#wip: devils

[klywrites]

beans of murder wip

commissioned from rubikor

bonus bean under the cut

Crina with her hair down and styled

[klywrites]

if you could pick only 3 songs for the murder wip playlist, what songs would they be?

Ooh okay. This time I'm really feeling more of the characters rather than murder plot so, no murder-y songs this time lol.

These are all songs I have loved since I was a kid and I think they are perfect:

Fleetwood Mac - Landslide, live at the warner bros studio in Burbank CA, 1997

iykyk, I think this song fits the story very well, especially for one particular character.

This version is my favourite and always made me feel kinda sad and nostalgic. Still does.

Shawn Colvin - Sunny Came Home

Beautiful revenge ballad, if you want to see it that way.

The Goo Goo Dolls - Iris

I mean, need we say more?

Bonus: "Fast Car" by Tracy Chapman

[klywrites]

thank you @astressedlittlejaybird for inadvertently enabling me to make this

[klywrites]

Happy New Year 🎊

New Year’s Eve is quieter than Harlowe pretends she prefers.

They’re at Crina’s place, which already feels like a small, deliberate choice. No party. No Sin Cave chaos. No countdown surrounded by people who shout to fill space. Just the two of them, the city muffled outside the windows.

Crina has lit exactly one candle. It sits on the coffee table, neat and steady, like it knows its job.

Harlowe sprawls on the rug with her back against the couch. She’s nursing a glass of champagne she forgot about five minutes ago, head tipped back so she can look up at Crina upside down.

“You know,” Harlowe says, “this is the calmest New Year’s Eve I’ve had… ever.”

Crina smiles faintly. She’s sitting on the couch, knees tucked in, a glass of cranberry cider cupped carefully in both hands. She’s wearing a soft sweater Harlowe has learned not to comment on too much, because Crina pretends not to notice when Harlowe stares.

“You don’t hate it?” Crina asks.

Harlowe snorts. “Nah. It's different. But I'm spending it with you.”

That earns her a look—half fond, half unimpressed.

“Charming.”

“I’m serious,” Harlowe says, softer now. “This is good.”

Crina looks down at her drink. The candlelight catches in her hair, warm and gold. “I didn’t want it to feel like pressure,” she says. “New Year’s always feels like people expect something. A kiss. A proposal. A—” she gestures vaguely “—moment.”

Harlowe shifts, turning so she can see Crina properly, not upside down. “Hey,” she says. “Don't worry. Even if... even if I did do something like that, you're allowed to say no.”

Crina’s mouth curves, small but genuine. “I know.”

They let the silence settle again.

On the TV, the countdown show is quiet. Glittering hosts wave cheerfully, numbers inching closer to midnight. Harlowe glances at it, then back at Crina.

“Do you do resolutions?” Harlowe asks.

Crina thinks about it. “Not really.”

“Yeah,” Harlowe says. “Same. I always say I’m gonna get my shit together and then I don’t. Feels rude to lie to the universe like that.”

Crina huffs a quiet laugh, surprising both of them a little. “If I had to make one,” she says slowly, “it would be… to keep choosing things that feel right. Even if they’re small.”

Harlowe watches her carefully. “That sounds... kind of brave.”

Crina shrugs, but there’s something vulnerable in it. “What about you?”

Harlowe doesn’t answer right away. She rubs her thumb along the side of her glass, taps at it absently.

“I think,” she says, “I want to stop assuming I have to be louder or bigger to deserve space.”

Crina’s gaze softens. “But you're still allowed to be yourself.”

“I know,” Harlowe replies. “I’m… learning.”

The numbers on the TV flash:

10.

Crina notices first. She straightens a little, nerves flickering across her face.

Harlowe stands, suddenly unsure what to do with her hands. She doesn’t crowd Crina. Doesn’t reach automatically. She waits.

8.

Crina stands too, and sets her glass down. Her fingers curl into the fabric of her sweater.

6.

Harlowe steps closer—not touching, but there. Present.

