#I am so so in love with marigold's design

[prettyboykatsuki]

✮  tags ; desi-coded reader (tbh...specifically bangladeshi dkjfsdj), pre-wedding celebration, so blatantly selfship coded i might have to delete it if the shame kicks in , 18+

Night air wisps against your warm skin like thin threads of silk as you step away from the party - with the assistance of Sakura, who held the door open like his life depended on it.

Your arms are stiff from how long you've been holding them in the same position, but after upwards of three hours - all the mendhi required for your upcoming wedding ceremony has been put on.

From the tips of your fingers all the way down to your elbows and even some parts of your feet. It's the one aspect of the celebration you've always looked forward too. When you glance down and see it, its completely surpassed your expectations

Through the light of your window is your family and friends, traditional folk music and ballad love songs play as guest dance and laugh in the warm lights of your living room. Laughter bubbles through the crack letting out some air and you smile to yourself, careful not to touch anything.

The feeling of drying mendhi on your skin is nostalgic even in it's mild discomfort, a slight itch in the intricate designs covering your palms. You sniff a little from the cool air, lungs filling with the earthy, heavy scent of mendhi paste and the sharp bitterness of mustard oil.

You slip further away until you end up enough distance away for the sound to quiet. Crickets chirp and the wind blows - as if the whole world is feeling soft.

You aren't expecting Umemiya to pop out from anywhere. He must've noticed you leaving and followed you out. You try not to smile and fail when he makes his way towards you.

Umemiya grins brighter than the sun. In the dead of night and even amidst the pleasant atmosphere - nothing shines quite like him. He looks good in the clothes your extended family so painstakingly picked out for him. A panjabi and salwar to match, a pleasantly deep shade of blue to go with his eyes. Your kameez is more complicated, but the tailoring similarities of the florals and beadwork make you happy no matter how trivial. It feels a little more worth getting three outfits tailored looking at him.

He cuts a fine figure in general, you think.

He approaches first with worry. A furrow in his brow.

"You okay?"

You smile at him and then smile a little more at the way it makes him relax instantly.

"I'm good." You take a deep breath, hands stiff at your sides and suddenly itching to find his to hold. "Was getting hot and stiff sitting for so long."

"Oh, is it done finally? Am I allowed to look?"

"Were you gonna avoid looking at my arms for three days if I said no?" You tease. Umemiya's eyes fill with mirth and sincerity.

"If I had too."

Silly. You love him, you think. You shake your head. "You can look. Might be a little hard to see even with the street light though."

"That's okay." He says, and there's something deeply doting in his voice that makes you feel like you might sink. "An excuse to get close to you is always nice to have."

You hold out your arms and lift your palms gently to Umemiya. His admiration makes your heart swell ten folds. His hands are careful as they slide underneath your own decorate ones, careful not to touch the actual design but to support your forearms and wrists.

"It's so beautiful."

"Right? She did a good job. She's doing Kotoha-chans now."

He makes a little affirmative noise while he draws his eyes along the different shapes and patters. Traditional shapes of roses and marigolds along with inspired cuts. There's a mix of imagery, well integrated - patterns of cranes and cherry blossoms well woven into it as symbolism. Umemiya pauses, most certainly noticing the nuance.

"I like it a lot. You're gonna look so beautiful."

You brush past the words, unable to respond to them without feeling earnest flush. Umemiya is undeterred by this, just offers a smile and another light touch. He leans it to place a kiss to your temple before pulling back.

A thought pops into your head. You wanted to show him eventually - you thought at least after you washed it off, but now seems like a better time.

"Oh and..." You carefully hold your wrist up to him. "See?"

He squints for a long while before breaking out into an impossible grin. Hidden in the wrists of your mendhi design are the characters of his name - integrated into the piece. You can see the very moment it clicks.

"Is that...is it traditional?"

"Maybe? It's common at least. I thought it'd be more special with the Japanese characters though.”

A little nod to him and to you. He's silent for a long while, deep in thought about something. You don't know what exactly.

"I love it," He says, then looks up at you. He presses his forehead against yours, a gentle tap that still manages to catch you off guard as he does. The decorative teep on your forehead presses a little into his skin as he does it but you don't make a move to pull away from his affection. "I love you."

You tilt your head a little, pretending to wipe sweat from your brow.

"That's a relief."

He shakes his head. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Could you feed me something off the table inside? I'm hungry."

He almost seems upset he didn't think of it first. He nods. "I'll be right back. Stay put but be careful."

"I'm right infront of the house Hajime."

"It's always good to be careful. I'd be sad if my wife went missing just days before,"

“I’ll be safe,”

“And I’ll be quick,”

He pauses before he goes back through the door, turning suddenly before he smiles again. Impossibly gently, he runs his fingers through his hair before running back to you.

Another kiss to the corner of your mouth followed with one to your lips. The last one carefully place on the drying mendhi on your arms just where his name sits.

“I love you,”

You soften. “I love you too, Hajime. You can dote on me as much as you want when you come back.”

He grins. “I’ll hold you to that.”

glossary of terms:

mendhi - more commonly known as henna, a special skin safe paste used for decorative designs. commonly red or black.

panjabi - bangla word for kurta. basically a long item of menswear that stops just past the knee or above.

teep - also known as bindi. a decorative sticker or red dot placed in the center of the forehead.

** more cultural notes: in bangladesh mustard oil is often used to deepen the color of mendhi. it normally goes on after or while almost dry.

[2-late-2-the-party]

Finished the first act of Marigold. Here are the thoughts I wrote down while watching 👁👁

—> Oh I’m OBSESSED with set design flowers

—> OH SHIT ANOTHER FRA!!???!?!

—> Oh and the costumes are fire as per usual

—> Oh fuck this dhampire girl’s gonna die isn’t she

—> SOPHIE!!!!

—> Good to know that Sophie is still being normal with his grieving process. Calling one of his new friends by the name of his dead one….

—> Well I’m glad Sophie is capable of being a silly goose and a down to earth murderer. He contains multitudes.

—> Gerbera calling Sophie tf out

—> Sophie I am begging you to be friends with Camellia as Camellia and not as an Ul stand-in PLEASE. I know you loved Ul but there are OTHER PEOPLE.

—> Wait so did Camellia know about the pseudo-clan’s whole deal this whole time or did Sophie have him forget after expositing the whole thing to Gerbera

—> YEAAHHH SOPHIE AND GERBERA FIELD TRIP LETS FUCKING GOOO <- wants this to go well but knows it won’t

—> Not Sophie a-whole-new-worlding Gerbera

—> “I need to kill your mother” ah… there it is.

—> 🎶and nothing can go wrong 🙃🎶

*crashing noises*

OH NO IT ALL WENT WRONG!!! 😨

…. And now it’s past 1:00AM. I Should probably leave the second act for the morning. Maybe I’ll actually liveblog that one in real time we’ll see 👀

[shadowsstarwc]

Leland yap session🌻

can i just talk about how absolutely wonderful Leland is as a character? his voice lines and everything?

he’s got the most beautiful design out of all the characters and he’s so strong and he loves defending his friends

i feel like he has connections to marigold flowers, why else would it be the only outfit where the flowers change is super noticeable? does he tie into life and death? what’s with the divinity meaning behind the flowers? am i thinking to hard on it?

his voice is everything, i love wandering maps and listening to him talk and rant and whine and cry out, his VA did wonderful even if his screaming is a lil silly

his executions w/ Johnny are a little fruity imo and him in general is fruity, who just wears their shirt half unbuttoned with that silly lil necklace?

i wanna just hold him and give him sweet little kisses and i want to comfort him so badly because he just probably needs it, run my fingers through his hair and help him with his bruises

he’s got THE BEST outfits out of everyone in game, everything just matches him perfect and he looks good in any color especially blues and blacks but that burgundy is really nice

he’s literally just flower boy to me and i love him so much im his number 1 fan and i give him smooches and hype him up all match

(thanks for coming to my Leland talk)

[apolloslyrics]

Fellow apollo lover , bless

I saw that you mentioned you have a lot of tarot decks , and was wondering if you'd like to share what your favourites are ! ( if ur cool with that )

And also just to say howdy!

Hope youre well gods bless you

Omg hi! I WOULD LOVE TO SHARE SOME OF MY FAVORITE TAROT DECKS!!!! I can't tell you how excited I am for this. And gods bless you as well <3 thank you for this question!!!!

I'm sharing three of my favorites because I have too many and to show them all off would be like... at least 35 decks........ BUT if you want to see more feel free to ask!

So, my all-time favorite deck is the marigold tarot. Before I bought it, I'd wanted it since the beginning of my practice. I got it with my first paycheck at my first job about seven years after first seeing it!!! It's gorgeous. I use it to speak with Apollo :D If I had to describe its energy, I'd say it's very positive and flowery. It's like walking through a field of sunflowers and feeling a light breeze on your face!

My second favorite is the linestrider tarot. The pictures on the cards are actually MAGNIFICENT, and the messages in the guidebook are just beautiful!! I used to use it to communicate with Athena, but now it's just a general deck. If I had to describe its energy, I'd describe it as calming and gentle. If you've ever been in a sensory deprivation tank, it's kind of like that. Silence, a soft glow surrounding you, and like you're floating in calm waters.

My third favorite is the black tarot. I saw it on TikTok (lol) and bought it IMMEDIATELY. And when I tell you this deck CALLS YOU OUT, I mean it!! The designs are also just gorgeous as well. Its vibes are very eccentric and energetic. It's like sitting at a campfire with all of your friends and singing songs!

Here are some photos of marigold, linestrider, and black tarot!!

[help-an-alter]

Hello! I'm not exactly a fragment, but I'm not fully formed. I was wondering if you could help with names and maybe even activities for me to do IRL (if not, that's alright!)

I'm an introject of Hinata Hyuuga from Naruto Shippuden.

While, I do like my name, I would like something else for privacy reasons! ^^ If possible, could I get feminine names with a similar meaning to Hinata (looking towards the sun / pure white lily) or just the sun and lilies in general! I don't mind length, starting letter, or anything like that, just go wild!! I also love the color purple and sweet things- I don't know if these could help with names, but I hope they do!!

As for things I've enjoyed doing.. I've been a fan of yoga, cardio, baking, and flower pressing when I can. I haven't had time to draw (most everyone in the system is a fan), but I think I'd like it! However, I know I can't do those all the time. I just don't know what else to do.

