#and coco has no response because sure i guess it might be

[musubiki]

What were the Lime and Mochi/Coco and Taffy “oh….. OH” moments for the both of them?

OH GOD!!!!!!!!!! mochi and limes are harder to pin down.....i will try to speculate how i see it right now:

mochi @ lime: happened when they were younger, middle school maybe? up until that point her and lime would occasionally talk and were forced to walk home together, but were nowhere NEAR best friends. at some point mochi started getting bullied since she was so weird and quiet, lime stood up for her and got into a physical fight with the other kid. anyway afterwards, after they both got sent home my the principal, mochi was like "maybe he isnt so bad?" and the crush developed and RAPIDLY grew since after this they actually became friends for real

lime @ mochi: THIS ONE IS HARDER TO PIN DOWN!!!! theres no single moment, its a BUNCH of "yeah shes cute but i dont like her." "yeah shes nice and cool but i dont like her." "yeah i mean if she wanted to kiss we could i guess but i dont like her." over years and years slowly descending into madness,,,,.....the thing that started tipping him over the edge is RIGHT before the witch thing started, theres a night where she was staying with his family (in the webtoon, its right where we left off), and fell asleep with him where thats the first time he stayed and cuddled with her for the night. it started as "yeah yeah comfort mochi while shes crying and sad" but they both fell asleep, and when lime wakes up in the middle of the night to mochi snuggling into him he CAVES!!!!!! his whole mindset, within the span of like 10 minutes, starts shifting to "maybe mochi as a girlfriend isnt a bad idea.............................". in the morning he tries to rationalize himself out of it with "no way, im just touch starved. no way, i just need a girlfriend and would feel like this for any girl. no way, if i was gonna like her at all i wouldve liked her by now" and from then on its a constant battle of "god DAMN i want her bad" and "FUCK no shes my best friend, the fuck?!"

taffy @ coco: this moment happens relatively fast. basically, theres a period of a day or two while she is currently kidnapped by taffy who is trying to lure mochi out, but he has no intentions of hurting her or anything else beyond holding her there until mochi arrives. at some point he hurts himself (humerously) like fucking cuts his arm by accident on something and its PROFUSELY bleeding and he sees nothing wrong with that, probably says something like "Its just blood." coco, who is absolutely about to vomit, rips a sleeve off her jacket and wraps his arm with it and taffy is instantaneously confused, shocked, and emotionally attached. this man does not experience kindness regularly. any time after this when he runs into her at random times he is NERVOUS. (he hold onto that ripped sleeve for like. forever. after he joins the guild coco is like "why do you still have that?!! did you at least get the blood out?????" and hes just silently protectively sentimental about it)

coco @ taffy: for coco, there is ALSO not a single moment, its a slow and growing process of learning who he is and what he is and how she can help him. its probably one of those things where you spend so much time with someone you care about so much emotionally, and then one day (during the timeskip when theyre living together, he just comes back from his day job and walks in the door and coco realizes shes in love with him (this is long after she already knows he loves her like crazy)

[the-s1lly-corner]

Ookay this one is really really tooth rotting fluff level

Tadc x reader who just realized christmas is coming, and is freaking out with absolute glee and childlike wonder

TADC cast x reader who loves christmas!

AAAAAA im so so sorry i could have sworn i answered this but i guess i didnt??? i promise i didnt mean to leave this in the inbox this long on purpose i think i must have lost track of stuff </3 regardless, i hope you enjoy! admin must admit, asides from presents and the christmas tree, he doesnt do many holiday activities so... admin is underqualified for this but hes still gonna try! a lot of the character segments intertwine in this btw! like not in a "similar idea" thing but in a "they are actually overlapping and interacting with one another" way so !! side note unrelated to the post eheheheh the second batch of macarons have been piped! theyre now on the counter set out to dry, and ive got my ganaches out to get to room temperature so i can whip em up into a frosting :3

CAINE:

oh i just know that caine would lean hard into holiday stuff, plus i think he has the best sense of time in the digital world out of everyone.. plus he just seems like the kind of guy to celebrate all sorts of holidays, not just christmas! year round stuff, you know? not just winter... so you guys would likely team up and totally deck out the grounds to match the holiday spirit! sure caine on his own already puts in way too much effort decorating everything, he even makes it snow! but with you around he cranks it up to 11! lets just hope there arent any scrooges around, though.... also prepare yourself because he would definitely find a way to have christmas music play on loop in the background... somewhere... ambient music but its festive songs... i think caine is also the one responsible for most of the presents, since he can basically get most things with just a flick of his wrist! ooooo perhaps a date (platonic or romantic! up to you!) where you guys wrap the gifts together!

POMNI:

funny enough, while i usually think pomni would SUCK at cooking, i think she can make a mean hot coco. granted, hot coco and/or hot chocolate arent the hardest things to make, but... i dont know, its just different when she makes it... (recommendation from the admin, add a bit of cinnamon or nutmeg to your hot coco its a game changer frfr, this goes for a lot of chocolate stuff, actually. its like the chocolate-coffee effect but like. makes a different flavor profile. add a bit of nutmeg to your chocolate chip goodies. rn.)

anyways! pomni always keeps you supplied with hot coco, and honestly it benefits you both! keeps you nice and warm, plus its delicious; and it gives pomni something to do... i mean, its christmas... surely she can take it easy from trying to find the exit... just for the season... helps with her anxiety about the whole situation, you know? making digital food sure is weird, though...

RAGATHA:

as mentioned in gangles part, she joins you and gangle in helping making a skirt for the tree! keeping up with the idea of sewing things, i think she would also make stockings for everyone; leaving most of them blank so everyone can customize them however they like... but you and her get together to decorate your own together and just !! i just think thats sweet! depending on how soon caine starts putting the christmas stuff around, you and her might be able to make some ugly sweaters for yourselves! thats a christmas thing, right? oooo and they match.... OOOO YOU GUYS MAKE AN EXTRA LONG SCARF FOR YOU GUYS TO SHARE!!!! rolls around... she makes you mittens so you can go mess around in the snow caine put all over the grounds

JAX:

snowball fight. and i mean really intense once. in fact it wouldnt be too much of a stress to call it a snowball WAR! honestly jax might just be the type to put rocks in his snowballs.... but because this is meant to be nice and sweet, he wont... just this once, and because he feels TOO mean crushing your holiday spirit (even if your digital body would quickly recover from the possible injury...)

you guys make forts and go absolutely ham. the stuff ragatha had made for the two of you! i mean sure you guys cant succumb to hypothermia, buuuuuuuuuut being really painfully cold still sucks... but the sweaters help you guys stay out for longer to play! and you can perhaps ask pomni to make some hot coco

oh yes its all coming together

ooo perhaps you convince jax to make snow angels and snowmen with you... though, i think jax would make the snowmen purposefully unappealing... but maybe you think hes actually trying his best... oh you jolly little thing..

KINGER:

okay so i admit this one might be a stretch and its mostly because his robe already has the fur and he gives off grandpa energy (even though hes only 48 but hey some grandpas become grandpas young) but imagine somehow someway he dresses up as santa (and i say that loosely, his robe turns red and the fur turns a plain white), bonus if he wears a hat to tie in the entire look. while caine is the one getting the gifts and wrapping them, i like to think kinger would ask to be the one to put them under the tree at an ungodly hour. sweet man. chews

as for an interaction with the reader... hmm.. hes the last character im writing, everyone else already has their parts done... the one christmas activity i can think of that hasnt been taken yet is baking! honestly i can see him being a decent chef! maybe its the dad/granddad energy speaking to me again... perhaps its the admin projecting... buuuut imagine you two make shaped cookies togehter; stars, candy canes, trees, bells, ect... and you ice them together! sure they may not be the prettiest or look the most professional; but does that really matter when youre having fun? they still taste delicious!

ZOOBLE:

ok i get it, i tend to lean hard into the zooble being negative and/or unimpressed with things a liiiiiiiiittle too often, but again zooble doesnt strike me as the type to enjoy most holidays. they seem more of a halloween person to me, you know? though, i think that they would switch out their antennae for ones that resemble antlers more... or if they dont have those, they string lights up on them! all for you, just because they know how excited the holiday makes you. they dont care about many things, but they care about you... and if it means doing (harmless) things they normally wouldnt do, then so be it! dont expect them to get in on many holiday activities, though...

GANGLE:

you and her make decorations for the grounds and the giant digital tree caine put in the main common area! handmade ornaments, paper stars and snowflakes, things like that! you and gangle stay up take cutting each thing, applying the colors and the glitter and any small details.... dozens of times.... because caine chose a tree that was way too big than it needed to be.... oh you might have to have gangle on your shoulders so she can reach the higher points of the tree! sits and thinks.... ooouuuuuuuuugh you guys make a skirt for the tree together with the help of ragatha... little group activity... sobs...

[the-everqueen]

001: Sandman - A random thought

002: Rose/Corinthian

003: Rose Walker

sandman - a random thought if the corinthian has multiple apartments, does he hire cleaners? or is there like, dreaming magic that keeps the places dust-free? or does the corinthian have a secret assigned cleaning day? (imagine him in an apron and rubber gloves scrubbing the kitchen.)

send me a ship - rose/corinthian when i started shipping it: i think it was after reading heavy lies the crown? that fic is just...mm. delicious.

my thoughts: coco/rose plays with so many themes i find fun. what does it mean to be a person. what do you do after a narrative has ended but you still have to live. what is the difference between devotion and love. can you ever truly love god or is that relationship fundamentally fucked. what if god was also just the girl whose brother you saved and she thought you were some kind of potential guard dog. what if god held your leash and you liked it. what if you bit the hand that feeds you and it still came back for pets.

what makes me happy about them: the thing is, i think rose fundamentally understands the corinthian as a person, in a way that dream never will, because dream knows what he really is was made to be. meanwhile the corinthian understands rose as both human and Endless (because that's his whole function). they get each other. also i'm a diehard believer in giving the corinthian to one of sandman's female characters, because frankly anyone is going to be better at handling him than dream once coco is outside the realm of "favorite" and it leads to Fun Shenanigans.

what makes me sad about them: the thing i'm grappling with in the la guard dog sequel is that, while they get each other, i'm not sure they can...fix each other. like, none of us can really "fix" each other, and both of them have deep-running trauma that goes beyond the other's capacity to heal. there's a part of me that could see a bad ending au where essentially the corinthian makes rose Worse, whatever that might look like. also, at least in canon, that they don't talk again before dream unmakes the corinthian. what does rose think about him, really, in the end? it feels very much like he's Trying with her, even if that's tangled up in his attempts to overthrow dream and save his own life, and even if inherently it's performative on some level.

things done in fanfic that annoy me: a lot of the wider fandom treats rose like a kid. which feels unfair, given that she's a) in her twenties, so a legal adult, and b) shouldering adult responsibilities plenty of her peers don't have to worry about. [insert rant about how Black girls aren't allowed to have childhoods but are also not seen as capable once they're adults.] most coco/rose people are already thinking about rose as a consenting adult and someone with very real trauma, but i guess the other thing would be it's easy to forget the corinthian is an inherently hungry thing.

things i look for in fanfic: ...fics of them at all? authors grappling with categorization of "thingness"? the absence of hob as some kind of uncle figure to the walkers.

my kinks: debates about personhood. pain play. unequal power dynamics. (this is a whole bhol characters thing, i think i just want someone to tie up that white dude.)

who i'd be comfortable with them ending up with, if not each other: again, too poly for this question to ever apply to me. i'd like to see more Rose ships in general.

my happily ever after for them: well, that's just the la guard dog au.

give me a character - rose walker how i feel about this character: big. i care about her. i want to hold her in my arms. i want to bite anyone who looks at her as just a prop for morpheus. tv!rose is SO fucking interesting, the show fleshed out so much of her character in relation to her positioning as a young Black woman, and that is DELIGHTFUL, and i want more people to engage with her.

all the people i ship romantically with this character: obvs i'm writing coco/rose. there's a whole other unwritten thing that is cori/matt/rose as a poly triad. rose/calliope has Potential. rose/barbie, of course, is adorable.

my non-romantic otp for this character: i think rose and lucienne could be such good friends. another storyteller for the librarian??

my unpopular opinion about this character: rose is a lot less naive than people think she is. she's young, yes, but she's experienced, she's intelligent, and she knows her values.

one thing i wish would happen/had happened in canon: i hope we see more of rose in subsequent seasons! she features as a recurring character in the comix. i do wish comix rose had been more nuanced as a character - she's so much the coming-of-age archetype that she's basically not really a person anymore.

my otp/ot3: apparently i am a coco/rose truther. (let the everywoman fuck the eyeball eating nightmare!) but mostly i'd like more people to engage with rose as a subject in general, rather than relegating her to the sidelines or ignoring her altogether.

[khajiit-reads]

🪶🍄🌝🪐🕸️

Hello! I was wondering if I could get a free reading? I read your guidelines

Me: Coco, she/her

Question: Would it be best if I directly asked my roommate when she’ll respond to a question I had, or would it be better to wait for her to talk to me? Any advice would be greatly appreciated.

Context: My roommate and I have communication issues (obvi). I’m a direct person who prefers to address things immediately. My roommate is super non-confrontational and almost never addresses anything, and stews in her irritation. We have a 5 year age gap (I’m late 20’s she’s early 20’s), and she’s had a very traumatic life and is still in regular contact with the people who’ve traumatized her. I’ve also had a traumatic life, so while I relate to her, I’ve handled things differently / I have different traumas / I’ve been an adult longer. I try to be patient with her but also… I can’t read her mind and try to guess what she’s thinking. It’s exhausting. She has to speak for herself one day. I feel like I tip toe around her sometimes bc my direct nature seems to give her anxiety sometimes, and I don’t want to do that to her. Anyway, we finally agreed on what chores to do and when I made the chore chart (she wasn’t home), I wrote what I remembered and added a few things I felt might balance things better and wasn’t sure if those additional things were what she meant anyway. I never texted her about it because I figured she’d read it and let me know what her thoughts were. She got mad at me for what I wrote on the chart and said she’d only do what was agreed upon (this is via text convo). I texted back an explanation and an apology, and got no response. I waited a day and asked if she got my text (I knew she did). She texted back that she read it but was confused (and wrote in a way that she normally doesn’t, so maybe she was high? idk). This frustrated me a lot because I took a lot of time to make my explanation clear. I texted back asking what she was confused about - she said she’d get back to me the next day as she was busy. It’s been almost 3 weeks without her explanation…

Also she has trouble thinking and processing information sometimes, which is also why I never know when I can talk to her.

I’m angry, frustrated, and trying to be compassionate too 🫤 I want to address things because I’m so stressed out. Idk how to go about this.

Thank you in advance ����

Well met, internet traveler!

Now, stepping outside of the binds of a tarot reading, I do want to offer non-read advice: Communication really will be the only way out of this, so even if the cards say to wait, you shouldn't wait forever.

For the sake of this, I'm adding on a secondary question of how should you tackle this conversation to help.

I'm using Crystal Ball Pocket Oracle by Athene Noctua (Lazuli, ae), and my gold foil tarot (Winfred, they/she/xe). There is no spirit guide present for this reading.

As for your actual question, I reworded it just a smidge to work within the confines of Lazuli: Should you be the one to bring it up? | Go, The Time Is Right.

This card directly says that it's time to get a move on. You've waited three weeks for your roommate, which is a pretty long time for something like this. You need to bring it up yourself, so that things can be tackled and resolved.

How should you tackle this conversation? | Upright King of Pentacles & Reversed XII the Hanged Man & Reversed VI of Pentacles

I'm looking directly at XII the Hanged Man first, which asks you to take it slow. Don't rush at your roommate, don't pressure her to immediately answer you. Bring it up, remind her that she still needs to answer you, but let her take an hour or two to collect her thoughts before she has to actually answer you. It's highly possible she genuinely forgot instead of is actively avoidant. I know I could forget in this situation myself.

As for King of Pentacles, you're being asked to be a safe space for her. Assure her that you're not trying to fight or make her upset, but that you're trying to resolve this situation. Apologize if she says you did make her upset. Generally remain calm, don't yell or shout, don't corner her, just be calm and gentle as much as you can be.

And VI of Pentacles, it asks you to consider the power dynamic between you two. You do stand above her in age, you do have more years on her. Even if you're not actively using this power dynamic, it still exists, and that might be at play here in how she feels about you and this.

It also asks you to take care of yourself. Such kinds of situations can be very stressful and upsetting, so be kind to yourself too. This is also important for being able to handle it well - The calmer about it you are inside, the calmer and kinder you can be to her.

Thank you so much for your patience with me performing this reading.

Reviews are helpful, but optional. You can send them in replies, my ask box, or reblogging this post. Feel free to reblog this post with your thoughts in general, or without a review! You can also reblog my guidelines post if you like. If you feel particularly satisfied with my work, you may leave a tip in my Ko-fi.

Please do not reblog this post if you are not the querent. If you want something to reblog, please reblog my guidelines post. If there’s something within the post you want, you may ask, and depending on the request, I might fulfill it! Thank you!

I hope you, and all readers, have a wonderful day!

[elizabeethan]

Mandela Effect

On their way to Storybrooke, Emma becomes confused at the spelling of Killian's infamous bologna.

Takes place during Walk With Me, chapter 2, in which Killian, Emma, Henry, and Corrine are on their road trip from New York to Storybrooke.

Rated G

~1400 words

Read on Ao3

Read the Series on Tumblr

This was born after some discourse on tumblr about the bologna that Killian was force fed in jail, and I still maintain that the spelling of Oscar Mayer has changed. Based on a post by @thesschesthair and the response by @shipswreckedme, and on a brief chat in the discord with @gingerpolyglot.

~~~~

The car is silent as Swan bobs and weaves between cars, grumbling about their speed and moving her foot in a way that makes her own yellow death-trap travel even faster. She calls it traffic, complaining about it endlessly and groaning as they approach other slowing cars in front of them. 

 After what feels like hours, after Corrine and Henry have fallen asleep, she finally shuts off the music player with a huff. She mentions something about leaving at a bad time, about how they should have left earlier to avoid such heavy traffic, but he knows not much different. This isn’t the first time he’s been transported from New York to Storybrooke, but it is the first time he’s gone willingly. And while the seatbelt serves to tie him down to the chair, he knows it’s more of a safety measure than a means to keep him still. 

 Truthfully, he doesn’t care how they get there. All he wants now is to get her back to Maine so that she can break the curse. Maybe once she does, he’ll have a chance to get to know his daughter. 

 “How was your burger?” she asks him quietly, careful not to cause the children to stir. 

 “It was delicious,” he responds. It was; he’s beginning to like these modern foods. With the exception of… “Much better than the bloody bologna.” 

 She laughs, snorts, and the sound makes him smile like the fool that he is. He’s a fool for her, and he has been for the last two years that he’s been gone. 

“Was it in sandwich form?” she asks, clarifying further, “like, on Wonder Bread that tasted like cardboard?”

 “Aye, that’s right,” he agrees, shuddering at the memory. The texture of the bread, of the meat that can’t legally be considered meat… it was horrifying. 

 “I’m actually really sorry,” she laughs. “I had to take that for lunch as a kid in a lot of foster homes. All I wanted was a peanut butter and jelly.”

 He has no idea what she means by that, but he refuses to ask for clarification when she’s opening up about her past. “No one felt the desire to give you what you wanted?” 

 “No.” She brushes him off easily, effectively refusing to get into it with him. “Ugh, and there was that jingle! The kid who sang about Oscar Mayer, remember?” He wants to deadpan at her but she’s focused on the road. “Oh, no, you don’t. But there was a jingle.”

 “I believe you,” he smiles. 

 “Grab my phone,” she commands unexpectedly, gesturing for it. “Open it up and find the app with the TV as the picture. It’s brown. Yeah, that one.”

 He taps on the picture with his finger, confused but not altogether surprised when the magic box morphs and a new image displays on the front of it. She instructs him to find a magnifying glass and type in some letters-- O-S-C-A-R-M-E-Y-E-R, she spells. 

 The song that plays is short, irritating, and Killian rejoices when it ends, until Emma reaches her hand across the center console and slaps it against his arm. “Wait, go back,” she insists, and he wants to groan at the thought of hearing the cloying voice again. “How did the kid spell it?” 

 “Ah, you’ve misspelled the name, Swan,” he tells her with a smile. “It’s M-A-Y-E-R, at least according to this bloody annoying child.”

 “No, that’s wrong,” she shakes her head. “It’s M-E . Why would it be A ?”

 He stays quiet, raising a brow at her in confusion and an uncertainty of how to answer her question. 

 “Mama,” he hears from the back of the car, and a grin grows across his face quickly. 

 “No, it’s not M-A ,” she laughs. “Right, Coco?” 

 “Mama,” she says again. “Up.”

 Emma sighs, checking the time on her dashboard and turning on her turn signal. He’s gathered that it means she intends to move the car into another lane, and she glides across the road until she’s all the way to the right. “I guess we could use a break,” she concedes. “Someone probably needs their butt changed.”

 “Butt,” Corrine agrees. 

 Emma changes the lass in the back of her car with quick expertise, barely taking more than a minute to complete the task and somehow able to do so despite her squirming. Once she’s finished, Corrine stands on her own, shoving Emma’s helpful hands out of her way and waddling uneasily towards the edge of the car. Emma and Killian both dive for her, intent on preventing her from tumbling out of the car, and collide awkwardly as they catch her. 

 Killian’s hand wraps around Corrine’s ribs under her arm, Emma’s own arm wrapping around the babe until her hand lands on top of his. They’re close in proximity, each of them holding up their child, and it’s one of the first times that he’s realizing… Corrine is their child . She’s beautiful and funny and smart and perfect and they made her. 

 He wants to do so much, and yet he doesn’t move. He isn’t sure what he could possibly do, but he knows he wants to lean towards the mother of his child and trap her in a kiss. He isn’t able to, though, because Corrine turns her head to stare at him before screaming, “Up!”

 He catches Emma shaking her head, clearing her throat softly, before she backs away with an awkward smile, letting Corrine jump into his arms and carefully standing by in what he assumes is caution. He only has one hand, after all, and he can’t blame her for being nervous. She tells him that she’s going to check on Henry, gives Corrine a soft kiss on the back of her head, and starts towards the large building behind them. 

 “We’ll have to teach you down ,” he says with a smile as she drops her curly head against his chest. 

 “Up,” she responds simply. “Wock.”

 He thinks for a moment, recalling the last time they stopped and her souvenirs, and responds, “you want another rock? There’s no field at this… well, I’m not sure what one would call a place like this. The last one had a field, but this one has merely a building.”

 “Wock.”

 “Hmm,” he hums. “I wonder if we might find one. Shall we take a look around?”

 “Wock!” she shouts. 

 After perusing the firm, expansive surface and finding a few rocks that piqued her interest, they return to the car and see Emma and Henry staring at her phone intensely. He hears them from a distance, Emma’s voice carrying easily, and he smiles.��

  “I swear, it was spelled with an E .”

 “ It’s called a Mandela Effect, mom, ” Henry tells her. “ See? A bunch of people thought that.”

 When Killian approaches, Corrine happily gripping her rocks in her chubby fists, Emma gives him a look that’s somewhere between satisfaction and irritation. “I was right,” she tells him. “Henry says it’s the Mandela Effect. I’m not the only one who thought it was spelled with an E .” 

 With a chuckle, he asks, “Are you still talking about the bloody bologna, Swan? 

 “I’m not willing to let this go,” she tells him seriously, although the smile she gives him makes his heart flutter. 

 “Very well,” he concedes. 

 “Wock,” Corrine says, displaying her closed fists to her mother. 

 “You got more rocks?” she asks excitedly as she shifts her attention from Henry’s screen to the rocks Corrine shows her. “Did you and--” she stops short, clearing her throat. “Killian helped you get those rocks, huh?”

 “Yah!” she shouts, flapping her arms until Killian nearly has to put her down. Staring back at him, she explains, “Coco wock.”

 “Yes, that’s Corrine’s rock. It’s very pretty.”

 “Yah,” she agrees. 

 “Ready?” Emma asks after a few more minutes of Corrine kicking her rocks along the pavement. “Shouldn’t be too much longer.”

 “Aye, love,” he agrees, noting the way Henry’s head snaps up from his phone to glare at him. 

 He knows what’s coming. He knows they don’t have much more road to travel before they arrive in Storybrooke with her parents. He wonders if Neal is there, or if any of them will remember. A curse struck the Enchanted Forest; does that mean her family’s memories have been wiped too? 

 It doesn’t matter. 

 Emma will fix it. 

