#*sistah if you’re reading this I’m sorry but I have to let it out*

[haniehae-archive]

:(

[clandestineloki]

My Darling Dove (1K Followers Special!)

The winner is... Prompt #05!! 

“You’re so innocent, yet your curiosity wanders far beyond anything pure. Shall I be your guide to the most sinful, ravishing, and utterly glorious pleasures of all?”

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I can’t thank all of you enough for being so kind and so sweet. Thank you to every single person who’s reblogged, commented, liked, or read my fics! Thank you to the sweet anons who never fail to send such heartwarming messages that make my day!!

Taglist:

@fandom-basurero @yourgothyteen @mishas-underpants @superheroesandstardust @freakybitch25 @iambetterthanbefore

also my sistah @whyispistashanuttaken thank you for thirsting over this with me!! sending all my love and liters of water to you!!

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TW: smut, corruption kink, oral (fem receiving)

=

"Y-Your majesty? Are you in here?"

You try to steady the shaking of your hands by clenching your fists as you knock on the door.

You've gone here hundreds of times with some of the other maids, to change the sheets or arrange the wardrobe, but it's different now.

It's different because the Prince summoned you alone.

To put it in the words of the head maid, he wants you, specifically.

But why? You were just one of the other handmaids in the palace, no one significant to the royal family, let alone the prince.

No one answers the door. You test the doorknob, and it clicks as you turn it slowly. You peek into the room. No one's inside.

You let out a sigh of relief and push the door completely open, though your ears are still thrumming hard.

Prince Loki set something alight in you- something you've never felt- and it was quite scary- the feeling of not knowing. The feeling of not knowing what pleasant burn would come alive inside you every time your eyes met his, the feeling of confusion every time his eyes lingered on you for too long, the way it seemed he was playing a tempting game with you.

A game you have never played.

You swallow your pride and start towards the bed, assuming the Prince just called you here for chores, and nothing else.

Just as you reach the bedside, a firm hand grabs your wrist and whirls you around, and you nearly stumble if not for Prince Loki's grip on your arm.

"Well, well."

His other hand cups your chin and tilts your face up to meet his eyes.

He's even more captivating up close.

"The little dove actually came," he smirked.

"I-I-I was ordered t-to, I couldn't d-disobey- ah," your words come out in shaky breaths as his thumb brushes across your lips.

He quirks an eyebrow, and lets his grin widen. He must know the effect he has on you. It's impossible for him to be enjoying it this much.

"That's what I admire about you, dove," he chuckles, letting go of your wrist, and you can still feel the ghost of his grip on your arm. "You're so obedient, so nice..."

And, when your eyes flicker away for just a fraction of a second, he pulls you closer, his fingers working through your braids and slipping the hair tie off, threading his fingers into your scalp once your tresses flow freely.

"So eager to be a good little dove."

His thumb brushes against your cheek before the hand caressing your face drops to his side.

"Kiss me."

Your eyes widen. "Kiss you, your majesty?"

You had never kissed anyone, let alone hold hands with anybody. And here you were, with Prince Loki, the one you admired most, and he was asking you to-

"I won't repeat myself."

You let out a squeak, and in a panic, you rush up on your toes and quickly kiss him.

On the cheek, that is.

You squeeze your eyes shut, unable to look at him any longer. "I'm sorry, my prince!"

Unbeknownst to you, Loki turns irrationally red at your little stunt. He had always seen you as so pure, so innocent, but this- this was something else.

He chuckles in amusement, and you open your eyes slowly and raise your chin a little to look up at him. His hand is brushing lightly against the spot where you had-

"Was that a kiss?"

Your face burns at his teasing tone. You don't know, honestly.

"That was just a light peck. You really are a little bird, aren't you?"

Was that a compliment? A mockery? A rhetorical question?

You don't get to find out, because his hand coming up to hold your face startles you out of your half-baked thoughts.

"Perhaps I should show you, then."

He lightly brushes his lips against yours, very slowly. You flinch at the contact, but his thumb brushes lightly on your neck, as if to soothe you. It works, and your eyes flutter shut on instinct.

The prince who had nearly cut off your blood supply by gripping your wrist, was the same prince treating you as if you could break any moment.

Which, you could. You could spontaneously combust right here with just the way he's being so gentle.

But, then, gentle became... a little less gentle.

He nibbles down on your bottom lip, and when you gasp in surprise, he slips his tongue into your mouth, and you unintentionally let out a whimper as his tongue expertly knocks the wind out of you. His other hand snakes around your waist, and pulls you even closer, giving you no room to escape.

You have no idea what you're escaping from.

He pulls away after a while, and you can't stop yourself from slightly leaning back in before he chuckles and you suddenly get flustered again.

"Y-your majesty?" you ask, your head still down, your breathing heavy, your mind still dazed from the kiss.

"Wh-why was I asked to come here? A-alone?"

Prince Loki doesn't speak for a while. Unlike you, he's perfectly composed and not a panting, shaking mess.

"I asked you to come here because I have a proposition."

He pulls on the bottom-most button of your plain white shirt. It comes off quite easily- it's loosened due to the wear and tear of time- and he takes one of your trembling hands in his.

"Take your blouse off for me."

Your stomach somersaults at his words, all heat rushing to your face, burning like magma.

You let him guide your wrist to the next button, and you take it off, then the next.

You're staring holes into your shoes, and you don't dare look up- not even when his other hand starts rubbing gently on your cheek.

"N-No one's ever seen me naked before, your majesty. I-" you pop out another button and shakily exhale.

Prince Loki knows what you're trying to say. He knows you don't know what you're doing.

He's going to fix that in a while.

He'll utterly deflower you in the most passionate way.

But first, he'll get you through this.

As you pop open another button, he leans down and whispers right into your ear.

"That's it, dove. Keep going."

You shudder at the praise, and something twists inside you at the sinewy tone. You quickly unbutton the next two buttons and he chuckles.

"One last, little dove."

He emphasizes his little nickname for you by kissing your ear slowly, and you're so startled you nearly rip the last button off.

"Ssh,” he chuckles, amused. “Don't be so alarmed, dove."

He unsheds the upper half of your body, and the hairs on the back of your neck shoot up because he lets out an almost predatory growl.

"You're even more beautiful than I'd thought."

Heat blossoms on your cheeks and between your legs at his generous praise.

His eyes have darkened significantly, and the look in his eyes is feral.

"Get on the bed."

Your eyes flicker behind you to his large four-poster. "On y-your bed?"

He suddenly pulls you to his chest, and he bites down on your ear. You let out a whimper, but you're cut off when he tells you to-

"Get on the bed, or I won't be able to control myself."

You stumble onto the bed quite clumsily, and adjust yourself so you're kneeling, your hands fidgeting nervously in front of you. Loki joins you, and he holds your chin and captures your lips, but this time, he's shedding his armor, tossing it somewhere else in the room. 

He's left in trousers, naked waist-up, and you can help the shiver that runs through you.

You can feel your heart thumping in your chest, and you're breathing air like you've just gone for a swim.

His tongue slips in your mouth again, and he sucks just hard enough to have you whimpering into his mouth. He breaks away and looks down at you. He grins, and his skilled tongue traces his bottom lip like a hungry wolf.

"Look at you, my little dove. So innocent, yet you're almost completely bare for me."

He leans in close, his voice darkening into a sensual whisper.

"Almost."

You feel your stomach twist at his voice and he chuckles, gently pushing on your chest so you lie flat on the bed. He moves his face next to your other ear, licking your skin gently before softly nibbling on it.

He hovers on top of you for a second, seeing your flushed face and chest, before moving to your neck and kissing every inch of cherry red skin there. He alternates soft kisses with sucking and biting, skillfully making you mewl just for him.

You're absolutely gone. You've never felt anything like it. You feel something blossoming in your stomach, like a fire, but one that burns beautifully, sweetly, making your toes curl. You thread your shaking fingers through his hair, and you feel his hand running up your wrist.

But he suddenly slams your hand down above you, and grabs the other as well, holding both your arms above your head.

He continues his ministrations, down your collarbone, onto your left breast, and onto your ni-

"Ah!"

Before you can stop yourself, you feel yourself arching your chest into his face, unable to keep yourself from sitting still.

He smirks devilishly up at you. "What was that, dove?"

"N-Nothing, your majesty. A-About y-your proposition?"

"Ah, well," he crawls up so his face is directly over yours again.

"The first order of business is to drop the formalities," he trails the tip of his tongue over the helix of your ear, effectively reducing you to pants and whimpers. His fingers toy with the garter of your skirt, the last piece of cloth covering your dignity. "Address me properly first."

"Your highness-"

Snap!

You gasp at the sudden sting on your hip from the stretched garter, but the sound turns into a loud moan as he bites down on your ear and growls.

"Call me my name."

If you were shaking earlier, you were practically vibrating now just from his voice.

"L-Loki," you stutter, and he smirks against your ear as he brings both his hands to your skirt and slowly drags it down your thighs, your ankles, your feet, until he all but gracefully tosses it aside.

"Your h- Loki," you test his name on your tongue a second time, it feels foreign, but nice. "What are you doing?"

He grins almost madly, and jerks your legs apart so wide, a shockwave runs through your legs at the sudden cold that hits your soaking cunt-

"I'm going to study you, little dove," he kisses your ankle slowly. "I'll find out what makes those pretty little legs of yours shiver like a leaf in the wind. I'll uncover every dirty little fantasy you'd never admit to anyone, even yourself. I'm going to find out what you like, and I will give it to you tenfold. I will ravish you again, and again, and again, until you're wholly, utterly mine."

Oh, the prince had such sway in his words. It's one of the reasons you admired him so much. Everything he'd say was so intellectual, so intelligent, and though laced with a bit of sarcasm, his voice seemed to lure you in with every word.

Which didn't help that you felt your stomach twisting with every hot breath that landed on your petals.

“Does that quirk my little dove’s interest?” He raises an eyebrow playfully at your flustered state.

“Yes, Loki.”

He smirks before his eyes lower to your cunt, and you can see the glint in his irises. As if he's found a diamond.

Which he might as well have, because Loki wants nothing more than to find out how you taste.

And here you are, spread out for him so willingly, so vulnerable. All for him.