Thank you for what you do, and I am sorry that this is so long. Please be sure to take care of yourself&! Also, I do understand that this is a long request, so take all the time needed. - Hinata

hey anon! almost all of the names are related to the sun or lilies in some kind of way, but a lot of them are more focused on light as a whole or the golden color! i hope that’s okay :)

names: sol, soleil, solaris, lilly/lillie, kielo, lilias, suzanne, anwen, snow, alba, sunday, clara, phoebe, vera, summer, lucina, elena, kiara, halina, synneve, marigold, goldie, aurora, austra, cyra, oriana, sunny, solstice, solana, rae, raya, dawn, aruna, leilani, malina, liane, eleanor, hesperia, calla, juliet, marisol, sunny

activities: gardening (if you have the room/resources), creating flower bouquets, designing flower arrangements, meal prepping, dehydrating certain foods (like strawberries!), collecting clothes or decorations that have lots of florals or sun imagery, finding a good floral perfume, morning jogs, hiking with friends, yoga specifically in the early morning (it’s a very nice vibe), going to the gym

[unproduciblesmackdown]

reread the rest thus far of lackadaisy and there's the both v easy & difficult task of gathering a shit ton but only a shit ton of excerpts (like every single page is a highlight i'm not exaggerating)

and every single element is superlative and the way it all only becomes More So....already mentioned the way the like smooth gradient shading made the successful evocation of 3D Shapes more noticeable, along w/the consistent geometries of character design & details in fabric folds; the way Lighting & Coloring only goes on to become more prominent elements only enhances that further. the compositions, backgrounds, pacing, angles....everything is so dynamic & expressive, such as including the expressions which you know i also Love / absorbed

going "hell yes for people to discover this superlative comic" then having to occasionally refresh past site traffic overloaded server errors like "nooo" but actually yes

whilest clapping & cheering for the fun of everyone who's been here a minute. My God the invigorating reward when again i started reading in '07 & the concept of rocky & freckle on a "proper" run had only manifested via fun official bonus art, then a literal decade later as it was actually happening in the comic like screeeeaammm i can feel it coming in the air tonight oh lord etc....i've loved following it, again, if i see another new comic page. i am going to be Enriched

i also really was right on the ball myself this time around like okay okay yep i have picked up on Everything, at least to the degree i can lmao. i love the mysteries. i love how Character Focused it is too ofc and there's no characters i'm uniterested in / dislike. you gotta point to one of them, truly, and i have been a [pointing at freckle] enjoyer these fifteen years but fr i am a connoisseur of everyone, i love that so many characters are a weird mysterious chaos element story driver in their own right. i considered mordecai more intently than ever, love his like ultra mystery (and that we leave off on him doing some detectiving even) and truly fun that like, the source of the more Immediate problems he keeps having in every damn interaction isn't the like [wow mordecai with the just diving into the hatchet murdering] factor so much as it's that he's generally like "i am just standing here" and is not nt in any way that matters and people insist on fucking with him on that front. the peak tragedy of him in a bonus comic getting bullied into having to dance with someone to Be Polite like i'm so sorry i wish you could be that ficus too. anyways intrigued with the marigold &/or mordecai mysteries including that it's like, how coincidental is it that he talks about marigold having a thorn in its side & the savoys' nickname for him is peekon = thorn. there is so much to consider, love that for us truly. and i'm rooting for mordecai & nicodeme's dynamic out here, is another conclusion....very enriched by comparing & contrasting that serafine nicodeme mordecai triumvirate with the rocky ivy freckle one, to be sure. im enriched

i'm also enriched by every footnote that's got like historical facts / research notes / [this is inaccurate for xyz prioritization but here's the disclaimer] explanations. i Love information. and everything else like i loooove this comic it's Soooo Fucking putting my hands to my temples and inhaling at length through my teeth

[minasummersch]

🌺🍰 welcome my lovely faebies! 🌺🍰

There's nothing in life that can't be solved with chocolate🍫, cake🍰, or glitter✨

Hello everyone! Welcome to Mina's Musings, a tumblr blog run by Mina Summers. I am a half-fairy VTuber who owns and runs Marigold Bakery. I starting VTubing to make people happy and earn my fairy wings! I hope you'll join me on this magical journey together~

I stream primarily on Twitch and occasionally on YouTube as well. You can also find me on Twitter, TikTok, Instagram, and Discord. If you'd like to support my content you can check my Carrd for more links and info!

You can use these tags to navigate this blog and find more of my content:

#mina's musings = longer posts from Mina

#minaLIVE = Any content related to Mina's livestreams

#minaCLIPS = Clips of Mina's streams

#minaART = Fanart and commissions of Mina

#minaBAKES = Mina's baking related posts

#mina's ramblings = ramblings and thoughts from Mina

(the tags will be updated as I use them and add more)

Read below the cut to learn more about me!

Hashtags

General tag: #minasummers Live tag: #minaLIVE Clips tag: #minaCLIPS Fanart tag: #minaART Baking tag: #minaBAKES Fan name: Faebies Emotes: 🌺🍰

Schedule

I work a few different freelance jobs and so my schedule is constantly in flux. I usually stream weekday at 11:00 AM or 12:00 PM in the EST/EDT timezone. I'll attach my weekly schedule for the current week below:

Content I Stream/Create

I usually stream otome visual novels or joseimuke mobile games. Some of my favorites are Ensemble Stars!! Basic and Music, Bandori, Taisho x Alice, Tears of Themis, Hatoful Boyfriend, and BUSTAFELLOWS.

Sometimes I'll stream variety content such as JRPGs, scuffed karaoke (yes it is always scuffed lol), baking or decorating desserts (rare because this is messy and requires lots of planning!), crocheting, and cozy chatting content. I like to experiment with my content when I have more time in my schedule!

I'm currently working on a larger video project where I summarize the entirety of the Ensemble Stars story backlog and lore on YouTube. The series is still very much a work in progress but I do have a livestream VOD where I explained some basics about the game universe and characters which you can watch here:

I also really love music! I try to hold karaokes as much as I can and I've recently start recording covers songs! You can check out my first cover song below. It would mean a lot to me if you gave it a like as well!

Other than that I do a bit of voice acting, sometimes while I'm playing VNs I'll even try to voice over the characters. But mostly I just record short voice clips and post them to YouTube and TikTok.

Now that I have this page I hope to post some exclusive Tumblr content such as video scripts for my YouTube videos and reviews for games, animes, mangas, and novels! I'll link back to some of those posts when I do create them.

Mina's Model Credits

1.0 Model - Pink Dress Mina

Live2D videos to be added soon!

Design + ref sheet + PNG + fullbody Live2D model -- _kawarumii

Live2D rigging + chibi Live2D model art and rig -- tomoxm2

Scuffed VRoid model (not pictured) -- me

Detailed VRoid model -- claire_maid

Plush doll PNG (not pictured) -- Miyukiko

Cottage core alt outfit

Full Model coming someday!

Design -- Lapin

Lehenga outfit

Coming soon!

Designed -- Dayleaf404

2.0 Model - Secret

Coming soon!

Design -- Fei

Mina's Stream Asset Credits

This is a list of the creators who Mina commissioned or bought assets from for her Twitch and YouTube streams.

Channel Music -- ViSO by UTALIVE and KODOMOi

Overlays and Panels -- Aurora Rosalia

Stinger -- Aurora Rosalia

Chatbox -- chroneco

Header + Profile Image -- miyukiverse

Emotes -- vera_li

Badges and Channel Points -- AvilaRozma

Mina's Fanart and Commission Credits

This is a list of all the artists Mina has received fanart from or commissioned for artwork.

Bachiilla

Chrysalia Csilla

DaisukeSenpai

Dayleaf

Dinara

Haru

Kaji

Kuri

Miunee

Miyuki

Miyukiko

Rcol

ro_arts_id

Sketch the Witch

糕Pastry

Xela

Thank you so much for reading this far! And thank you even if you didn't really read the whole posts lol, I know it's long but I wanted it to be extensive enough that you could find anything possible about me.

I'll be updating this post as much as I can to keep the info up to date. It would mean a lot to me if you checked out some of my content and dropped a follower/sub/like on anything that interests you. Comments are always welcome as well and my ask box is always open to everyone!

[agentnico]

Thelma (2024) review

It was either this or Despicable Me 4. And I ain’t giving another penny to those dastardly minions!

Plot: Thelma Post is a 93-year-old grandmother who loses $10,000 to a con artist on the phone. With help from a friend and his motorized scooter, she soon embarks on a treacherous journey across Los Angeles to reclaim what was taken from her.

I am actually shocked that this is June Squibb’s FIRST lead role. The lady is a damn Academy Award winner for Christ’s sake, and yet it took her to reach her nineties to get top billing? Adds another layer to the saying “better late than ever”. Then again, if you look at the current President of the United States then age doesn’t matter, no matter how many times you forget what you’re talking about or fall down the stairs of an Air Force One plane. So good on Squibb for getting the lead in this film, and not only that, but she’s now essentially an action star too. Kind of. The movie consistently references Tom Cruise’s insane stunts that he does by himself, and I believe Squibb did all her own stunts in Thelma too, which involved walking, typing on a computer keyboard, riding a mobility scooter, going up the stairs, stepping over a lamp and knitting. Honestly it’s impressive stuff I tell ya.

Essentially this is The Beekeeper: Elderly Edition. Remember the Jason Statham action flick earlier this year where he played a beekeeper that goes on a revenge spree following his sweet landlord/friend committing suicide after being scammed out of $2 million by a phishing company. Naturally Statham was on glorious ass-kicking form and there was some thrilling and entertaining action set pieces. With Thelma it’s essentially the same thing, only instead of Statham it’s Squibb, so the process is a tad more slow with a more chill vibe. Look, straight away I should say I’m not the target audience here. This is very much for the type of crowd that went to see those Best Exotic Marigold Hotel films. They’re very sweet in nature, but are extremely melancholic and have that overly comforting factor where you do just want to afterwards go see your grandparents and give them the biggest hug. It helps that June Squibb is adorable in this film, as she has that old-school warmth to her, but also when she starts trying to save the day, you can’t help but want to root for her. Also all the scenes in her house were simply lovely. Think it was the mixture of the light yellow/orange lighting to the typical overly comfortable furniture with flowery designs and essentially a place that’s stuck in time so to speak. Again there’s that warmth to it that was utterly delightful.

The story itself was alright. Like it’s nothing special and I’d say in the middle it does meander a bit too much where I did find myself getting distracted, but overall it’s a very low stakes movie shot in high style that works. I really dug June Squibb’s interactions with her grandson played by Fred Hechinger, and their bond is the true core of the movie. It was the attention to the little details, like when the grandson’s parents are giving him crap about drinking and oversleeping, but when the grandson looks up at June Squibb she simply looks back at him lovingly with zero judgement and even gives a cheeky wink of assurance which was so sweet. I’ve unfortunately never got the chance to meet either of my grandparents as they had passed before I was born, so even though I haven’t had personal experience of this I still very much connected with the grandmother/grandson dynamic.

Thelma is a fun, impressively naturalistic and overwhelmingly earnest look at the idea of growth, both old and young, and the importance of family, and though it’s not a movie that breaks any new ground or will have me want to go out of my way to go see it again, I very much appreciated it’s innocent cosy nature. It’s a movie about a cool grandma - take it as you will.

Overall score: 6/10

[lavalampstealer]

hello.

tell me about yellow and cyan please.

i am obsessed with your things

YAAAAAYYYY I GET TO DUMP ABOUT THESE IDIOTS!!!!!!!

game spoilers ahead, obv

They gave each other their nicknames, Cyan getting theirs first from the fact that they’re almost always wearing blues while nearly every other EOD field agent lean towards reds and oranges, and Yellow getting his from his love for the color (yellow sweaters and the like fill his wardrobe, his signature headset is yellow, he loves marigolds, daffodils, sunflowers, etc).

Whenever they’re next to each other and Cyan starts getting anxious or starts to spiral, they grab onto Yellow’s sleeve or the hem of his sweater or something to let him know ‘Hey I’m not doing okay.’

Cyan’s flowers are blue salvias and blue irises (thank god I was able to find blue flowers with meanings) and Yellow’s are daffodils and sunflowers. (flowernerdflowernerdflowe-)

Cyan’s shirts are almost always wrinkled (Yellow gave up trying to convince them to iron their shirts, they’d just shrug it off and say that they usually ruin them on missions anyways so what’s the point).