~~~~

~~~~

@courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay @xsajx @itsfridaysomewhere @alexa-fangirl-forever @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @qualitycoffeethings @rapunzelsghosts @spaceconveyor @badcats-andmice @batana54 @sailtoafarawayland @deckerstarblanche @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @hookedmom

[mycupoffanfiction]

Stay

Neron ‘Creeper’ Vargas x Reader

Summary: Creeper comes back from a run to find his best friend and longtime crush in his bed, which leads to long overdue admissions between them both.

Warnings: Reader being a shy bean, fluff, mention of anxiety.

Word count: Approx 900

Masterlist

A/N: Hi loves! I’d love to write a second part to this with some soft smut with this sweet boy. I mostly just wrote this because I desperately wanted more fics with a shy mess of a reader and also @angelreyesgirl​ having Creeper call his girl ‘baby girl’ has destroyed me 😅 anyway, enjoy! 💖 (Gif is my own)

Creeper watched you from the doorway as he shut the door behind him as quietly as he could. A smile formed on his lips as he looked you over, enjoying the way you looked in his bed, wrapped in his blankets with one of his shirts pulled against your chest. He’d never caught you in his room before, but Letty had let slip to him and Coco that she often sees you sneak into his room while he’s away on runs and since that day he purposefully left blankets and shirts laying around for you.

It warmed his heart to know that you craved him so much that you decided to visit his room, but it worried him that your need for comfort might be caused by something outside of the club.

Sighing, he quietly made his way over to you, making sure not to trip over your shoes before he leaned over to pull the blanket over you and tuck you in. Taking a second to admire you, Neron couldn’t deny that seeing you in his bed made him feel a certain way. It was hard not to feel like it made you look like you were his.

There had always been unspoken feelings between you, even to the extent that the others had noticed too, the way he’d shake off and refuse to spend time with any of the girls that hung around the clubhouse and when they visited Vicki and her girls. Not to mention that as soon as you two were in the same room as each other, you were usually in his lap or sat right next to him with your hand in his.

He liked having you close, Neron liked it when he could hold you, feel you against him and he knew you liked it too. The boys teased him incessantly over how slow you two were at admitting anything, but he didn’t care, he was just happy that you were there with him, even if you were just calling yourselves friends with a couple of little forehead kisses and hand holding here and there.

Creeper always took good care of you, always making sure you had everything you needed and when things got too much or you felt anxious, he was always right by your side. “I’m right here, baby.” Neron said, kissing your temple. “I know.” You whispered quietly, glancing down at your hands as you gently brushed yours against his, the Mayan taking the first move and taking your hand in his, his fingers linking with yours and you suddenly began to feel a bit more grounded. “You make me feel safe.” You admitted, blurting it out before shyly looking away in embarrassment, but Neron’s heart warmed at the admission, gently raising your chin with his fingers so he could meet your gaze. “I’ll always keep you safe, baby.” He promised, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“Neron?” Your soft, sleepy voice pulled him from his thoughts and the Mayan hummed in response, quickly noticing the look of embarrassment on your features as you realised he’d caught you in his room. “I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He spoke softly, his hand resting gently on your arm, his tone and his sweet gesture made you forget for a moment that you probably weren’t supposed to be in his room.

“I just got back, you been in here the whole time?” He asked quietly, watching as the reminder seemed to bring the look of embarrassment back to your features and he chuckled softly, reaching up to stroke your hair away from your face. “It’s alrigh’ baby, I don’t mind.” Neron reassured you with a sweet smile on his lips. “I just came by last night, I didn’t mean to stay though, I guess I just fell asleep, I’m sorry-.” “It’s all good baby girl, don’t worry, you’re welcome here whenever you want.” He interrupted you, before you could spiral into a nervous ramble. “Besides, you’re the only girl I wanna see in my bed.” He teased, winking at you and grinning when he heard you giggle.

Kicking off his shoes, Creeper climbed into bed next to you with a satisfied sigh, finally relaxing after a few days on and off his bike. “You in here ‘cause you missed me, huh?” He asked, the question was serious, but his tone was almost teasing as he slid his arm under you and pulled you close. “Mhm, s’not the same when you’re away.” You told him, nodding as you draped your arm over his middle, curling into his side. “Mm, I missed you too.”

“You don’t have to sneak in here, you know that right? Seein’ you right here when I came back was the best feeling.” He admitted, voice low and deep as he leaned over to kiss your forehead. Holding your gaze for a moment, he turned and propped himself up over you, his cross necklace clinking softly as it hung from his neck and rested against your chest. Reaching up, your touch gently tracing over his tattoos, your eyes meeting his. “Stay here with me, baby, please.” He whispered, leaning down, his lips brushing gently against yours. “I want you to be mine.” Creeper’s tone gentle, words sweet against your lips and you felt your heart flutter. “I’m yours, Neron.” You barely got the words out before he captured you in a slow, sweet kiss, his hand tracing down your side, gently squeezing your thigh as he kissed you, lips warm and soft against yours.

You’d both known you were his for a long time, but it felt good to hear you say it, for you to tell him you were his.

“My baby girl.” He hummed against your lips, deepening the kiss.

Mayans Taglist (OPEN):

@everyhowlmarksthedead​ @woahitslucyylu​ @trulysuccubus​ @iambabyharry​ @starrynite7114​​ @ifoundmyhappythought​​ @peaches007​​ @angelreyesgirl​​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​​ @plentyoffandoms @lovebennycolon​​

Permanent Taglist (OPEN):

@scuzmunkie​​ @megantje123​​ @sideeffectsofyou​​ @loving-life-my-way​​ @searching-for-neverland​​ @kitkatd7​​ @psychiccreationtaco​​ @damienwitcher​​ @thesewaywardskies​​ @abbiesthings​​ @marquelapage​​ @noz4a2​​

[glorious-blackout]

Writing tag game

I was tagged by @elorianna @alexxturner-me-on and @lanatural-books - thank you! 🥰💖

How many works do you have on Ao3?

I have 54 works on AO3 and 73 on FFNet (though there’s a lot of crossover between the two). I’ve been at it for ten years now so the list of fandoms is broad to say the least...

What's your total Ao3 word count?

479558... I have a feeling my current WIP might push that over 500,000 🤯

What're your top 5 fics by kudos?

Watch Our Souls Fade Away  (Infinity War/Guardians of the Galaxy)

Silence is Golden (Guardians of the Galaxy)

What Might Have Been (Coco)

A Father’s Pride (Guardians of the Galaxy)

Way Down We Go (Guardians of the Galaxy)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to! I always aim to say a quick thank you at the very least, because it always takes me aback when someone says something nice about my work. If I’m particularly busy or if there’s an overwhelming number of comments, I’ll at the very least leave a massive thank-you in the notes to everyone who commented 💜

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

God, I was such an angst junkie in my teens that I could give you at least ten examples. I’ve abused the Major Character Death/Tragedy tags often enough in my time... Of the ones I can actually remember, We Are The Universe is possibly the bleakest overall.

You’ve Always Been Here should be an honourable mention, considering the implications of that ending were so grim, I had to write a 38,000 word fix-it to make myself feel better 😅

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Most of my The Martian fics had nice, light-hearted endings. I also had a series called ‘Brothers in Arms’ based on the friendship between Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes which ended with them as bickering old men, which is still an image I’m very fond of.  

Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you've written?

I’ve only written one (technically two but they’re part of the same series) which is You’ve Always Been Here. I guess it counts as crazy considering it was wildly self-indulgent and is more a crossover between two albums as opposed to the two bands (Muse and Arctic Monkeys) involved!

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not hate necessarily, but occasional comments that have rubbed me up the wrong way or left me feeling a bit deflated. One example I can think of is someone who read seven chapters of my story and the only comment they could offer was ‘I don’t like that (insert random event) happened, I would have preferred it another way’. Or you occasionally get people who only comment to nitpick on one typo in a 1000+ word story and offer no other feedback whatsoever.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope! I can handle reading it regardless of the genders involved, but I am far too much of a blushing lesbian to ever write it for most of my favourite ships 😂 

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge - I've had a couple reposted to other sites but they usually credit me.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I’ve had a couple translated into Cantonese, and I stumbled upon a Thai translation of one of my stories once (they didn’t ask for permission but I was credited, so I just found it really cool).

What's your all time favourite ship?

Not sure I have an all-time favourite, but Milex currently own my heart. 

What's a WIP you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Thankfully the only unfinished WIP on my plate is one I definitely intend to finish! Still at the first draft/basic editing stage though so we’ll see 😉

What are your writing strengths?

I’m terrible at judging my own writing, but I think I’m pretty good at introspective character writing and I have a weird knack for emotional/intense scenes. 

What are your writing weaknesses?

Too many to count. I’m absolutely terrible when it comes to wordy, run-on sentences. Especially with unedited first drafts - I could honestly put Charles Dickens to shame. I’m also pretty naff at dialogue, which is why I prefer writing moody introspective stuff. 

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I've incorporated occasional words in dialogue but never full lines, and only after ensuring I had the correct spelling/definitions. I probably wouldn’t be brave enough to do full lines of dialogue in another language.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

My first ever fic was a Muse one which has long since been deleted. Weirdly it took me nine years to write for them again, though they’ve been an inspiration more times than I can count. 

What's your favourite fic you've written?

I’m torn between ‘You’ve Always Been Here’ and ‘Watch Our Souls Fade Away’ and in both cases it’s more because of the enormous fun I had during the writing process than the quality of the fics themselves. I think the former is the better written of the two, but I’ll always be proud of the latter. The response it got was incredibly overwhelming at the time and I still can’t believe that a story centered around Nebula got so much love and attention. 

Also whenever I look back on it, I’m astounded that I managed to write a 60,000 word story within the space of about 3 weeks. I want that motivation back...

I think most of my writer friends have already been tagged (except @rock-n-roll-fantasy  but I don’t think you have an AO3!), but feel free to join in if you’d like a go 🥰

[having-a-hyperfixate]

The Final Day’‘

This is absolutely going to be long and rambley af so I’mma just put a cut here. This is just one massive post for the entire rest of the game.

Rindo is back in the RG somehow. Which makes less than no sense. What was that crazy beam. Shibuya is GONE there isn’t an RG to send him back to, even if someone did want to send him back?

That beam reminded me of the Jesus beams not gonna lie.

But… Fret. Presumably Nagi and Beat too. They’re. Gone. Poor Rindo… That’s the worst kind of gaslighting. Reality itself is gaslighting this poor kid. ‘Your best friend in the world is gone, so gone that no one remembers him. You don’t even get to mourn properly because there is no one TO mourn.’  I am also not okay.

I assume this random talking to us at Hachiko is the dude I saw a brief glimpse of in a screenshot from the final trailer. Hazuki Mikagi, okay. Everything about this is supremely weird. 

Leading this weirdo around and he asked how we feel about emotions? Um, what?

Was he responsible for that beam of light?

This whole thing is extremely unsettling, I don’t think I like it. The music is all… serene, this guy keeps asking existential questions, who even comes up to some kid clearly having a bad day and demands a tour of the city.

He knows Rindo’s name even though we never told him. Not sure if that was a slip or an intentional nudge that Something is going on but there we go.

‘I should take this chance to apologize for Kubo. He’s a real piece of work.’ WHAT. YOU SEND HIM TO SHINJUKU?!?! IS THIS KID GOD!? WHAT!??!

‘Exorcised’. Like a demon. Which is a psychic rank you can get in the first game, and probably this game, ergo, a thing that exists in this universe.

Okay. So this Hazuki guy is Something Else. I dunno if he’s an Angel or higher or WHAT. He’s something. And he “exorcised” what Fuckwad had Fallen to when he decided not to stop at Shinjuku and continue on to Shibuya. But he only did this after Rindo faught so hard to stop it. And then he gave Rindo what he thought Rindo wanted. And now he’s here trying to understand why Rindo is miserable. Which to us, as humans, is obvious: the people he loved, the connections and family he had made through the game are all gone and worse, no one remembers they ever existed.

And now he’s being offered the chance to try again. This feels like a double edged sword. And I don’t care.

Okay I actually kind of appreciate the thing Hazuki is pulling here. He knows what it is that Rindo wants, I’m pretty sure he’s listening to his thoughts, actually, and in order to make Rindo own up to it he’s arguing the ‘no’ position. Giving Rindo someone to argue against so he can convince himself.

WHY DOES EVERYTHING HAPPEN AT UDAGAWA.

Bruh some of these clips were in the announcement trailer.

(I can’t wait to read the secret reports. That’s gonna be a wild ride.)

Oooooh that’s what ‘exorcised’ means. That is hardcore. He definitely deserved it but that is uh. Slightly inconvenient.

Can we actually contact Rhyme this time PLEASE. Oooh Rindo worked out Kaie is waiting for Rhyme. :O I’M FINALLY GONNA GET MY MASSIVE COUNTER OFFENSIVE FUCK YES. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH I’M PUMPED LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOOO!!!!

Who’s gonna protect them. Beat. Really. Just give them the damn pins at this point. They both know their ways around a fight and Kaie might need the backup. If we lose, we’re all toast regardless, and if we win everyone gets put back where they belong.

AAAAAAAAAAAH SHE’S HERE!!! RHYME!!!! Aw… She can’t see Neku and Shoka cuz they’re actually dead. That’s really depressing. Makes sense but like. Oof. Especially for Neku.

I love that Rhyme still has a saying for everything.

This timeline is going to be a mess by the time I get everything positioned correctly lmao

Beat’s ‘How do you know about my sister?! Right, future.’ is never going to NOT be funny. It’s very refreshing to have a time travel plot where people just listen when he tells them shit needs to happen.

Is it acutaly Shiki time ohh my god. I might cry. Please tell me she has a face now. If her face is still illegal I will actually scream.

I’m offended. We didn’t get to go see Shiki. The betrayal. OH but now we might be? Stop playing with me, game. GIVE. ME. SHIKI.

Rindo was freaking out that we weren’t gonna be able to get rid of all the Noise around the café and I definitely threw my hands up and yelled when I saw the word ‘zeptogram’. And I read it before he said it, cuz I read v. fast. Nice to see you again, idiot. Please don’t go berserk again.

I am. Very impressed that Minamimoto managed to work out where the Dissonance Noise are coming from, down to the exact energy source that creates them. He nailed it. Well done sir.

I think… he’s proposing we awaken the city and use the energy generated by the thoughts and emotions of the living people to neutralize some of the Dissonance Noise that are waiting in the pin. Erode some of its power.

“How about this: I’ll talk, you type.” Lmao.

I got denied Shiki again. Part of me is annoyed. The other part of me is like ‘are they saving her entrance for when she can see Neku again properly because I can live with that’.

OH the Hishima cutscene is voiced now OKAY. Guess that means this is the one. Rhyme is voiced too. This is gonna be it.

And she speaks Minamioto. Coo.

Huh. Neku’s power is to sync with people. Which he learned to do in the first game. From Mr H, with the harmonizer pin. (Twister is playing and I have Emotions help) And now he’s gonna do it on an absolutely MASSIVE scale. This is insane. I am 1,000% here for it. Sync, Dive, Remind. And if I had to guess, we’re doing this atop 104.

Alright Shiba. ‘Mere. Tsugumi’s eyes aren’t all freaky anymore yay. Oh snap. He’s gonna unleash the Plague Noise against the Dissonance ones. Nice. Turnabout is fair play. I’m kinda sad Fuckwad isn’t here to witness that.

Alright. Change. Our. Fate.

SHIIIIIIIIIIKKKKKKKKKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I gave myself a headache ow.

“07734.” “Ew. Hey! Don’t just spout off numbers and walk away, you jerk!” That was amazing.

FUCK ME SIDEWAYS. OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. NO. NO WAY. I DIDN’T THINK THERE WAS ANY WAY. OH. MY. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH. This is the first time Neku’s seen him since Joshua failed to stop Coco from killing him. I’m. A puddle. Help. Neku looked so happy. My cat is slightly concerned haha.

Neku still holds his hands like he’s got the headphones. The same pose as in the first game when you scan. This gives me all the feels.

“They’re just mindless thoughts” Okay so I’m mentally exhausted at this point and I processed that as ‘thots’ and it was hilarious. BEGONE THOTS.

Okay this thing right here? This is a final boss. And it is cool as fuck. Too bad it’s trying to END ME. So cool. SO. COOL. Here comes phase 2 lol. I died and had to redo it. FML.

That. Was awesome. A worthy successor to the epic final strike of the first game. 999% eh?

I continue to not like Shinjuku rules. Once you’re a Reaper, leaving means you get erased once the game ends? Disrespectfully, fuck that. Oh don’t you dare, Shoka. Don’t. You. Dare.

Oh, Joshua is here. PLEASE. Lmao Shoka’s reaction. I’m sure he appreciates that, the drama queen.

*facepalms* Joshua strikes again. I’ve missed you, you little shit. You are terrible, but I missed you. Rindo, I’m pretty sure she’s fine. I think captain helpful over here reincarnated her for you. Since you saved him and his city. I guess I’ll see though.

Uzuki and Kariya continue to be adorable. I love them. And yeah, good luck calling in that debt from Minamimoto, Coco. Gooooood luck.

I’m having a lot of Joshua centered emotions right now there is too much Joshua all at once help. “I should have known I could trust you.” You are killing me dude. You really, really should have. I’m going to turn that line over in my head for way too long, I just know it, but let’s try to get through this before my brain turns off completely. “Let’s not keep her waiting.” OKAY THANKS I’M GONNA CRY AGAIN.

What Hazuki was saying about ‘purifying’ as opposed to ‘destroying’ Shinjuku makes me think that restarting it in some form was always part of the plan, so hopefully they’ll have luck with that. It’s still profoundly fucked up that any of that happened, and even more so that it was sanctioned. I’m. Going to be hung up on that for a while once it sinks in.

This poor idiot hitting on Rhyme is about to get got oh no XD

Shiki is breaking my heart. Aaaaaaaah!!! Reunioooooon.

Ooof it’s been a month since Rindo saw Shoka. Big oof. Joshuaaaaaa.

And then they almost got hit by a car lmao. OMG HE MISSED HER FRIEND REQUESTS AHAHAHAHAH YOU GOOBER. Neku really should have warned them that Joshua is Like That lol. Even when he’s being helpful it’s in the must backhanded way possible.

I would very much like to know why on earth Shinjuku needed to be obliterated though. Like. Does that… Happen often? Maybe the secret reports say.

Speaking of, time to get those, along with the rest of the trophies.

!!!! The title screen updated, NICE. Can’t let anyone who hasn’t beaten it see that but NICE.

There’s another Another Day. Oh boy. I am not ready for that madness yet.

Random thought as I was moving this from word, where I typed it: I’m really, really fucking glad they didn’t decide to deal with Mr H the way they dealt with sleezy mcfuckwad. That would have been… I don’t have a word.

[loudsuitlover]

Doctor Harry XIV. Salir.

A/N: I personally love this. I hope you enjoy it too! :) 

***Preview: 

It's funny to me that she thinks my infatuation with her is about her neckline. I mean, sure, it got me breathless when I saw her tonight because she doesn’t usually dress like this and man, she looks like some sort of sex goddess; but it’s just so much more than that. It’s the way she walks, the way she bites her bottom lip, the way she calls me off…

After she unbuttons my shirt, her warm hands caress my exposed chest and she takes my shirt down my arms until it joins my jacket. Her eyes roam my chest before she smiles and takes the air out of my lungs.

“Naked Harry is my favourite Harry, you know?”

Fuck... She’s so naughty tonight. I feel her nails sinking down the skin of my shoulders before she scratches my chest and watches the pink mark she’s leaving with lustful eyes.

“Next time, don’t take so long before you kiss me.”

She pouts and it seems to have a direct line with my cock, especially when her plump bottom lip sticks out. I want to bite it and suck it into my mouth and lick it until we’re both out of breath. This girl is going to drive me crazy. I don’t know what she wants from me.

INDIE’S POV

Antonio Vega floods my room as I stare mindlessly at the notes professor Gibbins sent me. Not only did he send me the notes from the seminar I missed on Monday, he’s also sent me the notes for the rest of the week. He always sends us the notes but since he does that before lectures, we still have to add the stuff we discuss in class but I can tell he rewrote these notes after the lectures because I can read question: and answer: and it just fills my heart to imagine him writing those down for me. He must be such an incredible friend because he’s kind to everybody, I can only imagine how great he must treat his friends.

And talking about friends… I haven’t yet seen Jason or Ollie. Marie came over for lunch yesterday again but this time it was on me. I am a lot better now, I’d say I’m okay now, I just haven’t been going to the lectures because my teachers are doctors and the lectures hall is right after the hospital. It’s dangerous to go near a hospital with the flu. Some people there just can’t dare to get it.

But I know nothing from Ollie or J either. Olivia just doesn’t participate on the group chat and when Jason does it’s never to say something about himself. I hope he’s talking to the girls at least or that he just doesn’t have much to tell. Considering his situation, that’s a good thing.

I miss them though. I miss the Golden Girls and I miss going out with them and having a drink and trying to find a guy for Marie. I don’t know how long for I’m going to stand not talking to Ollie. I don’t know how she does it. I really miss her.

Harry: What are you doing tonight?

I try to get back to my surgery notes and ignore Harry’s text. I don’t know what I’m doing tonight but I don’t know if I want to see him. Okay, I’m lying, I seem to always want to see him but I don’t know if that’s what’s best for me.

Wednesday was the strangest day of my life. I woke up before he did for once and I let him sleep in. After what had happened in the am, and him almost crying and me not knowing how to comfort him, I thought he needed that sleep yet those hours of alone time and silence did no good to my racing thoughts.

I felt terrible. I still remember that feeling on the pit of my stomach that went up all the way to my throat. I felt terrible for him and I felt terrible for Dylan, I felt terribly guilty for both of them.

I don’t know why I want to know what was Harry’s turning point so bad. I’ve never been a nosy person, but maybe even that he’s rubbing off on me; and the uncertainty is curiosity’s best friend so I set my imagination free.

He can’t have lost the love of his life too. That would be too much of a coincidence but somehow, and in a fucked-up way, that would settle me down. If he was doing the same thing I am doing, I wouldn’t feel so guilty. He would have his own Dylan and I would be his Harry and that would make things better but that’s just a selfish thought and anyway the likelihood that that’s what’s wrong with him is so small it’s not even worth considering it.

Then I consider drugs. He does take diazepam in order to sleep and even though that’s not necessarily doing drugs, I read somewhere that anaesthetists are the kind of doctors who more often did drugs because of the easy access. What if he started taking amphetamines so as to study, that would partially explain his brilliance, and then he just couldn’t get out of it? He’s under so much pressure too and pressure and stress and not wanting to disappoint anyone are the perfect storm for an addiction like that.

I really hope that’s not the case. I don’t think I can go through that again but I’d feel terrible leaving him alone to deal with that if I found out that’s the case. I mean Harry is not my responsibility, his life is none of my business and I don’t have nor need to help him. Plus I wouldn’t even know how, I’m not a therapist. But I’ve been through this once already and if I couldn’t help Dylan, why would I be able to help him?

I wonder if I could ever share that with him. I’ve never shared that with anyone. Not even with Jason or Coco but they know because they’ve lived it too. Not like me but they saw it. I hate that he triggers me so much. I’m fine when I don’t think about, I’m fine when I don’t think about it.

“Blue…”

I turn around from my chair and face my begging sister. I know that tone, she’s going to ask for something. I give her a knowing look and she bites her bottom lip.

“What are you doing tonight?”

I think about Harry’s text.

“Nothing.” I shrug. “Catching up on studying I guess.”

She walks slowly and somehow dramatically inside my room until she takes a seat on my bed. She’s wearing party clothes, a black mini skirt and a white silk blouse crossed at the front. I frown. I don’t know where this is going.

“It’s Elvis Buchanan’s birthday party tonight-”

“Oh no, no, no, no.” I don’t let her finish.

Those parties are just a combination of everything I hate. It’s just rich guys trying to prove to rich girls they’re as rich as their daddies and then someone showing you their fancy car and offering to take you home just so they can make out with you and then tell the rest of them. No, no, no, there’s no way I’m going to one of those.

When I was sixteen, that was all I did. Going to stupid parties with stupid people and buying stupid ridiculously expensive dresses and just try not to be left out because that’s what always happens, that’s all they know how to do, making you feel bad. But I’ve come a long way from there and I am not about to go back there.

“Please!” Coco pouts. “Chicco’s gonna be there.”

“Chicco’s a complete ass.”

“He’s not! Please, please, please.”

She’s giving me puppy eyes. I’m so sorry for her. Her friend Amanda left to Paris when they started uni and she was the only decent person in that circle so now Coco’s all alone with all those bitches. I wish she’d just ignore them like Rio and I do, but she’s just more fit for that high society than my brother and I ever were.

Harry: Do you have plans?

“Coco, those people-”

“I know, I know what you’re going to say but not all of us are as lucky as you and have friend as great as yours.” She sighs and looks away from me but I can still see her pout.

Oh, Coco, if you knew I’m not so sure I even have friends anymore.

“Chicco’s gonna be there and the rest of girls too… Daniela too… If I don’t go then they might get their way with him. I almost have him, Blue! He was here the other night! And had sushi with me! And he doesn’t like sushi!”

That makes me chuckle. Gosh, I don’t know what to do. I think leaving the house might do me good and I actually feel like going out but I want to go out with my real friends not with these rich kids. I bite my bottom lip.

Harry: Hey, rich girl

Harry: Don’t play hard to get

Harry: Tell me

Harry: Am I worth your precious time or not?

He has to be kidding me. I hate it when people call me that. It’s not my fault my family is wealthy but I’m not just that. I don’t want to be any of that.

Harry: You’re so boring, Indie…

“The girls said someone from your hospital was invited too. Guido Matteoti’s older brother…” Coco adds. “I think his name is Marco. They’re obviously Italian.”

“Mario.” I look up from my phone to her and her eyebrows raise on her forehead.

“Mario, yeah, that’s the one. Do you know him? He’s hot, they say.”

“He went out with Olivia a few times.” I tell her.