"Look at this," he looks up at you before diving in, pressing a kiss to your petals, and- Norns, what is this feeling? Your toes curl and you let out a whimper into the back of your palm.

He chuckles against your heat, the vibrations making your voice go higher. He pulls away, his chin and lips soaked.

"Do you see this, dove?"

You nod once, your face burning.

"It means you want me, little dove, you crave me." His tongue darts out to clean his lips, and you shudder at the act. His eyes flutter closed, and for a second there's a tense silence.

His eyes snap open, and the fire in his eyes is feral.

You feel another clench- and now you're aware that the origin is your cunt- and your breath catches in your throat.

"I need more-" he grabs your ankles and pulls you closer to his face.

Loki hooks one of your legs over his shoulder and lays your other leg flat down on the bed, and- giving you one last look before grinning sadistically- licks a fat stripe up your folds.

The sounds that leave your throat are unholy. The only thing your poor little head can process is his mouth on you, his firm grip on both your thighs, and your fists clenching the sheets below you.

He alternates between soft licks, slow ones, fast ones, but he doesn’t establish some kind of pattern. He wants to keep you on edge. He wants to see you fall over the peak without you even seeing it coming.

He grips your thighs harder, and teases your entrance with his tongue-

His head snaps up at the utterly beautiful noise that you make when he does. 

He likes it.

He does it again, and again, and again- wait, he realizes you’re quieter. Your thighs are shaking, and are you wincing?

“What is it, dove?”

“I-I-I liked it, b-but, could you- maybe- slow down?”

He blinks twice, then chuckles to himself softly. He crawls over you and brushes a little hair away from your face.

“I apologize for getting too far ahead. I couldn’t resist,” he chuckles. “I’ll slow down for you, dove.”

You feel his fingers trace your hip lightly, and you unintentionally flinch, bucking your hips into his.

“So eager already, my dove?”

He circles his fingers around your entrance, gathering your nectar, before sliding them in.

You gasp, and he presses his mouth to yours, groaning into your mouth feeling just how warm your insides are.

“I thought you said you wanted me to slow down.”

You’re unable to think right now. You don’t know what he’s doing, or what you’re feeling, but you don’t want it to stop.

His lips are back at your neck, sucking slowly, his fingers curling inside you until he hits a spot that makes you-

“Ah! Please, Loki!”

He knows he’s sparked something in you. He knows you’re at the edge already.

Which is why he pulls out his fingers. 

You whimper at the loss of his digits and your hips chase after them, but he holds them firm in place with one hand as his eyes darken.

“I don’t think you know what you’re asking for, dove.”

You look away. “I don’t,” you meekly admit.

“You don’t. With how pure you are, there’s no way you’d know what I’m going to do to you for the rest of the night.”

He flicks a hand and green light surrounds him. When it vanishes, he’s completely bare. Your eyes land on his cock. It’s big.

But maybe it’s not. You’ve never seen one before.

A snap has your eyes shooting back up to his, and he smirks, knowing what’s running through your mind.

“I asked you here because I want to offer you endless nights of pleasure.”

He hovers over you.

“What I did to you earlier? The blissful state I had you in? That was just a prelude of all the dirty, sinful things I’ve wanted to do to you for so long.”

The last part of his words made your eyebrows furrow. So had he thought of this before?

As if in reply, he gently brushes his lips against yours. His hand comes up to brush your neck.

“I have had my eyes only on you for the past months, dove. No one else. You’re the only one I would ever offer this to. You’re the only one I would ever want to care for, to ravish, to love.”

After taking in a breath, his hand moves down to your thighs, gently nudging them apart.

“I only ask for one thing in return.”

You nod. “Anything, Loki.”

“Be mine as well,” Loki positions himself at your entrance. “Give me this chance to be your mentor, your friend, your lover. Allow me to deflower you in the most passionate way. Trust me with all of you, and I will trust you with all of me. Let me give you what you’ve been missing, because you gave me light when I lost it in the darkness, dove.”

He smiles down at you, and you can just barely make out the unshed tears in his emerald orbs.

“I’d like to do the same for you.”

You smile as well, and nod.

“Thank you,” he breathes out. “Thank you for trusting me, dove.”

He slowly sheathes himself in you, and you can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips at the intrusion. You feel so full, so blissful, but there’s a lingering sting as he goes deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper-

“Hey, ssh, dove, don’t cry,” he coos, your pained gasps stinging his heart. “It’s alright. You’re doing so well, t-taking all of me like a good dove.”

He praises you through it, telling you how good you are for him and how you’re making him feel so good and how he can’t wait to make you feel so good.

“There we go, it’s over, ssh, don’t cry.” He brushes away your tears. “I’m going to move now. I’ll take it slowly, don’t worry.”

He pulls out until only half of him is inside you, then pushes back in a little less slowly. Slowly, the painful burn slowly turns into one that makes your legs shake and your cunt clench, and makes you see stars in your eyes. He can hear the change in your voice, and takes this as his cue to move a little faster.

You’re a mewling, moaning mess for him and he loves it.

“It drives me insane that you’re so beautiful, yet I’m the only one to ever grace my eyes on you. Do you know how much power you’re trusting me with? I could break you so easily, I could- ah, fuck- I might take advantage of your kindness, yet you trust me with all of you.”

He takes your legs and pulls them around his waist, pushing deeper and harder into you.

“But I can never do that. I could never do that to you, dove. What you’ve given to me-” he kisses you briefly, “-it’s a blessing from Valhalla. I could never take advantage of you for that. You’re too precious. I love you too much to do that.”

Those three words, combined with how good he’s making you feel, bring tears to your eyes.

“I-I love y-you, Loki,” you whisper into his lips.

“I love you too, with all my heart, dove.”

He kisses you once again, before his hand finds your folds, rubbing your clit, and bringing you closer and closer to the edge-

“Please never let anyone see you like this. You’re mine. You’re mine, dove, and I’m yours as well.”

“Loki, I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours-”

It’s an endless chant that seals your deal as the both of you get lost in the feeling of each other.

=

The moon is high in the sky.

Loki’s hands seek out yours lazily, rubbing circles into it for a minute before he turns you around to face him as he brings your hand to his lips.

“You get more and more beautiful every second I look at you, dove.”

Your cheeks heat up and you hide shyly into his chest. He chuckles, and lifts your chin with a single finger to press a kiss to your nose.

“You’re still as shy as you always were, no matter what you say. Or are you just a really good actress?”

“M’ not,” you mumble against his lips. “Almost broke character when you snapped my skirt. Gets me every time.”

Loki quirks an eyebrow playfully, before laughing and shaking his head. “Doesn’t it feel great to look back on the old days? When you were just a pure, naïve little dove who would obey my every whim?”

He rolls over so he’s on top of you. He grasps each of your arms in his and inhales the scent of your hair.

“Not that you aren’t still one now. You caught me off guard with how great of an actress you were. Stuttering like a sweet little bird, just like you used to do back then. Makes something tick in me, makes me want to-”

He playfully growls and nibbles your bruised neck, and though you love when he does that, you whine softly.

“Later,” you push him down so he’s on his side, facing you. “Wanna sleep. You tired me out a lot.”

“I’m sure I did,” he chuckles, pulling you to his chest, pressing one last kiss to your lips.

“Now, sleep, you deserve it. You’re always so good for me, my perfect little darling dove.”

[lovethyfanperson]

Being a Deaf Girlsie Headcanons

Request: I was wondering if you were interested in a deaf girlsie x any newsie boy ? It doesn’t have to be romantic but I would love to see her interact with the newsies

I hope this is something close to what you wanted sweetie! Also, if anything in this is offensive of insensitive, let me know and I’ll fix it! I don’t want to offend anyone.

Also, this ended up being about 5 pages long hehe

Warnnings: Cussing, name-calling

@sincereythenewsies @-episkey- @partylikeits1899  @to-many-fandoms-halp @girlslikefoodandwifi

Being a Deaf Girlsie Headcanons:

- You’re a Newsie (obviously)

- So, you haven’t been deaf all your life

- And you lost your hearing under circumstances you’d rather never mention again

- Jack met you in the refuge

- And when he escapes, he brings you with him

- By this time you’ve become accustomed to reading lips

- Being poor, you can’t afford to learn ASL

- But that’s okay

- Because even if you did, no one else in the lodging house knew it

- They just become accustomed to looking at you and speaking clearly

- Okay, so

- You get very insecure about being deaf

- Because you can still speak

- But you don’t know what you sound like anymore, after all these years

- But Buttons and Finch assure you repeatedly that you have a lovely voice

- Also, even though you escaped the refuge with Jack, you’re best friends with Crutchie

- Because he understands what it’s like to not be “100% there” as he sometimes puts it

- Also, Crutchie’s not much of a crier.

- But there was one thing you said that made him shed a tear

- “I wish I could hear your voice.”

- You just sounded so sad

- So he held you for the longest time, humming

- You like being held while people hum

- Because you can feel the vibrations in their chest

- Anyways

- The boys get very protective when someone tries to flirt with you

- Boys out there on the street have no idea you’re deaf

- And you’ll often get hit on without knowing it

- Then suddenly you see Romeo standing over some bum, who’s holding his broken nose

- Specs adored you btw

- He doesn’t know why

- It’s just something about your kind and gentle nature

- Also the fact that when your clueless it is adorable

- Like, every once in awhile (it doesn’t happen too often) one of the boys will tell a joke

- But you’re not paying attention

- Then everyone around you is busting out laughing

- And you jump back, surprised

- Why is everyone throwing themselves around

- They look like they’re in pain

- Are they laughing?

- And all you say is “What?”

- When Davey meets you, he has no idea you’re deaf

- So he introduces himself rather quickly

- This boy talks FAST

- Not only that, but you’re also not looking at him

- All you see is a hand suddenly thrusting out towards you for a shake

- So when you look up you do that little “What?”

- And he’s really confused

- Like “she didn’t hear me?”

- “Uh. Hi, I’m new. I’m Davey.”

- He says it just as fast, so you catch nothing he says

- “Sorry, I’s… Didn’t quite get that. Can you’s say that again, a bit slower?”

- “…what do you mean?”