Cyan is a chronic tinkerer. Before the Agency, they worked as a car mechanic, and they can’t keep their hands off of things. They want to know how a thing works, what it’s made of, how it was made, etc. They absolutely adored having Friendly Skies as their first real mission, they spent so long looking around in every nook and cranny of Zor’s car. Anything with buttons and switches and plugs has them like a moth to a sparkler. The anti-grav machine in Winter Break? You’re telling them they could fiddle with sliders AND pretty crystals?? Some other ones they wanted to figure out: the chair in Seat of Power, the panels in Jet Set, Fabricator’s desk in Eaves Drop, and the map and hidden cabinet in Party Crasher. I could go on about how they were practically VIBRATING when they saw Robutler in House Call, but then this would turn into a whole essay lol. When they got their leg, Yellow had to stop them from disassembling the thing because they were fascinated by it.

Also adding to the above, even though Prism designed their prostheses, they hardly met her. Granted, most of the time when she was there it was to take their measurements and they were most likely unconscious.

Cyan looked up to Prism in some respects, they knew that she was an amazing engineer and were really impressed with her work, so they were crushed when they got to meet her properly in ieytd 3 and it turned out that she hated them. Their heart nearly exploded when she called Phoenix her greatest creation in KBOOM (that or the traces of kinesium in their bloodstream wasn’t doing so hot near the lava and destabilizing core).

Oh also, Cyan has a tiny amount of kinesium in their blood from the implant. After Death Engine, the explosion from the gravity crystal messed with their TK a bit, destabilizing it ever so slightly. The main side effects were occasional headaches and their eyes let off a faint glow when they used their telekinesis in any way. They never figured this out themselves, poor Yellow was the one to discover this. They were both in a pitch black room and Cyan, thinking he knew they were there, came up from behind Yellow and used their TK to search for a light switch, scaring the shit out of him Freddy Fazbear style.

Cyan has anxiety and picks at the skin around their nails. Yes I’m projecting and no they can’t break the habit.

Cyan only wears their gloves during mission because it’s required by the Agency (something about not leaving fingerprints behind). They despise the feeling of any gloves but they found some bearable ones that they can deal with.

Yellow is pretty much blind without his glasses.

Yellow has a scar on the back of his neck, but Cyan (or anyone for that matter) hardly ever see it because he’s almost always in a turtleneck of some kind. Cyan only knows about it because Yellow told him the story about how he got it when they were bored in between missions.

Yellow went from handling 3-5 agents at a time to having 1-2, mainly because Cyan/Phoenix was being put on more assignments due to their success rate, but also because he stopped taking on as many because he was starting to become attached. To him, they were just more nameless Agents that got caught in Zoraxis’ traps and after bonding with Cyan, he couldn’t stand to listen as agent after agent was put out of commission.

Yellow really likes his headset and is hardly ever seen without it on. It’s comfortable, it dampens harsh noises, and he can hear people just fine with them on. When he’s not using it to talk to an agent, the mic is pulled aside and they’re switched off.

Cyan also likes headphones, although they prefer in-ear ones. When they’re not on missions, they usually have an earbud in playing some kind of music, like Frank Sinatra or some big band songs as background noise.

If they had access to modern music. they would both listen to Womanizer. and they’d both be girlbosses. Neither would tell the other about this.

Cyan loves any kind of animal, cats and reptiles especially. Yellow says he doesn’t like many animals, but he would absolutely melt if a cat jumped up on his lap.

Cyan very much has orange cat energy. Dumb. Dumb agent. Little braincells. /aff

[woltourney]

ROUND 1 / SIDE A / POLL 7

Sage Marigold (@imyour-marigold) v. Vishnya Vanil Kola (@voidgearrr)

Sage Marigold:

q. What is your WoL name and pronouns? a. Sage Marigold (She/Her)

q. What is your WoL's species? a. Highlander

q. What is your WoL's class? Or classes? a. Warrior

q. What data centre/server are you on, if you want people to find you? a. Primal/Exodus

q. Tell us a bit about your WoL! a. Sage spent her young life growing up on the docks of Limsa Lominsa and worked at the shipyard when she was old enough. Eventually deciding she needed more excitement she began looking for hunts and that’s how she starts her story as a WOL. She very much enjoys being a hero, protecting the people she loves is all she cares for. In her free time she either spends time with her found family and friends or she sets off for a ‘Mini adventure’, meaning she went for groceries and got lost on the way and has now been roped into a 14 step quest.

q. Why should YOU win? (Answer IC!) a. Winning would be great but, at the end of this I’ll have met a lot of new people and made a lot of new friends so I’ll be happy either way. With that kind of mindset it’s hard to lose, isn’t it?

q. Anything else you wanna add? a. This character is near and dear to my soul, I love her story and am actively fleshing it out/writing it in little novel bits thanks to some amazing friends I have made.

Vishnya Vanil Kola:

q. What is your WoL name and pronouns? Vishnya Vanil Kola (he/him) (Legally it’s Vishnya Ymir but he will say its VVK)

q. What is your WoL's species? a. Viera

q. What is your WoL's class? Or classes? a. Paladin

q. What data centre/server are you on, if you want people to find you? a. Europe-Alpha

q. Tell us a bit about your WoL! a. Vishnya is just a funny guy tbh. He left home to go do whatever he wanted, and is incredibly touch starved due to not getting much affection as a child. Vish accidentally got tangled up in being a hero and whatnot, but he’s handling it pretty well! Also got hit in the eye by magic and is blind in it (the purple one!!) Big found family advocate, and calls all his Miqo’te friends (and also Thancred) “mi gatito” (he’s sposed to be russian+icelandic but shhh). He enjoys literally any and all affection, and will fold like a wet noodle. He enjoys being a hero because he’s able to cheer on other adventurers, and the adrenaline rush is fun overall. Also gives superb hugs (muscle + slight squishiness combo), & is a short king himbo that’s got a lot of self confidence <3

q. Why should YOU win? (Answer IC!) a. Uhm…I think everyone should win, BUT I should win because I’m awesome and strong and really really good at making friends!

q. Anything else you wanna add? a. Vishnya Vanil Kola literally translates to Cherry Vanilla Cola, his hair reminds me of it :) ALSO my design of Vishnya is much more bunny that canon Viera but i dont have a decent fullbody kdkfkfns

[quinntamsin]

One Piece: Amazon Lily Arc

Kizaru tore through the pirate Captains and their cfews without abandon. SHe watched as the Supernovas did their best to fight the strange giant humans. Light flshed so brightly she had to cover her eyes. A loose growl in her throat as she used her zoan form to leap from her hiding place atop the giant mangrove. Landing on her feet she dodge an oncoming blast of fire as a Marine company sent a volley of bullets her way. Each movement she did required all of her enhanced reflexes, Only when she went sailing over the edge, though, did she truly know fear. --- The Amazon Lily Arc, whoa! WE got this far! Luffy is sent flying after a moment of pure gut- wrenching despair. His body is struck by the power of Kuma's Nikyu Nikyu no Mi and on his way at high speed through the air. After he strikes the ground we find him in the one place perhaps he shouldn't be. Amazon Lily, home to the all-cisfemale (YES I AM INCLUDING OKAMA and NEWKAMA IN THIS ASSESSMENT!) Kuja Tribe. We get to meet Marguerite and her friends as they discover poor Luffy after he stupidly consumes a parasitic mushroom. Bouncing forward and skipping over the anime dick jokes with the Kuja, what is most important here is how Luffy reacts. He wakes up, freaks out and yet as he gets chased he doesn't intentionally try to ruin a bunch of stuff. Instead, he nearly dies and get's saved by Marguerite while her friends, Sweet Pea, and Aphelandra do their best to support her. A few things about the Kuja I like. One yes, some have the pretty curvy designs of the typical One Piece women, but many also have pretty different body types. WE see broad-chested women, short, plump and more. Plus, yes, they all wear bikini's in a pretty blunt manner which is all the better when Luffy ignores everything. I love how Luffy is easily this lovable Ace motherfucker who just wants to make people happy. Now skipping through all the shenanigans Boa Hancock comes in after turning entire Marine Crew to Stone. After Luffy pops into her bath and sees her back she flips out (with good reason). The Snake Princess is shown in parts of this arc as cold and distant. Her looks and her fruit make people love her without any really deeper feeling. They see her as an object, and this makes her painful backstory all the worse. Plus I wanna say that I love her sisters, Sonia is just a fucking darling. And, Marigold is just this awesome fat goddess who can kick serious ass. The scene after they take over Luffy's execution after he defeats their giant panther is, funny and interesting. It sets up the Boa sisters as cold, and brutal. They use their Haki to easily defeat and toy with Luffy. When they move to smash the stone forms of Marguerite, Sweetpea and Aphelandra I was calling for Luffy to destroy them. There is a point to this brutality though, the sisters have been shaped by their society which forbids men, and they were tortured. So just as Luffy first unleashes a mega Conqueror's Haki burst and soundly starts kicking their asses I cheered loudly for him. One Piece is a show I can just watch for Hours and just feel good about. With gusto! I was lost in writing when I saw Sonia knocked toward the sharpened spikes and heard how her mark would be exposed. Seeing Luffy just leap onto Sonia's back even after she eagerly threatened to smash one of her own people was a clincher for why I love him. Wait no, it was him say, yup fuck my freedom, save your people please! Yeah, Luffy has a level of goodness that just makes me feel better. Boa Hancock's Backstory So, I didn't go much into my feelings on the Celestial Dragons, but lets ignore the fact that they are literal caricatures of what rick people really do! SO. All three young girl were captured as cabin girls on their own ship and then branded with the "Dragon's Claw". Let that sink in, these were young teens sold into slavery for some monsters. I swear if these fuckers were wearing crosses and were part of a mega-church or even a republican meeting! Yup, the girls got away after they were experimented on and wow. The amount of trauma they all went through and the fact they can still lead a country is pretty impressive. All of the stories and the coldness they show to their people is kind of explained in their trauma. Honestly, I am so glad they ran with how blunt the story was. Because any other idiot would have turned this into a tragic villain scene. Instead, we got a scene that shows us how a ruler can easily become distant from her own people. If they show weakness they think the people will turn on them. Damn, you think that the kids making a homemade statute would prove the opposite. I think the dissonance I felt as I watch them threaten to smash Marguerite versus revealing their trauma was surreal. It really shows how much emotional distant and masking the three do. All to maintain the false story of the Gorgon Sisters. Preparing For Impel Down After Hancock acquiesce to Luffy's request to save (and yes I realize I'm skipping a plot beat or two) she gets a pretty thorough verbal comment from Granny Nyon. As Luffy prepares to leave Hancock becomes suddenly sick. WE learn that all of Luffy's compassion has given her reason to fall head over heels in love with him. This was a bit of a weird scene, that her cold heart would come to fixate so much she could die outside his presence. The scenes where we see Luffy and her traveling aboard the ship alone was strange. Hancock's lovesickness seems a bit out of left field for me, I would have preferred if it was a little less sudden. Now,  know beforehand she had a thing for Luffy. Hell, I even tried to find a few fanfics that played around the relationship. The problem is I couldn't find any really shorter than 50k words that kept my interest. Please don't blame me that I prefer Nami and Luffy. Please note, I headcanon Luffy as a nonbinary ace hero. Overall This setting does a good job of showing more abilities derived from Haki. The idea that up until now we've barely seen it becomes more realistic as it seems it's not a widely practice gift outside of the New World. Sentamarou was a master of Armament Haki and it appears the Kuja use it as well to empower their attacks. This was a decent continual show of what Haki can achieve and it was a nice way to show how Devil Fruits can be defeated by Haki users. If Luffy didn't have his experience in battle he wouldn't have dodged all those Kuja arrows. If he didn't have Second Gear, he wouldn't have defeated Sonia or Marigold without it really. The increased speed was the only way he really got around Sonia's observation Haki and the increased velocity for his strikes assisted him against Marigold. This is a big change from when we first saw a certain annoying Skypeian using "Mantra" (Satori) against Sanji. Or hell, Shank's in episode one from the get-go. Conclusion This Arc focused on Luffy regaining a sense of hope. Watching him break down in Saobody when everyone disappeared was nerve-wracking. As someone who has felt a sense of despair, I will never reach Luffy's level. The poor kid loses his entire found family and finds out his brother is to die not long after. The actual way they emphasized each disappearance by Kuma by a bubble popping was tightened the anxiety I felt as I watched. Switching suddenly to something a bit more filled with hope was a nice change of pace. I say hope because both Hancock and Luffy brought it to each other. Luffy brought about the physical beating of two Celestial Dragons. Plus saving a friend of his from slavery ups the reality of how much Hancock can show some trust. Hancock, on the other hand, and as she treats her people better gives Luffy stability. It also seemed to give him time to remember his crew wasn't dead. They were all just sent flying everywhere. A pause to recover from watching everyone almost die. Hottakes:

That poor giant boar at the beginning, he deserved better.