“He did?” Her eyes widen in bliss. “Maybe Ollie’s coming then! Did you text her?”

I shake my head. I haven’t texted her since last Saturday but I don’t think she’s going to be there. But maybe she is? She could have been invited anyway. Ollie moves in that high-class circle too… And she bought a Stella McCartney dress a couple days ago… And I want to see her.

“Alright, I’m going but-”

Coco doesn’t let me finish my conditions as she wraps her thin arms around me and squeezes me.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re leaving if they start talking about cars to you or if someone orders a Dom Perignon special edition.”

I chuckle.

“I’m going to have a look through your closet. Don’t really like this shirt, it makes my legs look like two loose pieces of thread.”

I throw my head back and laugh. My clothes are oversized for her but if she likes anything she can take it. I text Harry back before I start getting ready myself.

Indie: I already have plans.

Indie: Sorry.

He’s online but he’s not answering. He types, he deletes it, he types, he deletes it. Honestly I don’t know what he was expecting. He really does think I’m going to drop everything for him whenever he wants me to. I’m not a toy.

I decide on a bodycon dress I’ve already worn hundreds of times before. It’s elegant and for some reason I feel comfortable with it even if it’s far more revealing that the clothes I normally wear. The neckline is low cut for starters but I like it, it flatters my chest. It’s got a tight champagne-grey lining embellished with a geometrical pattern of silver sequins and pearls. I combine it with champagne heels and a champagne clutch bag and leave my wavy hair down.

“Wow” Coco gapes at me and I give her a smile.

“Do you like it?”

“You do know you look like a goddess right? Man, I wish I had your curves.”

“I wish I had your legs.”

“You mean these needles?” She pouts.

I stare at her. She looks so gorgeous and so elegant on that dress. In the end she chose a bodycon dress with a low v neckline with a pattern of horizontal stripes with fringes, and sequins and pearls. The colours remind me of those of a majestic peacock with back and turquoise and indigo blue. The dress flatters her to perfection and her long, straight dark hair falls on her back making her look like some sort of aboriginal princess.

“You look incredible, Coco.”

“Your boobs look huge too!” She compliments? I guess.

I laugh and push her away from my room and towards the door. We’re taking a cab to the party and the taxi driver is already waiting outside.

Elvis Buchanan’s house is ridiculously huge. The kind of huge that could only be explained if you live together with another fourteen people. I don’t understand why anyone would need a house this big. It’s just plain silly.

Coco and I walk along the path that leads from the opened metal fence of the entrance to the house and I notice the tasteful tiny white stones that decorate the green grass. They look like hail.

A guy from the Buchanan’s service opens the door for us and I do a quick scan of the crowd hoping to find Olivia. It doesn’t matter how many people there are in a room, you can always spot Olivia. That’s how gorgeous she is. But I don’t see her.

Coco lets me know where Chicco is and to my surprise I see him talking to some other guys, not surrounded by slender rich girls like I had imagined him, so I take Coco’s coat and tell her I’ll leave it wherever it is we’re supposed to leave it for her. The longer I can be away from the party the better. I decide on asking the guy who opened the door for us where I should leave the coats but I get a call from a Marie.

“Hi, lovey.” I greet her.

“Hi, Indie-pixie, how are you?”

“I’m good, thank you, and you?”

I want to ask her about Olivia. Whether she knows if she’s going to be here or not. I also want to ask her why in the world she’s not at all angry after what she did to Mario. Especially considering how judgy Marie can be; her words, not mine.

“I’m good too. You didn’t check the group that’s why I’m calling. Listen, Jason invited us all to have dinner at his house and then we can go out for a drink or maybe go to 505.”

Us all? I frown.

“I’m not stepping a foot in that house.”

“Come on, Indie, David is not even going to be there.”

“Oh, is he on a satanic spiritual retreat?”

“Indie…”

I sigh.

“I already have plans, Marie.”

“Oh.” I can hear the surprise on her voice. “Are you with Harry?”

“No, I’m with Coco. I went with her to this birthday party. You know, family friends’ stuff.”

“Oh.” That surprises her even more. “But you hate those things.” She chuckles.

“Yeah, but Coco doesn’t.” Plus, I thought Olivia would be here but I guess she’s having dinner at Jason’s now. “Anyway, I gotta go. I need to find out where to keep our coats.”

“Okay, have fun, honey.”

“You too. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

I keep my phone on my purse and ask the guy that opened the door for us. He says there’s a cloakroom service. My face must speak for me because he chuckles along before I shake my head and disappear down the hall.

There is a freaking cloakroom service! I can’t believe this. Luckily, there’s no one waiting so I’m going to participate in this pathetic situation as little as possible. The girl gives me a polite smile as I hand over our coats but she doesn’t even take them as another guy jumps in and hands in his.

“Keep this one, please.”

She goes attend him and completely ignores me.

“Hey! It’s my turn!”

“Miss” The girl from the cloakroom tries to stop me but when the guy faces me I just raise my eyebrows.

His dark brown eyes set on me and his frown relaxes into a smile. His hair is dark and up in a casual quiff and his skin is tanned. He’s got a beautiful smile but he was still rude.

“That’s okay, Elisabeth.” He tells the girls. “Keep her coat in and then you can keep this one.”

“Okay, sir.”

Sir? He’s like a boy!

“Just so you know, if I get in trouble for this, it’d be your fault.” He points a finger at me giving me another smile.

“What do I care?”

I tilt my neck and stare back at the girl and I see her eyes widening. My rude attitude is probably freaking her out. It’s not usual for girls from my status to talk like that, especially to someone they don’t even know, but who cares? This guy came in here thinking he owns the place and trying to jump the queue and now he thinks he can win me over with that white teeth smile. The girl hands me a red silk ribbon with a number on and I keep it on my purse. The brunette offers me his hand and I look at it and then at him.

“What’s your name, beautiful?”

“What’s yours?”

I see the girl opening her eyes even wider from the corner of my eyes. She reminds me of Marie, with her judgy faces and her polite words.

“Heard that, Elisabeth?” He’s still grinning at me. “You’d think your guests would know your name at your birthday party.”

Elvis Buchanan. I should have guessed. He did not walk in here as if he owned the place, he does own the place. Well, all the more reason to consider him rude, jumping the queue over your own guest.

“You came here with someone?” I nod at his question. “And your date didn’t even take care of your coat.” He purses his lips disapprovingly.

“I can take care of my own coat.”

He grins, he liked my answer. He amuses me so I give him a smile before I walk away. He reminds me of Harry.

“You didn’t tell me your name.” He calls me out.

“Indigo.” It’s his birthday after all and this is his house, I can’t be that rude. “Anderson.”

“You’re Coco’s sister?”

I nod and he nods slower, readjusting his black suit jacket before he walks past me.  

“I gotta go now but I hope we can talk some more later. Just walk straight up to me, yeah? I gotta feeling people won’t get off my back tonight, since it’s my birthday and all that shit.”

I smile and nod. It seems like I’m gonna like this guy after all. He’s at least interesting and that’s a lot more than I can say for the vast majority of them.

“Oh, miss, you’re lucky you’re pretty.” The girl from the cloakroom giggles. “I was honestly suffering for you. I thought he was going to kick you out.”

“Is he that bad?” I ask her.

“Aren’t they all?” She rolls her eyes.

I throw my head back and laugh and her eyes widen again when she realizes, after all, I am one of them.

“Sorry.”

I dismiss her and silently pray for her to keep her job. I bet it sucks though because I’m sure every guy tries to hit on her. She’s pretty too and rich guys have a tendency to think they can have anything they want, more so if the girl they’re hitting on is not high class. They’re trash but that we all know.

I make my way inside the insanely huge living room and have a look around to see if I can spot Coco. She’s laughing at Chicco’s terrible jokes. I can’t hear them but I bet they suck. I try to get away from the dance floor before one of those guy who are uninvitedly throwing dirty glances at me thinks it’s safe to approach me and instead I make my way towards the bar. I’ll get a drink before I have to dodge familiar faces in my search for Mario. I mean, Coco said he’ll be here and if I have to spend the night waiting for Chicco to actually kiss her, I might as well do it with someone I like. I didn’t know Mario moved in this circle either so finding out about it might be interesting.

My phone vibrates on my purse though so I get it out before I order. I frown when I see Jason’s name. I should pick up but I’m still hurt by what he said the other night to me and I don’t want to do this over the phone. If this is about me not going to his stupid dinner, he has to understand I won’t go to that house. I keep my phone on my purse. I’ll talk to him tomorrow. When the waitress looks at me, I open my mouth to order but she places a drink in front of me. I frown.

“Bulldog and Fever Tree Mediterranean, right?”

“Yes but how did you-”

She smiles and points at the other end of the bar and I can’t believe my eyes. Harry’s smile goes beyond his cheerful mesmerising green eyes and I could fall on my knees.

I grip my drink and don’t take my eyes off him- I couldn’t if I wanted to- as he makes his way towards me. Everything around him disappears to me for he drinks all of my attention. He’s without a doubt the most handsome, sexy and magnetic man in this room, and in every other. He looks so dreamy, like some sort of eye candy in a light pink shirt and a dark grey suit that makes him look like some sort of illusion.

I’m completely spellbound and it’s almost hard to stand on my feet. I feel my blood running fiercely through my veins and my heart beating wildly and I just saw him. This reaction is not normal and I know that, this has never happened to me, but I can’t control it.

From this distance, there’s nothing I don’t like about him. The way he looks, the way he walks, the way he smiles, the way he’s looking at me; even the way he lifts my chin with two fingers and closes my gaping mouth. How embarrassing.

“It’s a good thing I got you a drink, right? Bet your mouth is dry already.”

I roll my eyes. You see from this distance, I can hear him talk, so there are some things I don’t like about him. He chuckles though.

“So this was your plan” He guesses. I don’t answer but he keeps on with his monologue. “You must be at ease here, right? With all these posh rich kids…”

I don’t mean to but my face says what my words don’t because I feel my eyebrows cocking and he grins wider. He’s annoying me but for some reason he’s doing it on purpose.

“If that’s what you think then what are you doing here?”

“I was invited.” He shrugs.

“What an upgrade” I smile bitchily like these girls do “a nobody from Bellamond in a posh rich kids’ party…”

His jaw clenches. He only likes these games when he’s the one playing them. Well, I don’t like it when he calls me posh rich kid either so fuck him and his feelings. A tall brunette man swats Harry’s back before his brown eyes set on me. He roams my body up and down nastily and makes me uncomfortable.

“Styles, who’s this beauty here?” He grins at me.

“No one.”  

His words hurt me but I won’t show it. No one? Is that what I am to him? His friend laughs.

“I’m William Buchanan.”

Another Buchanan. Man, I’m gonna meet the whole family.

“She’s Barbie’s brunette’s friend and we were just leaving.” Harry answer for me and pushes me away but I pull away from his hold and give him a death glare.

“I’m Indigo.” I shake his hand.

“Wow” Willian Buchanan smiles “so your name is as pretty as your face.”

I want to roll my eyes so bad at him but I keep it together. Harry’s standing next to me and he’s nervous. I like it. I’ve never seen him act like this before and he was just a jerk so he deserves it.

“I’ve never seen you around here before, are you-”

“Hey” The little brother joins the party and Harry tenses up next to me. “Do you know my brother?” His brown eyes bore into mine and I think I can sense some warning.

I look at Harry but he’s looking away and then my eyes set back on the Buchanan brothers.

“No.” I frown.

“Better that way.”

“Elvis, what the hell?”

“Just go away, Will, please. Leave my guests alone.”

I stand flabbergasted at their interaction and Harry stands next to me tensed like a block of ice. Elvis waits for his brother to disappear before he gives me a gentle smile.

“I’m sorry about that, my brother is not a good guy.” He wrinkles his nose. “If I were you, I’d dodge him.”

“That’s not a nice thing to say about a sibling.”

He nods his head.

“Exactly, just imagine how terrible he must be for me to warn you. See you around?”

“See you around.”

Before he leaves, I stop him placing my hand on his bicep and he looks at my hand before he looks at me.

“Thank you.”

He gives me a smile before he finally walks away. When he does, I turn so I’m facing Harry and find him frowning.

“Do you know the Buchanans?” He asks me.

“No, do you?”

He shakes his head and surprises me as he places his hand gently on my waist.

“Would you like to go outside with me?”

I would love to but before I can answer, Mario, another two guys and two girls reach us. I greet Mario with a hug and he introduces me to his brother, Guido, and the two girls, Savannah and Anastasia. Harry’s let go from me and I don’t fail to notice the way Savannah looks at him and then at me. I almost smirk to myself.

It's clear she was hoping to sleep with him and I wonder if she would have gotten it if I wasn’t here. She’s breath-taking and I gotta the feeling that Harry’s rather easy, not just with me. I almost laugh when she tries to wrap a slim arm around Harry’s waist and he discreetly dodges her contact.

They invite me to sit with them. Apparently Harry was already with them before he went to the bar to get a drink and found me. I steal a look at Harry from the corner of my eye. I guess he was going to order water or some soft drink but I take it these people might not even know he doesn’t drink at all.

We sit down on some couches and this time Harry seems to wait for me to sit down and then he sits next to me. He rests his hands on the back of the couch behind me so even though he’s not touching me at all, it kind of looks as if we were together.

I learn Mario’s family owns hotels and he tells me how his brother and he have to endure these torturous fancy parties so their parents keep their contacts. I already liked Mario but after knowing he comes from the same circle I do and that he also doesn’t care about this, I like him even more.

Like last time I had a drink with him, we click and talk about anything and everything and it takes him almost an hour to ask me about Ollie.

“I just don’t know what to do.” He shrugs. “I thought we had fun and she told me she did and it sounded sincere to me but… Now she doesn’t pick up my calls and it takes her days to answer my texts…”

And you’re still trying? I suck my lips inside my mouth. I need to tell him. He’s such a good guy, he doesn’t deserve what Olivia’s doing to him.

“Listen, Olivia’s just… A free bird, you know?” But she’s my friend and friends’ have each other’s back. “She’s not the type of girl to settle down.” I shrug. “It’s not about you.”

“Oh.”

He gives me a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. I think he had gotten there on his own.

���I’m just so inclined to fall in love, you know?” He chuckles. “It’s always the same story.”

His words surprise me. I thought girls were the ones inclined to fall in love and the fact that he’s saying that only makes me want to protect him more. He must sense the surprise on my face because he laughs.

“What? You weren’t expecting that?”

Harry straightens his back next to me and I wait for his smart comment.

“Guys fall in love too, you know, Indie?” There it is.

I give him a look and my eyes meet his amused ones. He’s clearly messing with me but I’d much rather have this Harry than the one calling me a posh rich kid. I roll my eyes at him and look back at Mario. He’s smiling.

“I just thought that was more typical of girls.”

“That’s incredibly sexist.” Harry complains and I swat his arm and he laughs along with Mario.

“I mean I’ve only had a girlfriend but it was the same with her really. It was like way faster for me than it was for her, you know? But still she got there.”

No, don’t keep your hopes up with Olivia! She’s gonna break your heart, Mario, she’s gonna break your heart. I try to push my thought away giving him a smile. I feel the alcohol on my system already and I notice I’m a little woozy because Harry’s scent and warmth is pulling me under his spell even more than usual. All of a sudden I want him to wrap his arm around my shoulders so this Savannah girl would stop stealing glances at him.

Coco waves her hand at me and gives me a cheerful smile before he has a look at Chicco and when she realizes he’s preoccupied ordering the drinks she gives me a thumbs up. I chuckle at her antics. I can tell she’s tipsy already. From the corner of my eye, I see Guido unconsciously smiling as his eyes fix on her.

I wonder if they’ve met. I don’t understand why Coco is so obsessed with Chicco when she could easily have a guy like Guido, sweet and polite and funny. And then I realize, I’ve actually been having fun in this stupid fancy party.

Turning my body on the couch, I face Harry and he gives me a confused look. He’s been so quiet, only adding hater comment every once in a while and he hasn’t even tried to touch me. I make sure he can see my exposed legs and chest and my belly tightens when his eyes drop to my breasts. I don’t normally like it when a guy stares at my chest, hence why I don’t normally wear low cut necklines, but for some reason it drives me wild that he does it. I guess, even after all the times he’s told me he thinks I’m beautiful and after having sex with him multiple times, it still thrills me that he actually does find me attractive. And he looks so good tonight… I bite my bottom lip. I want to have him so bad.

“Are you not having fun?” I ask him and tilt my chest in order to give him a full view.

His eyes drop to my breasts again. I love this.

“In this stupid party?” He frowns. “It’s not really my thing.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“Well I got stood up this evening.”

His beautiful green eyes stare into mine firmly and his calm contrast my longing. I’m not sure he’s talking about me. My lips part as I bore my eyes into his, trying to read him. I hope he is talking about me because the thought that he might be talking about someone else, a real date he had tonight that stood him up, and that he only texted me after that left a sour feeling on the pit of my stomach that I don’t like. He seems to sense my discomfort and for the first time tonight he grants me his contact. His fingers caress my temple before he tacks a strand of hair behind my ear.

“I’m happy you’re here.” He promises. “Even though I would never bring you here.”

Bring me here. When did he become mushy? I think about our date, our single date. After that, he got what he wanted and he has never asked to take me out ever since.

“Where would you take me?”

“My bed.” He smirks.

Of course. Where else? Sex is everything he wants from me. I feel suddenly embarrassed so I look away from him. I spot Coco on the dance floor and my desperation to feel Harry’s touch gets the better of me.

“Would you like to dance?” With me?

He just shakes his head but his green eyes don’t leave mine. I can’t believe I just had him on my mouth a couple days ago and now he doesn’t even want to dance with me. I wonder if he just wants to be left alone with endless-legs-Savannah. I don’t want to blush so I look away from him and back to the dance floor. There seems to be several people between Coco and Chicco so it might be safe to check on my sister. That way I can leave Harry and Miss Universe alone too. Before I stand up, I turn my body away from his and I think I feel his fingers skim my low back but I’m already standing.

“I don’t dance, baby.”

I shrug, feigning I don’t care.

“That’s fine.”

I hand him my purse and silently leave him as the guardian and make my way towards the dance floor without saying another word. I don’t even have to draw Coco’s attention because she turns around as if on cue and as soon as she sees me we both start dancing like nobody is watching. Dua Lipa’s Don’t Start Now fills our ears as we both let her voice move our bodies.

I think it’s the first time I actually have fun at one of these parties and it has nothing to do with Harry for he’s been off all night. It would have been a lot more fun if Ollie had been there too. Also if Jason and Marie were here dancing with us. Jason’s so funny when he dances to this song… I wonder if they’re having as much fun as I am. I hope so, even though it still makes me a little jealous. I wish things were different, I wish everything was normal between us, like it used to be… It hurts to be apart from them more than I let out.

When my eyes look back up, they meet Elvis’ amused ones. He grins at me and takes my smile as an invitation to come closer. Coco’s eyes and mouth widen right behind him as he stands in front of me and I try to ignore her as best as I can but I am feeling all giddy. I’m drunker than I thought.

“Damn.” He’s got a beautiful smile.

I roll my eyes but smile back.

“You’re a good dancer, Indigo.” He compliments. “Don’t stop because of me.”

Fearlessly I start swaying my hips and my chest again at Dua Lipa’s rhythm and see the way his eyes roam my body. I would much rather have Harry looking at me like that but after his rejection, Elvis’ attention is boosting my confidence. After all, he’s the birthday boy and very handsome, I take it half the girls here would want him to give them the attention he’s giving me. He tilts his neck as he watches me.

“But dance with me, birthday boy.”

He laughs but obliges and I try not to laugh. I don’t know why but most guys’ dance moves are funny to me. I mean when they try to act all manly and stuff, it’s just funny. I guess that part of me is happy Harry declined my dancing request.

“You can laugh.” Elvis tells me grinning. “I know I’m a funny dancer but that’s just ‘cause my body doesn’t stop me.”

He then starts doing the most weird dance move I’ve ever seen, acting like some sort of snake, and I throw my head back and laugh but he doesn’t seem to mind because he keeps it up, showing me some more ridiculous dance moves. I start imitating him and he laughs too and like that we start some sort of ridiculous dance competition.

“I take it this is your birthday gift.” He tells me.

My eyes widen. Oh, God, we didn’t bring a birthday gift. He laughs and points a finger at me. It’s the second time he’s pointed a finger at me tonight.

“I’m kidding, woman.” He laughs. “You should have seen your face!”

I swat his chest but he grips my wrist and turns me around so my back is against his front. We’re not touching and I appreciate his respect. The only man I want to touch me is sitting on the couch. Wait, no, he’s not. I panic and stop, looking for him around the huge living room. Again, another uncalled-for reaction but I’m getting used to them.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Elvis’ hand rests on my shoulder.

“Elvis” I need to stop him now before he gets his hopes up, I can’t go around criticizing Olivia and then acting like her. “You are really nice and really handsome but” the good thing is he’s smiling “I didn’t come here for you. As a matter of fact, I didn’t even know it was your birthday.”

He frowns but is still grinning so I take it he’s just confused.

“You’re with that guy who was with you earlier.”

“I mean” My head starts shaking uncontrollably “we’re not like together-together but, uh, I just don’t know where he is and… I’d like to go find him.” I smile at him, hoping that would excuse me.

He’s still grinning. I don’t get this guy. No one has ever taken a rejection so nicely.

“Okay, well, just to be clear, since you’re not together-together” he mimics me “I think you are really pretty and funny and I was hitting on you, I’m not gonna play it down. I appreciate that you told me that and” he offers me his hand and I shake it amused “it’s been a pleasure not flirting with you.” He grins. “Now-”

“Hey, Indie, what are you doing?” Harry cuts him off as rudely as he can go.

I almost feel embarrassed on his behalf but Elvis’ grin only widens. He offers him his hand for Harry to shake and he does just that. I don’t think I’ve ever been more uncomfortable than right now.

“This is him, right?”

Harry looks at me and then back at Elvis and I just look straight ahead. If I don’t make eye contact with any of them, they might think I’m not here.

“Sorry, man.” Harry’s words surprise me.

When I look at him, he’s tilting his neck and raising his eyebrows and his lips are pursed as if he was actually sorry for Elvis. Elvis, on the other hand, just looks amused like a little boy who heard a good joke. I wonder how old he’s turning. He looks way younger than Harry and even myself.

“It was nice meeting you, Indigo.” Elvis bows his head with a charming smile and then he just turns around and leaves.

I face Harry, ready to scold him for his childish possessive behaviour but he just hands me my purse and gets me confused.

“Here” he says “don’t leave me on charge of these things, I’m not used to it, almost forget it on the couch.”

I get the purse and don’t look at him. It bothers me that he’s been ignoring me, that he didn’t even want to dance with me, and when he sees me having fun with another guy he just appears claiming me like I was his pet and it bothers me even more because I know he sleeps with other girls but he doesn’t want me to do the same? Who the hell does he think he is?

“Are you okay?”

Well, no. I feel like some… convenient girl. I don’t want him to read me so I keep my eyes fixed to his expensive shoes.

“Why did you do that?”

I dare to look him in the eyes and the emotion in them takes me by surprise. Once again, I can’t read him. Warm hands cups my face until our lips touch. It’s timid at first and in that moment I don’t care who’s around, who could see, whether this is inappropriate or not. I embrace his closeness and let my lips move against his. He places one hand on my low back and closes the gap between us until there’s not enough space for air. It’s just clothes and longing as his tongue slides over mine in a delicious, slow caress. If he wasn’t holding my waist, I’m afraid my knees would have failed me and I’d be on the floor now.

“Why did it take you so long to even touch me?” I complain against his lips.

I feel him smile against my lips.

“I tried touching you before and you dodged me.”

“You didn’t want to dance with me.” I whine pulling away so I can look into his eyes.

“I didn’t want to dance.” He clarifies. “But you are driving me crazy with this fucking dress.”

He tacks a strand of hair behind my ear and pulls me into another kiss with his hand on my cheek. My hands find his hair too and I tangle my fingers and pull from some soft locks on the back of his neck. He’s disassembling me and I feel like I can’t trust my legs.

“Harry…” I all but gasp against his lips.

“No.”

I pull away and stare confused into his eyes.

“Call me like you do.”

“Love?”

“What?”

“Let’s get out of here.”

He nods before he pecks my lips again. I have one last look at Coco but the way people around us are looking at me intimidates me. Family friends look at me disapprovingly and I try to have their stares slip down my body but for some reason it affects me. I say my goodbye to Coco and after she reassures me that she’ll be fine, Harry and I make our way to the cloakroom.

As we wait for our coats, I can’t help my mind from entertaining the thoughts that those judgemental stares have put inside. I could easily think those girls were just jealous. After all, the most handsome man in the whole party was kissing me and not them and in front of everyone at that but deep down I know I feel embarrassed because I can’t help but feel somewhat dirty.

This is stupid, I thought I could easily do this but now I can’t push those thoughts away and it angers me because it’s sexist and I don’t want to be but- I wish my mind could just shut down.

“Baby,” Harry places his hand on my shoulder “it doesn’t matter what they think… You’re better than all of these people together.”

His words touch me. I bore my eyes into his green, sincere ones.

“Do you really think that?”

“Of course.”

His words calm me only partially because they also mean he also noticed the way those people stare at us so it’s not just in my head. I don’t know why this is affecting me like that.

“I’m…” He stutters as the cloakroom girl gives us our coats.

I told her to keep Coco’s and give her my sister’s full name and she nods. Harry already has his coat on and is frowning when I turn around. He waits for me to put on my coat with his hands on his pockets and then the two of us make our way outside in sudden silence. I’m about to ask him what’s wrong when he speaks.

“Do you regret it?”

He takes me off guard so I stop on my tracks.

“What?”

“Us.” His green eyes study me.

Do I? I guess part of me does. The part of me that doesn’t want to be seen as an easy girl, enchanted by an older guy’s charms, and the part of me who refused to have a pink stethoscope like the one my father got me because I thought it would only make it harder to be respected in the hospital. I know a woman shouldn’t be judged by those things but I also know we are and until that changes, we gotta do what we gotta do.