- “Sorry, sorry. I’s is deaf. And I need you’s ta talk a bit slower. So I’s can read yah lips.”

- “You don’t sound deaf!”

- You can’t hear Les, but Davey smacks his brother with his hat nonetheless

- “Sorry. I’m, Davey.’

- “Okay, not that slow.”

- You two become fast friends.

- SO

- You have a small crush on the Spot Conlon

- He visits every once in a while, since the strike ended

- You avoid him like the plague

- Because every time he tries to talk to you, your face goes red

- Because his lips look so soft

- And you’re so busy thinking about kissing him that you don’t pay attention to what he’s saying

- The only one who’s picked up on this is Elmer

- “Be careful with ‘im, (F/N).”

- “What you mean?”

- “That Spot Conlon’s a handful. I just don’t want you’s gettin’ hurt. Might start a terf war.’

- “I’s ‘ll be fine, Elmer. Sides, not like he likes me back.”

- “Why you’s say that?”

- “He’s Spot Conlon.”

- You once saw Baby flirting with him

- And that hurt you the most

- You couldn’t see his responses, since his back was turned to you

- But you could see everything she was saying to him

- And you end up crying that night

- Little did you know that he was blowing her off

- #BabyGotRejected

- Anyway

- Pulitzer was having a party one time

- And Katherine invited some of you

- And you didn’t plan on going

- Until Spot turned up and asked if you were going

- Because he was “hoping to see you there.”

- This is when the rest of the newsies pick up on your crush

- And they warn you

- And you’re just like “I’s already got this lecture from Elmer, shuddup.”

- Katherine, the sweetheart, let you borrow one of her old party dresses

- It was a little big

- But Tipper fixed it up so it fit you

- You, Race, and Jojo, and Tipper walked there together

- When you arrive, you feel so out of place

- Most people there are wealthy

- Or they have enough money to get by, then some

- Meanwhile you and your friends are basically dirt poor

- And you start to regret coming

- Because everyone looked like they were having a nice time listening to music, and listening to each other

- And the one person you’d come for, you couldn’t find

- So you tell Race that you’re heading back to the lodging house

- And he tells you that he’ll walk you

- And you shake your head

- “You’s have a good time. I’ll be fine.”

- “It’s dark outside, and- Oh, look who it is.”

- He turns you around, and your heart stops

- Spot has just arrived, fashionably late

- And he’s wearing his nicest pants, and a blue button up you’ve never seen on him before

- And he’s walking in your direction.

- “(F/N), you look great.”

- “S-so do you!” You blush, because some people turn to you

- You’d spoken rather loud.

- Race says something from behind you

- Spot just shrugs

- “I ain’t late. Party just started early.”

- Then he starts leading you towards the dancefloor

- “Spot, what are yah doin’?”

- He stops and turns to you, saying once three words

- “Dance with me.”

- “I can’t hear the music.”

- “Just follow my lead.”

- It isn’t that easy

- You trip over him multiple times

- So he brings you closer to the band

- “Vibrations, right?”

- Your heart fucking melts

- It’s all you can talk about for the next couple days

- And the other girlsies think it’s adorable

- The boys?

- Not so much

- Not to say they aren’t happy for you

- But you and Crutchie are their little rays of sunshine

- And if Spot ended up hurting you

- Elmer was not joking when he said there would be a terf war

- The next time Spot visits, Crutchie pulls him off to the side

- And gives him a warning

- “If you’s hurt ma sistah-”

- “(F/N)’s your sistah?”

- It takes a moment for Crutchie to realize what he’s said

- “N-no… But still-!”

- “Hey, hey, calm down. I ain’t gonna hurt no one.”

- He places a hand gently on Crutchie’s shoulder

- “You’s promise?”

- “I’s swear on tha life’a Brooklyn.”

- You two have Crutchie’s blessing

- Back to the “Sistah” thing

- Most of the boys see you as a sister

- Especially Specs, Jack, and Crutchie

- Crutchie is the first one to refer to you as his sister though

- And you see them as your brothers

- You’re all one big, (mostly) happy family

- This part

- This gets a bit angsty

- The Delancey Brothers

- Those bastards think they’re funny

- Because they think you don’t know what they’re saying

- So they call you names

- Their favorite so far is “Poor Deaf Bitch”

- But they make sure none of the others are around when they use them

- And you couldn’t bring yourself to tell anyone for the longest time

- Because you didn’t want to start a fight

- But then they picked up on your crush

- And they start calling you “Brooklyn’s little slut”

- And you’d had enough

- You ran away from them, and back to the lodging house

- And You break down, and tell Crutchie immediately

- You’d never seen Crutchie so mad

- And you can’t bring yourself to tell him how long it’s been happening

- “How long, (F/N)?

- “… A while.”

- “Goddamn them!”

- “Crutchie!”

- You just want to be held

- So he holds you while you cry

- And you eventually fall asleep

- When Jack gets back, Crutchie tells him immediately.

- He doesn’t even say hello

- And Jack is beyond pissed

- He marches straight out of the lodging house, grabbing the two closest newsies (Mush and Tipper)

- And the three aren’t seen for hours

- You’re awake by the time they get back

- Tipper’s lip is busted and a bloody nose

- Her clothes are torn

- Mush has cuts and bruises

- His clothes are fine though

- Jack has a black eye forming, his nose is bleeding, and he’s limping just a little

- They went to go soak up the Delancey’s

- But they had a couple friends with them

- Regardless, it was obvious who had won

- You started to cry again

- The next time Spot is over, you beg the guys not to tell him

- But Race does anyway

- And Spot gets so mad

- He turns to leave the lodging house

- You have to run after him to stop him from trying to take on the Delancey’s by himself

- “Spot! Spot stop!”

- “They don’t ‘ave the right ta call yah that!”

- “Jack, Mush, and Tipper already took care’a ‘em.”

- “I don’t care. No one messes with my goirl!”

- He’s talking so fast, you almost don’t catch what he says. And your heart just stops.

- “What did you’s say?”

- Your voice is so quiet

- And he stares at you

- And you can see him calming down

- He pulls you into the tightest hug you’ve ever been in

- And you two just stand there for a while, hugging

- These boys will do anything for you

- Though you remind them constantly that, despite your disability, you can hold your own

- But boys will be boys

- You’ll just have to show them

- Won’t you?

[ladyamandapanda12]

The King and I

The King and I Chapter 5 part 1

A/N: So I figured i had been sitting on the first 3000 words long enough. So here you guys go. I’ll try not to make Part 2 such long of a wait.

Summary: Tia has to leave London, and face her feelings for Chris. Can she leave so easily? Will she come back? And if she does will Chris wait for her? Is she going to be in the middle of an epic battle? Guess you’ll have to read to find out.

Tags: Adult situations, more so fluff then anything, angst

Word Count: 2,973 

@@myluvislikewow @sergeantmistress @theycallmebecca @devikafernando @theflimmaker1999

“Tia do you have to go?” Sebastian peeped out. His face red, and streaming with tears.  

Tia kneeled in front of him. “My little love, we go through this every time. You know I have to get back home. I have a lot of grown up stuff I must take care over there. I will be back soon, I promise. We can talk every week just like usual, and you can draw me pictures and write letters.” 

“Bbbutt…BUT…I WANT YOU TO STAY HERE!!” 

“SEBASTIAN….” Chris raised his voice to cut through the whining. “Do not yell at Tia. Am I understood?” Truth was Chris was not happy about Tia leaving either. And just like Sebastian his temper was on the rise as well.  

“Tia please don’t go, we will miss you too much..” Henry said solemnly keeping his head down and eyes fixated on the red and gold carpet. 

Tia motioned for Henry to come and stand in front of her. She whispered something in his ear, making sure to cover her mouth so no one else could hear it. Once she was finished he nodded at her and gave her a hug. “It will be our little secret okay?” 

“Yes Tia.” He said with a little bit of hope in his voice. 

Tia turned to give Sebastian her attention again, she hugged and kissed him. Telling him that she loved them both, and that they always have a place in her heart. Tia gave Henry a nod and henry took Sebastian’s hand and led him back inside. Only turning to wave goodbye once they reached the threshold of the palace.   

“What was that about?” 

“I told Henry that I was going to need his help, and he is helping me with Sebastian.” Chris nodded his head in agreement. He didn’t quite understand but he knew what was done is done.  

“I love you my king...” Tia stepped forward and kissed his bearded cheek. Cupping the other side with her soft manicured hand. “…Please take care of yourself.” Chris leaned in and kissed the palm of her hand. 

“I promise my queen. Please come back to me soon.” 

“I will baby.” 

Chris grabbed her waist and brought her closer to him. There was only a slight moment where their breaths hitched in anticipation. Then he crashed his lips on to hers and tightened his grip around her waist. Only when they broke for air did she realize that they had been kissing longer than expected.  

“I have to go.” She whispered, eyes still closed while their heads leaned on each other’s for support.  

“Please stay, we had so much fun the last two days. Especially yesterday morning.” 

Tia had a flash back of yesterday morning. 

“Sire Please!” Moans and gasps of air was all that was heard throughout his chambers. Tia’s pleas went unanswered. How she ended up on the shoulders of the king, with his head barried between her legs was a mystery to her. Especially because this was just supposed to be a ‘snuggle/cuddle’ sleep over. Between Chris ravaging her sweetness, and then pounding her into the next millenia love making lasted all morning. 

Being pulled from her thoughts she knew she had to leave. “I can’t, not just yet my love. I promise I will be back, sooner than you think.” She grazed his nose with hers and kissed him again this time she slowly released his bottom lip. 

“Eh hem. I’m sorry Tia, but if we don’t go you will miss check in.” Banks interrupted. 

“See you later hun.” 

“Bye my queen. Call me when you get home?” 

Tia nodded and swiftly turned and climbed into the car. With a nod from Tia, Banks pulled off quickly. She knew to just go so no one changed their minds. 

“Thanks lady, I could’ve stayed in his arms forever.” 

“You have some explaining to do. The last time I saw you, you wanted nothing to do with him. Now I’m pulling you guys apart. What In The Actual Fuck??” 