The entire scene with Luffy being considered a girl was, so weird for me.

Like I was happy that the girls were like "ah yes another woman", but then the mushroom jokes and body washing. eeeww.

Mageurite deserves a bigger part in a side story, watching her help Luffy was interesting.

Sweatpea was a fucking amazing bean.

Aphelandra really shows how people in One Piece can be super tiny or fucking giants, and NOT BE ACTUAL GIANTS.

Momonga, wtf is up with the naming of this world.

The Mero-Mero no Mi is such a weird fruit, it's a fruit that creates a great sense of attraction and can turn people to stone if they have lewd thoughts.

THE FUCK ODA?!

The snake forms on Sonia and Margold into big titty nagas, shows that furries are well loved in ONe Piece.

I like how they are emphasizing this weird sort of fated pairing of Luffy almost in a folkloric way. He and her have Conqueror's Haki which is pretty damn rare.

Hancock needs a good Polyam ship with Vivi and Nami.

Robin would adore Amazon Lily since it appears to have constant sense of archaeological history.

[lugarn]

Writing Patterns

[How to play: Write the opening line from the last ten fics that you posted and see if there are any patterns!]

Tagged by the inestimable @blue-grama! I've been writing long enough that I feel like I have a pretty good handle on my writing and how this meme is going to go. So, a prediction:

Most of my opening lines are going to be something in the ballpark of "here's the situation" type text. I'm not sure if it'll be dialogue or text otherwise, but I know I love to start with the crux of the situation and move out from there when writing fic generally.

Let's see what the actual opening lines look like!

"I've tried it," Phop says, looking at the marigold-yellow dress that Nuth holds out like it'll bite him.

ruining me completely, Phop/Nuth, Playboyy

First shows up to Soong's place with a bag stuffed with his unwashed clothes and the sheet he yanked off Zouey's bed.

The Edge in Your Affection, Soong/First, Playboyy

(technically I didn't write this opening, but it really sounds like one I wrote doesn't it?)

Porsche bargains himself to Daddy to get them both out of the precarious life for good.

devil doesn't bargain, Porsche/Prom, Playboyy

First doesn't know how he gets himself into these messes.

put your lips together, Zouey/First, Playboyy

In spite of everything, Pete is glad when Big doesn't immediately come to him for help.

(not) the man they think i am, Big/Pete, Kinnporsche

The stencil that they used for the design swipes off of Pete's skin with the passes of Vegas's rag.

Peel the scars from off my back, Pete/Vegas, Kinnporsche

After Tawan dies by Kinn's hand, Pete knows what needs to happen.

Sweetest Downfall, Pete/Kinn, Kinnporsche

Two weeks after Vegas nearly dies, he no longer spends his days sleeping and mending.

I want the hurt you soothe, Pete/Vegas, Kinnporsche

Vegas wakes up to bright lights and a small, unfamiliar bed, but it's only a moment. He's away again before he can blink.

soft flesh, Macau/Pete/Vegas, Kinnporsche

The first time after Vegas almost dies that Vegas and Macau are alone together--the type of alone where no one will be checking on them for hours--it is only by merit of four gunshots that Vegas doesn't fly across the room to press himself head to toe against his brother.

darling boy, Macau/Vegas, Kinnporsche

Man, I just love to tell readers what's going on. maybe this is why a lot of my fic is so short? I also almost always write in present-tense third person. I wonder how a first-person Playboyy fic would go, hmm...!

tagging @fpwoper, @halfeatenmoon, @sweveris, @pineapplecrushface, @cryptidafter, and anyone else who wants to do the meme/game.

[dreamyquinn]

Día de Muertos

Día de Muertos (Day of the Dead)

Eddie Munson x Mexican fem!reader

Summary: It's November 1st and your neighbor and best friend shows up at your house only to find the strangest thing he's ever seen.

Warnings: Nothing really, maybe mentions of death, readers mom has passed away. Vague immigration mentions. Mentions of drugs, Some words in Spanish. Mostly fluff and a sad attempt at comedy. A bit educational on the holiday. English is not my first language so it may have some grammar errors. Sorry! Let me know if I forgot something.

A/N: This is a fragment of a way longer fanfic I'm working on that may or may not be included but because the day that I am posting is actually Day of the Dead I wanted to share this quick fic inspired by the holiday. I am Mexican an I wanted to take charge of the Latinas trope that love Eddie and firmly believe he would totally be into us. I haven't seen any other fic that is focused on that type of character so here's my shot.

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Your eyes squinted at the soft light of the sun peaking through your blinds. You heard some fuss coming from the kitchen on your way to the bathroom which continued while you were doing your thing.

Your dad was muttering gibberish as if he was looking for something, then you heard the heavy flush of water running from the faucet and your dad swearing. You finished quickly, washed your hands and hurried up to help your struggling father but as you approached the kitchen, a very distinct smell filled up your nostrils. It was a heavily perfumed scent, earthy and energizing, the peculiar memories coming to your head as you saw them.

Several bouquets of fresh yellow and orange marigolds rested on the dining table making your heart jump and a wide smile grew on your face. 

“Oh! Good morning, hija” your dad said, still struggling with a vase, his belly soaked in water and holding another bouquet. He smiled at your reaction to the flowers. 

“Where did you get them?” you asked, getting closer to the ones on the table burying your face in the blossoms and once more you sniffed deeply to experience that wonderful delight. 

“I was sure I wasn’t going to find any around here but your brother told me there was a flower store not far outside town so I went to check. These were all they had, so I had to get them all for her”

Your heart warmed up at his last statement and went to give him a tight hug, not caring if your pajamas got wet too. 

“Here, let me help you out” you said animatedly, taking the vase and the bouquet from his hands. 

Together you cut the long stems, removed the dead leaves and set little bouquets in the few vases you had. You needed a lot but only had four so you used whatever else you could find in the kitchen like bottles and jars you had around. Soon the entire living room had flowers everywhere and the smell had intensified, filling the entire trailer with the scent. 

Your brother came home almost as you were finishing up cleaning and he had brought a large box with other things. 

“Took me a while but I found mostly everything” he said, laying his purchases on the table. Colorful tissue paper, candles, oranges, candy, sarape fabric, ingredients for particular dishes and incense. You knew right away what was the plan for that day, you were building an altar. 

After your brother showed you everything and explained he had been all around town gathering things he immediately delegated tasks to everyone. He would take over the kitchen duties, your dad would be in charge of moving stuff around the living room to make space to build the altar and as the artistic one you were designing the layout. 

While all of you were working like the freaking seven dwarves, singing songs in the background, a loud knock broke the animosity of the family moment.

You got up to open the door where you found Eddie’s fluffy curls framing his usual smile as he walked in without asking as if he also lived there. 

Eddie was always welcomed at your house and he felt comfortable there. Your trailer wasn’t as messy as his, you seemed to have your shit together and there was definitely a sense of family and togetherness he never got to experience. A proper caring father and an older brother with whom to share a few things. Your dad at first wasn’t too trusting of him, not because of his looks or for what the rest of the town said about him but because as an immigrant he had learned to trust no one at all. 

But Eddie had gained his favor, after showing how much he took care of you. He became your very first friend when you arrived at Hawkins a few months ago, he drove you to and from school a lot of the time, he helped you to get by around town, always brought you home on time if you were out at a party and respected curfew times when you hung out at his trailer. 

Of course you both had been careful to not get caught in your little irresponsible adventures like smoking weed, getting wasted at the hideout when your dad and your brother worked the night shifts at the lab, or the occasional sleepovers where nothing beyond the occasional cuddle happened but you were sure that if your father found out he could probably pin Eddie down despite being significantly shorter than the boy. 

As soon as you closed the door behind him his smile dropped at the sight of what was going on. 

In the middle of the living room your dad had gathered three tables at different levels arranged as a ladder, and had a white tablecloth on them as a base. A lot of the flower vases and jars were placed on the different levels forming a frame, some blossoms were pinned to the wall to form an arch above the highest level of the altar. 

“Okay, what is going on here Y/N?” he asked suspiciously with wide eyes looking around. He sniffed and probably the scent of the flowers was too much for him as he had most likely never experienced it.

“You got here just in time” you said with excitement. “Welcome to your very first Dia de Muertos” 

“What?”

“Day of the Dead, silly” you translated and he turned like an owl to look at you, visibly unsure of what you were talking about. 

“It’s a Mexican tradition, Eds” your brother said as he opened up the oven to check on the bread he was baking, a rich, doughy and orangey smell reaching you. 

“What is that?” Eddie asked now curiously with his brown eyes shining at what your brother was pulling out the baking tray, looking like an excited puppy.

“Okay, okay, I think you gotta sit down first while we explain it to you, wanna help?” you offered. 

The holiday had some roots since the Aztec empire existed which were later combined with European influences of Spanish tradition during the conquest. You didn’t dive deep into detail on the history but you did cover the essence of the celebration. It was the time of the year in which the souls of your loved ones come back to visit you and the altar or ofrenda is a place where they can come to gather and be remembered, a moment to pay respects and honor them.

You explained to him the meaning of some of the elements included in the altar. The marigolds fill the air with a pure smell, their color represents the sun, a festive symbol which makes this a celebration more than a mourn. Lose petals form a path from the main entrance of the home to the altar as a guide for the souls. Water is placed to give rest and relieve their thirst to the souls after the long journey back home. Salt and the white tablecloth represent purity, so that the loved one’s soul is not corrupted and is able to travel among the living and the dead world. Candles also represent the light that calls them home. 

Eddie’s face was fascinated with everything, he thought it was pretty metal of Mexcian culture to celebrate death like that. You had asked him to rip out the marigold petals from a bouquet so you could make the pathway and he had been unexpectedly gentle with them which made you realize that behind that rough exterior of his hands he knew how to be delicate, after all he was a skilled guitarist.

“So, how do you say it again?” Eddie asked as he focused on a blossom.

“What?” you asked as focused as him.

“The flower’s name, in spanish?”

“Oh! It’s Cempasúchil”

“Cempa… cem… cempachills…” he struggled

“Cem-pa-su-chil” you repeated slowly trying to contain a laugh at his furrowed brow.