There’s another part of me that regrets the way I feel about him, the part of me that’s attached to Dylan beyond life and love themselves.

But the bigger part of me… I’m learning a lot from Harry. Not just about sex, but also about men and about me. I had never dreamt I could enjoy sex like I do with him or that I could feel the way I feel when he kisses me or when I touch him, even when I see him. I guess I just thought I was never going to feel that… Happy, again, after Dylan passed.

He makes me laugh too, even though he has a weird sense of humour, but I like that he shows me that part of him too. And he not only bears me but seems to enjoy my company, even seeks it; and that’s saying a lot, all things consider. I know I’m difficult. So I think… If I went back to that first dinner with him, knowing all I know now, I wouldn’t change it.

“No.”

He sighs and knowing he’s been holding his breath only makes me not-regret it more.

“It took you really long to answer.”

“It was a hard question.” I defend. “What about you? Do you regret it?”

“No.”

He doesn’t even think about it. We get on his car and he doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the ride. Neither do I. I don’t want to think about his question either, nor about his answer, but I wonder if it would have been different had he thought harder about it. I gave him a proper answer. It’s true it took me longer but that only means it’s true for I consider everything but he always seems to be this impulsive and I’m afraid that’s how he does everything, without thinking.

I need to push these thoughts away from my mind. He could have gone home with any other girl tonight and still he chose me and I could have gone home with Elvis Buchanan but… I didn’t want to. And that’s what scares me the most.

When we get to his apartment, he doesn’t push me against the door like he’s done other times and instead just waits for me to get inside before he locks the door after us. Maybe he’s doing all the thinking now, maybe he’s reconsidering everything and he’s about to tell me that he does regret it and that it’s best if we just stay friends. I place my coat on his dresses and only then I realize I’ve made it to his room. Where’s this familiarity coming from? Intruding into his room without his invitation… When I turn around to apologize for my intrusion, he pushes me into the wall and his hands grab the back of my thighs and squeeze my flesh. I moan at his contact.

“This fucking dress, baby…”

He pushes his hips against mine and I pathetically whine when I feel his arousal against my belly. I can’t believe just the sight of me got him this hard. I wish I knew what he’s been thinking and picturing in his mind.

“You are such a beautiful woman, Indie.” He presses his lips against mine almost violently and I suck his breath inside my mouth as his tongue licks my mouth. “When I saw you dancing with that guy, I thought maybe I wouldn’t be the one to have you and… I would have danced.”

“I want you so bad.”

I bring him closer to me pulling from the collar of lapels of his jacket and press our lips together hungrily and we both lap at each other’s mouth in a very heated, very passionate make out session that has me embarrassingly wet. I can’t wait for him to thrust inside me.

He seems to sense my desperation because in a second, he’s getting a condom out of his wallet and I surprise him by unbuttoning his suit pants. I hear him hiss as I pull his pants and his boxers down his thighs and then my hands slid across the soft fabric of his shirt and snake under the collar of his suit jacket, pulling it down his arms until it hits the floor. I bite his bottom lip and suck into my mouth and his groan makes my pussy throb.

His hand caresses my thigh up until he gets to the elastic of my pantyhose and pulls them down. We hear them rip in the process and he chuckles against my mouth as he apologizes but I can’t say anything because my breath gets caught on my throat when his fingers snake around the elastic of my underwear and he pulls them down my legs. I try to help him but loose my balance so I cling onto his arms whilst I pull them down my legs clumsily and he laughs. He kisses my neck and squeezes my hips with his hands before he lifts me up against the wall and my legs curl up around his waist.

When my head hits the wall, I pull from my dress to try to take it off or at least pull it down my breasts but Harry stops me.

“Leave it on” he breathes on my ear “I want to fuck you on this dress… It’s so sexy, baby… And you’re mine, fuck… I want to fuck you so bad… You’re so beautiful.”

Holding my weight with his hands on my hips, he lifts me higher and then sinks me down until he’s inside me. My back rests against the wall as Harry rises and lowers my body while he thrust his hips with more desperation and passion than ever.

“Are you” he gasps as his hips crashed me into the wall “do you like it like this?”

His words come out of his mouth in fits and starts while he fucks me and holds me tight so I don’t fall.

“Yes.” I moan, I love it when he fucks me against the wall.

This is so intense and the way he sounds and his firm grip on my body… I’m going to cum embarrassingly soon.

“Kiss me, baby.”

I love it when he asks me to kiss him. It makes me feel so powerful and wanted and I love that he loves kissing me as I do him. I lick his bottom lip slowly, I know it drives him crazy, and he parts his lips for me so I dive my tongue inside. I pull from his hair and try my best to kiss him whilst he pulls in and out of me faster and harder. He’s drilling me against the world fast but our kiss is slow and intimate and I bite on his lips whenever he hits the spot that has my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

“I don’t get tired of fucking you, Indie… Fuck… You feel so good.”

“Oh, God.”

I gasp and moan, I don’t know what else to do to let out some of the pression he’s building inside my belly that’s getting more and more intense with each thrust. He groans and his guttural, animalistic sounds are driving me wild. I scream and even hit my head against the wall. I’m going to come but I know he’s almost there too, I can feel how tense he is.

Like a firework, the electric current starts at my belly but spreads fast down my legs and arms and I fight for air as I feel a gush coming out of me. He curses under his breath and kisses me.

“Calm down, baby.”

I try to do as he tells me but I keep lowly moaning against his mouth as my walls clench frantically when he tenses up and burst inside the condom. He’s gasping and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so out of breath so he rests his forehead against mine and catches his breath before he rises me higher and rolls out of me, gently placing me on the floor.

I watch him rolling out the condom before he makes a knot and lets it fall to the floor. He’s such a pig sometimes. We then stare into each other’s eyes and he undoes me with his dimply smile. We’re still catching our breaths when we kiss, calming one another with sweet wet pampers.

“Seriously you look stunning tonight.” He compliments.

I chuckle.

“What a low cut neckline can do to you.”

HARRY’S POV

She chuckles staring straight into my eyes and I think my heart is going to burst out of my chest. How can she still look as pretty as she did when I first saw her tonight? I mean I don’t know a lot about makeup but I’ve noticed most girls after partying, drinking and dancing like she did tonight, not to mention fucking like I just fucked her, look like panda bears but Indie doesn’t. She still looks like a fucking goddess.

Her hazel eyes look into mine as her soft hands unbutton my shirt. She’s a little drunk, not too much so that she doesn’t know what she’s doing but drunk enough to have less inhibitions and I love that she’s acting this free and wild and fucking sexy around me. I’m the luckiest bastard in the world.

It's funny to me that she thinks my infatuation with her is about her neckline. I mean, sure, it got me breathless when I saw her tonight because she doesn’t usually dress like this and man, she looks like some sort of sex goddess; but it’s just so much more than that. It’s the way she walks, the way she bites her bottom lip, the way she calls me off…

After she unbuttons my shirt, her warm hands caress my exposed chest and she takes my shirt down my arms until it joins my jacket. Her eyes roam my chest before she smiles and takes the air out of my lungs.

“Naked Harry is my favourite Harry, you know?”

Fuck... She’s so naughty tonight. I feel her nails sinking down the skin of my shoulders before she scratches my chest and watches the pink mark she’s leaving with lustful eyes.

“Next time, don’t take so long before you kiss me.”

She pouts and it seems to have a direct line with my cock, especially when her plump bottom lip sticks out. I want to bite it and suck it into my mouth and lick it until we’re both out of breath. This girl is going to drive me crazy. I don’t know what she wants from me.

“Why didn’t you kiss me?”

Her hazel eyes widen and my cock twitches again. She looks so innocent and pure… But I know she’s a dirty girl… My dirty girl. She shrugs and looks down at my chest. Her fingertips caress the skin over my collarbone.

“I’m always afraid you’re gonna pull away.”

I frown at that. The gin she had tonight is taking away her filter and maybe I shouldn’t but I’m going to take advantage of it. It’s not every day she talks to me this clear.

“Hey” I lift her chin with my fingers and make her look at me “I love it when you kiss me, I won’t pull away.”

“Not even if we’re in public?”

“Baby, you’re the one who’s not into PDA.” I smile at her.

She’s just saying that because she’s drunk but I know she won’t think the same tomorrow when she’s sober.

“Okay” she smirks “and don’t claim me like I was your dog.”

Yeah, I know that was uncalled for. I don’t know what had gotten into me.

“You’re so bossy tonight.”

“Alcohol makes me fearless.” She smiles.

I feel her fingers sliding down my chest to my abs and lean down to kiss her again, holding her hands and bringing them back to my chest again. She challenges my attempt at keeping this a family show as her hands caress the end of my belly. She brings her mouth to my cheek but instead of giving me a kiss, her mouth moves to my ear.

“And horny.” She whispers.

Fucking hell. I groan when she squeezes me in her warm, soft hand and she presses a kiss on my jaw.

“Fuck me again, Harry.”

“So bossy…” I grin.

“It’s not always gonna be you in charge.” Her hand starts pumping me as the other one snakes around my neck and pulls my mouth to her perfect one. “At least let me do something for you.” She nibbles on my earlobe. She’s crazy if she thinks for one second I don’t want to fuck her again. “You’re dying for it, come on.”

Of course I am. I’m dying for her to touch me or kiss me or even just look at me all the time. I give in and kiss her hungrily. Sometimes I feel guilty for the things I wanna do to her and for the things I do to her but not these times. Right now I want to ruin her, fuck her so hard that her silhouette lingers on my bed when she’s gone.

She grabs my wrist and places my hand on her breast and it drives me crazy to know she wants me to touch her. She moans on my mouth when I squeeze her tit on my hand and makes my cock twitch. I’m crazy for her.

Without breaking the kiss, she turns around and starts walking backwards and I follow her suit like the sucker I am for her. When my bed hits the back of her knees, she pulls away from me and turns to the side, pulling the hem of her dress away from her skin under her armpit and unzipping it before she pulls the thin straps over her shoulders down her arms and gets naked in front of me.

I run her body with my eyes up and down and she smiles. She’s growing more confident on her own skin and I love it. I can tell she’s a lot more comfortable when she’s naked around me now. I don’t understand why she wouldn’t be. She’s perfect.

Her soft hand caress my chest as they make their way up and rest onto my shoulders as she pulls me closer to her and sits me down on the bed. She leans in and straddles me and her mouth licks and nibbles and sucks on my neck as she grinds her hips on mine, pressing her body against mine. Fuck…

I can feel how wet she is against my pubis and my dick is throbbing for her. I hold her hips and make a mental attempt to stop her movements but my muscles don’t do anything to stop her.

“Baby” I gasp “if you keep that up I’m gonna cum before we get started.”

Her lips leave my skin and I feel the air cooler when it hits the wet spot she was pampering. Her face is inches away from mine.

“And what do you want to do, love?”

Fuck, she’s driving me crazy. Usually it’s me asking her but I didn’t know it was going to be so sexy for her to do it. And when she calls me love… Something stirs inside me.

“Do you want to fuck or do you want me to suck-”

I cut her words short with a kiss. I want her, no, I need her. I push my tongue inside her mouth and taste the sour taste of the gin he had. It’s delicious combined with her otherwise sweet taste.

I try to lift her so I can grab a condom but her hips trap me under her as she kisses me harder. Shit.

“Condom” I manage to gasp against her lips “Need a condom, baby.”

She complains against my mouth and I feel her soft tongue shutting me up again. I grab her ass and the movement of her hips speed up. I can’t take it any longer so I just rise her up firmly and place her bottom on the bed and turn around to get a condom from the bedside table.

“I kind of wish we didn’t have to use them.”

My cock twitches as she whispers that behind me and I tilt my neck so my eyes set on her. She’s resting her weight on her elbows impatiently waiting for me. She looks away before she speaks next.

“But I don’t want you to give me an STD.”

I turn back around and get the condom before I start overthinking her words. I think if I had some blood reaching my brain I would read her confession differently but all I can think about is that he wants to have me bare just as much as I want to feel her without the barrier. It’s irrational because it’s not like the condom bothers me much but it’s just knowing we couldn’t get any closer then that’s driving me crazy for her.

I crawl up her body, spread her legs open with my knee and line myself up with her but she grips my biceps and stops me.

“No, I want to do it.”

Her hands push my chest away from her and they keep pushing until my back hits the mattress and she straddles me. She moans whilst she sinks down on me and the sound all but ties a knot on my heart. She circles her hips, rising and lowering them above me slowly, torturing me as I watch her and try my best not to cum yet. She’s overwhelming me, her scent, her sounds… And when she sinks her nails down my abs, I almost loose control. I hold her by her waist and turn us over, pinning her against the mattress and hovering over her.

“What-” She looks confused.

“I couldn’t take it anymore.”

I grunt when she grins.  

“I’m gonna go rough, baby.” I give her a sneak peak, thrusting inside her fast and hard so her body bounces on the bed and she gasps through her smile. She wants this too. “You can tell me to stop anytime.” I reassure her.

“Just fuck me hard, love, like you know I like it.”

I enter her fast and rough, pressing my weight on her and squeezing her flesh on my hungry hands. I love having her like this. She doesn’t know the struggle on not getting a hard on whenever she acts all innocent and shit around other people because I know how dirty she really is but that’s something only I know.

She sucks her lips inside her mouth as she moans and I know it’s her way of helping herself from screaming but I want to hear her. I slip my hand to the inner side of her thigh and pull her leg over my shoulder and we both moan at the new angle.

“Don’t shut your mouth, love.” I warn her. “I want to hear you.”

She obliges and lets a loud moan out and I could burst.

“It won’t…” She stutters. I love doing this to her. “I won’t…”

I chuckle at her fight for words and she grants me a delicious smile.

“It won’t just be you hearing me if I” I push inside her “Oh, Harry…”

“Let my neighbours know” I push inside her again and watch her breasts bounce “let them know what I’m doing to you.”

I lean in to kiss her neck but I can’t barely close my mouth around her skin without getting dizzy. It’s hard to breathe when she’s wrapped around me like this.

“God, Harry.” Her hand pulls from my hair and I grunt against her skin. “I’m so close, love, I’m gonna cum.”

She tenses up underneath me and her skin covers in goose bumps. Lifting her hips from the mattress, she presses them further against me as her walls clench so she’s impossibly tight. I hide my face on the crook of her neck as I fill the condom and my hips keep sloppily thrusting inside her accompanying us down our highs.

I rest my head against the hot skin of her flushed chest and feel her collarbone against my temple every time he breathes in. I hold her hips as I pull out and her throat complains at the emptiness.

INDIE’S POV

I don’t know when I fell asleep but when I wake up is still night-time. I’m alone in Harry’s room and the cold drops a heavy paralyzing blanket over my naked body. I rub my hands against my arms but they’re cold too so they do nothing to warm me up.

Wrapping Harry’s quilt around my body, I get out of his bed and walk towards his living room. I can’t help but wonder where he is at. I need heat, possibly his, but if not I’m gonna need the heaviest duvet he has. I’m not normally cold in his house but because he’s a human heater.

Harry’s sitting on one of the high stools in the kitchen and the light from his laptop screen hits his face and illuminates his frown.  He wears his cosy sweatpants I love so much and a long sleeves cotton t-shirt. I envy his warmth. It takes him almost a minute to notice my presence.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m cold.”

His green eyes set back on the screen of his laptop.

“There are blankets on the storage bed.”

If I was already cold, now I’m freezing. I feel like he just took my heart and squeezed it on his hand. How can he be so harsh? Especially after what we did before I fell asleep. I embrace myself and turn around before he can see the effect his cold attitude has in me.

It's like he knew everything I was thinking before we got here and then threw it at my face. Yes, I am a convenient girl for him; yes, I am the easy shag; yes, I am a canned vagina with legs to him. I almost want to call Ollie and tell her she’s right and call Jason and tell him it happened that he got tired of me and then call Marie and told her I should have listened from the beginning.

I realize everyone in my life has been trying to warn me and still here I find myself like some free prostitute he doesn’t even want to sleep with. I mean who works in the A.M on a saturday morning? Am I so terrible he doesn’t even want to lie down next to me?

I need to get out of here and go look for my dignity because I must have lost it somewhere on the way here. I don’t want to cry because of him and I won’t. As I look for my underwear, Harry walks in and holds my arm as he walks me to the bed. He gets us both under the covers and spoons me, intertwining his legs with mine and hugging me tight.

“What are you doing?”

“You said you were cold.”

“And you told me to get a blanket.”

I’m glad he can’t see my face but my voice is trembling and betraying me.

“I’m sorry, I’m a jerk.” Yes, he is. “But can I hold you?”

“Why?”

“Because I like it.”

He has to be kidding me. I don’t understand a thing. I’m not cold anymore, the mixture of the internal heat from the anger and the embarrassment and now his warm skin heats me up until I’m hot. The temperature changes as his mood.

I’m not one to ask many questions but I think his constant back and forth might drive me insane. I pull away from him and lie on my back. I don’t know where to look at.

“Baby-”

“Don’t call me that.” I cut him.

He wheezes and lies down on his belly but his eyes are set on me. This reminds me of when he cried a few nights ago and I feel my heart wrinkling again.

“Tell me how you feel.”

I finally tilt my neck so I can look him in the eyes. Either he’s kidding me or he’s bipolar, there’s no other option. Oh my God, he’s serious. Are we doing this? Talking about our feelings in the A.M.

“How do you think I feel?”

“You thought I was very cold, didn’t you?”

I nod ad look back at the ceiling. I don’t want to do this with him.

“And you didn’t like how that made you feel.” I don’t say anything. “Well, you’re an ice floe, Indie. Constantly.”

I turn on my side again and give him my back hoping he understands I don’t want to talk to him. I won’t cry. I’m an ice floe, after all.

I know that, it’s true. I know I’m cold and difficult and obnoxious but the fact that he out of all people said that feels like a slap on the face. I remember what I once promised and stay quiet. Quiet is better than mean.

Yet warmth fills my insides again when his chest presses against my back. He tucks me under the blanket better before his arm wraps around my waist and pulls me to him and one of his legs wrap over mine too. I feel his hot breath reaching my neck through the gaps between my locks of hair and my eyes finally closed. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to think about anything at all. He brings my body to his and I cover the arm that hugs my belly with mine and feel him finally relax behind me.

“I really am sorry.” He whispers.

I don’t let him know but I’m sorry too.

[inanotheruniversemusings]

i can see you there with the city lights; fourteenth floor, pale blue eyes

fill for Supercorptober2020 prompt: warm

read on ao3

“I have no idea how you’ve managed to convince me to do this.”

It’s the truth. Lena genuinely doesn’t know.

It’s a winter night, the coldest one yet in National City according to dozens of weather reports, and the temperature that flashes on the widget in her phone’s home screen.

There is absolutely no reason for Lena to do this, yet, she says yes anyway.

Maybe it’s the way Kara’s lips purse into a pout when Lena asks why, or the enthusiasm that she counters Lena’s puzzled frown with, well why not.

Or maybe it’s the playful glint in Kara’s eyes, her grin spright and her entire face radiant as she stands under the dim lights of Lena’s kitchen, pulling two modest-sized mugs from the drawer under Lena’s island counter.

And then she’s dipping the scoop in the tub, the muscles in her arm flexing along with the movement, and Lena absolutely isn’t mesmerized at all.

“Because you love me,” Kara says, shaking the scooper above one of the mugs and  begrudgingly forcing Lena to avert her gaze.

Well, that in itself is some kind of truth too, but it’s one that Lena isn’t willing to admit yet. At least not out loud, even in the safety of her very own apartment.

So Lena just hums in response, long and teasing, like she’s debating whether or not she does.

She does. Of course, she does. But Kara can’t know that, so she says, “Perhaps. But I’m not sure if it’s enough to make me eat ice cream when it’s five degrees below zero outside.”

“Really?” Kara asks, wide eyes looking confused. But the slight tilt of her head gives her away. “I don’t feel it.”

Lena rolls her eyes, grabs her Supergirl mug that she bought in irony but Kara loved, and saunters towards her couch, lest she does something incredibly stupid. Like kissing her best friend right in the middle of her kitchen, just because her smile is soft, and tender, and warm, and she’s looking at Lena in a way that makes Lena feel like she’s really more than just her name.

…

(Sam had told her once that Kara has always looked at her like that. But there’s a part of her that just can’t seem to see, that part of her who’s been trying hard not to find her happiness in the same places she lost it.

But she found Kara in the same place she’s lost her too, like she never really left; like she waited for Lena to make her way back, no matter how long it took.

Lena can’t help but hope it means something.)

…

“God, my lips are freezing.”

Kara stills from scraping the very last dregs of mint chocolate chip inside her mug, her last bite somewhat forgotten as she watches Lena swipe her tongue over her bottom lip.

“Why’d I let you convince me, again?”

“Because you love me,” Kara repeats. But it’s softer, breathless. Like she means it in a completely platonic way, and yet, means something else—more.

Lena sets her mug on the coffee table and shifts on her seat, faces Kara just so she can tuck her toes beneath Kara’s jeans. “That won’t work all the time, you know,” she tries to say. Though there’s a flush on her cheeks that Kara knows has nothing to do with the frosty concoction—but Kara doesn’t quite know what to do about that piece of knowledge—Lena’s eyes fixed on the miniscule bits of lint she picks off of her pants.

She hears the slightest clearing of throat, and the clink of Kara’s mug as she sets it right next to Lena’s. “But it did tonight,” Kara then teases. “I’ll work on another tomorrow. When we get burgers.”

“Oh, we are?” Lena asks. Her brow arches in a playful challenge, a movement that Kara’s eyes follow of their own accord until she catches herself and finds Lena smirking at her. “I’d have to check my calendar, I’m afraid.”

Kara groans out a stop, but she laughs when Lena does. She pulls Lena’s feet from underneath her thighs, placing them over her lap instead; takes that freedom then to scoot closer towards her best friend, her hands sliding up to find the tight knots Lena often gets in her calves after spending a long day in her Louboutins.

(And if a breathless moan slips out of Lena’s mouth, Lena doesn’t think she can be blamed, not when Kara’s hands are magic itself.)

“Anyway,” Kara presses on, pressing a thumb down on a particularly stubborn spot. “It’s burgers or Noonan’s. I’d be fine with anywhere as long as we don’t break our lunch streak.”

Lena’s breath hitches, an inopportune moment that Kara’s ears pick up on. Her fingers turn still, curled around Lena’s leg, and a look of worry quickly settles on her face. “Lena? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” rasps Lena; waves a hand to hide the way she surreptitiously clears her throat. “You were saying?”

Kara’s eyes squint, not quite believing it. “Is it your lips? Are they still cold?”

Her best friend nods, hesitant and slow. “A little, yes.”

“Want me to warm them up for you?”

“I’m sorry,” Lena says, fumbling for her next words. But seven Earth languages and Kryptonese only has her stammering out, “What?”

Kara then inches closer and leans forward—closer that Lena’s almost afraid she’ll hear how Lena’s heart is hammering beneath her chest, like it wants to escape its cage and leap straight into Kara’s hands, screaming it’s yours, it’s yours, right from the start.

(Kara probably already has, but Lena refuses to think about that now.)

Lena’s entire body stiffens as Kara lifts her hand, her chest heaving as if it’s the only way she knows how to stop her heart from falling out of its place.

Yet, in the end, it somehow does, when Kara’s hand sails past her head and into the thick blanket that’s draped over the couch arm, tugging at it until it slides down so she can wrap it around Lena’s shoulders.

Kara then opens her mouth to speak. Lena’s pretty sure she says there, all warm, but her head is suddenly filled with static, and there’s a buzzing in her ears that she can’t seem to shake. 

(Later she’d try to find the perfect word to describe it, a cross between embarrassment and disappointment. She’d coin it, if she has to.)

Kara’s mouth is still moving, yet Lena’s still unable to hear a thing. Until Kara ducks her head to meet her eyes, and a warm touch presses on one of her knees, trying to shake it.

“Lena?”

Lena, in turn, blinks at her. Once. Twice. Thrice. Then, it’s like her mind kicks itself back up and her tongue suddenly remembers how to articulate. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

Kara frowns in concern. She rubs Lena’s legs to offer comfort, and then asks, “I said I’m going to go make you hot coco. To keep you warm.”

“Oh.”

Lena’s face twists into something Kara can’t quite discern, a split second that makes Kara feel like she’s missing something significant.

“Did you not want me to make you hot coco?”

“I,” Lena starts to say; sighs and then looks away, directing her gaze towards the view in her tall glass windows. “I guess I had something else in mind.”

Kara’s mouth moves again as if to ask her what exactly does she mean, her head shaking in confusion as she tries to come up with something else.

Lena’s it’s fine, don’t think about it doesn’t even register in her brain, her thoughts running a mile a minute, into memories and through snapshots of all their time together that she’s kept inside a proverbial box she named love. Until— 

Oh.

Lena watches a myriad of motions play out on Kara’s face, with a flushed red abruptly blooming on her cheeks almost making Lena worry if Kara’s even breathing.

But Kara settles on one, and it’s the kind of resolute look she’s only ever seen on Kara when she’s resolved to see through a decision she’s made till the very end.

“I want to take you out first. Before—before anything else.”

“Out?” Lena repeats.

“To dinner.”

“To dinner?”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Are you just going to repeat everything I say?”

“No,” Lena retorts, finally, finally able to compose herself given what has transpired the last five minutes. But where once there’s only the brink of a heartbreak, there is now the hope that Lena has purposely held herself from giving into, and bright promises of tomorrow Lena can’t wait to embark on.

“But you might. Because I don’t kiss on the first date.”

Kara gasps. “No?! Why?!”

Lena smirks. “Well, why not?”

[stevenuniversetanzanite]

The Angel Among Us (Cordelia X reader) Part 3

Warning I may go back and edit this later if i need to but for now I am content with it. 