“It has been a crazy week girl.” 

~~~~~~ 

It had been a month since Tia had left London. She had received at least 20 pictures from the boys a piece. Drawings of their days, what they had for lunch, and dinner, who they played with that day the usual. They talked on the phone every week. Sebastian on Mondays, Henry on Wednesdays, and Chris every other night light clock work. Damn did she miss her men. But it wasn’t going to be too much longer. She had a trick up her sleeve, which would get her back to England sooner than expected. Until then she went on about her normal life. As much as she can anyway. She was ready to go back, London was her home now.  

Only a few short more weeks had passed before she had gotten the phone call she was waiting for. 

“Hey Max! What’s going on?” Max was the PR manager for Tia’s latest project. 

“You ready to go back to London?” 

“FINALLY!” 

“Ha ha ha I will take that as a yes. The premiere is on the 21st that gives you a week, before you hit the carpet.” 

“Totally manageable! I got this.” 

“Oh, Tia? Try not to disappear until after the premier. Yeah?” 

“I make no promises. See you next week.” 

This was it. She was finally going back to her home. I hope they are ready. Lord now what am I going to wear. She thought to herself, as she moved through the look books for her red-carpet look. 

Meanwhile back in London a week days later…. 

“Daddy, daddy, daddy guess what I saw today!!! Daaaaad! Where’d you go??” 

“I’m in the office little prince!” Sebastian ran down to the end of the corridor where he found his father sitting at his big mahogany desk. Dressed in 3-piece suit, with onyx loafers. 

“Guess who I saw on tv today!” 

Chris chortled as the little one ran across the room and passed Chris's entourage. He hopped on his lap wide eyed in excitement. 

“What’s that buddy?” 

“The Rock and Tia! They are coming here for a pre..pre…Remayor.” 

“A premiere?” Chris asked. 

“Yeah that’s what I said a pre..pre..Remayor! She will be here tomorrow night. Can we please, please, please stay up to see her walk the red-carpet daddy?” 

“I will think about it buddy.” Not willing to take no for an answer Sebastian pulled out the big guns. His famous puppy dog stare and pouty lip. “You suck that lip back in mister. I said I will think about it.” 

“But I miss her, she’s like mommy I need her here with us.” Chris’s heart melted. How could he say no to this? His son was truly hurt, and all he wanted was to see his mom. Which in this case Tia held that spot for him. 

“Bud do you remember mommy?” Chris asked 

“My real mommy?” Chris nodded in agreement. Sebastian turned to a photo on the credenza behind him and pointed. “That’s her, she went to heaven a little while ago. I miss her, but I know she wants me to be happy. She.. she… wants all of us to be happy. I'll always love her.” 

Tears welling up in Chris’s eyes. “You know buddy you’re right, and a very smart young man. You are going to be a great human being which is all I want for you and your brother.” Chris kissed the top of Sebastian’s forehead and the little one hugged his neck and jumped off his lap. 

“Besides she thinks Tia is pretty cool too.” 

“Alright buddy you can stay up tomorrow and watch.” 

“Woohoo!” Sebastian sprang out of his father’s lap and ran out of the office to go tell Henry. Chris was left sitting in his office chair pondering the conversation that just transpired. Maybe it was time to make Tia apart of the family officially.  Wait did he just say she thinks Tia is pretty cool? 

~ ~  

It was great to be back in London. To feel the energy, the smell, the sound, it just felt like home. Premiere night was tonight! Tia had sung and composed a couple of songs for the movie, and had a couple of scenes with the rock as his stand in girlfriend. No biggie, everyone has a scene with the rock, right? First thing first info meetings. 

Everyone managed to arrive at the Marriott within an hour of each other. Max was standing at the head of the conference table debriefing everyone. 

"Good morning everyone I know it's early so I’ll make this quick. Alright so we have a little over 12 hours before premiere time. Everyone needs to be there on time. Even though this the last one doesn’t mean we can start slacking. Secondly, I want everyone to go out for an hour be seen. Create some excitement like how cool is it if the rock is at the local coffee shop?" 

Everyone nodded in agreement. 

"Tia Dwayne if you guys could go out together that would be great. Actually, whomever is your 'partner in crime' in the movie try to go together." 

"So, your majesty where you wanna go? This is your city." 

Tia chuckled "Oh my city huh? Just because I’m here all the time doesn’t make it my city. Well I guess it does. But I’m not royalty. Let’s see we can go easy and go to the eye? It's quick, fun, you get a great view of the city, always a good crowd, and the best part quick. We could be back here and asleep in no time." 

"My sistah let's do it to it." 

After they unloaded their suitcases, Dwayne and Tia left straight for the eye. Making sure to grab her vlogging camera so she can make a video about it later.  

The ride was amazing. It truly is the best way to see the city. Word had spread fast about their outing. Of course, it was almost peak tourist season so the little outing was not a letdown. It was almost 10am and they had made the daily news website. Pretty crazy considering they had only been out for about an hour.  

Only problem is that the quick media coverage blew the whole surprise. Tia wasn’t too much worried about the boys since they were still in school. It was Chris she really wanted to surprise. Maybe he hasn’t seen it yet? She thought to herself. Only 4 minutes passed before she got her answer in the form of a text message. 

But before she could check her messages Rock called to her. “Tia. The car is here. Let’s go back.” Once situated she immediately checked her messages. Sure enough it was Chris and he didn’t sound too happy about the surprise. 

Chris: So, you were just going to sneak in and sneak out or what? 

Tia: Of course not!! I was going to come see you tonight, after the premiere. 

Chris: You know that I try to have the boys in bed by 10. 

Tia: I know, I'm counting on that...I wasn’t coming for the boys tonight... I figured I would surprise them at breakfast. 

Chris: Oh yeah? Well who exactly where you coming to see tonight then? 

Tia could tell that he was softening up. So, she decided to mess with him just a little. 

Tia: Are you actually going to make me say it? 

Chris: Text it. But, Yep! 

Tia: 'huffs' finnnee smart ass. Maurice dammit, I'm coming for his flautas! You happy? 

Chris: You are an awful tease woman!  

Tia: Who said anything about being a tease? 

Chris: What if I don’t want to wait until tonight? What if I want you before then? 

Tia: Well I’m on the way to the hotel to start pre-getting ready. I’m sure I could squeeze you in for a quickie ;-). 

Chris: What if I don’t want a quickie? 

Tia: Then I’ll see you tonight after the premiere. 

Chris: Well fine then. I'll see you tonight my queen. 

“Who you texting over there? Must be a man you are blushing hardcore over there.” Dwayne said. 

Tia immediately blushed. “I guess you could say he’s my boyfriend.” 

“Is he here?” 

Tia nodded. 

“No disappearing young lady.” He said while wagging his finger at her. Tia couldn’t help but laugh.  

“Don’t worry I won’t disappear until after the premier.” 

“Oh, okay cool then. Wow that was a short ride. How come we didn’t walk?” 

“Seven miles on foot? I’m not that adventurous.” She stated plainly. 

“Alright well, I’ll see you tonight then. Say hi to the boyfriend.” 

“Will do.” 

----- 

Getting ready for the premiere was like clockwork for Tia. Facial, mani-pedi, deep tissue massage, and a v-steam. Hair and make-up was right on time at 4 o’clock. It took a total of 2 hours to get ready. She was on the red carpet just in time. Camera flashes everywhere as she walked down the red carpet in her emerald green dress. She realized she had missed the attention, then quickly remembered once a photographer made a very inappropriate cat call at her why she left it. Tia had managed to make it into the theatre, and in her seat without any hiccups. As she looked around the packed auditorium all she could think about was getting to Chris. She had really missed her man, and the teasing text messages earlier didn’t help. All they did was add oxygen to the fire that was already flaming pretty high within her. 

“Eh hem!!!...” Showtime Tia thought to herself Only 2 hours and 21 minutes until this is over then a quick peak into the after party then I’m out. “… Ladies and gentlemen tonight is a special night indeed. Not only is this the last stop on the premiere tour…” Applause “…But tonight we are joined by a very special and most honorable guest. His Royal Highness King Christopher Robert Evans the first!!” Tia’s heart skipped a beat. Everyone stood up and clapped and cheered for Chris as if he had won an Oscar for his performance. Granted he was the king and he looked especially dashing in his 4-piece Alexander McQueen suit. Chris smiled and greeted the room. “Thank you for letting me attend on short notice. I know these premieres are planned out months in advance.” 

“Well of course your highness. You are always welcome! Unfortunately, we don’t have the royal box cleaned and outfitted for you. It will only take but a few moments.” 

“Non-sense I will sit in the audience, just because I’m king doesn’t me I’m better. I will be honored to sit among the fine actors and actresses that made this film.”  

Applause 

Damn he’s good! Tia thought to herself. 

“Well of course your highness please take a seat anywhere.” Chris gave a swift nod in appreciation and left the stage. As he walked down the aisle he found his seat. Wouldn’t you know that there was one right next to Tia. She was Six seats in and he would be seated to the right of her.  

“Do you mind Miss. Tia?” 

Tia stood up quickly and gave a short courtesy. “Of course not your majesty. I would be honored! Please sit.” Chris moved to sit next to her, and Tia appeared unfazed. She had to be there was essentially a whole auditorium watching them. Once everyone was settled and the movie began that’s when the fun began. Chris leaned over and whispered in her ear. His breath warm and smelled of cigars and peppermint. Tia hated that he smoked, but she was the first to emit she loved the way his kisses tasted after he had did though. 

“You look gorgeous my Queen.” 

“Thank you baby. I thought we were going to meet a little later. What are you doing here?” 

 “I’m here for my quickie.” Tia's eyes went wide. Only thing she could do was to try and keep her cool. So without taking her eyes off the screen she leaned over and answered him in a hushed voice. “Oh really? Well unfortunately your royal highness, that window of opportunity has closed. However after the after party, I might be able to help you pry open that pesky window open.” 

Chris was a little taken aback by her response. If she wanted to tease, he could definitely show her a good tease. “Or… I can loosen up the hinges on that window. And take my appetizer now.” With one fluid motion he took off his jacket and put it in his lap. One of his security gestured to take it and Chris shook his head in disagreement. He placed his arm around Tia’s shoulders and the women 2 rows behind them gasped. All Chris could do was chuckle. He placed his jacket across Tia’s lap. “You are a very good girl for wearing a dress that has a slit so high." As Chris moved his hand up the slit up her thigh Tia widened her legs for him. Chris slid his hand further up her leg, the further he went he could feel the heat coming off her warm sex. Tia let out a small hiss, then all of a sudden Chris stopped. His attention focusing on to one of his security guards. He was speaking into his cuff link, that Chris could hear through an ear piece. He gave a swift nod, and turned his attention back to Tia. “I have to go. But I’ll see you tonight my love.” 

“Is everything okay?” 