“Cem-pu-chill…” he tried again clearly frustrated as you let a laugh out loud “Oh Jesus H Christ I give up, I’m butchering the language”

“You’re a musician! Use that musical ear” you said playfully.

 “Nah, forget it. I’m now more interested in that good smellin’ thing your bro has over there” he asked, his mouth almost drooling while your brother sprinkled the golden buns with sugar. 

“That’s ‘pan de muerto’ or bread of the dead, don’t worry hungry boy you’ll have some” you assured.

“Yeah it’s made with the ashes of your loved one” your brother said in such a convincing voice that Eddie was about to say “Really?” when he saw your snarky smile.

You then gave him the colored tissue paper and showed him how to make papel picado, sheets of tissue with cut out designs that looked like little banners. You first folded the sheet several times to form a small square and then cut out shapes from each side and then showed him the best part came when you unfolded the tissue to reveal the final pattern. Eddie let himself lose with it and shortly he had a bunch already piled next to him.

“Ha! I win” he said, setting the scissors down looking at you with pride.

Once you were done with yours he helped you out to hang them across the ceiling of the trailer with the help of a string. 

As time went by the altar was getting filled with all the necessary elements you had been able to come by. Each level had sarape fabric spread across, candles, fruit, the flowers and you added a few cross figures. 

Your dad had disappeared a while ago in his room but was now coming back and you noticed that he had his eyes slightly red. 

“Now comes the most important element” he said, lifting proudly a beautifully decorated box that he placed on the dining table. He brought out a few framed pictures, clearly from different moments in time but with one protagonist in all of them: Your mother. 

He slowly approached the altar and placed them within the lower two levels. They had moments with both you and your brother as newborns, as toddlers, as teens, your parents wedding, family trips and some of her on her own. Then he stepped back and brought the biggest frame which held a picture of your mom on her own holding the flowers she got for her birthday. That picture had her purest smile.

Both you and your dad stood there and were joined by your brother, the three of you had a shared silence, pride and melancholy filling your chests. 

Eddie simply observed from the dining table and felt a clench on his throat that he suppressed by coughing but unintentionally broke you and your family’s trance. 

“I’m sorry” he said when your brother went back to his chores in the kitchen. 

“Don’t worry, Eds, that’s the whole purpose, remember? Honoring your loved ones” your dad said, going back to the box and pulling our other items. Their wedding rings, a little doll he had given her, her favorite record, other accessories, her notebook where she kept her favorite verses, letters and other trinkets she loved. All spread around the altar.

As your brother finished the meals he was making he passed you some other bowls with your mom’s favorite candy and cans with her favorite drink. 

“I’m assuming you added those because she liked them?” Eddie asked and you nodded.

“It is said that if the foods lose their flavor by the next morning after the celebration it means they ate it” you said mischievously.

“Have you ever experienced something like that? Have you seen them?”

“Well, we never had an altar before, we hadn’t lost anyone close to us. I only did this at school and generally you’d bring a picture of a loved one or if you didn’t have any you could choose a famous person to honor” 

“Who did you pick?” Eddie asked curiously

“Jimmi Hendrix” 

“Rock on!” he said, lifting the horns sign with his hand.

“Right?”

“They made her change it because he was a drug addict, so she picked a historical figure” your brother said, making you roll your eyes.

“Against my will, but I left Jimi’s picture on the frame behind the other dude. He was there” you reassured and Eddie laughed. 

All four of you stood again in front of your hard work. It was simple but bright and colorful, however something made you drop your shoulders and Eddie noticed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked 

“Dad, there’s no sugar skulls”

“They’re not like, super necessary” your brother refuted “I looked but nobody makes them around here” he added in defeat.

“We have her picture and that’s all that matters” your dad assured.

“What are they?” Eddie inquired, still confused.

“Back at home, there’s these human skull figures made of sugar and decorated with colorful sugar patterns and flowers, sometimes they add glitter or other embellishments. They’re fun, hard as hell to eat, but they’re an iconic symbol of the celebration.”

“This thing gets better and better each time”

“And, and it’s tradition that you can give them away as gifts that day, and you can write your name on the forehead of it, it doesn't matter if you’re still alive” you explained. 

“But we don’t have them here in boring Hawkins, yeah?”

“Nope” you replied defeated “C’mon, let’s eat before they leave”

The four of you sat together on the table and had a marvelous dinner of mole, a traditional dish of chicken covered in a sauce made with different types of peppers, spices like cumin, cinnamon, nuts and cacao. Rice as a side. 

Eddie wasn’t used to these kinds of wholesome meals so he felt like he could devour the entire thing in three single bites but kept control of himself to not embarrass you in front of your dad. He still stuffed his mouth on each bite, charmingly dripping some of the sauce by the corner of his mouth. 

Your brother never minded your cooking, he thought you had a decent touch but he made sure to show off how things should be done. You appreciated what he did because he got the closest to how your mom used to do it.

Once they were done, they packed some leftovers to take to work with their respective buns of pan de muerto and wished Eddie a good evening when your father and brother left for work. 

You hoped that Eddie would’ve stayed but suddenly said he remembered he had something else to do and would try to come by later if he could. With a little disappointment you still packed him some leftovers as well with another container for Wayne. Eddie ruffled the hair on top of your head playfully before leaving. 

You spent the next couple of hours cleaning around the mess in the kitchen and tidying up the living room so everything could be set by midnight. You also decided to dress up nicely, so you hopped in the shower, treated yourself with a facemask and afterwards you did your hair and put on a purple dress that matched perfectly with a black sweater you had buried in your closet. 

That sweater still had some hints of the peculiar perfume of your mom, you even noticed a couple of hairs still woven within the fabric, which reminded you of her beautiful curls. You also put on a flower crown you made with some leftover marigold blossoms.

You decided to take a minute to also do an extravagant makeup, traditional for the celebration. You painted your face with some leftover halloween makeup, tracing details and flowers around your eyes, cheeks and also added the distinguished elements of a skull, the nose, the sockets and the teeth. You also had some sticker earrings that looked like jewels so you popped those on. 

As you were almost finished it was around ten when someone knocked on the door. You were on your way to check who it was but Eddie had come in as always. He looked at you and stopped suddenly at the sight of you. He was surprised at first but then he felt fascinated at the artwork you had done on your face.

“Wow, what's that?” he said taking it all in, lost in every detail.

“This is a ‘Catrina’ face makeup. It’s another icon like the sugar skulls. The Catrina is a character illustrated by an artist, Jose Guadalupe Posada, but it was originally a satire to the upper class of the time. It is now a symbol of the holiday and mixes the paint patterns on the sugar skulls. Some people do this, they dress up”

“Looks pretty” he said looking at your eyes for a brief second “pretty cool, I mean” he corrected with a chuckle breaking the stare. 

You noticed he had brought a big plastic bag and his tin box. 

“What’s in there?” you asked as you leaned over the reflection of the window to finish applying some of the sticker earrings on your face. 

“Oh, I uh… I brought something that maybe could be up there at the altar” he said coyly and that spiked your curiosity so you approached him when he dropped the contents of the bag on the table, revealing small skulls painted with different colors that you were sure he had just made because the strokes of paint seemed rushed. Some of them had dots, others stripes, one had attempts of hearts, another had flowers.

“I don’t know what sugar skulls look like so I just painted them with the same colors as the little flags we hung up. I know it's not the same but I figured maybe they could work, I had these skulls from that one time Wayne and I decorated the house”

You didn’t say anything as you grabbed one and looked around at the details, your heart feeling warm. A smirk forming on your lips. 

“I also did this one, here” he said, getting a big purple one with stars that looked a bit more worked on. “I put your name on it. Also did these for your Dad, your bro and if your don’t mind I have one for me and one for Wayne”

“These are amazing, Eddie. Thank you” you said and closed the gap between you giving him a hug. When you pulled apart you shared a look and went to put them up in place.

Afterwards Eddie didn’t seem to take his eyes off you, mesmerized by the paint on your face so he asked if he could have his face painted because he wanted to match with you. You got excited at his interest and immediately sat him down, bringing your makeup bag and started to paint away. This was quite the moment between you two. You were pretty close to his face, his sharp features relaxed at the touch of your brushes, his soft breathing bringing you some sort of peace. Of course every now and then you would catch him staring at you, directly to your eyes. He found it cute that you lifted your right eyebrow each time you focused on what you were doing.  You were done pretty quick and as he looked at himself in the mirror he smiled big and complimented your work. 

“We look great” he reassured as you both stared at your own reflections in the bathroom.

“Hold on” you said running to your bedroom to get your camera and taking photos of Eddie then an attempt at taking one shot together. You would have to ask Jonathan for those prints later and he would be so confused.

You then went to the living room where you started to lit up the candles and incense. You brought some bread and hot chocolate so you could sit on the couch and wait for midnight. The time when the spirits actually arrive. Eddie enjoyed his third bun of the day and drinked half of his cup while the two of you curled under a blanket sitting on the couch, talking about random things.

He eventually turned quiet and distracted as you were babbling about something unimportant. 

“Y/N?” he finally interrupted you.

“Yeah?”

“So uh… I brought something else” he said as he stood up and went to get his lunchbox.

“Oh Eddie, I don’t think I’ll be smoking now, I don’t want my mom to see me doing it, she’ll drag me around by my feet to scare the habit out of me” you said and he giggled but you noticed that the joke wasn’t appropriate.

“Don’t worry, I’m not smoking either. I just wanted to ask… I know this altar is for your mom and I don’t wanna steal her thunder but, do you think there’s a little space for her?” he said and he pulled a decayed photo of a woman with a baby in her arms. She had big brown eyes, a soft smile, she had very pretty curls tied in a very voluminous updo. On the back there was a scribble “Eddie and Me, Indianapolis 1968” Your heart felt for him and his shy stare.

Eddie had mentioned her mom only once just to say that she was gone. You knew more about his dad, because he had ranted about him about four or five times and you never dared to ask anything about either of them. You didn’t feel you were there yet and it was a matter that only concerned him.

Without wasting any second you carefully grabbed the photo and looked around the bookshelf for a frame that could fit and once you swapped the pictures you set some space right next to your mom on the top level. Eddie didn’t move because while you did all that he was trying to contain the knot that was trying to explode on his chest. 

“Here” you said, grabbing one of the skulls he made that had flowers, and you also passed him a marker. 

“You do it, you have better handwriting. It’s Amelia” he instructed softly and so you did your best calligraphy to write her name elegantly on the skull’s forehead and then put it next to her picture. 

You decided to turn off the lights and let the numerous candles set a soft mood.You went back to the couch and under the blanket again, you were hugging your knees and he had his arms crossed on his chest. You silently admired your hard work of the day and the altar looked prettier than ever, the lights of the candles really giving a spiritual vibe around all the elements and colors. It smelled rich of many things, the flowers, some of the candles, sugar and the spice of the incense. Both of you had remained in a comfortable silence until Eddie broke it.

“I don’t think I’m ready to tell you about her. But I wanted to thank you for letting her be there” he said in the most serious tone he had ever used. 

“It’s alright, Eds. Whenever you feel like it” you reassured and another long pause took place.

“Do you really think they come over?” he asked as casually as he could but unable to hide some hopefulness. You looked at him and he looked back at you. 

There was a mutual reading between your gazes. You understood a few things from that: he had loved his mom tremendously, he also missed her and he trusted you enough to let you read that from his eyes, a boy trying to have faith.