4.

Crina looks at her. There’s something steady in her eyes now.

2.

She reaches out first. She takes Harlowe’s hand, certain.

1.

Outside, the city erupts—light, sound, celebration bleeding through the glass.

Inside, Harlowe leans in slowly, giving Crina time to pull back if she wants to.

She doesn’t.

The kiss is gentle, unhurried. Not like fireworks, but something warm and tender. Something that settles into Harlowe’s chest and stays.

When they part, Crina rests her forehead against Harlowe’s shoulder, exhaling.

“Happy New Year,” she murmurs.

Harlowe smiles into her hair. “Yeah,” she says. “It really is.”

[klywrites]

"It suits you." lol Crina's first murder

little Harlowe 🥺

[klywrites]

chili eating contest at work

-------

The lunchroom had taken on the energy of a low-stakes sporting event. A crowd had gathered, circling around two paper plates stacked with red chili peppers. A few phones were out, recording the scene. Fox stood at the edge, arms crossed and grinning. Melee stood next to him, egging them on like a cheerleader.

“Three,” she announced with theatrical flair, “two… one—eat!”

Cauter and Harlowe both lunged for their first peppers. Cauter was calm, methodical. He chewed like he was enjoying a casual snack, which, according to him, he basically was.

“I feel like I’m back at my aunt’s house in China,” he said after the second pepper. “This is nothing.”

Harlowe, by contrast, had tears already threatening to well in the corners of her eyes. She grabbed her second chili like it had insulted her.

“Oh yeah?” she said hoarsely. “Well, I feel like I’m dying—but I’m doing it with dignity.”

Lachlan hooted from the sidelines. “Come on, Harlowe! You’ve got this! Mind over matter!”

“Mind’s already gone,” she wheezed.

From across the room, Crina stood near the door, arms folded tightly as she leaned against the wall. Her brow was faintly furrowed as she watched Harlowe bravely self-destruct with every chew.

“She’s going to cry,” Fox whispered, amused.

“She’s already crying,” Melee said, filming with her phone. “But she won’t tap out. Too much pride.”

“Whose idea was this?” Lachlan asked, eyes wide.

“Yours,” Melee and Fox said in unison.

On the fifth chili, Harlowe slammed her fist gently on the table, eyes wide and glassy. “I can see God!”

Cauter raised an eyebrow and reached for another. “You sure you want to keep going?”

Harlowe wiped her nose dramatically on a napkin and narrowed her eyes. “If I go down, I’m taking you with me.”

“Heh, we'll see,” Cauter said, popping another pepper into his mouth.

Crina’s eyes never left Harlowe. She looked like she was mentally calculating how many Tums they had at home.

Eventually, after a fifth chili and a deep, spiritual coughing fit, Harlowe leaned back, fanned herself with a napkin, and muttered, “Okay, okay. Truce. We’re both winners. But I’m going to need a priest and some ice cream.”

Melee clapped. “Congrats! I didn't think you'd make it past the second.”

“All for the sake of pride,” Fox muttered, amused.

Lachlan approached with a bottle of cold water. “You okay?” he asked, concern and awe mixing on his face.

Harlowe took the bottle and downed half of it in one go. “I’ve made terrible choices. But at least I made them loudly.”

From her quiet corner, Crina finally stepped forward, wordless but offering a small yogurt from her insulated cooler bag.

Harlowe looked up at her, grateful. “You do love me.”

Crina blinked. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to,” Harlowe said, taking the yogurt reverently.

Crina turned away before the redness in her cheeks could be blamed on anything other than secondhand chili fumes.

[klywrites]

it's the way harlowe absolutely destroys crina when they finally have sex and then when they're done harlowe slowly plants gentle kisses all over crina's face and crina's so overcome with Soft™ emotions that she cries 🫡

[klywrites]

laughing to myself at Cauter striding in being like "yo boss" and holding out his fist to Crina, and Crina being confused holds out her hand to receive something but really Cauter just wanted a fist bump