~~~ and Italic is flashback/dream as per usual for me

^These parts were added after edit because I couldn’t decide it they were going in these or for the next.

This is technically a prequel to Fallen Angel (Work in progress), however it can be read as a stand alone series.

Summary:

If your reading as a stand alone: A witch heads back to Miss Robichaux’s 20 years after she left in hopes of being a teacher there. The only problem is she hasn’t aged a day.

If your from Fallen Angel: The event’s leading up to Y/N joining Michael and the Cooperative.

Warnings: N/A

Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 , Part 4(will be added when done)

Heartbreak, betrayal, lust, Lost. Happiness, unity, fulfilment. Kindness generosity. This is what it’s like to be human. There is no one way to live but through your life, you experience a lot, both positive and negative.

~~~

Cordelia informed you that the council would have to go back to Hawthorne, and you’d have to look after the school in their absence. You nodded, not questioning it. She promised she’d fill you in if anything happened that should concern her. You spent the quiet hours sitting in the lounge room reading about magical creatures as you normally did. When you stumbled across a passage you had seen a thousand times and never thought anything of it.

 You laid the book down in front of you, contemplating the contents. 

 That mark that you saw on Cordelia. The scabbed-up wound that looked like it was rotting and bruised. It looked like one that occurs when an earthly creature mingled with a heavenly one for too long. That couldn’t be right, when would she have interacted with an otherworldly creature?

 If you could figure out who or what caused it, you might be able to reverse the damage. It was worth a shot. You were in the dark, but with enough observation you could break the code, you thought. You might have to break some of your morals, but if it was for a good cause your actions could be justified. Who’s to judge? With a collection of books, you trampled up to your bedroom going into complete lock down to focus on the task at hand.

 There was a knock at the door interrupting your study. Without turning around, you opened the door, “Yes, who is it?”

 “Mallory.”

 “Mal, did anything happen?”

 “It’s dinner in five minutes.” It wasn’t her job to retrieve people, however she was helping you look after the girls and you guessed you. Cordelia probably put her up to making sure you did not get too carried away with your work. “The others should be back early tomorrow.”

 “Yes, they should,” You turned your attention back to your work and again the book in front of you. “I’ll see you downstairs.” Mallory nodded then left, already knowing you weren’t going to head down. 

 You were still at your makeshift set up on the floor in your and Cordelia’s room. Books scattered about on the floor with a pile of untouched ones stacked up high. To the side was an untouched plate of dinner that one of the girls on dinner duty brought up for you. You grabbed a book from the pile, settling it down and letting the book flip to the page you needed as you heard the bedroom door squeak open.

 Cordelia snuck into the room. Settling her belongings down quietly. 

 “I swear If I’m not here to tell you to go to bed, do you ever sleep?” You did not respond. She noticed the plate full of food, “and you didn’t go down to dinner either?” Again, no response. The woman snuck up behind you and peered over your shoulders. You stiffened, faced darting the direction of your girlfriend as all the books snapped closed. 

“You’re back!” You jumped up and hugged her. 

 “You look like you’ve been busy.”

 “Yeah,” You said. “Give me five minutes and I'll have this mess cleaned up and I’ll be ready for bed.

 “Oh no, where going downstairs and making sure you have a proper meal”

 “I had dinner,” Cordelia points at the dinner plate laying on the ground. Left untouched since being placed there. “When did that get there? I swear my work was important.”

 “More important than food?”

 “Yes-okay no. I was having a break though?”

 “Not an excuse”

 “Fine, I’ll meet you downstairs.”

 The coven had no idea what they were up against. Cordelia sent Madison to investigate the supposed ‘Alpha’ origins linking back to a large house in Los Angeles. The boy, Michael Langdon, brought back Misty from the hell, if that wasn’t a testament to his demonic power, what was? Misty claimed to get bad vibes from the male and that her instincts have been write since she was a young child. From the findings that Madison (and Behold who choose to go with her), Cordelia only had one rational idea for her next step, make a deal with the spirit world.

 Cordelia made a deal with Dinah Stevens the current reigning Voodoo Queen for her to Papa Legba. She wanted him to open the gates of the underworld for long enough for her to lure him into going inside.

 However, since this is such a risky task, Papa Legba told her that the price for this would be all the souls of her witches from the coven. The weight of what he asked for sunk in. Cordelia hadn’t been away of what her mother did, offering a student the spirit. Now it could cost her, her whole school. All those young girls unaware of the decision that was being made.

 As Cordelia went to refuse the offer, the man spoke again.  He shifted in his chair, getting a whiff of the air. “Hmmm, you have a powerful one on the grounds. Not like the others.” Cordelia had no idea who he was talking about. Mallory? She was the only one that stood out from the rest. “Not a witch.”

 “All my students are witches; I wouldn’t have anyone here if they weren’t.” Besides the help, of course but nowadays they got the students to do it. It kept them responsible for themselves.  

 What the spirit said brought the Voodoo queen concern. “I’ll make one more offer. The angel for the gate being open. You have no use for down here and she’ll be back where she belongs.”

 “Angel? We don’t have a- No. You can’t have my girls. If you want a soul take mine.”

 “You are not good enough”

 “I’m the most powerful witch on earth.”

 Papa Legba laughed. “I have made my offers, turn them down and you will not get another.”

 She turned them down. She didn’t want to get rid of any of her girls, not a single one. She wasn’t aware of who the spirit spoke of, but if they were a part of this coven that she protected, she wasn’t going to offer them up.

 “Dinah, what do I have to do? There must be something else I can offer something else I can do?”

 “It doesn’t work like that.” Dinah said. “Papa made you an offer-two- he never makes more than one- and you refused him. That’s it. You blew it.”

 “No no no”

 “Now not only do all your girls die but now six billion other people.” Dinah had all her belongings packed and was about to head out. For all their safety, they better hope the girl that Papa Legba thought was powerful enough to change his offer was good enough to save them all. 

The Supreme remained in her office questioning if she had made a mistake. Her duty was to protect her coven and by offering her students she had failed. By refusing the offer she had doomed them and the rest of the Earth. With no clue of the Langdon’s next moves, she was at a complete loss. Choosing to move on from her decision she made, she decided to search for a new way to save them all. Cordelia walked down the stairs when she almost collapsed on the final step. Zoe who was passing helped her gain her stability. She asked her friend to help her back to her room, not wanting any of the girls to see her weak like this. As Zoe helped her upstairs, Cordelia told Zoe that she was in no state to fight Michael. Zoe shared that she believed the woman was fading because of Mallory not Michael. She’d seen the girl do something she’d never seen done by a witch. She mentioned that she was going to go to you about it when Cordelia dismissed the idea.

 “Y/N doesn’t need to know. She’s your student, not Y/N’s. Let her worry about her own students.”

 Zoe was confused as to why she did not want you to know but said nothing. All the teachers loved celebrating students' achievements no matter how small and besides that, this would be something you would be genuinely curious about. A witch with abnormal powers, you would love to learn about that. She didn’t question her supreme, there was probably more going on in the background that she was unaware of. You were work orientated, maybe Cordelia was trying to sway you from that and you knowing would impact that in some way. Who knows, the two were private about their lives, you more than her.

 “Should I tell her about Coco’s new power or wait until Coco tells Y/N herself?”

 “Coco will tell the first time she sees her. Speaking of which, where’s Y/N?”

 “Your bedroom, I’d presume, she spends most of her time there when she has no classes,” Zoe said. “We need to get her an office; the floor can’t be good for her.”

 “I offered to get her a desk, but she refused.” Cordelia’s walking showed down the closer they got to her room. “She can have my office after- I doubt Mallory or whoever the next Supreme is will be ready to take over the school, that's if they even want to.”

 “Will Y/N be? She's nice to the students and knows the curriculum and has spent the most time at the school since she arrived but she’s always preoccupied on something else.”

 “She doesn’t need to be the face of the coven just the inner workings. I’ll leave her a list, so she isn’t left in the dark.”

 If Cordelia trusted you to do the job, that was sufficient for her. It went without saying, the council and the school’s students would be there for you as you have been for them in this trying time. You would all get through it together as she wants. For now, there’s no point in worrying.

 “I can make it the rest,” Cordelia said. If you were in there, she didn’t want to concern you. She could simply say she was tired or thought that you’d appreciate some cuddles.  Anything to hide the truth from you.  

 Cordelia woke up from her slumber with an arm of another draped atop of her. She smiled to herself at the thought of you seeing her asleep and choosing to join her. You had cuddled up to her side with one hand loosely laying on her. She brushed the hair of your face. The action causing you to snuggle closer to her body. 

 Sadly, she knew she would have to leave your sleeping form. She needed to catch up with the council about their finds. Myrtle had recreated one of her friends Bubbles McGee to help figure out the warlocks’ plan. Two of their own changed who they sided with, one vanishing from the face of the earth, the other overhearing her discussion with Madison about going to the house where Michael was born and joined not trusting the boy the others believed was the next ruler. 

 She pulled away from her girl, making sure not have woken her in the process before tiding herself up and heading downstairs. She’d ordered a special dinner for Mallory and the group to celebrate because it might be the last time, they were all together. 

 The group at dinner was informed by the two eldest witches of the warlocks that they had killed their brother as well as their plan to do the same to them. Mallory was upset because, in order for her to become Supreme, she had to take power away from Cordelia. Cordelia told her that she isn't dead yet and to enjoy the dinner. Mallory commented on your absent, she assumed as you were part of the staff and their group, you’d be joining them. If she was to rise and be the next supreme, you’d be her best lead on how to look after the witches after Cordelia’s gone.

 Cordelia didn’t comment immediately allowing the others to comment in on it. The others knew you weren’t in the loop as for the reasons why they weren’t sure. “Shouldn’t we tell Y/N?” It didn’t make sense as to why you were in the dark, you were one of them. You weren’t in the council, but you are one of the main carers for the students, if there was a threat, you should know so you can prepare for the worst-case scenario. “We can’t be completely irresponsible; we still have girls to protect. Someone needs to look after the students while we stop Michael.” The comments kept going.  “It might be a good idea to at least keep her in the loop, she’s a wiz with magic after all. Mightn’t see get sceptical if you don’t talk to her, she is your girlfriend after all.”

 “I’ll inform her about the warlocks-” Cordelia said. 

 “What about the rise of the next supreme? Does she know about you Michael or you fading yet?” Zoe asked.

 “Is that why she isn’t with us tonight? Haven’t you told her yet?” Mallory asked. 

 “She only just got me, I don’t want to tell her- She’s had a long day, that’s why she isn’t here.” She opted to change her tale mid-way through. She wasn’t in the mood to express her emotion fuelled reasoning. They were going to have to respect what she told her. It wasn’t their story to tell. It was hers and the time wasn’t right.  “We should go and save our fallen brother and prove that Mallory is my successor.”

 They go to the gas station where John Henry was killed. Cordelia asked Mallory to use her powers to bring John Henry back to them. She used her powers and passed the final test. They brought the man back to the school so they could question him on what happened in safety. 

 You were awake by the time the group came home. You had been up for an hour speaking to the warlock Behold Chablis who had been the coven the last few days. You’d taken the time to make sure he was comfortable while the others were out. He accidentally slipped out about the murder of his brother witch John. You acted oblivious to it, telling him you were sorry for the loss. He figured it out quickly that though you were a staff member you weren’t aware of the outer workings outside these walls.  It made him question his supreme. 

 The two heard the front door open and they both went to check on it. You noticed a group come back with a warlock. You looked at Behold as if to ask if that's his brother warlock, he gave you a nod of recognition. 

 “Everything alright?” You asked when you caught sight of Cordelia. She gave you a quick nod before asking you kindly to make some tea and bring it up to her office. Mallory offered to help you which you appreciated.  

 “I’m so happy you guys found him. I just heard he died. I can’t believe something like that happened,” You said getting a pot ready to make the tea. You preferred doing it the old way, electric kettles are good if you are making one but for multiple, brewing it in a pot was better. 

 “Coco, was the one that found him.”

 “Seriously? Coco, that’s awesome. Great job, new you had it in you.” You cheered; the girl looked embarrassed but flattered. “I feel like that calls for a celebration.”

 “I didn’t do much. Mallory was the one who brought her back.”

 Mallory’s eyes darted to Coco. It took a second for her to realise what she said was wrong. If you knew that she could reset how long would it take you to figure out the rest. Neither wanted to be responsible for you finding out. You eye the two of them. “Hell yeah Mal. Now were definitely celebrating. You two drink wine?” They both did. You informed them there should be the replacement bottle of wine you bought after Madison drank Cordelia’s. You’d bought a couple so you could save it for a celebration. 

 “There’s a half-finished bottle, should we have that first?”

 “Yeah. Madi must have gotten into the wine again.” The bottle was leftovers from the dinner they had earlier that night. Neither decided to mention that. “You guys pour the wine while I deliver this tea to the peeps upstairs.”

 You carried the tray to her office placing it on the coffee table Cordelia had set up for less formal meetings. You minded your own business as you poured a couple cups for the guests. 

 John started a coughing fit, when he settled you handed him a cup. He thanked you, locking eyes with you briefly. The night he died flashed into her head. You averted your gaze. You mumbled about getting the tea later as headed towards your escape. Cordelia thanked you as you left. 

 You ran your hand down your face, gathering yourself before joining the girls downstairs.

 The three of you finished the half bottle and moved onto another, by this time you’d had your fair share of alcohol. The other teachers and Madison had joined when they saw alcohol was involved. Zoe only had one glass and only stuck around to make sure you all didn’t wake up the sleeping students with your loud antics. 

 The topics shifted from television shows they’d seen to celebrity crushes. The girls were arguing over who was the hottest out one. Somehow, Madison started telling stories of her time in the industry and then it ended with her telling you how she ended up being sent to this school in the first place. That started everyone on their own personal journey on how they found their way to the place they all sat drinking in today. Some you already knew, but others like Mallory’s you hadn’t. “You know what I love about your generation of witches,” You caught all their attention. They expected you to tell them your story about how you found your place at the school. “You guys aren’t taught you get all your powers by your 40’s. Like what dumb ass came up with that. You never stop learning new skills, so why wouldn’t it be the same for magic? Take Delia for example- supreme at -what -like 42? Better than 18 like her mother.”

 “Anyone is better than Fiona?” Zoe joked. Mallory and Coco didn’t know much about the woman you spoke of but a tale or two had been shared about her and her time tormenting Queenie, Zoe, Madison and Cordelia.

 “Oh yeah, you guys met her, didn’t you? Poor souls.” You finished off your latest glass. “I’ve always been terrible at magic, but it’s history- no witch here could beat me, and I can bet on that. I think the misconception was to belittle the weaker ones, keep them in place like they did with the men.”

 “You’re talking like you aren’t one of use” They all look at coco like she was supposed to be in the know. “I don’t understand-”

 “She’s 45.”

 “You’re-” She gave you and full inspection. She was in disbelief by the information she’d heard. You nodded and quickly filled Coco on everything she had missed out on. “That explains a few things.”

 “Explains what?”

 “Nothing.” 

 You glared at her, she averted you gaze. You pushed it off deciding to take a sip of your drink instead. You knew what she was on about. The girls in the school were nice but they did talk about you. You shut in nature only helped to create more mystery surrounding you.

 Queenie steered the conversation away from the current topic to something more light-hearted. The attitude picked up a bit by everyone but you. 

 Cordelia and Myrtle came downstairs from their meeting to find the girls had been drinking. Thankfully however the one they needed hadn't drunk much. 

 She scolded the lot of you drinking on a school night, especially the three staff members. She asked whose ideas it was suspecting it to be the former movie star. When all fingers pointed to you, she was taken aback. You barely acknowledged her presence, deciding to forget about your glass instead taking a swig from the bottle. 

 She informed the group that the council had to deal with the warlocks and since the main supervisor of the school had gotten 'wasted', council member Zoe would have to stay behind and look after the school. Cordelia informed Coco that she would be requiring Coco's help tomorrow so the group would have to try and sober up before then. She also warned them to dress in black. There was going to be a witch burning.

  “You're in trouble now,” Queenie teased.

 "Oh well." You finished off the bottle before scrambled up and fumbling through your pockets for your packet of cigarettes. You shoved a stick in your mouth. It was lit the instant it met your lips. Bet Delia didn't know you could do that. Book nerd has learnt a thing or two. "I'm going to smoke. Don't stay up too late."