“I hope so” you responded, picturing in your head both of them coming in together through the door and up to the altar where their children would be waiting. You felt the knot in your throat starting to form, Eddie’s apple going up and down and a glimpse of watery eyes.

None of you had broken eye contact, the longest you had spent like that ever, the soft warm light caressing your faces, both chests breathing a bit faster, you could hear your heart pounding in your ears, his lips parted slightly as you felt a force starting to pull you in and just as he had looked at yours, inches away from you, the flicker of a few candles blew off giving you both a jump scare that interrupted the moment, leaving you in more darkness. You both looked at the altar and only the candles next to your mothers were out. For a brief second you both felt chills down your spine, Eddie had uncrossed his arms and you let down your legs. 

It didn’t matter if it could be explained scientifically, in your heart you wanted to believe.

“They’re here” you said looking back at Eddie who was mixed between wanting to let go of his emotions and smile at the same time. He then took your shaky hand and held it but surprised you by intertwining your fingers with his as he squeezed tight, calming you down. You felt peace, you felt comfort, mutual company, mutual grief. But wait, were you about to?...You let out a sigh to shake that thought away, resting your head on his shoulder, staying quiet for the remainder of night. Both of you let some thin tears stream down your face until you fell asleep.

That night you dreamt of your mom and Eddie dreamt of his.

⚛ Feliz Día de Muertos! ⚛

[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

event request! this is my first time requesting anything from anyone ,_,

Can i get a platonic bouquet of freminet from genshin impact or a platonic bouquet of Sabito from Demon Slayer?

Zodiac/MBTI = taurus and INFP

Super introverted, logical, shy, not very ambitious, creative

5’2, short dark curly hair, hazel eyes, transmasc

Likes = music, decorating, costume design,

cooking, thunderstorms

Dislikes = high expectations, swimming, snow,

the dark

Hobbies = songwriting, script writing, figure skating, tennis, making ocs

i hope i did this right rip

Hi Anon! I am a big advocator for platonic bouquets so this was a nice request to receive. I actually haven't met Freminet in the game yet, so hopefully this isn't too out of character. Thank you for your request. I hope you like your bouquets.

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Want to join in the February special event? Find out more by checking out my Directory or just head straight to the Event Rules.

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Freminet is giving you a bouquet with...

Pansies - The flowers of introverts, this flower is the perfect way of reflecting your shy nature.

Blue Lotus Flowers - This flower represents logic, a trait Freminet values in you since he's very focused in his tinkering, something that requires logical thinking.

Bluets - These flowers represent contentedness and, in this instance, your lack of ambition. Freminet doesn't see this as a bad trait, it's just part of who you are.

Marigolds - Your creativeness is something Freminet values for his tinkering and marigolds represent this trait.

Music Note Plant - While this flower doesn't represent anything, visually, it reflects your love of music.

Sabito is giving you a bouquet with...

Violets - This flowers represent modesty but in this instance are a play on the phrase "shrinking violet", a reflection of your shy nature.

Daffodils - These flower represents creativity, an extension of your fondness for songwriting.

Ragged Robins - This flower was believed to cause storms when it was plucked and since you like thunderstorms, it's a good inclusion in this bouquet.

Lavender - Lavender represents comfort, a reflection of how Sabito feels when he's with you. You have a comforting presence that Sabito enjoys.

Yellow Roses - This flower represents light and brightness. Since you dislike darkness, this flower is meant to help you chase away the dark.

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Hey, did you enjoy this? If you like my writing, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi page! This will allow me to make some money off my writing, something I enjoy doing.

ko-fi.com/justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms

Important Note: Please only donate if you are financially able to. If you are currently in a position where you can't donate, a like, comment or reblog will mean just as much.

[sheepwithspecs]

Echar Agua al Mar: Chapter 5

|| DP Coco (2017) || Rated T ||

Ao3 link

For Imelda, trying to prevent Héctor from coming back into her life is like throwing water into the sea: pointless. With her family keen to accept the strange musician, and a challenge she can hardly refuse, she soon finds herself caught up in the continuation of a romance decades in the making. [Updates every Saturday]

The ever-astute Victoria was the first to notice.

“There’s something… different about you this morning, Mamá Imelda.” The Riveras stopped their morning preparations, turning as one to look at the family matriarch as she entered the room. Imelda passed by the workbench with her head held high, her expression at once both dignified and expectant.

“What do you mean?” Imelda took her apron from its designated peg, draping it over her hipbones before cinching it tightly over her dress. Victoria crept nearer, tapping her chin as she tiptoed around her grandmother.

“Aha!” she cried, snapping her fingers. “It’s the flowers!” Rosita—something of a budding botanist herself—perked up at the mere mention of flowers.

“Let me see!” Imelda tsked, but obligingly turned to allow her a view of the purple flowers tucked into her braid. “What a lovely shade!” Rosita cooed in appreciation. “Why, they match your ribbons perfectly!”

“I’m aware.” She carefully patted the elaborate coif before hurrying to the tool cabinet and rifling through its contents. Behind her the Riveras glanced pointedly at one another, asking the question on everyone’s mind without saying a word.

Was it you?

No, not me.

“Has anyone seen my good paper?” Imelda asked, too busy in her search to catch wind of the silent interrogation.

“For tracing?” Felipe ventured, still shaking his head at Victoria’s silent query.

“No, I’m planning to renovate the sidewalk.” Imelda slammed one drawer shut, moving to the next with an impatient huff. “Of course I mean for tracing! I know I put it here last…” she muttered to herself, yanking the drawer from the cabinet and peering furtively into the empty space. 

“So.” Victoria picked her needle, surveying her collection of multicolored threads with a wry smile. “Where did they come from?”

“The paper?” Imelda grunted, fighting with the drawer; it shoved itself back into the cabinet with a petulant thud , shaking a vase of marigolds perched atop the highest shelf. “Speak up, dear.”

“The flowers.” Imelda paused in her digging, emerging from the cabinet drawer with a blunt chisel in her hand. She ran her thumb slowly over the dull edge, bone scraping against the metal.

“What a ridiculous question.” Her voice never rose above a calm murmur, though her eyes sparked with inner fire. “The flowers came from outside, of course.”

“But….” Rosita frowned in confusion. “But we don’t have those flowers in the back garden.” She absently went to lick the tip of her ink pen, sighing as she remembered—not for the first time—that she had no tongue. She settled with running the tip nervously between her teeth. “So where—?”

“Good heavens! Does “outside” stop at the garden?” Imelda scowled, tossing the chisel back into the open drawer. “There is a city beyond our gate, isn’t there? Now, is someone going to tell me where my good paper has gone, or am I going to have to tear the house apart?”

“Were they a gift?”

“You know I don’t accept gifts.” Imelda began to sort through the accumulated clutter on the cabinet’s lower shelves, yanking Julio’s second-best hat from the pile and clucking her disapproval at its squashed brim.

“You do on your birthday,” Oscar pointed out, leaning over the workbench with a mischievous grin.

“And holidays,” Felipe added, elbowing his twin in the ribcage. They broke into quiet laughter, ducking only when Imelda glared at them over the open door.

“Fine. I don’t accept gifts unless it’s a special occasion,” she growled.

“It must be a favour from a secret admirer.” Imelda rose to her feet fast enough to upset her skull, righting it with a sharp twist before glaring daggers at her granddaughter. “What’s the matter?” Victoria asked innocently, tilting her head. “Courtship is the only other possible explanation.”

 “You have been reading far too many of those trashy books.” Imelda put her hands on her hips. “In case you don’t remember, your dear Papá Héctor couldn’t be bothered to show his face at all yesterday, much less with a bouquet in hand!”

“Who said anything about Papá Héctor?” Victoria turned her attention back to her thread, fingers hovering over the tangled skeins. “It could have been anyone.”

“Who else would be giving flowers to an old woman like me?” Imelda scoffed, waving away the accusations with a flutter of her hand. “Besides, it doesn’t matter in the end. A Rivera is not swayed by paltry gifts.”

“I don’t know,” Julio replied, running laces through the eyelets he’d been busily making. “Coco seemed to enjoy it when I gave her flowers.”

“That wasn’t the flowers; that was the dancing .” Imelda held up an accusing finger. “You tricked my daughter into dancing at the plaza until she was too enamored to know herself. You’re lucky you were a talented, enterprising young man. Otherwise you’d have been escorted from my house with Pepita’s claws in your throat!”

“Didn’t you dance with Héctor on your first date?” Felipe pointed out.

“Yes, I did. And look where it got me.” Imelda crossed her arms, eyes slipping closed as she spoke. “Looking back, I suppose it’s my own fault. I didn’t bother to warn Coco about the dangers of men and their… wiles.”

“You had wiles?” Oscar looked at Julio appraisingly. Julio shrugged, shaking his head in defeat.

“My sweet little girl, led astray just like I was… by that blasted music. And who was it that taught her?” she muttered, slowly refilling the cabinet shelves. “Who taught her how to sing? How to dance? Pah! With bills to pay and the chores left undone, going off heaven-knows-where to make a living out of a guitar case, like some street vagabond without a penny to his name! Writing once a month—if that!—and never paying any mind to the fact that….” She trailed off, fingers tracing the edge of a torn invoice. “And to think that all this time, he’d been… if only I had thought to….”

“Imelda?” Felipe looked at her strangely.

“We must be out of paper, after all.” She took a shaky breath, patting her hair back into place. “I’ll just have to buy some more. Good thing it’s market day.” Turning to the workbench, she smiled stiffly. “Will you be able to handle things on your own? I may be a while.”

“We’ll manage,” Rosita assured her. “Take your time.” The twins shared a knowing expression, but said nothing.

“If you can look for some more blue thread at the market, Mamá Imelda….”

“Yes, and we’re nearly out of rubber cement.”

“Blue thread… rubber cement. Anything else?” When no other requests came forward, she nodded with the ghost of her usual pragmatic self. “Very well. I’ll be home soon.” They waved her off, watching through the open door as she passed the gate and turned in the direction of the nearby plaza. The moment she was out of sight, their hands dropped and they turned towards one another solemnly.

“If I’d known it would ruin her mood like that, I would have never asked.” Victoria winced guiltily. “She seemed upset.”

“Yes, but how could you have known?” Rosita patted her hand comfortingly, nestling it between both her own. “She’s never behaved that way before… at least, not where we could see it.”

Héctor strummed his guitar, humming a jaunty little tune under his breath as he tuned the instrument by measures. His foot kept time in the air, dangling above the heads of prospective shoppers at the tianguis. He was a normal fixture in the plaza, market day or no market day, and could often be found perched on the long wall connecting Toño’s bar to the crumbly flats on the other side of the plaza entrance. There was nothing like a high perch to watch people from, and this particular wall had served him in the past as a bed, a chair, and sometimes a means of escape.

Right now it was the most comfortable lounger in the Land of the Dead, his spine propped against the bar’s sun-warmed bricks. There was a guitar in his hands, a little change jingling in his pocket, no one was cursing or throwing things at him: creature comforts, even for the dead.

“Good morning, Héctor.” He stopped mid-strum, peering over the edge of the wall to see a well-dressed man staring back up at him. The man smiled, his thick mustache ruffling as he held up a foil-wrapped packet. “Fancy a memela? It’s fresh.”