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out. I love you my queen.” 

[cyclopsgirlbook-blog]

Cyclops Girl, Chapter 1: Week 3, Day 3 of School

First Sign: < DIFFERENT >

American Sign Language. Two forefingers are crossed, and then separated.

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   A female teacher finished chewing on her pencil, reversed it, examined her clipboard, and moved the saliva-coated eraser down a list of student names. She paused for a moment and then began, "Miss Meh—"

   "Here!" The girl bolted upright. She had already memorized the position of her name on the list and stood immediately, having anticipated this ordeal for several anxious minutes. The girl held in her hands a carefully prepared prompting paper which she knew that in spite of the time that she worked on it that it wouldn't be good enough. She pressed her face close toward the paper in order to hide it from public view, but of course she had to keep it at a certain distance away so that she would be able to read it, and because according to the teacher, people had to be able to hear her.

   The girl's erectness slowly morphed into a hunching posture, and her straight black hair hung down over her cheeks and in front of her face. Her hair was short, the sides and back cropped traditionally to end at the jawline and nape of the neck, the bangs [fringe] covering her forehead. Her skin was pale, almost white but with a slight tinge of yellow to it. She had a torso that was rounder about and wider than average, almost barreled, not because of fat, but from a thickness and stoutness in the bone structure that was characteristic of her race. Meanwhile though, her arms fell weakly from her sides, lacking musculature and being almost tube-like.

   Her face was not pretty, but nor was it ugly, even though she often thought it so. She had a wide, flat mouth, that had thirty-two shining teeth, none missing, although the canine teeth were a bit larger and pointier than a normal human's. There was nothing wrong with her mouth. Over her mouth lay a small, flat, button-like nose with two wide nostrils that let in enough air for her to breathe. Her nose was good. And above that, lay, surmounted by a prominent brow ridge and surrounded by a large bony socket that protectively sunk into the middle of her face, one big eye.

   She was a cyclops, and part of the cultural exchange program for monsters and humans. As part of her writing assignment for her English language and literature class, she had to address the class, out loud, for a total of five minutes. She began speaking.

* * * * * * *

   "...In 1945, the Second Great Human War ended. The Allied Powers occupied Japan. That is, America, China, England, and the Soviet Union. T-Tokyo was divided between them and declared an international zone. Tokyo was handed over to United Nations control in 1964. In 1987, Japan regained its independence.

   Then, in 1999, the barrier between the human world and the monster world was broken. War almost immediately broke out between the monster nations and the humans. The next year, a peace treaty was signed. It was all just a big misunderstanding. Tokyo was selected as the place for a special mission for human-monster interaction due to its s-status as an international zone.

   Finally, in 2001, the first monster-integrated school was created. Humans and monsters have established better relations and are becoming friends. I hope that we can become better friends and work together toward achieving greater harmony..."

   "C minus. Next!" spat the impatient female teacher.

   "O-oh..." groaned the twelve-year-old cyclops girl. She had just finished delivering her oral report on the history of human-monster relations. From an already quivering posture, she sank down into her seat and hunched over her desk. Even the slightest hint of disapproval could throw her thoughts into disarray.

   The class continued with reports from several other students, including a lamia and two taurids, who each chose their own specialization for the assignment. The cow girl and bull boy sat on opposite sides of the room, the cow girl covered in a veil, according to the requirements of their culture.

   After the period ended, the cyclops girl quietly made her way out of the room, never first but preferably not last either. She wished to avoid calling attention to herself. As she exited into the hallway, a blonde-haired human girl yelled out to her.

   "Umma!"

   "Huh?" the cyclops girl responded, her gaze having been downward, but momentarily lifted in response to hearing her name.

   "How'd it go?" the blonde girl energetically demanded.

   "Oh, it's you, Stacy-san," the other recognized. "...Not so good."

   "Really?" Stacy asked phatically. Then a big, toothy smile suddenly appeared on her face. "Hey, are you free tonight? I got movie tickets!"

   "Eh? Tonight...? Sorry, I don't want to..." Umma replied, speeding up her pace and making her way to her next classroom, breaking with her friend unilaterally.

   "But it's your favorite..." Stacy whimpered, her words falling off as Umma left into the distance. Stacy had purchased tickets to The Invasion of the Body Snatchers (the remake).

   Umma loved horror movies, or at least that was what Stacy thought, as all of the movies that Umma had said she "really enjoyed" were in the horror genre. Stacy had bought the tickets thinking that this would be a nice outing with her totally best friend, but the gesture was not well received by Umma. Umma had already had other things on her mind; had already had other stresses; her English grade, and what happened this morning, among them; and for her, an outing with Stacy was just another complication to add to that.

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   Umma tried to walk swiftly through the halls and courtyards, determined to get to her next class as soon as possible. But the student population presented an obstacle to her intentions, the mass being as chaotic as a sea. There was no regulation on which direction students walked, trotted, or slithered. So to simply get through a quarter mile, Umma had to do some of the most complex analysis she could manage. When she asked others how they did it, they said she should simply "go with the flow." She thought to herself, irritatedly, "Which flow is that supposed to be?"

   On top of the difficulty of simply moving, Umma did not like being touched or touching other people. In this environment, of course, the uncomfortable experience which she considered a crime was inevitable. Despite her best efforts to look around to see where everyone was, she bumped into someone.

   A second-year boy with a mess of snow-white hair backed up from Umma with a scowl. "Watch where you're going," he instructed her derisively, pushing up his light-frame eyeglasses.

   "I was," she almost shouted at him, having coincidentally run into him when she was turning her head back to look behind her for safety purposes. But he had already brushed past her, invisibly, and so she didn't say anything. As he left her, Umma felt a chill on her body almost as though she had been suddenly shoved into a warehouse freezer.

   The boy was Japanese, according to his school enrollment form, but he didn't much look like it. His face was long and thin, looking fatless, but without defined features, more smooth than bony. His eyes were peculiar. The whites of them were very white, so that they appeared almost glass-like. The irises were white as well, not the pinkish color that one would expect of an albino, but a perfect white, like that of a precious stone. His hands had long fingers that looked beautiful and almost feminine, but with a pointed seriousness such that one could call them claws or talons.

   Just as the boy left Umma's sight, he was accosted by a green-skinned orc in a striped rugby uniform who clapped his hand in an all-too-familiar way on the boy's shoulder. "Hey, Yuki!"

   The boy, Yukihito Tsurara, also called Yuki for short, glanced to his shoulder, saw the knobby green fingers, and immediately knew what this was about. "What?" he responded in annoyance.

   The orc let off his green hand from Yuki's flesh-pink collared shirt and tried to think of the best way to put it. "Listen, Yuki, there's a big game comin' up," the orc started.

   "A game, huh?" Yuki wore a shirt that was one size too large for him, on which he had fastened all but the top two buttons, so that his collarbone could be seen. The shirt was loose around the chest, but barely accomodated the length of his arms. On his long, slim legs were a pair of faded skinny jeans and on his feet were a pair of black, rubber-soled sneakers.

   "It would be real nice if you could be there."

   "Sorry, I don't really do sports. I don't like being in the Sun that long."

   "It's the first game of the season. It's going to be at night."

   "Sorry, I'm not really interested." Yukihito walked gracefully, one foot in front of the other, with a slight hip sway, like an old-fashioned lady, except that sometimes he would wildly shift to one side or the other, as if he was being blown by the wind or he was going to fall, but he would quickly correct himself up again. At times he seemed to move instantly from one location to another, within the blink of an eye, as if he had teleported.

   Meanwhile, the orc plodded along heavily behind Yuki at the boy's left side, sometimes having to break into a jog when he lost track of him.

   In the background, a squad of snake girls were ascending a flight of stairs, one of them clearly struggling. "Ah-yee, sistah, this scalin' don't come easy, walkas be crazy like. 'S like scalin' up a saw, innae?" The others laughed at her, covering their mouths with their claws, gold-colored bangles swaying gently on their forearms.

   The orc sucked his lip in distaste as they passed the group of lamias. "Yuki..." he pleaded, "Coach says that you have to be there."

   "What do you want from me, Claude?" Yuki asked, sighing.

   "Lemme put it this way, Yook..." the orc explained, "Ain't you was voted the Prettiest Boy in the School last year?"

   "Ugh, don't remind me."

   "We have to get some more girls in there. We know they're crazy about you. It's a publicity thing. Gotta fill in those seats."

   Even now, there were girls secretly gathered at the sides of the halls, whispering among themselves and trying to get a rare photo of the amazing Prince Yuki with their mobile phones.

   Yuki asked Claude sarcastically, "Would you pay me?"

   "I'll do your English homework for a month."

   An orc doing his homework. "I'd rather you not. The teacher might think that I got brain damage."

   "That's harsh, Yook."

   About this time, the white-haired boy was nearing his next class. He wiped his glasses with a cloth while walking. The two were silent for a while. Finally, they arrived at Yuki's lecture room. Readjusting his thin lenses, he confirmed that the room number was correct. As Yuki was reaching for the doorknob...

   "So?" the orc tried again.

   Yuki looked at the orc up and down, and then replied, emotionlessly, "I'll see what I can do."

   Pleased with this, Claude smiled an orc smile, with two bottom fangs sticking out. "Thanks, Yook."

   Yuki turned back to the door, but feeling the orc's presence, turned back to him, with an annoyed expression, as if saying, "You can go now."

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   Claude excused himself and started for his way across campus. He had been in a completely different location than he was supposed to be, more inclined toward athletics rather than academic performance.

   Relieved, Yuki finally opened the door and went inside. As his hand left the brass doorknob, it left a coating of frost on the surface.

   Meanwhile, in the mechanics building, was the cyclops girl. After English, Umma had a lecture / lab class in "Human Machines," one of which demonstrated was a can opener. She took part in the practice for the can opener, even though she already knew how to use one. Thinking about the negative experiences of that day, the girl gritted her teeth and worked her strength into turning the knob, which had the blade crunch and cut through the metal until it ended in a satisfying "pop". A whispering student across from her complained about her making a fearsome face.