~~~

To truly understand something you must see it up close, to experience something (by either first hand or by a secondary source) and to formulate your own ideas on it.

“To tell you the truth, this may not be the best idea.” A cigarette in hand, you flicked off the ash into a tray nearby. You never said it was going to be the best idea. “You’ve gone in two deep. Someone’s going to get hurt-” You rose your hand cutting them off by their fear of you alone. 

“I’d call you a friend,”

“Thank you?”

“I’d hate to see you die too.” You brought your cigarette up to your lips, inhaling the deathly sweet smoke that has and will kill many. “But you treat me as a god and not an equal. I am no different than you. You see, I have to do this. You aren’t the first to confuse me for something better and if I am to truly understand, I must live in your shoes. Submit myself entirely to science.”

“But this can’t be done the way you plan without flaw.”

“So, let there be flaws.” Your friend, the man you’d been with since he was a young man, who dedicated his whole life to you was in disbelief. You were driving yourself into insanity and in turn bring him down with you, for he worshipped you, claiming he had found god reincarnated. But the man was wrong, you were no god. 

“And when it’s all done, what of it then?”

“That won’t happen until the end times.”

[izaswritings]

all that’s left in the world | chapter four

Title: all that’s left in the world—

Synopsis: —is me.

Neku’s been shot and Shibuya is threatening to go the same way as Shinjuku, but just because the first Game is over doesn’t mean they’ve forgotten how to play.

Or: Neku deals with a nightmare city and his most annoying (and mathematical) partner yet; Shiki and Joshua commit an escalating number of illegal moves, Beat and Eri hunt down a stray Reaper, and Rhyme watches and waits for the counter-attack. Shibuya refuses to go down easy.

Fandom: The World Ends With You | TWEWY

Warnings: cursing, references to past murder a la Reaper’s Game, mild body horror (in a Noise-human fusion case), and implied erasure. Nothing super graphic, but be warned! Please let me know if there’s anything I missed.

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AO3 Link is here!

Previous chapters are here!

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part four: neku

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I can’t hear a thing.

I hate it. I hate it. Where did everyone go? Where did everything…

It’s so quiet. Help me. Please, help me.

…

It’s too quiet.

.

.

.

Neku stares at the message for a long time.

He doesn’t move, but his fingers tighten, stiff around the phone. Kill the Composer of Shibuya. No mistaking that one. No mistaking the signature, either, or the time limit counting down on his hands. Yeah, okay. Okay.

There’s so much about the situation that infuriates him, but somehow, it’s this that makes Neku want to break something. Kill the Composer—be more original, he thinks, and grits his teeth. Always, always, kill the Composer. Well, poor fucking luck for her, then. Even if Neku wasn’t inclined to disregard every word Coco says by virtue of the whole being-murdered-again thing, this would cinch it. Why do people always pick Neku for this? Does he just have “potential assassin” written on his face or something?

Neku isn’t going to kill Joshua. He got his chance, months ago, and it was a way better set up then this farce: his friends taken, Shibuya on the line, Joshua a liar and a killer and still smiling, mild, like Neku’s anger was something vaguely amusing. A gun in his hands and a countdown to boot.

Neku hadn’t taken the shot, even then. He’s made his choice; he’s sticking with it. Joshua is an asshole—a liar—someone Neku is probably never going to be able to fully forgive. But he was Neku’s partner, too. And even this Neku can’t deny: the Game was horrible, but it changed him. He has friends now. He can see the world now. Sometimes, when he lifts his hands and closes his eyes, he can hear Shibuya’s music.

And yeah—it matters, too, that Neku’s still here. Because he lost, he’s pretty sure. He lost the Game. But Neku is alive and breathing and so are his friends, and they all have their memories, and even Rhyme...! And Shibuya is the same, except not somehow, Shibuya is brighter than ever and its almost blinding.

It’s not enough for Neku to forgive Joshua. It doesn’t take away what was done. But... it says something. About everything. That maybe Neku isn’t the only one who was changed by those three weeks.

Kill the Composer. Punch the Composer in the face, sure, but Neku clicks off the phone with a scowl. Sucks for Coco. Neku’s not playing this Game, thanks.

...Which is easier said than done. Sho Minamimoto, for example. And, you know, the time limit. Neku already knows what he’s not going to do, but that does leave the question of how the hell am I going to get out of this one.

Pi-Face must have been looking at the mission mail too, because now he’s laughing, a manic sort of snickering that makes Neku go still on pure instinct. Minamimoto, he’s found, only laughs like that when he’s about to, say, murder people, sick Taboo noise on them, or recite ten lines of pi and summon imaginary number explosions or some shit. Bad news either way.

“TANGENT,” Minamimoto shouts, and Neku blinks. “Fucking finally! This Game’s already getting zetta old, but this isn’t a bad solution at all.” His smile is full of teeth. “This is an equation I can get behind.”

Because facing Joshua worked out so well for you last time, Neku thinks, but keeps his mouth shut. He’d definitely noticed, with the ease of hindsight, how Joshua had killed Minamimoto—not with those burning beams of light that left scorch marks in the streets, but with the cars, the vending machines. And the casual way Joshua had dismissed him, that day in the throne room—I liked keeping him around—well.

Neku knows he couldn’t beat Joshua, even if he wanted to, which, no. And Neku beat Minamimoto once before. It... well, yeah, it doesn’t speak well of this guy’s chances, probably.

But again. Never, ever saying that aloud, holy shit.

“Whatever,” Neku decides, because as annoying as Pi-Face is, they’re partners whether Neku likes it or not, and he knows how these things work. Minamimoto, still grinning, closes the phone, shoves it in his pocket, and starts walking away. Neku stares after him. “What?”

And... no, yeah, he’s actually leaving. Oh, god.

“Hey,” Neku snaps, and races after him. “Where are you going? We have to stick together.”

Minamimoto squints at him and then turns away. “What, you’re still here?”

“Yes, I’m still—” Neku bites off the rest of it. Must get along with partner. Must get along... nah, screw it. “We’re in a pact. We can’t fight the Noise alone. We have to stick together—”

“Nah,” Minamimoto decides, and keeps on walking.

Neku stares after him, struck with a sudden and dizzying appreciation for Shiki. Had Neku ever been this bad? Had Neku been worse? How the hell had she not strangled him two minutes in?

He takes a deep breath. “Look,” he snaps. “I don’t like this much either, but if something happens to one of us, the other is screwed. I don’t like this any more than you do, but if we’re going to survive and figure a way out of this we have to work together.”

Still nothing. Neku narrows his eyes. Shit, okay. Math analogies, math analogies... “Unless you think you can make a working equation with just you.” Does that make sense? Well, whatever.

It works, at any rate—Minamimoto pauses, and after a moment he looks back, considering. Neku crosses his arms and scowls, trying to ignore the sinking sense in his gut. This might even be worse than his week with Joshua. For all of Joshua’s many, many irritating moments, he’d at least recognized and understood the basic principle of stick together. Death by no-one completing the mission had been a problem on day two, but Neku at least never had to worry about death by negligent partner who won’t recognize we’re in a pact.

After a moment, though, Minamimoto snorts and turns back around. “Zetta annoying,” he decides. “You better not slow me down, you useless radian. I don’t have time to proof. Though I guess you’ll be some help when I get around to crunching the Composer.” He grins, at that, cracking his knuckles.

Neku’s not really surprised by that response, but still. “What, you’re actually going to do it?” Try to do it. Same thing.

“What,” Minamimoto mimics, “you aren’t?” The smile returns, all teeth. “Either we crunch the numbers, or the numbers are going to crunch us. Constants don’t get a say in how they’re used.”

Math-speak for you’ll help me kill the Composer or I’ll make you, probably. Neku crosses his arms, unimpressed. “Sure,” he says, doubtful. “Either way, we have a problem.” He gestures around them the destroyed buildings and ruined streets. “I know Shibuya. This isn’t Shibuya. How the hell are you going to find the Composer? We’re not even in the right city!”

Minamimoto shrugs. “A possible miscalculation,” he allows. “I’ll figure a solution.”

You inspire so much confidence, Neku thinks, irritated. “Like what, exactly?”

Minamimoto snorts. “None of your concern,” he says dismissively, and starts walking away again.

Oh, yeah. Just as bad as Joshua. Maybe worse, because at least Joshua didn’t make Neku do math. Ugh.

Neku scowls at Minamimoto’s back and follows, resisting the urge to drag his feet. For all of Pi-Face’s easy dismissal of the worry, Neku’s still stuck on it. This place... it’s familiar, sure, but not in a good way. It’s ruined, ash and dust and smog choking the air, Noise filtering about the edges... but he can still recognize it, if only sideways. Those strange visions that had been blacking out his sight all day... yeah, Neku knows this place. This was the city that got destroyed in the dreams.

Why am I here?

He’s almost certain, now, that this is where Coco was trying to lead him and Beat; she’s succeeded in dragging Neku here, at least, but he still doesn’t know why. Why kill Joshua? No, wait, wrong question. Why try and kill Joshua like this? A Reaper’s Game twisted beyond recognition, and a mission to kill Shibuya’s Composer in a place that clearly isn’t Shibuya. Can they even leave this place? Is this just a trap to get them erased by an impossible mission with a definite time limit? But then—why seven days to complete it? She could have set it to five minutes and dusted them that way.

It doesn’t make any sense, Neku thinks, and tugs once at his hair in frustration before letting go. He’s sick of this. Plots and plans and Neku stuck in the strings, and damn, he did not fucking miss this.

For a moment his hands shake. He squeezes his eyes shut, and exhales very slowly. His eyes are burning. And that’s—that’s fine. This is fair, isn’t it? He’d thought he was done with Games, but now he’s back here again, so it makes sense, it’s fine, he just needs…

He just needs a moment.

The air is so stiff here. Silent and empty. Every inhale is tinged with dust, and the city itself is a dead place—no wind, dead air, stale and settling and starting to rot. It’s hollow in a way that echoes. It aches. He misses Shibuya so suddenly it dizzies him. The crowds—the music—the world.

I didn’t ask for this.

But it doesn’t matter. Not really. Neku’s made his decision, and he’s going to stick to it—his only concern is getting out of this. And hey, track record, right? He’s done the impossible before. He can… he can figure this out.

He opens his eyes, and exhales again. He grits his teeth and pulls himself together. Okay. He can do this. He will do this. He’s going to figure out this new Game and he’s going to come back to Shiki and Beat alive and well. If Coco thinks she’s got him beaten, then she’s got another thing coming.

But still. As he picks his way across the ruined landscape, Neku can’t help but feel, with a sinking sense of dread, that there’s still so much worse to come.

.

They explore the city for a while, in silence—Minamimoto leading, like he’s forgotten Neku is there, and Neku trailing behind, keeping one eye on his irritating partner and one eye on their surroundings, wary of an ambush.

The city is... awful, Neku thinks, and the longer he stays here the more it makes his skin crawl. The streets are totally empty; the Noise are either everywhere or nowhere at all. No more strange, distorted symbols in the air; no more chance of avoiding them. They always watch them pass with blank, gleaming eyes—and that’s another thing, too. The Noise aren’t right. The Noise are dead silent.

Everything, Neku is finding, is dead silent.

The Noise don’t make—well, noise. There’s no wind—no birds—nothing. Even their footsteps feel muffled and dim, as if Neku’s walking on cotton, unable to make any noise louder than a whisper. When he speaks, it feels like he has to shout to be heard—like the total silence of the city is swallowing his voice whole, taking it all in, giving nothing back.

The worst part, though, is that there’s no Music.

When Neku left the Reaper’s Game for good, and first awoke alive and well on the Scramble Crossing... memories, and friends, and nightmares hadn’t been the only things he’d taken away from the Game. Sometimes, when Neku closed his eyes and put his hands over his ears and just let the murmur of the city wash over him, he could hear it—a song, or the Song, Shibuya in entirety, a music he could never really describe and could hardly imagine living without. It was chaotic and chiming and... Shibuya. Just Shibuya.

It was a comfort. And now it’s gone.

And he knows—Neku knows, logically, that even if there was Music here it wouldn’t be the same—this isn’t Shibuya, isn’t home. But even so, he’d rather hear an unfamiliar song than this... nothingness. This absence. This void in the air where music used to sing and people used to laugh, and just—there’s nothing, now. There’s a lack. There’s a hole.

I can’t hear a thing, he thinks, and it feels like his thought and yet it feels nothing like him at all, and for a moment the silence presses down on him. Panic coats his tongue. Despair squeezes at his chest. It’s less pain and more an echo if it; someone else’s words, ringing through him. For a moment his vision washes out into white.

I hate it. Where did it go? It’s too quiet. Come back. Come back!

Neku stumbles forward. Again. It’s happening again. He can hardly breathe. He presses a hand to his temple. “Who are you?” he whispers. He’s almost certain, now. This isn’t him. This is someone else. But who? “You keep—calling to me, who—”

Please help me. Static fuzzes in his ears. His eyes burn. Help me. Oh, god. Oh, god, please, someone help me—!

“Useless radian,” a new voice snaps, and the echoing words cut off with a snap, so quick it leaves Neku almost breathless. “Get up.”

He’s on his knees, Neku realizes. When had he fallen? He presses his hand against the concrete, gray and ashy beneath his palm, and lifts his head to glare.

Minamimoto looks unimpressed. “I don’t bother with inherently flawed calculations,” he warns, and then grins. “Match the parameters or get deleted, yoctogram.”

How nice, Neku thinks, dryly. Now he’s not sure if the headache pounding behind his eyes is from the echo, or just from listening to Minamimoto talk. Or both. Asshole.

“I’m fine,” Neku says, finally. His hands are shaking. He curls them against the concrete, and tries to remember how to breathe. “I… I’m fine.”

Minamimoto snorts. “Who gives a digit? Just get up. There’s a problem.”

“Huh?” Neku pushes to his feet, wavering a little. His legs feel shaky. He’s not in pain anymore, but the memory of that hollow ache is enough to make him shiver. That voice. That fear. Those visions, again. Just what is going on?

Minamimoto runs a hand back through his hair and grins, unsettling. “We have a new addition.”

“What?”

Minamimoto lifts his chin towards the far end of the street, seemingly unconcerned. Neku follows his gaze. They’ve stuck to the main roads, thus far; this one is three lanes wide and shadowed by empty skyscrapers turned hollow and half-eaten, like they’ve been decayed from the top-down. The fog of white dust makes it hard to see, but if Neku squints…

A blurry shadow of a figure lingers at the end of the road.

Neku blinks. Not just a figure. A humanoid figure. Moving. Holy shit. Is that… is there really someone else here?

His blood runs cold. Coco? Or… could it be—the girl from his visions?

But there’s something off about the figure, and Neku finds himself reaching for his pins before he can think better of it. He doesn’t trust this. Too much about this Game isn’t right—not just the missions, but even the rules of the world turned on its head. All of his pins work even when he’s not fighting the Noise. He doesn’t have a Player Pin, but he’s definitely in the UG. The Noise no longer pull them into an alternate dimension; they’re fully formed and waiting and watching, with eyes blank and white like a dead pin. And the silence, too...

No. This isn’t right. And as the figure shuffles towards them, Neku steps back and pulls a Lightning Rook to his hand, because he’s not so sure that’s a person, either.

Minamimoto is grinning, though something has turned sharp at the edges of his smile. “Ugh.”

“What is it?”

“I miscalculated.” He studies the figure and slides back into a stance. For a moment, he seems to blur at the edges. “Should have carried the evidence to its conclusion. Tch, embarrassing. This was simple math.”

Neku squints at the figure. They’re shuffling forward, coming into view, and when he sees them in full, he blanches. “Is that—”

“Yep.” Minamimoto makes a harsh noise in his throat, looking disgusted. “Inversion. The system’s all screwed up. Noise in the RG, UG in fractions... and sometimes you get equations that just don’t work out.”

Inversion? The hell? But there’s no time to ask. The figure is close enough now to see in entirety and— oh.

Neku can’t breathe.

They look—they must be—that’s a person, isn’t it? A businessman, he thinks, with slicked back black hair and a pale gray suit, jolting faintly with every step. They must be a person. Except they have a Noise’s colorful scrawls winding all the way down their arms and face and there’s wings peeling out bloody and painful from their back and sharp teeth jutting from their gums and oh, fuck, Neku never wanted to know what a human-Noise combo would look like and he’s really not happy to have found out now.

The Noise humanoid opens up their mouth and screams. There is no sound, but the air grates. Neku slams his hands over his ears, and in the distance, Sho Minamimoto is laughing.

“Caught between the frequencies, are you?” he says, looking delighted. “So zetta cool. Zetta sucks, too. Don’t worry. You’re about to get deleted.” He draws back his hand. To Neku: “You better not slow me down!”

Neku falters. “Wait,” he says. “Wait wait wait, that’s a person, what happens to them if we—”

“Ugh, do the math!” Zetta shut up, Neku thinks back. “What do you think happens to Noise-possessed people when it all gets Inversed?”

Neku stills. Noise-possessed people. Which means...

He draws back his hand. Okay. Okay. He doesn’t understand most of that, but... if they defeat this person, will that help? Will the Noise leave them? Will they go back to normal?

He doesn’t know. What he does know is that looks painful. Either way, Neku isn’t going to be able to back away from this.

Minamimoto laughs and throws himself into the fight with a sharp, vicious war cry of “Infinity!” It is familiar in a way that makes something in Neku ache; he stills, and refuses to look beside him. Joshua isn’t there. Joshua isn’t with him. In fact, he hasn’t really seen Joshua in almost a month, not since the Game ended.

And yet. For a moment, he can almost hear the laughter.

Neku shakes his head. He’s not fighting Minamimoto, he’s fighting with him, and he needs to start acting like it. Neku reaches for his pins.

“You better be right about this,” Neku snaps, and attacks.

Lightning Rook in one hand, Electric Warning, Velocity Attack, Raven, and two healing pins. Neku flips them through his fingers, watching Minamimoto dart across the area, and sets his feet. He still has the Fusion pin—he’d made sure to check, and thank goodness for that—which means so long as he times this right, they should sync up and hopefully be able to…

He preps the lightning in his hand, and then Minamimoto appears right in front of him.

“Shit!” Neku jerks his hand away—the lightning flashes and bangs, gone wild, darting up and out of range, crackling harmless in the air. What? What!? “Watch where you’re going, asshole!”

Minamimoto just cackles. “Useless components should just stay put!”

“Hey, wait!” In the distance, the Noise opens its mouth in a silent scream, and the world warps like putty. Pi-Face grins like a shark and vanishes from view. Neku curses at him, and throws himself down.

The air explodes above his head; Neku ducks out of range and then rolls back on his feet, angry now. “Are you kidding me?” he demands, to no-one, and reaches for his pins again.

The lightning jumps for his fingers eagerly. The power is a head rush. Neku grits his teeth and blasts at the Noise again. Despite all of his annoyance, the weight of the pins in his hands is a comfort. It’s almost soothing. He hates this, he hates fighting, but—

But Neku has missed this, too. That breath of power, that static on his tongue… he’d missed it. Why? He doesn’t want to. But he finally feels settled, feet flat on the ground. Minamimoto is an annoyance, this new Game a mystery, Coco a threat—but here in this fight, Neku is steady. I can do this.

Minamimoto cuts him off again; Neku switches pins with a mutter and throws himself out of range of the Noise’s shockwave. The silent screaming thing is seriously starting to vex him. He takes up the pin again, aiming—

Pi-Face, sneering, flickers into view and kicks the Noise back. “So zetta slow!”

Neku grits his teeth. “Would you just—hey! We need to sync up! Stop getting in the way!”

Minamimoto scoffs. Neku clenches his fists. “You—”

And then Minamimoto is gone again—and then he is right in front of him—and then he is kicking Neku right in the side, hard enough to send him flying back. Neku just barely gets his arm up in time to block most of the blow; his whole forearm sears with pain. Minamimoto is grinning again, sharp and wild.

Neku stumbles, catches his feet, and stills, his pins burning in his palm. Attack your partner is never the mission. It’s never the mission. It’s never—

“What the hell are you doing?” Neku says, quietly. “Do you have any idea—”

“Cooperation is trash,” Minamimoto says, far too gleefully. “We’re looped in the same equation, sure, but I crunch the numbers. Get in my way, you get factored out.” He steps away, turning his back, piece said. Neku sees red.

Raven has always been a favored pin. Neku tosses a streetlamp at him.

Minamimoto dodges, of course—and when he turns back around, his expression is frightening. “You are so—”

“Partners!” Neku snarls, talking over him. “We’re in a pact, you… we have to work together!”

“Crunch! That opinion was garbage. I’ll throw it on the pile.”

Must. Not. Murder. Partner. “You’re not a Reaper anymore. You don’t have the wings, we’re in a pact, you have the same fucking timer I do—either we fight together, or we’re going to lose.” He takes a quick, tight breath. Sota. Nao. All those Players, even the Reapers… but Neku can’t afford to die here. “Work with me here. You don’t want to die again, right? Well neither do I! So help me! And let me help you.”

Asshole, he adds, internally.

Minamimoto looks like he’s considering it, which of course— of course! —is when the humanoid Noise attacks again. Go figure. Fucking fantastic. Neku wants to bang his head against a wall.

But when he rises from his dodge, Minamimoto flickers into view beside him again. He looks annoyed. Grudging. And his face twists up, but he says: “Fine. Whatever,” and it is not the glowing confirmation Neku was hoping for but god, damn, he’ll take it.

“Finally,” Neku mutters, and flips a pin. “Then let’s do this. If you take it from behind, I’ll blast it from the front.”

Minamimoto scoffs again. He vanishes without a word.  Neku rolls his eyes, and sets his feet.

Lightning in the air, Minamimoto’s taunting insults, the Noise’s silent screaming and the warping air—but while they are not entirely in sync, this time it’s enough. The Noise is slowing, wing tattered and limp, face fuzzing from view—and the Fusion pin warms against Neku’s wrist.

He activates it. “Get ready!”

“Fucking finally! So zetta slow!”

“Argh, you—!”

It’s like stepping into a web. Lines and angles and numbers and—and Neku grits his teeth against the overload, the power slipping through his fingers, and reaches back. Equalities, balances, equals to. He clicks the numbers into place, and feels power burning through his hands.

(And for a moment: something is off. Something is wrong. A power that is neither his nor Minamimoto’s. Something else. Someone else? Not quite a pact, but… like moving in sync. A mirroring.

A connection.)

Something shatters.

It’s like white noise in his ears—the empty static—the imaginary plane. For a moment there is a hole in the world, in the sound, in the noise—there is music, sharp and rhythmic and singing through the air—and then they are back, and his ears are ringing, and there is a person, Noise-less, lying slumped on the street.

Neku blinks fast. The bitter taste of ozone lingers on his tongue. He breathes past it, and rushes for the body. “Hey! Are you okay?”

No answer. Oh, shit. Neku kneels by the man, reaching out, and freezes when his hand passes right through. “Wait—wait, no—”

The man fades away, as fragile as a dream. Neku doesn’t move.

Behind him, Minamimoto makes an interested sound. “So, the Inversion takes it all. Noise or nothing. A full circle.”