“Hey, hey! Rafael!” He beamed down at his old friend, placing the guitar carefully against the scratchy bricks and tipping his hat before taking the memela. Raphael was a connoisseur of good food, and was often visiting different neighborhoods to try local delicacies. Héctor often joked that Rafael should have been a food critic, seeing as he had the ability to scout hole-in-the-wall restaurants almost better than he did musical talent.

“As always, thank you for supporting your local starving artist.” Héctor unwrapped the foil, breathing in the steam appreciatively. “I swear I’ll pay you back for every bite one of these days.”

“No need. Besides, you’re not starving . Not anymore, at least.” He eyed his bones with a calm smile. “Someone’s finally starting to remember you, it seems. ¡Por fin!” Héctor puffed out his chest, lifting one side of his tattered vest to show off his newly mended ribcage. “With a different outfit, you’d be a whole new man.”

“Hey, we can’t all wear suits twenty-four seven.” He took a bite, groaning with satisfaction at the delicious torrent of flavors. “Some of us have to dress like vagabonds,” he mumbled between bites, kicking his heels carelessly against the wall. “Helps to—” He gulped, winking tears from his eyes as the hot food managed to burn an esophagus that technically did not exist. “—even out the crowd.”

“I don’t think there’s a single person, living or dead, who’d agree with that sort of logic.” Rafael shook his head, wrapping up the remaining memela and sticking it into the inner pocket of his suit coat.

“Speaking of fashion… are you singing in the plaza today? You’re not dressed for the occasion.”

“Not today, no, but soon. Next week, in fact! Say, why don’t you come?” Rafael suggested. “You can accompany the band, and we’ll celebrate a job well done at Tono’s afterwards.”

“I’d love to, but I can’t. I’m in the middle of something right now.”

“The… middle?” Rafael repeated in confusion.

“You see, I’m on something of a personal mission, and, well—” Héctor stopped short, mouth going slack as he stared over the sea of skulls crowding the plaza. He straightened his spine, stretching as tall as he could possibly go before shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand.

The magic—or memories—that held his bones together protested as his vertebrae stretched, making itself known in the form of a dull, warning ache. He ignored it for the moment, having been scattered across the ground enough to know how to pull himself back together. Right now, there were more important things to worry about.

“Héctor?” Rafael turned, searching in vain for any sign of what had caught his friend’s eye. “Is something wrong?”

“No, it’s….” He thought it might have been his imagination, but standing in front of a textile stall was a woman in an all-too-familiar dress. Normally he might have passed it off as anyone else, had the back of her head not been turned in his direction. He knew that hairstyle anywhere, and, more importantly…. His heart quickened at the sight of purple laelieas, somewhat wilted in the sun but still vibrant, tucked neatly into the rolls. “It’s her!”

“It’s whom?”

“Imelda.” The name rushed out on a breath as he plopped back down, his legs dangling once again over the side of the wall. Should I go to her? Will she acknowledge me, or will she pretend not to know me? What do I do now?

“Who are you talking about?” Rafael sighed, shrugging off his confusion with a slight shake of his head. One did not make friends with men like Héctor without accepting some things as par for the course. “I don’t know any Imelda….”

“Imelda is my wife.”

“Your… you have a wife?” The poor man was more puzzled than ever, neatly-combed locks going limp as he jerked his head back and forth from Héctor, to the crowd, and back again. “You never told me you had a wife! Which one is she? Can I see her from here?” He raised onto tiptoe—an act which unfortunately only added an extra inch or two to his already short stature.

“My Imelda.” His breath caught in his throat and he swallowed thickly, feeling the fluttering all across his bones. She had worn the flowers! He found himself grinning like a fool; he wanted to hug himself and fall backwards off the wall, giddy as a schoolboy in the thralls of first love.

“So what does that make you, Héctor? A deadbeat?” Rafael’s blunt question brought him back to the present with all the force of a backhanded slap. “To be honest, I never took you for that type.”

“What?”

“If you have a family, why were you Forgotten? Even if they didn’t have a photo, they could have always used something else.” Rafael frowned, scratching at his chin. “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand.”

“Well—erm—it’s sort of a long story? I guess?” He fidgeted in place, wracking his brain for a way to explain his situation without making himself out to be a complete waste of space. “The sort that involves myself and a certain celebrity who shall-not-be-named.”

“De la Cruz?” Rafael clarified, with all the grace and tact of a true businessman. “I know you’d said he’d stolen your songs, but… my word! Are you saying he also stole your wife ?!”

“What?! No!”

“Then what—ah.” Rafael had the courtesy to look abashed, averting his eyes with a polite cough. “There was an official separation, for lack of a better term.”

“We hit a rough patch!” He grimaced. “An admittedly long rough patch. And then I died. But it’s salvageable, I swear!” 

“Héctor, your luck… is the worst kind.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He searched the crowd once more, making sure he didn’t lose her. Where… there, at the grocers. She was arguing with the shopkeeper about the price of ofrenda-fresh oranges. “It’s fine, though. I’m getting her back.”

“Is that so?”

“Of course!” He puffed out his chest once more, this time in a gaudy parody of machismo. “All it takes is one look at the face and she’s putty in my hands.” “The face” consisted of a rather goofy looking smile and a wink, his gold tooth shining as he rolled his shoulder in what was supposed to be a rather dashing manner. Rafael stared up at him, clearly unimpressed with the display.

“Is she… blind?”  

“I’ll have you know that I was the talk of the town back in my day! She couldn’t keep her hands off me!”

“It must have been slim pickings….”

“Tch! Keep talking, memela man.” 

“All right, then. But what’s stopping you from winning her back right now?” Rafael huffed, one brow arched. “Why don’t you go over there and say hello?” 

“Umm… erm….” Héctor gulped, looking warily at the grocer’s stand before grabbing his guitar and slinging the strap over his shoulder. “You know what? You’re right!” he shouted, rising to his feet. “Héctor Rivera is not afraid of his wife!” Several of the nearest shoppers turned in his direction, gazing up at him in utter confusion. A few of the older women laughed and he cleared his throat awkwardly, leaping down and pretending not to notice their amusement.

“How but well, sir? How but well? It were impossible I should speed amiss.” Rafael rolled his eyes, all too used to his younger-older friend’s theatrics. “Have a care, Petruchio.”

“Who?”

“Nothing.” He adjusted his suit coat with a little shake of his shoulders, smoothing back his hair before stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I suppose I’ll be on my way. Feel free to stop by my office anytime, Héctor. You’re always welcome… and your wife, too.”

“Of course! I’ll be sure to introduce you both,” he promised, donning his hat with a flourish as he walked backwards into the crowd. Rafael waved him off, watching with a wince as he nearly toppled backwards over a child with a mouth full of ice cream.

“Ay, Héctor. I wouldn’t have your luck for all the talent in the world.”

If staring at the love of his life across a crowded plaza was an Olympic sport, Héctor would have won gold by this point. He was a world-class professional at watching her from afar. He had perfected the art until it was almost too easy now, worming his way carefully through the crowd without causing a scene.

It was easier now that he had no limp, with better control over his bones to step around busy hagglers and young couples, murmuring pardons as he kept his distance. He could circle the plaza for hours this way if he had to, staying incognito while still in plain sight. He looked at her over the heads of children and lone mothers, thinking up things to say once he’d gathered the courage to make himself known.

A part of him couldn’t help but chuckle at the familiarity of it, feeling nostalgic for his youth. Watching her between the moving bodies, peeking around stacks of crates, ducking behind barrels and buildings, shimmying up lampposts and craning his neck for just one more glimpse—there was no use lying. He’d been on fire for her since day one.

And who could blame him? She had been so beautiful, sitting at the edge of the fountain with her friends, rebozo draped gracefully across her shoulders or sometimes over her head, hiding her lovely hair from the world. She was so pristine and genteel, splitting sweet treats with the other girls as they laughed and pretended to ignore the young men watching them from the fringes, teasing whoever received the most attention until that poor young lady was redder than the fullest rose.

His heart had always jittered when she laughed loud enough for him to hear, the sound high and clear even over the rushing of water in the fountain. Her eyes would twinkle and she would clap a hand over her mouth, smooth forehead wrinkling in a way that—to him, at least—was adorable.

I wonder if I could make her laugh, he would find himself thinking as he watched, chin in his hands while he fawned like the lovelorn fool he was. Perhaps if I wrote a funny song? Yes, I’ll write her a song, and she’ll laugh, and then she’ll want to talk to me. We’ll sit together by the fountain, and maybe she’ll let me hold her hand, and kiss her, and—

She’ll toss you over her head like a bull, amigo. Best give up on that one. Ernesto had always been less than enthused by his behavior, even to the point of refusing to go to Mariachi Plaza with him. According to him, they couldn’t get any real work done while he was “making eyes” at the feistiest girl in town. He had never seemed to understand why Héctor was fine with the awful scenarios he tried to paint. But Héctor knew, even back then, that he didn’t have enough words inside of him to explain it to Ernesto in a way he’d understand.

Long before he’d dared to sneak into that courtyard and climb to her window in the dead of night, Héctor had known that Imelda was the only girl for him. Sure, they have never spoken to one another, but he had felt it in his very bones that she was not only the most beautiful woman in all of Santa Cecelia, but in the whole world. He would never be satisfied until he had her for his own.

Not to mention the kiss that night, the first night she had spoken freely to him. She’d kissed him—him! If he’d not been hanging onto that trellis for dear life, he would have instantly melted into a quivering puddle right then and there, in the middle of her mother’s flowers. How could even begin to explain such a feeling, especially to someone like Ernesto?

Well, it didn’t matter now. The cabrón was hopefully still stuck under that bell, and if he wasn’t…. If he ever saw him out from beneath it, there wouldn’t be much anyone could do to stop him from jumping him again and pounding the life—death?—right out of the pompous thief. What a sad excuse for a man! He was the one who needed to be fading, feeling the panic that comes with being Forgotten.

It would probably never happen, seeing as he’d live on in infamy, but…was that in itself a punishment to fit the crime? If he did manage to escape that bell, he wouldn’t have many friends. The only thing awaiting him was a long, long death in a land where no one liked him anymore. Murder wasn’t tolerated well in the Land of the Dead, and for someone like Ernesto, who thrived off the concept of popularity, it would be something of a personal hell. Quite a fitting end for a man who hadn’t thought twice about poisoning his best friend. 

Focus, Héctor. He steeled himself, trying to remember the best ways to give a mental pep talk. Just think about what it’ll be like when you can hold her again. It’ll be like you never let go of her at all that night—

She noticed him.

Imelda had always noticed him back then, too. She had a knack for looking up right when he was in the worst possible position, or tripping over his own two feet. In other words, about as un-suave a person could possibly be, and certainly not appealing to anyone, much less a young women like her. Her laugh would vanish, her eyes losing their sparkle as she frowned at him, forehead smoothing, expression icy.

Well, it seemed that some things never changed.

Once upon a time, he might have waved bashfully at her in the hopes that she would smile, or at least do something besides frown. But that was before he knew her, her habits and personality, what worked and what didn’t. The minute their eyes locked he gave up the pretense and made a beeline for where she stood, dodging carts and bicycles on the main thoroughfare, calling apologies over his shoulder.

You’re not avoiding me this time.

To her credit, she did not try to run away. She stood there, one hand on her hip, watching his approach with an increasingly impatient scowl.

What should I say to her? He was already halfway there.

Do I say hello? Do I mention the flowers? He leapt onto a stone guardrail, using it as a handy shortcut around a gaggle of shoppers.

Will she say anything? He was within shouting distance. She had not moved.