   After that, the daily announcements were made, and the teacher gave cleaning assignments. Umma was given the task of sweeping the halls in the mechanics building. While she was cleaning, three of the orc boys from the rugby team came by and started roughhousing in the hall. One of the boys slammed into the locker beside her. She froze and waited for them to pass.

   One of the orcs got a certain bright idea and ran up to Umma and grabbed the school utility broom she had been using for sweeping.

   "What are you doing, Pierre?" another of the orcs asked.

   "Oi, look at this, mate," the orc said, putting his legs on either side of the broom and pointing the handle side in front of him at an upward angle. "I'm a knight, lads."

   "Ay, look like right on Roland you do."

   "Chevalier majestique [majestic cavalier]."

   The orc with the broom then began backing up. "I'm gonna joust you, mate."

   "Oh hell," his friend cried in mock terror. The two orcs without the broom began jogging at a moderate speed, looking back expectantly.

   "Waaagh!" Pierre cried, charging at the others with his broom as steed and lance in one.

   Umma was shaking. In no time, the orcs had disappeared down the hall and around a corner, taking Umma's calm, and the only broom she had, with them.

   "What's wrong?" a voice said, coming from beside Umma.

   She turned, not expecting someone to respond to her.

   There stood a boy wearing a khaki-colored leisure suit and black tie, holding a trilby hat in one hand. He had a childlike oval-shaped face with almond eyes. That face was framed by soft, downy, light brown hair, which was mostly short but had two sections which were longer, which fell over his ears and down onto his neck. Over that face lay an idle smile, not of someone that was particularly happy at anything, but happy with life.

   "Cleaning..." Umma mumbled.

   "Cleaning?" the boy repeated.

   "Me... cleaning..." Umma tried again, louder this time.

   "Do you speak English?" the boy inquired, trying to be accommodating. "I speak Chinese too."

   "No," responded Umma. "I mean yes." She tried to make her situation comprehensible. "I was cleaning and... They took my broom..."

   "I bet it was those orcs, huh?" he guessed, not with judgmentalism but with an almost laughing reaction.

   "Yeah..." What Umma thought was, "How did you know?"

   "Wait right here, just a sec," the boy with the trilby hat said to her.

   "Huh, for what?"

   The boy had already walked off a bit. "I'm going to get you another one."

   "Oh..." responded Umma. "Thank you..." she muttered. But by the time she said that, he was too far away to hear her.

   The boy walked over to the janitorial closet, which was in a different section of the building. He tried the door knob, but it was locked. He pushed in and out. It didn't open. He looked to each side to make sure no one was watching. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out two pins. He set his hat down on a nearby hall bench. Then he put his head near the knob and began working the two pins into the lock opening. It took him about half a minute to figure out the mechanics, and then he opened the door.

   "Really simple lock for this one," he thought to himself. After all, it was not a commercial lock, or even a house lock, and was only there for not having students mess with the supplies. The boy scanned the closet, which had a single glaring incandescent lightbulb hanging above, which hurt his eyes, and he brought out two brooms. Then he locked the door, got his hat, and walked back.

   Umma was surprised when he brought back two brooms. "I only need one..." she said, not understanding.

   "You have cleaning duty, right?" the boy responded, resting the brooms on a wall and taking off his suit jacket. His biceps and triceps bulged under his shirt, contrasting with his baby face. "Let me help you."

   "Oh..." Umma recognized, blushing. "Thanks..."

   "No problem." His suit jacket and hat were now rested on a hall bench, his jacket neatly folded and the hat on top of it. Handing one broom to her and taking one himself, he instructed, "You take that side, and I'll take this side of the hall over here."

   Pleased but feeling this was happening too fast, Umma stammered, "But... Your name."

   "Akechi. Akechi, Sumire."

   "Sumire? Isn't that a girl's name?"

   "Yes, I know," he said, smiling. "You can call me Kesh."

   "Kesh... Okay..."

   "And yours?"

   "Umma..."

   "Umma?" he repeated, hoping he got it correct. "A beautiful name, for a beautiful girl like yourself."

   Umma blushed. "It's not, really --" Umma tried to say, but she was interrupted by Sumire.

   "You get that side, I'll get this one," he said, reminding her of the task.

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   After that, they broke to their respective sections of the hall. Umma looked at Sumire intermittently, as if amazed, but Sumire didn't look at her, only staring at the floor and at his work. When he had worked for long enough, and was nearing the end, he wiped the sweat from his face with his hand, two gold rings gleaming on it.

   Before Umma knew it, they were both done.

   "Good job, Umma-san," Sumire praised her.

   "No, it's thanks to you, Kesh-san..." He had done half the work, nearly.

   Sumire aired out his shirt and donned his jacket again, putting his hat in hand. "Let me know if you need anything. Any time."

   Umma smiled and opened her mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out.

   "You go on home," said Sumire. "I'll stay behind and take care of these things," meaning the brooms.

   "Okay," said Umma. "Th-thanks again." She walked away and out of the building happily.

   Sumire returned the brooms to the closet, unlocking and locking the door easily. Then, when he got outside, he received a call on his mobile phone. The phone was a cheap, "disposable" black flip phone, one of the cheapest models at the store, its value contrasting with the clothes he wore. "Hello?" he answered. A man spoke on the other end of the line, in a voice too low for anyone else to hear.

   "Yes," Sumire affirmed. "Uh-huh." His smile disappeared and his face turned grimly serious. "I understand," he confirmed in Chinese. His eyes darted around. Then he ended the call and closed the phone.

   On her way home, Umma stopped at a local convenience store. She had expected to buy a strawberry cake there, because there was supposed to be a 50% off deal for the personal-sized strawberry cakes for that day, and she had been expecting it all week. But when she got in the store, they were all sold out. Umma frowned in disappointment, but tried to find something else to buy. While she was searching, a cockroach emerged on the floor. Surprised, Umma yelped and backed away haphazardly, knocking her head on a shelf for potato crisps and falling on her butt.

   "You alright, ojou-chan [little miss]?" the shopkeeper yelled.

   "Y-yeah," Umma replied, sweating.

   Umma tried to ignore the cockroach. After some time deciding, she settled on a fruit parfait which came in a little plastic bowl and had yoghurt along with strawberries and blueberries and some kind of granola mix on the top. It wasn't the strawberry cake that she wanted, but it was a good substitute.

   Umma bought the fruit parfait, thanked the shopkeeper, who was an old Japanese man, and went out of the store. Pleased and wanting to have at least a taste before she went home, just outside the store, on the street side, she popped off the lid and got the spoon out.

   It was just then that a primary school boy quickly rode past on a bicycle, splashing from the roadside motor oil in Umma's direction.

   The oil did not travel too far up, missing Umma's face. But it did stain her dress. Umma stared down at her newly-opened fruit parfait. The petroleum now ran over the fruit and granola and soaked into the yoghurt. Umma grimaced, put the lid back on it, and threw it in the trash can. Then she started for home again.

   After Umma got home, she went into her room, put on headphones, planted herself on her bed, and listened to Faith and the Muse. It had been a terrible, awful, very bad, no good day.

* * * * * * *

Second Sign. < SUPPRESS >

American Sign Language. A hand is brought down over the chest and closes tightly as it descends to the stomach.

   Earlier, that morning.

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   Umma walked through a poorly-paved, half-dirt path on the outskirts of West Tokyo. A gunfight had occurred the previous evening, around 3 AM, between rival gangs of the Chinese immigrant community, the dispute having been over the rights for importation of a new shipment of illegally acquired antiques from the mainland. About 17 people had been injured, and 4 killed, the largest amount in the last eight months for one night for the municipality.

   A load of priceless jewels, jade, and gold had been burst open from their poorly constructed crates in the melee. After, and even during the crossfire, defending gang members attempted to recover their goods, stuffing jewelry and necklaces haphazardly into the back of their Ford pick-up truck. Cleaning up after the battle, they recovered most of it, but fearing spending too long and being caught by the Metropolitan police, they left a few items behind. One of these was a small, almost unnoticeable, yet very beautiful, black-streaked milky-white pearl.

   Umma had a tendency to collect and form an attachment to mundane, everyday objects that she personally thought were interesting, pretty, or sensorily pleasing in some way. As she ambled on the path going toward the train station, the item caught her eye, its perfect alabaster and ash existing in contrast to the modern gray of the pavement. Her steps quieted and retarded, she stared at the thing in small bewonderment before kneeling down and picking it up.

   It was rare, she thought, ethereal, although she did not treat it any different from the rocks she sometimes collected. It was small, albeit tangible, substantial enough, about an inch [3 centimeters] in diameter. She did not know how delicate it was. In care that may or may not have been excessive, she loosely cradled it in her virginal hands.

   The texture was somewhat similar to that of a chicken egg, albeit smoother, and it had the same weight as one, although it was much less in size. The dark streaks upon the light surface were long and wavy, seeming to have their own spirals and tendrils, with splattering here and there, almost like an image of a galaxy captured in inverse. Umma thought to herself, she would keep this, treasure this, and this would be her happiness for the day.

   She walked the out-road for a while longer, and as she approached closer to the train station, the signs of urbanization became more apparent. Modern glass-and-steel buildings adorned the skylines, and the hum of cars and rumble of street crowds were audible. Yet, the more negative effects of city growth manifested. The path came upon the slum quarters of the city, the last stop before the glistening paradise of downtown, although it was less than half a mile [one kilometre] away.

   Umma had become distracted by her newfound treasure, which had occupied her thoughts for a good thirty minutes before she gave in to the impulse to examine it in her hands once more. Thinking she knew the route well enough, she had not looked where she was going, and soon found herself in the area of city known as the "eagle's den."

   "Oiiii," an irritated female voice rang out.

   "Where do you think you're going, little girl?" said another.

   "Huh?" Umma looked up in confusion.

   "We said," an adolescent reiterated, clutching Umma's blouse collar in a sharp claw at the end of a feathery blue arm, "Where do you think you're going?"

   Umma's mouth opened and trembled as she struggled to say something.

