get more seeds.

Though, Trey actually shook his head. Instead of looking back on the shelves to find more, he tugged on your finger, ready to get back on your shoulder. You let him, chuckling when he planted his butt down and shuffled in. He placed his packet of gerberas on his lap, already ready to go home.

You gave Riddle your hand to hop on before setting him on the floor. While Ace and Cater begrudgingly slide their pile across the floor, Riddle looked back to you with his packet hugged to his body. Well, as best he could, the thing was too wide for his small self. You nudged your head towards the shelves. Riddle practically jumped into the air before running off, leaving a small trail of rose petals and pollen behind.

“He’s excited,” you mumbled as you stood. You stretched and popped your back. “So, how’s your day been Sam?”

You’re going to be here a bit. Might as well make small talk.

You didn’t mean to have a sudden sleepover over at Neige’s house, but the storm that trampled its way through the area caused the river you normally walk by to flood. You had little choice but to stay with him for the time being. You did make sure to phone Crowley so that your plant nymphs are feed. And to take them inside if the winds get too strong.

So, when the morning came and you finally could get home, you can’t say you were shocked when the Ace and Deuce combo dove from the tree above and landed right on your head and face. You can feel Ace’s little arms hitting your scalp while Deuce was slowly sliding down your face. You caught both of them in your hand.

“Yeah, yeah,” you squished them to make them stop squirming. You nuzzled their faces with your nose, “Sorry. The river was a little scary and I had to stay with Neige for a bit. Can’t very well risk drowning on the way home.”

Gotta treasure your own life after all. You’re not gonna let the natural elements take it just yet.

A clone Cater went up and tugged at your pants before recoiling in disgust over the muck that collected on it.

“Ah, yeah, there was a lot of scum to wade through,” you tried to kick it off, but it’s hard when you have your hands full of Ace and Deuce, “Hello to you too, Cater. Oh?”

Cater pointed behind him before poofing out of existence. At the entrance of your house, with little plumerias and clovers swaying in the calm wind, was Cater and Trey carrying a most delicate rose. It’s petals were so wide, lush and layered that it threatened to swallow the both of them.

You finally put Ace and Deuce down to cup the gift in your hand. They jogged away but didn’t stray far at all, just made room for you as you stood up to admire the culmination of their hard work. All the roses in your garden are of the most luxurious quality, but only the best ones are plucked and given to you.

You heard the shifting of dirt and the strain of grass blades ripping apart. The final greeter, the leader of all these worker nymphs, has arrived with a most angry crease on his face.

Riddle commanded the roots to lift him just above your height, as though he’s too angry to be on equal level to you. His arms were crossed, his little rose petal body a ruffled mess probably from overthinking and worrying himself.

He’s huffing and puffing, tapping his little foot, clearly waiting for something from you.

You reached up and scratched the Roseling right under his chin. He practically melted onto your fingers.

You couldn’t help the smile on your face as you said, “Thank you all for waiting for me.”

“Alright, ready for the next round?” You asked from your lawn chair, fingers drumming against the big and overly fancy black pumpkin bucket you got from Crowley for Halloween, “I think the next layer is white chocolate.”

Ace jumped up high, shaking his arms and legs, almost screaming in impatience that you won’t just start already. Deuce was stomping around in excitement, ready and revving to catch some candies and added them to their combined pile.

“Don’t scream, you’ll blast my ears out,” you deliberately slowed yourself down as you rubbed at your ear, dropping your scoop of candy right back into the basket just to annoy Ace further, “though, I am getting sleepy. Maybe we should do this another day.”

Then, you heard something else fall into the candy treasure trove you have. Looking over, you saw a pair of leafy legs wiggling about. Righting himself up, Trey presented the wrapped sweets high above his head before throwing it towards Ace and Deuce. Trey turned towards you with the sweetest look on his face, giving a little determined chirp before patting a little fist against his chest.

Leave it to me, he’s probably trying to convey. Adorable. He thinks you’re actually falling asleep in your chair and is trying to take up your duty for you.

“That’s alright Trey, I was just kidding,” you gently grabbed him before setting him down, “Go on. Grab some candy of your own before Ace and Deuce make themselves sick with it.”

As Trey walked to the candy zone with a nod, you shot your arms out and captured the basket that was in the process of being carried away by Cater and his clones.

“Stop that Cater,” you flicked one of the clones legs. It tripped and puffed into smoke, “I know you hate sweets but you can’t destroy them yet. Wait until the game’s over.”

The true Cater planted his butt on the table, kicking his legs out in annoyance. You patted his head.

“I’ll get you something nice later, alright? So stop with the tantrum just because I only have candy right now.”

Cater turned his head away from you, as though that wasn’t enough.

You tucked a finger under his chin, guiding him to look at you. “How does that new spicy ramen I found sound?”

Only then did Cater perk up and clap his hands with a trill of chirps escaping him. He hopped right up, dusted the dirt off his knees and ran off towards Ace and Deuce, probably to mess with them.

“You want to join in, Riddle?” You looked to your shoulder as soon as you felt a weight press upon it. You had a scoopful of small candies in your palm. “Those roots of yours will throw better then my hands ever could.”

Riddle’s little face creased with curiosity. He bent down and grabbed a candy, turning it this way and that before commanding a root to wrap around it and throw it over the heads of Ace and Deuce. Deuce decided to be a little menace and tripped Ace before speeding off towards the candy.

You snorted and Riddle gave a soft laughing trill of his own. A rope of roots grabbed each individual candy from your hands and threw them in high and wide arcs. Trey spotted something he liked bounce on the ground and slide under a tree’s roots. He slid right there with it, getting his butt stuck.

Cater had his clones at the ready to grab as many candies as possible, but one heavy lollipop bounced on his head, then onto the heads of the rest of his clones in succession.

“Whoops,” you said with a sigh, “threw it a little too well, Riddle.”

Just to ease the worried look on your Roseling’s face, you unwrapped a strawberry cream candy and held it to his face. He only took one sniff before practically wretched it from your hold.

Adorable. They’re all adorable.