Who cares? Just say something, anything! He stopped in front of her, one finger raised, took a deep breath, and—

“Erm… nice day, isn’t it?” Imelda’s eyes rolled up to the sky, staring at it for a good three seconds or so before sliding back to glare into his own.

“Héctor.” Why did she have to say his name so… so menacingly? It was enough to make a skeleton worried for body parts he no longer possessed!

“Imelda, mi vida.” Any chance of a smile went straight out the window as her face scrunched into a scowl. “Is there something I can help you carry?” He reached for the bag of produce in her hand. “Here, I can—” She yanked it calmly out of his reach, her expression never changing.

“Are you stalking me now?” He blinked in surprise. Of all the things she might have said, he had not been expecting that.

“No?”

“Then why are you here?!”

“Is it a crime to visit the tianguis?”

“Were you planning to steal something?”

“What? No!” It was his turn to scowl. Maybe he’d been poor enough to beg in the past—poorer than his living years, in any case—but he’d never stooped so low as to steal. If he happened to borrow from people he could pay back later, well, that was different! “If you must know, I was minding my own business when I saw you across the plaza and thought I’d come say hello. That’s all.”

“…Hello.” Gathering her skirts, she turned on her heel and marched away, leaving him in the dust as the crowd parted for her. He was stunned enough that she managed to get a few good feet between them before he sprang to race after her, hat clutched to his head. She said nothing as he caught up and matched her pace, trailing behind her like a stray puppy.

“You, erm… you liked my gift?” 

“Oh, was that you?” she answered lightly, clearly not in the mood to indulge him. “I wondered who might be fishing their arm out of my back garden.”

“I… well, yes.” She was silent. “But the flowers—are they still your favorites? I had to guess, but I thought you might like them. You used to.”

“I used to do a great many things.” She increased her pace to a brisk trot, nose in the air. “But even as a living woman, I never made a habit of speaking with cowards.”

“Huh? Cowards?” Héctor sped up enough to walk abreast of her, peering anxiously into her face. She turned so that their eyes had no chance of meeting, mouth pursed as she cut suddenly down a side alley without a word. He doubled back, clearing a stack of cardboard boxes and slipping on an old tequila bottle before catching up to her again.

“Stop following me!” She spared him a sidelong glance before outpacing him easily, skirts swishing busily around her ankles.

“What did you mean by coward?” She changed directions again, but this time he was ready and didn’t allow any more space than necessary separate them. She was as wily and stubborn as ever, his Imelda, but she seemed to forget that he was used to her methods. So long as she didn’t think of whistling for that enormous alebrije of hers, he could match wits on just about anything.

“You throw your arm into my window—nearly hitting me in the face, I might add—and you don’t even have the decency to show yourself afterwards? What else do you call that, but cowardly?”

“I wouldn’t have hit you in the face,” he assured her. “I’ve got better aim than that. And we both know if I had shown myself, you’d have just thrown my arm back at me.” She didn’t answer that, but her mouth twitched in what might have been the echo of a smile.

“And you’d have deserved it! Cheap… flowers!” He opened his mouth to argue that they had not been cheap, not when you didn’t have much pocket change to start with, but realized that had not been what she’d meant. The act was cheap. The execution was cheap.

“I thought you enjoyed getting flowers, or you used to. I didn’t realize—” Imelda didn’t give him a chance to finish, turning so fast that he nearly collided with her. She pointed a finger in his face, hissing ferociously enough to rival Pepita.

“Don’t you dare toy with me, Héctor Rivera! If this is some harebrained attempt to… to manipulate me, or play some nasty little trick—”

“Since when is a man buying his wife flowers considered manipulation?” They were on another main street now, crossing an arching bridge with the slums of Shantytown spread out far below. He could not keep his voice down, and he could see movement as the Forgotten looked up to check out the commotion. “Why would you even think that?”

“Because it’s true!” She veered onto a side street, and he was glad if only for the fact that there were less people to hear them arguing like the married couple they were. “You’re playing with my emotions!”

“I’m trying to make things right between us, Imelda!” She tightened her grip on the produce bag, boots clicking a rapid tempo. “I’ve come to your house every day for weeks! Weeks! And you refuse to even come downstairs, much less hear me out.” He reached for her arm, trying to slow her down. “I’m asking for you to give me a chance, that’s all!”

“I don’t have time for this!” She wrenched her arm free with a swift, angry movement. He watched her walk away, a strange feeling spreading through his body. It reminded him of when a cow had kicked him as a child, the pain both hot and cold as it ricocheted up from his stomach. The shock of it began to ripple into anger—anger at himself, at Ernesto, even… yes, even at her.

“Would you stop running away from me!?” His voice echoed between the buildings after her. “Who’s the coward now?!” That, it seemed, was enough to stop her in her tracks. When she turned to face him, her eyes were full of tears.

“I am no coward.” The restraint in her voice sounded more like grief than anger. “But I am afraid. Afraid of being hurt, and… afraid of hurting you.”

“Imelda—”

“It was so easy to do, the first time. It was even easier the second, and third, and… and all the rest.” She looked utterly lost, crossing her arms as she turned away. “I’m afraid that if I have the chance, I might do it again, even if… even if I don’t mean to.” She might have been older than him when she died, but in the moment he saw her as he’d known her, young and beautiful and wounded. Vulnerable.

“So you think I can’t handle it.” He shifted the guitar to his other shoulder. “What have I been doing this whole time, then? Twiddling my thumbs and whistling?”

“No, I— This is what I mean!” She threw up her hands in defeat. “Every time talk, I have to—”

“We’re not talking; that’s what I’ve been trying to say!” he interrupted. “I’m not asking you to be perfect, I’m just asking you to be . With… with me.” His shoulders slumped, mouth falling. Then, with a huff, he pushed back the brim of his hat to look her in the eyes. “Listen, if you still don’t want me, if you can’t stand the sight of me, even after everything… tell me now, and I promise you’ll never have to set eyes on me again.”

“Héctor—” she began, exasperated and exhausted.

“I swear it, Imelda. I want to be a part of our family’s lives, but I can make sure to visit only when you’re not around. I won’t ask about you or try anything funny, I promise. And when Coco comes, I promise to give her the same choice, and I’ll honor her answer the same way I’ll honor yours. But you have to tell me now, face to face. No excuses.” 

“It’s not that I don’t want it!” Her fingers fluttered to her mouth, as though wanting to hold back the words before they could burst forth. “I just don’t know if I can . I don’t remember how.”

“How? How to what?”

“How to… to do any of it,” she shook her head helplessly. “To forgive and forget, I suppose. To not feel this way about it.” She reached behind her head, slowly removing the flowers from her braid. Her expression was fond, almost wistful, as she stared down at the wilting petals.

“Imelda?”

“I will make your boots, Héctor. You can visit the family. I won’t stop you. When Coco comes, I’ll explain everything. I daresay she’ll be more agreeable than I ever was.” She closed the distance between them, reaching out and taking his hand from where it gripped the guitar strap. “But I don’t think we can do this. I don’t think we should do this.” She placed the flowers in his palm, gently closing his fingers over the stems. “We shouldn’t hurt each other anymore.”

“Okay… okay.” He stared down at the drooping flowers, finding himself nodding without really being aware of it. “Can we at least be friends?”

“We can be this.”

“And what is… this?”

“This is… what’s left.” She smiled sadly. “We’re too old for romance, Héctor. We’re not one of Victoria’s little books. This is what’s left for people like us.”

“I— All right. If this is what you think is best.”

“I do.” For a long moment, neither spoke. Then, giving herself a little shake, she again hoisted the produce bag. “I should be getting back.”

“Right! Right, um… are you sure you don’t want my help?” He motioned woodenly to the sack. “It looks heavy.”

“Thank you, but I’ll manage.” She tried to force a smile, the expression falling flat. “I expect to be finished with your boots in a few days. Perhaps then—”

“S-Sure! Sure thing, I’ll come next week.” There seemed to be nothing left to say, and yet they continued to linger on opposite sides of the alley. Then, with a sharp clearing of her throat, she was gone. He watched her as she hurried towards the mouth of the alley, busily as ever. Ever the productive housewife, even in death. The only thing left to do was to sit with the growing pit in his stomach, the guitar sliding from his shoulder as he slumped against the dingy bricks.

Well… what now?

Rafael (art by @pencokun circa... several years ago)

[celtfather]

Here's to Friends! #671

Here's to friendship on the Irish & Celtic Music Podcast #671 . Subscribe now!

Hanneke Cassel, Old Blind Dogs, Wylde Nept, Conor Mallon, Tarren, Ironwood, Jesse Ferguson, Runa, CaliCeltic, The Town Pants, The Fire, Bealtaine, The Elders, Vicki Swan & Jonny Dyer

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VOTE IN THE CELTIC TOP 20 FOR 2024

This is our way of finding the best songs and artists each year. You can vote for as many songs and tunes that inspire you in each episode. Your vote helps me create next year's Best Celtic music of 2024 episode. You have just three weeks to vote this year. Vote Now!

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THIS WEEK IN CELTIC MUSIC

0:06 - Hanneke Cassel "The Captain" from Dot the Dragon's Eyes

4:39 - WELCOME

8:43 - Old Blind Dogs "Suite Bretonne" from Knucklehead Circus

12:51 - Wylde Nept "Between Moonbeams" from All's Fair

15:35 - Conor Mallon "One Four Four" from Unearthed

20:03 - Tarren "Searching for Lambs" from Revel

22:39 - FEEDBACK

28:17 - Ironwood "Lovelace" from Gretna Green

33:20 - Jesse Ferguson "Skye Boat Song" from The Bard of Cornwall

37:09 - Runa "Liam's Lullaby" from When The Light Gets In

39:25 - CaliCeltic "Steam Beer" from Whiskey Mustache

42:34 - THANKS

44:35 - The Town Pants "Something to Say" from Something to Say

47:47 - The Fire "Rip the Calico" from Marigold

51:56 - Bealtaine “Tears in your Beer” from The Founders' Room Vol 2

56:17 - The Elders "Common Man" from Wanderin' Life & Times

59:51 - CLOSING

1:00:53 - Vicki Swan & Jonny Dyer "We Were Friends" from Paper of Pins

1:05:39 - CREDITS

The Irish & Celtic Music Podcast was produced by Marc Gunn, The Celtfather and our Patrons on Patreon. The show was edited by Mitchell Petersen with Graphics by Miranda Nelson Designs. Visit our website to follow the show. You’ll find links to all of the artists played in this episode.

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Margaret and Bill Sneddon emailed a photo from Connecticut: "Hi, Marc, Enjoying your podcast aboard our sailboat, Isle of Skye, docked today at Pilot's Point in Westbrook, CT"

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There's still an RSS feed easily linked on the website too, so any non - cloud based podcatcher should be able to subscribe too. I recently installed AntennaPod because I'm considering moving from Pocket Casts and I see this show among my imported subscriptions like any other."

Corey Fitch emailed: "Hi Marc, I’ve been listening to your podcast for the past year or so and its been keeping me great company on my drive to work! We had a big family celebration last year. It was our 250th anniversary on our small family farm in New Hampshire—my kids are the 10th generation living on the farm. For musical entertainment, we had the Jordan TW Trio (led by Jordan Tirrell - Wysocki) and they were absolutely fantastic—everyone was up dancing and they ended the night with an beautiful acapella Parting Glass. I haven’t heard them on the podcast yet so I figured I would put the plug in to get them in the rotation. Thank you for everything you do!"

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