   The assailant released her and backed up. Umma almost fell over backwards and tried to right herself. Two older girls, one with blue feathers, the other with green, now flanked Umma on each side. Gaudy jewelry including ear piercings of interlocked dangling rings was worn by one of them. A silver cross, a Western novelty, the meaning evidently lost on them, was worn by the other. They both wore loose socks, falling to and scrunching down onto the ankles of their scaly feet. They were harpies.

   At a slight distance stood a third girl, turned away, but keeping tabs on the situation, who wore distressed denim jeans cut off raggedly at the thigh of her thick horse legs, and smoked a cigarette. She was their leader, and a two-legged centaur.

   "What are you doing coming around here? You looking for trouble?" the blue-haired harpy asked annoyedly.

   "N-no..." Umma sputtered. "I always walk here... It's the shortest route to my school..."

   "Is it now? You must have been lucky for us not to find you up until now. You're walking into the territory of the Stregheristas [witches]. That's us, if you're slow in the head."

   "I'm sorry...?"

   "'I'm sorry?' Are you or aren't you? You make it sound like a question. Come on, Vinka, let's have some fun with this one." The harpy girl strafed behind Umma and batted the latter forward with the span of her wing.

   The other harpy picked up the idea and swatted against Umma in the other direction, back toward the wings of her friend. "Got you, Carla."

   The two thus played something similar to a game of catch with Umma's body between them. As this went on, Umma clenched her teeth and held ever more protectively on to the pearl which she still held in her hand, guarding it against damage more than she guarded her own bodily health.

   "What's this?" inquired the blue harpy as she pushed Umma onto the ground.

   The younger girl's hand went loose and let out the pearl, which fell earthward and rolled before settling. The green-haired harpy spied the object and immediately took hold of it. "It looks valuable. I wonder if we could pawn this for some cash."

   "Hey!" the blue-haired one objected. "I found it first. Give it here!"

   The green-haired harpy squawked. "No, I did!"

   The blue and green harpies proceeded to fight over the item, shouting at each other, "Mine!" and "Mine!" over and over again.

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   "Enough, you two!" The centaur girl tossed her cigarette and stepped into the fore. "Give it to me."

   "Alright, boss..." the green-haired harpy reluctantly agreed, depositing the gem into her humanoid hand.

   The centaur girl briefly took the ball up to eye level for inspection, rolling it between her thumb and forefingers, then held it non-chalantly thereafter. "We don't have time to pawn anything. We have another deal coming up today. You two will get plenty of cash after that. Of course, you two wouldn't remember that, would you? That's why I'm the boss, and not you two bird-brained idiots. The best thing to do in a situation like this... Is to destroy it."

   "Yeah, boss. It's probably worthless anyway. It's probably a fake."

   "This'll teach her a lesson about going into our territory," the centaur concluded, dropping the pearl onto the ground. She glanced over to Umma, and not even looking at the thing, crushed the pearl under her hoof.

   "N-hoh!" yelped Umma as she struggled to breathe under the weight of the harpy's leg on her back.

   The centaur trotted over to Umma, the harpy moving aside to make way for the horse girl. The gang boss laid her hoof at first lightly on Umma's back. "Don't come around here again, you hear?" She then lifted her leg and struck down hard, forcing the wind out of Umma's lungs. "That was only half-power. Any more and you would have had your ribs broken." The centaur stepped off of Umma's body and made her way to leave. "Come on, girls, we're going to be late for class."

   The two harpies followed. "But we're always late anyways..." one protested.

   Umma sobbed after the three had left, her tears soaking the dirt of the ground. When she finally managed to stand, leaving the comfort of that patch of earth, she went over to look where the pearl had been. The item lay broken into pieces, which varied in size and lay splayed out over the surrounding dirt. Not knowing how to possibly bring it with her or repair it, Umma left it there. At first she desperately reversed herself, running in the opposite direction as the girls had come from, but then she corrected herself, and went toward the train station.

   Unseen to her, a dark cloud began rising from the fragments of the pearl. Concentrated over the most intact piece, a fragment of the lower shell which lay on the ground like a shallow incense bowl, a wispy black tower rose toward the blue sky.

* * * * * * *

Third Sign. < DAUGHTER >

American Sign Language. The arms are placed together and rocked over the chest.

   After school. Umma's bedroom.

   When it came to be late enough, and she had cooled down emotionally, Umma unpacked her bag and began working on her homework. This is the part of school that she enjoyed the most. Or, she thought, it had the least potential for a problem happening. The first assignment was a math worksheet. The girl got out her best mechanical pencil, and carefully but calmly wrote her name in neat letters on the top line of the page: "Umma Megaloculus."

   When it was about 6 PM [18:00], she received a knock on her door. "Onee...chan. Onee...chan [big sis]," came a voice from without, small but aggressive.

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   "Oi, oi, you don't have to knock so much," Umma said, opening the door and coming out.

   "I only knocked ten times," her sister responded. She was a cyclops too, but younger, aged eight years old.

   It was time for dinner, Umma guessed. She stepped into the dining room to smells of steaming chicken.

   "How was your day, honey?" her mother asked, not turning to her but attending to the kitchen. Her mother was not a cyclops.

   "Fine," she might have said, but she didn't say anything, pulling out her Western-style chair with a squeak and sitting down at the table.

   "I made kateh [sticky rice]," her mother said, explaining herself.

   Across from Umma, at the opposite side of the table, sat her father, who involved himself in a newspaper, still half-dressed in his suit from work. He had a slight underbite that revealed two triangular lower fangs when he wasn't attentive to it. When he heard Umma sit down, he turned up his eye, and looked at her sympathetically and briefly, then returned to his paper. "Japanese President in Scandal Once Again" and "Prime Minister Unveils New Economic Plan" ran the headlines.

   "Oogie," Umma's mother requested, "Put that thing away. And get dressed for dinner."

   Her father silently complied. Oogie was her pet name for him, his proper name being Augebert.

   While he was away, the house phone rang. The wife picked it up. She was about to answer, "Moshi moshi? [Hello?]" but the calling code indicated it was an international number.

   "Hello?" a man asked in a heavy Eurasian accent.

   "Yes?" the wife responded, trying to remember her English. "Who's calling?"

   Umma's sister overheard from the phone, "Department... Family Affairs... Former Soviet Union..."

   As Umma's mother tried to finish the dinner, stirring pots and mixing things, she listened to a government official speak at length. As she bent her neck to hold the phone against her shoulder, wavy locks the color of burnt wheat fell out of her headscarf onto the milky white of the receiver. "Uh-huh... Uh-huh..."

   "What's going on?" the younger daughter asked innocently.

   Covering the phone, the mother answered, "It's about Grandpa."

   "Oh."

   "Don't tell your dad. He would be sad." She returned to the phone, responding to the man again. "Uh-huh uh-huh uh-huh..."

   Some indistinguishable sounds from the other end.

   Umma felt too tired to pay much attention.

   "What do you mean?" The woman clutched the phone angrily. "He's my father!"

   More sounds from what seemed to be some kind of bureaucrat. "...Calm down, Demetra."

   "'Demetra'? That's Miss Chagani."

   The woman started speaking in her native Persian. The children did not understand the language, but from the sound of it, they would describe it as some kind of very fast yelling.

   When Augebert made his way back to the table, he had changed into a rough tan tunic with button clasps down the middle. This was a kind of traditional dress for his people after they had abandoned nakedness and wearing loincloths.

   Demetra Megaloculus (nee Chagani) served the meal, which consisted of a roasted chicken, rice, and an assortment of sliced eggplant, squash, and other fruits of the land.

   Umma's father resisted picking up the whole chicken with his enormous hands. He waited as the meat was prepared, and the plates made with rice and vegetables and allotted to each person.

   "Ahem," Umma's mother intoned, raising her arms skyward. "Let us thank Arimaz and the spirits for this meal we are about to receive."

   "We humbly take the flesh of your kind. Your fire, light, and thunder is with us, O Lord." These words were recited by the members of the table, most emphatically by the mother, monotonously said by Umma, imitated by the younger sister, the father merely nodding at the end of it.

   "How was your day at work?" Umma's mother asked.

   Umma's father further resisted touching the meat with this bare hands, remembering the fork and spoon that were placed beside it. He thought about the question, staring blankly forward, and then responded, "Same as usual."

   Augebert had been hired as a consultant for an electrical energy company in Tokyo, and so this had been a major reason for the family's move to Japan. Cyclopses, popularly known among humans for creating the thunderbolts used by Zeus, had independently developed their own knowledge of electrical science. When the human-monster relations began a few years ago, human scientists had been eager to integrate the corpus of cyclopean knowledge.

   After a time, he added, "There's someone there that's annoying me."

   "Oh really?" his wife inquired.

   "Don't worry about it." Umma's father looked down.

   The mother turned to the smaller sister. "What about you, Dora?"

   "Good!" she promptly responded, reflecting more of her general happiness than any specific assessment of her day.

   "Umma?"

   Umma stayed fixed on her food and near-silently grunted. She did not want to be interrogated more and waited, hoping it would stop. Her mother stared at her for a while expectantly, but eventually relented and turned to her plate. Umma pretended to eat, picking at her food with her utensils, but did not have much of an appetite.

   After dinner, Umma's father washed his face and bald head, then returned to the table with his reading glass and a novel for leisure reading.

   Umma by then had left already for her room.

   Umma's mother worked on cleaning the dishes, and then further cleaning in the kitchen and dining area.

   Dora was planted in her seat, bent over a stack of 8x12 [A4] paper and a jumble of crayons that was spilled over the table.

   Her mother continued cleaning, but occasionally looked over to see Dora's progress on what she was doing.

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   She drew a picture in crayon of herself. She made the background first, in what looked like the mall. She gave herself a pretty dress. She gave herself hair that looked like her own, short and black like Umma's, content with that. When it came to the face, she thought for a moment, then drew herself with a smile and two beautiful eyes.

   "What a nice picture," her mother said, holding it up. "But what about the eyes?"

   "Having one eye is ugly," the daughter responded. "I want to be pretty like you, mommy."

   Her mother smiled, but her expression soured as she thought about her daughter's condition.