Neku curls his fingers. He still doesn’t know what the hell this Inversion thing is, but he’s starting to get the gist. “You mean…” So there was no saving the guy? Either existing as a fusion with Noise, or not existing at all? Is this what’s become of all the people in this place?

Neku grits his teeth. He bows his head.

Minamimoto makes a scornful noise and turns away. “Let’s go,” he says, dismissively. “We’re subtracting time.”

Neku clenches his jaw and rises to his feet. Right, he thinks. Right. It’s not over yet. Whatever happened here, whatever this is… he still has time to figure this out. Maybe… maybe he can find out what happened to this place, too. To these people.

He’s not playing to win, after all. He’s playing to finish this. He can add one more mystery to the list.

But for all his determination, his mood has soured. Minamimoto is walking down the street, casual as he pleases, but Neku lingers on the road, subdued, bitter despite himself. He looks up at the sky, and thinks of the mission mail, of that almost-presence during the fusion, the almost-whisper in his ears.

High above him, the sky flickers cold and red. The clouds churn like boiling water. When he blinks, he can see the afterimage of it on his eyes, like an imprint of the Reaper’s skull, glaring down at him. Burning.

“Hey,” he says. “Are you there?”

He waits. But no one answers.

Neku blinks the red from his eyes until the sky is gray and cold once more, then turns and walks away.

[nodesiretogrowup]

alrighty, review time!

Do you think Donald wrote the song? He did write a song when he was younger and the lyrics fit him best

I love that Donald is the sane man of the Caballeros

Why did you choose the bathroom? That’s really weird and kind of perverted

I love the picture of a rubber ducky in a top hat on the wall

Just how big is that bathtub? Four grown men were able to fit in it at the same time

Never mess with a man who has a demon-ghost butler

“That’s the FOURTH rich guy’s bathroom we’ve been kicked out of.” I...I would like to know about the other three. And again, WHY THE BATHROOM?!

“We just need someone to listen to us!” Donald giving us the theme/moral of the episode

Was Louie just waiting out there?

Louie looks like a drug dealer. He also looks a bit like the reboot version of himself from that poster in Quack Pack

“And you’re willing to do whatever I say, at any cost whatsoever?” “Well, not any...” “QUIET, DONALD!” Guys, you should listen to Donald, he knows Louie better than you

Poor Donald, the only sane man here

I love the stickers on Louie’s laptop. I wonder if he actually knows how to hack

I love the stupid “it” trends. Hats-Hats and Invisible Piercings, what will they think of next

Of course Dewey would keep up with an IT list. He actually cares about his image/how his peers view him

The lead singer of the Feather Weights looks like a punk girl version of Drake. I’m gonna go with them being related somehow. Or they used to date. Or they go to the same hair stylist. THEY ARE TIED TOGETHER SOMEHOW

Yo-yo tricks were more of a 2000s thing, Dewey (seriously though, does anyone else remember when yo-yos were SUPER POPULAR for some reason?)

Panchito is so ridiculously EXTRA and I LOVE HIM

“These are my people.” Oh sweet Dewford, they wish they were on your level

“Internet fame-the most important fame of all” Well it’s the most achievable

And then Dewey just rolls off screen

“If only someone had a super-elaborate scheme to get in...KA-BOOM!” Dewey’s not the only showman in the family

This show LOVES some big boards

Why/when did Louie plan all of this? I mean he did want the Caballeros to make him their manager so he could get a cut, but why?

Already you can see that Louie’s pride is gonna get in the way

Again, Donald is being the responsible one

I love their signatures. Panchito’s is like a 12 year old girl’s, José’s is curvy, and Donald’s is the least showy. And I love that Panchito thought “Don” was enough lol. He is close to Launchpad levels of ditziness

The pictures Louie uses on his board are GREAT! I love fridge-raiding Panchito

Agent Dewey-License to Chill. Dewey, that was two episodes ago

“I have a very special job for you.” “Oh-ho ho-ho, special.”

Luis P Canard. Is that a false identity Louie already had or did he make it up for the party? Or is there an actual Luis P Canard?

Huey looks SO CUTE! Though he should have known something was up when Louie asked him to forge a signature. Do you think Huey has forged other documents with or without knowing it?

Louie looks good with that black “lipstick”

“Welcome to the scheme.” “What scheme?” “Nothing.” “TELL NO ONE.”

Gyro Gearloose-Kid inventor. Does that mean he was a child prodigy or that he LITERALLY invents kids? Or both? The possible clone’s tube had K.I.D. on it. I bet this will be explored more, probably next episode

I love how they all stare at the earpieces when Gyro says the DEFINITELY won’t explode 

I love that the lion statues have sunglasses and there’s a statue of a ballerina hippo from Fantasia

OUR QUEEN HAS ARRIVED

How do ducks whistle if they don’t have lips?

Daisy-smiles, Donald-I WOULD DIE FOR YOU

I love Daisy’s fake laugh

With both of them in tuxes you can really see that Dewey and Louie have different body types. Louie has broader shoulders.

“I’M GONNA DANCE DOWN THE RED CARPET.” No Dewey, that’s for the after party

It’s the PEP guy! I feel like he’s gonna become a villain with how much he’s been embarrassed (and he already LOOKS like a cheesy superhero show villain)

GRAVES IS BACK, BABY

Dewey has made a LOT of enemies

“New plan-Dewey is NOT going to the party!” DAMN, THAT’S COLD

“This is the Dewey-est party in town!”

“Oh, WHY was I cursed to be so FLASHY and UNFORGETTABLE?!” I love my dramatic son

Why did the Caballeros have to switch hats?

“SO TIGHT. !”

WE NEED MORE DJ DAFT DUCK

Ok, real talk? That party looks boring as fuck 

I like that there’s sweat when Dewey pulls off his helmet. It’s the little details

“Everyone listens to my plan.” Dewey looks PISSED

“The plan to wow Glamour with our haunting melodies.” Panchito is Drake/DW if he was a Latin Lover. THEY NEED TO MEET. IT WOULD BE HAMMY AND GLORIOUS

“You mean our SICK dance beats!”

Donald is like “girls, girls, you’re BOTH pretty”

But seriously, they need to decide what direction they want to go with their sound

Donald is ALWAYS the voice of reason (except in The Town Where Everyone Was Nice, he got a bit caught up in that lie)

“I will charm my way on stage with my golden voice.” #youtried

That smirk José gives him, beautiful

“Easy, grownups.” YOU JUST GOT DISSED BY A 10 YEAR OLD!

“So I’ll dazzly Daisy with my hip, cool yo-yo tricks.” I would have liked to see how that played out

Does Louie have some kind of dirt on Jane? Why does she keep helping him out? Why does she call him “Mr. Duck?”

Glamour is a BITCH. And it seems like Daisy might share the same luck as Donald and Della

SERIOUSLY, WHAT DO YOU HAVE ON HER, LOUIE?!

Donald was posing all cool

Why send Donald in to do the most important part of the plan? At least have someone with him. Louie should have gone with him so Donald could distract Daisy and Louie could use his pickpocket skills to get the pass. Louie did not account for the variables

“Ooooh PHOOEY.” I love that all of the Duck family say Donald’s catchphrase

POOR DEWEY!

I love Louie’s other distraction ideas-explosion, food poisoning, SET FREE A WILD MONGOOSE, ghosts, ANOTHER explosion 

LET DAISY SAY FUCK

I’m pretty sure Donald got a boner when he saw Daisy DESTROY that vase (I also found it hot). He was scaroused

OUCH. That HAD to have hurt/broken SOMETHING

How did Louie get that picture of Webby? Hell, how was that pic taken in the first place?

“WHEEEEEEE” Webby knows what’s up

“MY FAULT! It’s...your bag.” Oh Donald

LET DAISY SAY FUCK

“My band is sorta...crashing the party.” DONALD YOU ARE TOO CUTE

The yo-yo just rolls away

Louie, you hurt Dewey’s feelings! Also, your plans are pretty ridiculous too, including the one you are currently trying to pull off. There had to be a better idea than a harpy

Listy-er

GLAMOUR MUST DIE FOR WHAT SHE DID TO LOUIE! IT’S A GOOD THING DONALD WASN’T THERE OR ELSE SHE WOULD BE

“I don’t want to be at Funzo’s forever.” “Why not?” Oh Webby, so innocent to the horrors of minimum wage jobs. Also it’s nice to see Webby being able to have an ordinary conversation with someone

FALCON’S EYEBROWS ARE MESMERIZING

It’s equal parts cute and sad how long Dewey takes to count

MANNY IS FUCKING SWOLE

Manny is 0 for 2 when it comes to being the muscle (I’m counting him vs Mega-Beaks as well)

“That was odd.” You have no idea

Donald sees Daisy as the GODDESS she is. GET YOU A MAN LIKE DONALD

I KNEW IT! I KNEW SHE WANTED TO BE A FASHION DESIGNER! It was like the only guess I got right so let me have this

“Nobody listens to me either.” Awww

“They don’t understand me.” AWWW

“Well that’s weird, I understand you perfectly.” MY HEART!!!

I LOVE THIS SONG SO MUCH! And when it changes into how Daisy hears him...chef’s kisses. It reminded me of Remember Me from Coco and I Love You Too Much from Book of Life

Real talk-the song really got me. I feel a lot like Donald. A lot of times it feels like no one is listening or understands me because my thought process is a bit different. Or they can understand but they don’t care, like how Daisy feels. When Donald sings for her, I teared up because I want to be comfortable enough with someone to let down my guard like that. Music is a big part of who I am so I would love if someone sang for me even if they don’t have the “perfect” voice. I want someone to feel comfortable enough with me to let down their guard and be real

Daisy is a woman of ACTION

Do you think she’s been stuck in that elevator before?

“My kids!” “Wait, you have kids?” Whenever Donald calls them his kids I gain 5 years to my lifespan. I can’t wait for Daisy to officially meet the kids

“Oh no, not again!” Starting to rethink your life-choices aren’t ya?

I love Mark. He’s so stupid and out of touch with the real world

“Oh Gravesy! Long time, no crime.” GRAVEBEAK LIVES ON!

I love Mark’s hoverboard crashing and catching fire in the background. And then it chases Slash

Haha, Mark’s name is Markus. What a dewb

I was rooting for rich lesbian aunt, but mom works too

Graves is SO DONE with these people

Dewey is all of us

Poor Louie. His self confidence is the most fragile of the kids

Nerp

“Just listen to me for once.” WE ALL NEED TO LISTEN TO EACH OTHER, THAT’S THE THEME OF THE EPISODE

THEY’RE HOLDING HANDS! And Mark seemed into it ;)

“I want to look away but I can’t” CALLING IT NOW, THIS LINE’S GONNA BE A MEME

I want Dewey’s yo-yo skills to be a reoccurring thing

That’s one of the things he has in common with his uncle-being a performer even if they aren’t the best at it

Louie’s face as he sneaks away is great

“The failure of it is ridiculous...and BEAUTIFUL!” Gonna use that to describe myself from now on

Dewey is IT. SO FABULOUS!

Daisy, maybe you should let the man get rid of them

DOUBLE BADASS ONE-LINERS

LET DONALD SAY FUCK

HE’S SO PROUD OF HIS BOY

I like the “totally not Pirates of the Caribbean” music that accompanies José when he’s fighting

“Nice singing.” “Nice moves.” NOW KISS

“Oo, nice dagger.” Webby, not the time for that

There is NO WAY that the scene with Gabby and Webby isn’t foreshadowing SOMETHING

“I gotta get out of Duckburg.” Jane starts a GoFundMe page to get out of Duckburg when she gets home

BATTLE COUPLE!

DAISY WILL FUCK YOU UP

DON’T MESS WITH HER MAN

It was then Donald realized that he had met his future wife

DONALD AIN’T GONNA TAKE THAT SHIT FROM YOU

It was then Daisy realized she had met her future husband

“LOVE YOUR BLOG” Who knew Manny kept on on the latest trends

Glamour probably realized those fuckers were crazy so she should back off

SILENT M’MA CABRERA!

OMG EVEN THE TREE HAS FUCKING SUNGLASSES

Manny is one suave motherfucker

Glamour playing with the yo-yo while Mark acts like a spoiled brat

DEWEY IS PROUD OF HIS DADNALD!

IF WE DON’T GET DEWEY’S DOZEN AT SOME POINT I’M SUING

“Our brotherhood is the greatest scheme of all!” SO FUCKING WHOLESOME! MORE LOUIE AND DEWEY PLOTS

“HEY, YOU’RE MESSING WITH MY MOJO!” Don’t be a hater, Manny!

“I could listen to it all night.” DAAAAAWWWWWWW

GAAAAAAHHHHH THIS EPISODE WAS SO GOOD! I love that there was a common theme of feeling like you aren’t being heard. Daisy felt like she was too unimportant to be listened to, Louie doesn’t listen to Dewey because he feels like Dewey isn’t serious enough, and NO ONE listens to Donald because his voice is hard to understand. In the end they all get heard, with Donald and Daisy getting the bonus of finding someone who understands them. The two of them really are relationship goals. I cannot WAIT for more wholesome Donisy content. This one bumped Quack Pack down from my favorite so far.

[pengychan]

[Coco] Best Man

Title: Best Man Summary: Ernesto couldn't understand what was it about Imelda that his best friend found so amazing. By the time he could, it was too late. [Modern setting, written for @appatary8523​] Characters: Ernesto de la Cruz, Imelda Rivera, Héctor Rivera. Imector, onesided Ernesto/Imelda. Rating: K

A/N: Appa asked for a serving of one-sided pining with some she's-about-to-marry-my-best-friend sprinkled on top, and I complied. Had a lot of fun with it, too. 

***

“Food poisoning.”

“Yes, I heard you the first seven times. I was actually the one who told you--”

“One time you go out of town on your own since last year, one time, and my husband winds up in the hospital with food poisoning!”

“Look, I tried to tell him that chorizo didn’t look all that great, but he was hungry and--”

“And so you just let him eat it while you steered well clear of it!”

“What, since when is it my responsibility to watch what he eats?” Ernesto huffs, throwing up his arms with dramatic flair. A guy sitting on the other end of the waiting room blinks blearily at him, clearly hungover. “Am I my brother's keeper?” 

Imelda rolls her eyes, but her lips curl upwards for the briefest moment, and Ernesto mentally marks it as a victory. “I’m not sure what made you think quoting Cain would come off as perfectly innocent.”

“All right, you got me. I tried to poison him. My plan was to leave him in a ditch and run off with his iPad and all the songs in it. So I could make it big, be a star, never think of him again.”

“Very funny.” A pause. “... Do you have it? The iPad? Because the last thing Héctor is gonna need is getting out of here to find out it’s gone.”

“Yes, yes, I have it. And the guitar. All in the car. Which might have a couple of new bumps...”

“What?”

“He was all green in the face, I panicked that he’d throw up again and hurried to the hospital.”

“Like cleaning our car would have been your problem.”

“No, but if he’d thrown up then I would have thrown up and probably crashed.”

“... Fair,” Imelda condedes with a sigh, and leans back on her seat. Ernesto leans back on his own, reaching up to fix his hair with a hand, turning to glance at the mute TV screen in the corner - anything to avoid looking at her. 

It’s better this way.

***

When he and Imelda met, Ernesto took slightly less than two minutes and a half to decide she was a dumb girl and he didn’t like her. 

To be fair, at age twelve he still found all girls to be dumb girls he didn’t like. That would partly change in the next several years - some girls were dumb, he’d declare then, but not in their face he did like them very much - but right there and then, there was nothing about Imelda he liked. And that was, he’d insist, in no way related to the fact she’d shown up out of nowhere, three years younger, and shattered his record by making a rock skip across the stream sixteen times.

The look of pure wonder Héctor had given her, the one that was usually reserved to him when he pulled out something, had been the last straw. Ernesto had immediately declared her a dumb girl and made sure Héctor promised not to talk to her, ever, lest he wanted to catch dumb girl cooties. His friend, who was eight and not especially bright - Ernesto would deny thinking that later on - had seemed a bit saddened, but he hadn’t argued, because he never argued with him. 

And, at least officially, he’d kept his word for a few years, until they were all older and even Ernesto had to grudgingly concede that it was a stupid promise and dumb girls cooties were not a thing. In truth, he’d actually been talking with her without him knowing, because he found her amazing for some reason Ernesto couldn’t comprehend. 

By the time he could, it was too late.

***

“Ay, Imelda, mi amor, mi vida. Come close to hear my last words--”

“Your next words had better be ‘sorry for being that idiota who gets food poisoning a week before the wedding, I will be back on my feet by then’.”

On the hospital bed, his skin still a rather unhealthy ashen shade, Héctor grins like a boy caught with his fingers in the cookie jar. “I’ll marry on my deathbed if I must.”

A roll of her eyes, a smile she can barely hide. “Ay, you’re so dramatic.”

“Ernesto’s fault,” Héctor’s declares, causing Ernesto, still standing in the doorway - he let Imelda have the chair beside the bed, ever the gentleman - to protest.

“Wait, what?”

“You rubbed off me!” Héctor declares, dramatically.

Ernesto throws up his arms. Dramatically. “Oh, sure. Blame me for everything, why don’t you,” he huffs. “Maybe I’m too dramatic to be your best man, too.”

Héctor laughs. “Ah, never. There is no one else I’d ever pick to be my best man at the wedding.”

Lucky me.

The thought is bitter as bile and maybe something shows on his face; Héctor’s expression doesn’t change, but Imelda’s does. She doesn’t quite scowl, but her gaze is more attentive, and it is enough to make Ernesto feel like he’s under a spotlight… and not the kind he enjoys.

“... I’ll go get a drink,” he mutters, leaving quickly and realizing just a bit too late that a hospital is not the right place to go looking for alcohol. At least, not the kind you’re supposed to drink.

All right then, coffee. Coffee it is.

There is a café at least, and the coffee is halfway decent. He sits, takes out his phone, checks his emails and notifications-- ah, looks like a few people showed interest in his profile across a couple of dating apps. Three women, one man. Not bad at all when what you need is a boost to your ego. Two are nothing to write home about, the other two are… worth considering. Maybe later, after the end of next week once the wedding is done, Héctor and Imelda will be off to their honeymoon in Guatemala, and he will probably need some pleasurable company. And alcohol.

Large amounts of it.

***

“I really don’t get what you see in her.”

Ernesto’s grumble was met with a dreamy smile, a slow strum of a guitar’s strings. “Well, first of all, she-- hey!” he yelped when a tangerine smacked against his forehead and then fell back down on the floor with a sound that was more like a splat then a thud.

“That wasn’t a real question, cabrón,” Ernesto grumbled again. He sat back against an empty crate, watching as the vendors began to dismantle around them, another market day over. Soon enough the plaza would be mostly empty, before it filled again with people after dark. “And anyway, she’s not your type.”

“She is exactly my type!”

“And what is, pray tell, your type?”

The question caused Héctor to turn deep red and stammer, as though entirely out of words despite the fact he could always find all the right ones when sitting alone in a quiet room, a blank piece of paper in front of him. “W-well… she is smart, and… and beautiful…”

“That’s everyone’s type,” Ernesto snorted. “No one likes women dumb and ugly. Just dumb, maybe, but not ugly, unless you’re really that desperate and the lights are out...”

“That’s not-- ugh. If Sofía could hear you, she’d smack you over the head and you’d deserve it.”

“I’m just telling it how it is.”

“She’s… not like other girls!”

Ernesto made a face. “That line, really? Now you’re the one who’d be getting a smacking while being asked what’s wrong with other girls.”

Héctor’s face flushed crimson. “That’s not what I meant! I-- all right, that was-- not what I meant,” he repeated lamely. “She’s not like… anyone else. To me.”

“Oh?”

“She has this thing, like a… a spark, like--”

“Drive,” Ernesto muttered, without thinking. His fingers went to better tune his guitar, while Héctor nodded, brightening up. 

“Yes, exactly! She wants to accomplish something - start her own business someday - and she’s ready to work for it, and--”

And she won’t let anyone tell her she can’t do it.

“-- and I’m sure she can do anything she wants to do, she’s just like that, you know?”

“... Guess I know someone a bit like that,” Ernesto conceded, and tuned out any further gushing from Héctor’s part. All right, so maybe he could sort of see Héctor’s point with Imelda; she had ambition and drive and wouldn’t let anybody dictate what she could or could not do, and he could admire that. Plus she had turned out beautiful, which in his not-so-humble opinion helped.

There was hardly any pretty girl in Santa Cecilia Ernesto hadn’t hit on, often with some success, but not her. He had the uncomfortable feeling it would result in rejection; while he’d been rejected before, it was never a big deal because to each their own and some just have no taste. 

With Imelda, he suspected it might be different. He suspected it might actually hurt, and maybe it would be best to just… not find out whether or not it would be the case. 

It was just stupid. He would make a point to ignore her until it went away, that was all. Not that Héctor behaving like a crushing puppy helped, but that would pass, too; she was not his type. He’d either let go of his crush, or be burned, whine a little, and then move on. Simple as that.

Héctor couldn’t possibly be her type.

***

“What’s eating you?”

“Gah!” 

Ernesto recoils, the phone flying out of his hands. It slides across the table, and Imelda catches it before it falls off. Ernesto has precisely half a second to hope she didn’t get a look at the screen before she hands it back to him, an eyebrow raised. 

“Who’s María del Carmen?”

“A potential date,” Ernesto mutters, snatching the phone from her hand. He hopes Imelda isn’t going to press the matter, but of course she does.

“You can invite her to the wedding. You can still pick a guest to come with you.”

Yes, great first date idea. Sitting there with a stranger to watch you marry my best friend.

The thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, but Ernesto manages to fake a laugh convincingly enough. “Hah! Not my idea of a first date,” he says, swiping left as discreetly as possible before he locks the screen. “How’s Héctor?”

“Better, I think. Contrite enough. They’re keeping him under observation for the night.”

“Ugh. Here goes the plan to drive back this evening.” Ernesto makes a face. “How did you get here, anyway? We had the car.”

“I got a taxi.”

“How much did it cost--”

“Don’t ask. I’m doing my best not to think of that,” Imelda says, and they both chuckle. 

“Heh. Fair,” Ernesto concedes. “There is a motel right by. I’ll pay for two rooms. Before we go, can I offer you a--” he pauses, and turns to glance at what the small café has to offer. He makes a face. “... A coke, I guess?”

“I’d like that. With ice and lemon, thanks,” Imelda says, then leans forward. “Are you all right? You looked odd back there. Not food poisoning odd, but--”

“I’m fine,” Ernesto says, waving his hand dismissively. “Worried about the idiota I got myself as my best friend, I guess. I’ll get you that coke, and then we go get some sleep.”

They drink their cokes under the franky depressing neon lights of the hospital’s café, making small talk about the weather and music and whatnot; to Ernesto’s relief, no mention is made of the upcoming wedding. They drive-- well, Imelda drives them to the motel, all without incident.

Then, of course, the universe just has to make a big fat joke at his expense. 

“Only one room left, I’m afraid.”

Ah, for fuck’s sake. 

“I’ll take that for her. I’ll go sleep in the car,” he adds, holding out his hand for the key. She hesitates, glancing at guy behind the desk.

“No other rooms at all?”

“I’m afraid not. But it does have twin beds, if that suits you…?”

“Absolutely not,” Ernesto snaps at him. “The keys. I’ll sleep on the backseat, plenty of space.”

“It’s two separate beds, I think I can put up with it for a few hour--”

Well, I can’t. Not for one minute.

“Share a room with the future bride of my best friend?” Ernesto tries to grin like he finds the thought funny. “No can do, señorita. That’s a recipe for disaster.”

“Oh, come on,” she mutters, rolling her eyes. “You’ve seen too many movies. Héctor wouldn’t think for a second anything unbecoming happened.”

I know. That makes it worse.

“I’d really rather sleep in the car,” Ernesto insists. “Good form, no?”

A sigh, but she eventually relents and hands him the keys. “If you insist. But I won’t sit through endless complaints about your aching back during the drive back to Santa Cecilia, am I clear?”

“Crystal,” Ernesto says; somehow he manages to keep up the smile. He puts his card down to pay for the room and after a quick ‘goodnight’ he heads outside, breathing in the cool night air.

There is a bottle of beer beneath the passenger seat, much too warm to be really enjoyable, but he opens it and gulps it all down anyway, sprawled on the backseat of Héctor’s car. Within a week, the car will take the bride to church - bumps and scrapes and all - and then drive off the newlyweds towards their honeymoon, leaving him behind to watch them go. They will be back, eventually, but they will be man and wife and Ernesto will need to live with that.

They’ve been an item for years. He ought to be used to it. It shouldn’t keep him awake.

We would never work, he thinks, we'd drive each other insane within months.

That's probably true, he knows, and thinking like that usually helps. Not tonight.

He wishes he had another beer or two or twenty at hand.

***

“Are you drunk?”

“Drunk with happiness, yes!”

“A date, you.”

“Yes!”

“With Imelda.”

“Yes!!”

Ignoring the sting of what he refused to identify as jealousy, Ernesto frowned. “You’re joking.”

“I would never!” Héctor laughed and did a half-twirl that almost ended in a tumble. “On Saturday! There is this movie that came out on Día de los Muertos, according to the critics Hollywood didn’t butcher the whole thing too much, and she wants to see it and I want to see it and so--”

“I wanted to see it too! You said we’d--” Ernesto tried to protest, despite the fact no such thing was discussed and he wasn’t very interested in the movie anyway. But this time, maybe for the very first time, Héctor entirely ignored Ernesto’s words. 

In the end, Ernesto just zoned out, telling himself it would be their only date, anyway. It would not last. It couldn’t last, and Ernesto would just let it run his course, only showing up at the end to help Héctor with his heartbreak, as any good amigo would do.

It was not their only date. Many more dates followed, then a relationship that, despite all the ups and downs, never caused the heartbreak Ernesto had expected. When Héctor decided to propose, his advice to wait fell to deaf ears; when he returned with a smile from ear to ear to let him know she had said yes, his words of congratulations and jabs about marriage being the end of carefree life sounded dull to his own ears. 

But he said them anyway and, when Héctor asked him to be his best man, he immediately accepted. He had to.

It was what any good amigo would do.

***

“I think I’ll write a song about the past two days.”

“Oh?”

“El Chorizo Envenenado!”

“It doesn’t sound especially promising.”

Sitting on the couch with a book in his hands while Ernesto stays sprawled on the armchair - his back is killing him and he’s exhausted after barely sleeping, so he’ll take some time to recover at Héctor’s place before he goes home - Héctor pouts.

“And that is why I’m the songwriter,” he mutters, gaining himself a scoff and little else. Ernesto is half-considering a nap when the door opens and Imelda walks in, fresh out of the shower, wet hair covered with a towel and wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe that is too large to belong to anyone but Héctor. It should be the most unflattering attire imaginable, but she looks beautiful in it because of course she does.  

It would be a good time to leave, but Ernesto finds he cannot tear his eyes away as she sits next to his best friend - the love of her life, he can see it so clearly now, in the soft look she gives him and the way she rests her head on his shoulder. 

“What are you reading?”

“Marriage for dummies,” Héctor replies, and she laughs softly, a sound Ernesto cannot quite recall hearing before. Héctor must have heard it many times, will hear it many more times.

This is meant to last, he can tell it now. His best friend, and the woman he finds himself loving against all good judgment. And he’ll keep a smile on, be his best man and toast to their union, because that’s what a good amigo does and the show must go on even if something in his chest hurts so much he fears it might break. But he stays, pretending to be snoozing, watching them through eyelids barely cracked open, an intruder trying to get a glimpse of that beauty, to hear more of that secret laugh.

Maybe he should have tried, Ernesto thinks, seized his moment and asked her out first - but a voice in the back of his mind, much more practical, reminds him it would have made no difference; that even if he’d tried, the almost certain outcome would have been a no. There was never a moment to seize, and he isn’t sure whether that is supposed to make him feel better or hurt worse. 

Somehow, it cuts both ways.

[precuredaily]

Precure Day 170

Episode: Yes! Precure 5 22 - “Milk Runs Away and Causes Mass Chaos!” Date watched: 7 January 2020 Original air date: 8 July 2007 Screenshots: https://imgur.com/a/Em3LtfV Transformation Gallery: https://imgur.com/a/6k6SzS0 Project info and master list of posts: http://tinyurl.com/PCDabout

and a bitch

I guess I can’t keep harping on Milk forever. She found herself alone in a hostile world not built for her, had to survive by whatever means necessary, and when she finally finds the people that it’s her responsibility to help, she can’t do anything for them. She has a superiority complex that is extremely at odds with her capacity to actually be useful, so she lashes out at others instead. Where does this get her? Let’s find out.

The Plot

Milk tries to help at Natts House as they prepare for a big sale, but only gets in the way of the others, so she tries to put herself on sale. However, Coco and Nuts explain that her plan to sell herself, sneak back, and sell herself again repeatedly is fraud and they will not allow it, so she feels sad and helpless.

this is the sad climb, use it for sad times

Meanwhile Arachnea is feeling the pressure when her quarterly bonus turns out to be zero, so she stops by Natts House just in time to see Milk run away. She follows Milk for a few blocks and then kidnaps her, and the gang follows them to an aquarium. Arachnea uses an enchanted jellyfish to hold Milk hostage and electrocute her while she turns another jellyfish into a Kowaina and demands the Dream Collet in exchange for Milk.

The girls respond that they’re getting Milk back, and she’s not getting the collet, before they transform. Arachnea points out that Milk ran away of her own volition because she thinks the girls hate her, and they respond that they don't; while sometimes you have to be stern with your friends, it’s in her best interest, and they still consider her a valuable companion. Arachnea doubles down on her threat by dangling Milk over a tank of piranhas.

as one does

The Kowaina captures the girls in its tentacles, but they manage to free Lemonade, who frees the rest of them, and they rescue Milk before destroying the monster, and Arachnea flees without either the fairy OR the Dream Collet. The girls assure Milk again that they value her and all return to the shop.

A few days later, in the aftermath of the sale, Coco and Nuts tell the girls how Milk has been more amenable since then, and she apologizes for making them worry. Komachi shows up with a copy of the Cinq Lumieres Times, where Mika has written a piece complimenting Milk, who she believed was a stuffed animal. Milk takes the compliment to heart and returns to her boastful self, claiming to be much more refined than Nozomi, that they are as different as Heaven and Hell. The other girls are surprised to hear her use that phrase, and it turns out she is actually very studious and approximately the same relative age as them. The episode closes with Milk taunting Nozomi while being chased around the shop.

The Analysis

If you remember in episode 11, where I observed that Nozomi was exhibiting ADHD symptoms, I think we might have another sincere portrayal of mental illness in Milk. She seems to be displaying traits of a superiority complex. She sees herself as better than all of the girls, and her responsibility is solely to Coco and Nuts. However, the reality of her small body and inability to assume human form (yet) are at odds with this and clash with her vision of herself, creating feelings of inferiority. If this sounds contradictory, all I can say is that there are different interpretations of what a superiority complex is, and that I’m not a doctor. The point is, her high opinion of herself contrasts with her actual capacity for help and results in her feeling useless and unwanted. Even after she’s rescued, she seems to still be shaken by the experience, and is all around quieter and less enthusiastic than normal. However, a quick confidence boost is the perfect thing to snap her back to her usual self.

Milk’s struggle to find a purpose in a world that isn’t made for her is actually very fascinating. Despite her normally forceful demeanor, we see her vulnerable side as well. Since she’s small, ordinary things like birds and dogs seem frightening to her, and you can sympathize with her. Combined with the revelation at the end of the episode that she’s equivalent to Nozomi’s age, you start to realize that she’s really just a child putting on a strong front. She has thus far survived by exploiting people’s sympathy, and it seems to be her only useful skill. She pretends to be a stuffed animal, steals the person’s food that picks her up, and then finds her next victim. She plans to use this strategy again in order to bring in money for the shop. It’s mean, but it’s also the only thing she feels she can do to help out since she can’t mop, can’t move furniture, can’t be a salesperson, etc. Coco and Nuts also don’t really need any caretaking, they’re very self-sufficient. She implied in the previous episode that she could cook, so maybe there’s that, but I don’t believe she ever gets the chance to demonstrate this. Effectively, the only thing she can do for the shop is to serve as a mascot and attract customers with her cuteness, which is what Mika does and how she writes about her in the paper. Of course, being treated as an object of desire pys right back into Milk’s ego, but it doesn’t mean she’s not good at it regardless. Although I don’t believe it ever happens again, she just stays out of the way when there’s business to be done.

Over in Nightmare we begin to see some real consequences. Sure, Bunbee has complained about budget cuts before and there’s always someone griping, but this time we actually see a direct result of their failure to get the Dream Collet, in the form of no pay for Arachnea OR Bunbee. The rest of the season will continue to explore the ramifications of their ongoing failure, and in fact the very next episode will showcase Girinma being given his final chance to succeed. Nightmare hasn’t been as cliche evil as the Dusk Zone or Dark Fall were, and their goal is even more vaguely defined, but their consequences seem to carry more weight. In the FW shows, villains either recurred every episode until they were destroyed, or they rotated, but either way their individual losses didn’t seem to matter much to the top brass. Splash Star came close, but every time a villain was given their final chance, they wound up being destroyed by the Precures in that episode anyway. Here, we’re beginning to see some actual feedback, and I enjoy that.

The battle in the aquarium - both the physical fight and the clash of words - was really good on all fronts. Arachnea was right that Milk ran away of her own volition, suggesting she didn’t want to be around the team, and they had no right to demand her return. However, the girls give a really great speech in return: they explain that Coco had to be stern with her for a reason, because that’s what friends do sometimes, and that he and Nuts were still overjoyed that she found them. Komachi and Karen declare her a true friend to them. It’s a great exchange of ideals. Physically, there’s a lot of moving around and they make good use of the environment. I especially like the part where the Kowaina traps all the girls in its tentacles, so Dream wriggles around until she can dive into Lemonade, giving her enough room to escape and use Lemonade Splash on the monster to cause it to release its grip on them. Then Aqua tricks Arachnea into latching webs onto her so she can distract the villain while Rouge rescues Milk from her precarious perch:

Changing gears and winding this thing down, I want to say a quick bit about how Milk literally moves around through the world. As seen in the gif higher up, her ears are prehensile, so she can use them like arms to pick herself up and navigate obstacles such as stairs. Coco and Nuts tend to just jump but she lifts herself. It’s clever.

All told this was a very strong episode about Milk struggling to find a place and a role for herself, and the girls coming to appreciate her presence in their lives. It lays the foundation for a lot of Milk’s character growth in the 20s and 30s, as well as teasing just how badly Nightmare’s agents are doing, which will play into the next episode. 23 and 24 are a two-parter, the mid-season climax, and some of the best episodes of the whole show. To that end I’ll be posting the reviews of them back to back, even if it means delaying them a bit. Considering I have been sitting on this review for the better part of a month, that may not mean much, but regardless, look forward to some DESPAIR next time!

Pink Precure Catchphrase Count: 0 kettei!

[sweetiepie08]

Musician with the Poison Tears (Chapter 10)

Miguel Rivera’s been fascinated by the story of the legendary ghost, the Musician with Poison Tears, since he was a kid. He’s always wanted to know the full story behind the weeping specter that haunts the train station with its invisible guitar. Now 18, the travels to Mexico City to try to observe the ghost from afar and get some clues about its origin. Who knows? He might even get a song out of it.

This story is based on the art and ghost!au created by @melcecilia14​. Go check out her artwork here, here, here, and here. It’s really awesome.

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

Bonus.

Miguel and his cousins watched from the doorway as their Abuelita sat in the courtyard reading the newspaper.

“You think this is a good idea?” Abel asked?

“Not really, but it’s the only one I’ve got.” Miguel spent all night preparing what to say to her. He rubbed his thumb over the cover of the journal in his hands. He figured, if she wouldn’t listen to him, she might listen to Mamá Coco. Even then, it might not be enough, but he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t try.

“Maybe it would be better if one of us did the talking,” Rosa suggested.

Miguel shook his head. “No, it has to come from me.”

With one more breath, he stepped out into the morning sunlight. “Abuelita?” he said approaching the table. She flipped one corner of her paper down and peered at him over it. “I have something to show you.” He sat down beside her and set the book on the table. “I opened Mamá Coco’s gift. You know? The one she gave me right before she died?”

Abuelita put her newspaper aside, looked inquisitively at the book, and opened the cover.

“Careful,” Miguel instructed. “It’s very old and there’s a few loose pages.”

She turned to a random page and her eyes went wide when she saw the handwriting inside. “Miguel, what is this?”

He grinned. It was a small victory but those were the first words she spoke to him since that awful fight. At least he was making progress. “Mamá Coco gave me the journal she kept when she was young. She writes about a lot of things in here. She talks about Mamá Imelda and Tío Oscar and Tío Filipe. She talks about growing up in Santa Cecelia and working in the zapatoria… and she talks about music.”

Abuelita threw him a sharp look.

“I know, I know, it’s not your favorite subject,” he conceded, “but if you read her words, you’ll know she loved music too. Though, I already knew that because she’s the one who introduced me to music in the first place. She used to sing to me when no one was listening.”

Her lips curved downward into a hard frown. “You’re trying to use your Mamá Coco to justify your lies?”

“No, that not it,” he backpedaled. “I just meant that she loved music and she wanted to share it with the people she loved. She did it because that’s what her father did. She loved him and he loved her. She never believed he abandoned them on purpose and she was right. I know because I met him.”

Abuelita looked at him like he was trying to convince her the earth was flat.

“I know how it sounds, but it’s the truth. He’s the ghost who’s haunting the train station. I talked to him. Rosa and Abel talked to him. He went on tour with his best friend, Ernesto de la Cruz, always planning to come home, but when the time came, Ernesto wanted him to keep going.  He tried to go home anyway, and Ernesto murdered him for it, stole his songs, and became famous off of them. Now he’s trapped, but he’s still trying to come home.”

He placed the small photograph corner on the table, showing her Héctor’s face. She looked at it like she’d seen a ghost. Well, I guess she has.

“That’s him,” Miguel explained, sliding the picture closer. “His name is Héctor. Mamá Coco kept this for a reason.”

Abuelita kept staring at the photo. The initial shock left her face, but now, Miguel couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

“All he wants is to see Mamá Imelda and Mamá Coco again. That’s his unfished business. It’s why he’s still hanging on. He’s too late to meet them in person now, but there might still be a chance. You’re Mamá Coco’s daughter. I think if her met you, if he knew his family still loved him, it’d set him free. He’d be able to cross over and he’d finally return to Mamá Coco and Mamá Imelda.”

She was silent for a long time. Miguel resisted the urge to fill that silence. He knew she needed it and it was best to let her take this in at her own pace. “You lied to me,” she finally said. She didn’t sound angry, but hurt. “You lied to your whole family for years. After all those lies, why should I believe you are telling the truth now?”

Miguel felt a lump form in his throat. “I’m sorry I lied,” he began, gently taking her hand, “and I’m sorry for what I said to you on the night we fought. I regret that the most. I have no excuse for that. I was wrong to say those things. All I ever wanted was to share my love of music with my family. I still hope I can someday and I hope you’ll be there when I do, but this isn’t about me. Héctor is part of our family and he needs our help.”

She went quiet again and looked off into the distance. He thought he could see tears brimming on her eyes. “You don’t have to answer me right now. Here,” he slid the journal closer to her, “I’ll leave this with you. I hope you’ll read through it. I think Mamá Coco wanted us to know how she really felt.”

He waited for a response. When none came, he picked up the picture of Héctor and left her with her thoughts. He wasn’t sure how long she would think it over or if she’d consider it at all. He hoped she would, but not just for Héctor’s sake. Their whole family revolved around this one painful event. If they put Héctor to rest, maybe they could put that pain to rest as well.

[-]

A few days later, Miguel had his answer. He was hanging out in the living room with his cousins when Abuelita walked it, journal in hand. “Alright, when do we leave?” she asked, looking at Miguel.

He went dumb for a second. “Leave for what?”

“To see this ghost of yours of course.”

“You mean Héctor?” he asked, jumping to his feet. “You want to help him?”

She nodded. “At the very least, I can see what he has to say for himself.”

“Great, so when do you want to leave?” It was really best to let her take the reins from here.

“Tomorrow, bright and early” she said. Her voice made it clear there would be no argument.

“Right, of course Abuelita. Tomorrow.”

[-]

The drive back up to Mexico City was tense to say the least. It was nearly silent. The no-music rule was still in effect, after all. Rosa and Abel sat up front and exchanged a few words but that was about all the sound they had. Miguel sat in the back with Abuelita, who looked out the window with a determined look on her face. At least the quiet gave Miguel time to think about how best to approach this whole day. That last thing he wanted was for Abuelita to chew out her long-dead grandfather in front of a crowd who couldn’t see who she was yelling at. And he definitely didn’t want Hector’s first encounter with his long lost family to leave him feeling even more alone than he already did. He just had to cross his fingers and pray this all went smoothly.

When they arrived at the train station, Miguel begged Abuelita to let him introduce her. “Fine Miguel,” she agreed with a shrug. “This is your ghost. We’ll do it your way.”

Once they got inside, it didn’t take them long to find Héctor. He popped up in front of them as soon as they walked through the door. “Miguel, what are you doing back so soon? I thought you had a promise to keep with your family.”

“I did and kept it. In fact, I brought some of them.” He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder at his cousin.

“I see. Hola Abel. Hola Rosa,” Héctor said cheerfully as he waved at them.

“I also brought my Abuelita,” Miguel said, gesturing toward her. “Abuelita, this is Héctor.”

“Can she see me?” Héctor asked.

Abuelita nodded. “I can.” From her awestruck expression, there was no doubt.

“That’s great! It seems your whole family can…” Something seemed to click in his mind and his face shifted into a thoughtful expression.

“About that, I did some more digging while I was at home and there’s a good reason we can all talk to you.”

Abuelita clutched Mamá Coco’s journal in her hands. Miguel gestured for it and she handed it to him without taking her eyes off Héctor.

“This Journal belonged to my great grandmother,” he said, showing it to Héctor. “She started it when she was fourteen. She wrote about her life in Santa Cecelia, her love of dancing and music, and she wrote about how much she missed her father. You see, he disappeared when she was a little girl. And her name was Coco Rivera.”

Héctor’s eyes went wide. If he could still breathe, it would have left him. “My Coco?”

Miguel nodded with a soft smile. He put his hands on Abuelita’s shoulders and gently guided her closer to the ghost. “Héctor, this is your granddaughter, Elena Rivera.”

“My…” He stared at her like he was seeing the sun for the first time. “I can hardly believe…”

“You…” Abuelita started. Miguel held his breath. “You…” she said again, apparently searching for the right word.

Miguel braced himself. Would it be an insult? A tirade about how he abandoned his family? Could he even hope she’d say something kind? Please God, let this go well.

“You’re a baby!” she said at last.

Miguel’s jaw hit the floor.

Héctor drew back and blinked. “Excuse me?”

“How old were you when you died?” she demanded.

Héctor’s eyes darted between her and Miguel. “Twenty one?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“No I’m telling…” He looked helplessly at Miguel who could only shrug. Neither were able to comprehend the awesome power of Abuelita.

“Dios mio, I have grandchildren older than you,” she sighed, shaking her head. “My boys were idiots at that age. It’s no wonder you got those ideas in your head. All this time I thought you were cruel and careless. Turns out you were just young and stupid.”

Héctor’s eyes turned to the floor. “You’re right. I was stupid. My stupid choice caused my whole family pain. I’m sorry.”

“Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

Héctor shook his head. “It’s all I think I have a right to say.”

“Don’t give me that,” Abuelita scolded. “I want to know exactly what you were thinking.”

“Abuealita,”Miguel interjected, “Héctor only recently got his memories back. I don’t think he’ll remember.”

“It’s alright Miguel,” Héctor said, floating closer. “I do remember.” He straightened himself up and looked Abuelita in the eye. “I remember that we were poor. I remember wanting to give Imelda and Coco a better life. I thought becoming a famous musician was the only way I could do that. I always planned on coming home. I never thought I wouldn’t make it and I never could have imagined why.”

“Your friend murdered you?” she asked frankly.

“Yes.”

“How long did you know him?”

He sighed. “My whole life.”

“How did he do it?”

“He toasted our friendship with a poisoned drink,” he answered with a bitter sneer.

Abuelita shook her head in disgust. “Coward,” she spat with the venom of a snake. “Well, you were stupid, but you didn’t deserve to die.”

Héctor’s face seemed to lighten up slightly. “Miguel mentioned before that after his great-great grandfather left, your family hated music. That you believed music tore your family apart.”

“That is true.”

He nodded sadly. “I am ashamed to be the cause of that. If I knew how much my family would suffer for my mistake, I never would have touched a guitar.”

“That’s nonsense,” Abuelita snapped, taking both Héctor and Miguel by surprise. “Miguel tells me your songs became very popular.”

“More like iconic,” Miguel corrected.

“If you have a talent like that, you should use it,” Abuelita affirmed.

Miguel thought he might lose his breath now. “Do you really mean that, Abuelita?”

She cast a teasing smile in his direction. “Do you think I’m a liar, Miguel?”

He beamed. “No, ma’am.”

Abuelita returned his grin and turned back to Héctor. “My family spent generations being angry at you. I used to think you were the slimiest, most self-centered snake to ever slither across the planet. I must say,” she let out a breath and smiled up at him, “you are not what I imagined. I think you’ve been punished more than enough, don’t you?”

Hope grew in Héctor’s eyes. “Does this mean you forgive me?” A faint glow began emanating from him.

Abuelita nodded. “I could never stay mad at my family, not when I know they meant well.” She gave Héctor a once-over and tsked. “Look at you. So skinny. That’s the real curse you put on my family. My sister, my son Enrique, and just look at Miguel.” She swung her arm in his direction. “All twigs thanks to you.”

Héctor laughed. “Now that I’m not sure how to apologize for.”

“Look at that, Miguelito,” she said, putting her arm around him, “you’ve got his dimple.” His cousins gathered around him as well. Héctor’s joy at seeing them all together radiated off him like the orange glow.

“Now what are you waiting for?” Abuelita said to him. “I think you’ve kept your family waiting long enough.”

Héctor’s light dimmed. “Do you think they’ll take me back?”

Abuelita gave him a sad smile. “I’m afraid I don’t know the answer, but I read my mother’s journal and I do know this: she still loves you.”

Tears fell from Héctor’s eyes once again. There was no scent of tequila and not a trace of poison. These tears were real.

The orange glow around him grew brighter. The flesh on his fingers faded, revealing bone underneath.

“Héctor! Your hand!” Miguel cried as the skin continued to disappear.

Héctor smiled as he examined his hands, completely unalarmed by this change. “It’s alright, Miguel,” he laughed. “It’s alright. I feel better than I have in a century.” His flesh continued to burn away and he laughed as if filled with pure delight. “I love you all. I couldn’t wish for a better family.” His smile was enough to warm the hearts of everyone around him. “You set me free. I can’t thank you enough. Please never forget how much you love each other.”

“We won’t,” Miguel answered, tears filling his own eyes.

Héctor’s grin somehow made his glow even brighter. The light became blinding as it enveloped him. He let out one last jubilant laugh and he was gone.