   Augebert put his book down and grabbed the paper. He immediately understood. The cyclops turned toward his daughter and said, "You should be proud of your race."

   Dora lowered her head. She felt a mixture of guilt, shame, and dissatisfaction with her father's demand, but given that she was a child, she had no way of expressing this. She almost cried, but held back.

   Dora got ready to take a bath, although this meant having to consider her body more. Dora's mother and her took baths together, but Umma preferred to bathe separately now.

   Umma's father wasn't able to fit in the bathtub, and so restricted himself to showering with the extending shower-head that the Japanese-style bathroom was fitted with. For this purpose, there was a small but sturdy wooden table placed in the room, which Umma's father used as a stool for squatting on. He was, after all, over 8 feet [2.5 metres] tall and weighed over 380 pounds [170 kilograms], and would have broken any normal-sized stool.

   Dora and her mother scrubbed themselves off, the latter reminding her daughter to clean behind her ears. They then soaked in the tub together. Demetra sat her daughter against her chest. The mother's pillowy breasts lovingly surrounded her daughter's head.

   When the water to the bathroom was running, the pipes made a rumbling sound that disturbed Umma. This was only one of the sounds which potentially disturbed her, and one of the more mild ones. Other sounds included that of the motorcycle, and that of the garbage disposal truck [rubbish truck].

   Umma's bedroom may have been perceived as tenebrous and menacing to outsiders, but to her it was sedate and relaxing, utilitarian. The walls were gray. The bedsheets were gray. On the back wall was fixed a stainless steel grating, from which hung various small personal effects, including pink and purple keychains, and a palm-sized karakuri [mechanical puppet] doll of a young girl.

   Beside her bed stood a small dresser-drawer [chest] on which sat an altar to La Anciana [The Old Lady], a deity venerated in rural Mexico. Next to her framed icon were placed two cheap, short, glass-encased white candles. Umma made sure to light these candles every day at night with a stick from the hearth fire. Occasionally, the icon changed, but she kept up the candles all the same.

   Umma's white blouse hung in front of an open closet [wardrobe] which housed four identical copies of the same.

   Along the middle of the back wall stood a heavy, solid wooden desk, both elegant and fortress-like, Romanesque [medieval], which looked at least a hundred years old, which she used for doing her homework as well as doing her personal writings.

   On her bed lay a stuffed doll of a sheep, a gift from her father. The sheep was big and round and cartoonish with white wool. Albeit, on the tag, Umma had drawn the Sign of the Wolf, with vicious pointed teeth and a long tongue. Really, it looked more like a laughing black dog than a proper wolf. Sometimes Umma turned toward the sheep and thought it was making a face based on the lighting in the room.

   The only light in the room, other than that from the candles, was provided by a single lamp on her desk. The lamp was incandescent, because fluorescent lighting gave her a stomachache. It had to be incandescent.

   Seated at her desk, Umma entertained herself with a dry paintbrush that she kept just for this purpose. She felt the soft bristles on her palms... On the backs of her hands... On her cheeks... On her arms... It was titillating for her, but at the same time, calming, in a meditative sort of way. She made careful not to get it too dirty, because then it would have to be cleaned and then properly dried. She changed out of her school clothes. As she pulled the blouse up, she felt the rough fabric tickle against her nipples, which became erect. She had the beginnings of two small breasts. "I wonder if I should start wearing a bra..." she thought. She slipped her arms into a black hooded jacket, and then zipped up the front. She liked the sound and feeling of the zipper. So she unzipped it and zipped it again. Zip, zip. After she was satisfied with this activity, she got out a dark brown, faux leather book which was marked with a pentagram on the front cover.

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   She opened it. On the first page, there was written in solid black letters: "If you read this, I'll curse you!" She flipped through to the next blank page for an entry. This was her diary. She wrote about her day, according to her current feelings. This was one of the few times when she wrote in ink. She promised herself that whatever she wrote, she wouldn't erase it. With a black nib pen, she scratched to her heart's content and filled up three pages worth. Then she put the pen down.

   She thought about closing the book and putting it away. But then she remembered something someone had told her, someone she called "sensei" [teacher]. If she wrote a diary, she should read back on the old entries from time to time, and compare it to the present. This would put her emotions in perspective. So she flipped back to an entry from three weeks ago. It was her first day of school.

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Cyclops Girl, Chapter 2: Week 1, Day 1 of School

Fourth Sign. < FEAR >

American Sign Language. Both hands are splayed across the chest, and the mouth emits a silent scream.

   In a large, cold, tiled-floor auditorium gathered an incoming class of 240 students. On a stage stood a woman whose white blouse accomodated six gesticulating arms and from whose matte gray tube skirt extended two hard, chitinous, pointed black legs.

   The arachnid woman directed the staff who stood on the auditorium floor, as they worked to corral the incoming students into seating groups based on their gender, size, and body type. She communicated almost without saying a word, relying upon an elaborate system of hand signals that she produced in simultaneous and dextrous sextuple. Perhaps in order to better survey the audience, she occasionally paced upon the stage, and when she did, she walked with finesse, but making distinct clacking sounds as someone wearing stiletto heels, albeit these sounds being made with the ends of her own feet.

(To be continued...)

[Image: Night Parade of a Hundred Demons, illustrated c. 1750 by an unknown artist, now in public domain. From the Osaka City Museum of Fine Arts.]

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[shsl-shipper-gamer-fangirl]

A/N It's a bit longer this time since I'm trying to cram a summary of a what if game. I tried to mix up the murders and survivors a bit for a change. Feel free to adopt this and turn it into a full fledged fic (with credit), if you would please. Or if this inspires you to write something, let me know and I'll read it!

Read the prequel: All Hope Lost

New World Program version 78th class - 78th despair enters NWP

When she came to, she was inside a classroom filled with other students.

She didn't even have time to make sense of it all when the room virtually collapsed and they found themselves on the beach. At the edges of the smooth flat floor was sand that was coarse and shifted under their footsteps. As bizarre as it was to have been transported to an island, it didn't quite top the fact that their teacher was a pink bunny mascot who talked like a child.

She didn't know which was more ridiculous. The teacher's spiel about hope or the fact that she was missing her memories.

"I'm Mukuro Ikusaba. SHSL Soldier." The person beside her politely introduced herself first. She paused as if waiting for a reply.

A panic registered in her chest as her heart thumped wildly in its ribcage. Her mouth opened but no words spilled. There was a blank space where one shouldn't be. She didn't know what to answer at first until she registered the weight fitted in her hands. A notebook that she'd been holding on for a while now but only took notice of right now. She opened it and read the first page as if the foreign information was about her. "Ryouko Otonashi... I'm the SHSL (???)?" She answered hesitantly.

"Are you asking me?" Mukuro asked incredulously.

Ryouko almost flinched at the sharpness of her gaze. "I don't remember..." She visibly slumped as she looked down, her eyes were shut as she tried to focus with all her desperation. Her hands shot to her head, squeezing it with surprising strength as if it would force the memories out. Nothing. Her head was practically throbbing from the pain of thinking too much but without any memories to push out, her brain felt like it was bleeding and she's pretty sure that wasn't a good sign. Then again, having amnesia was never a good sign.

"Hey, are you okay?" A concerned voice called out. It was someone else's voice and the gentleness in it caused her head to snap up and stare into worried eyes. "You look like you were having an episode or something. Is something wrong? Do you feel sick?"

She blinked warily and upon looking elsewhere, she noted the curious glances of their classmates. She steadied herself and forced her chattering teeth to clench shut. "Yeah... m'fine. Just a bit dizzy." She finally said through gritted teeth.

He let out a relieved breath. "That's good. You probably just need to rest for a few minutes. I know everyone's a bit confused over what's happening, myself included, so it's okay to take a breather." He said with an understanding smile. "I'm Makoto Naegi by the way. I guess I'm the SHSL Luckster. I'm not that sure either." He said it with a laugh.

Something about the way he said it struck her. "You're not sure? Could it be that you... don't remember either?" She asked almost hopefully.

He blinked slowly, confused at first, and then replied with a tone that danced, light and yet at the same time it carried weight that was heavy enough but not exactly dragging. "Oh no, not like that. It's more of my personality. I'm just not sure about a lot of things especially things about myself but I'm learning. I guess it just kind of comes up when I talk." He paused and then continued somberly, "I'm sorry that my phrasing confused you and... sorry to hear that you don't remember."

Before she could even respond to that, another person joined in their conversation. "Amnesia, huh?" She turned to the source and saw a girl with purple hair who was flipping through the notebook. Ryouko's eyes went to her now empty hands. Since when did she get a hold of it? As soon as she noticed its absence, it was rightfully back. "Interesting..." She said as she handed back the notebook after perusal.

"And who are you supposed to be?" Ryouko huffed. She's still not sure whether or not the notebook was hers in the first place but that didn't mean that she was okay with strangers looking into it. In fact, she was almost seething in anger at the blatant breach of privacy.

The girl on the other hand was calm. If she noticed Ryouko's hostile demeanor then she paid it no mind. "Kyouko Kirigiri. SHSL Detective."

Ryouko knew that Kyouko would probably be the best person to ask for help in solving the mystery of her missing memories but right now she didn't want anything to do with the snoop.

"Sorry about your... amnesia thing. I didn't know and I think I was insensitive." Mukuro apologized and it's only then that Ryouko remembered about her presence.

"Oh, it's okay! I mean it's obviously not. Me, I mean. But what else can I do?" Ryouko mumbled incoherently. It was odd how her lips moved so fast despite not having much to say and so her words came out as a mess.

"It's too early to think like that! I'm sure it'll come back to you at some point and we're here to help you in any way we can." Makoto spurred her on encouragingly.

"That's awfully optimistic of you to believe in." She replied a bit skeptically.

"Well optimism is my one redeeming quality, I think." He said with a smile that never faltered. "We'll figure things out together. Let's not lose hope!"

Ironically enough, Ryouko vaguely remembers the feeling of despair.

---

Despair. That's the foreboding feeling that weaved all throughout the class.

An impromptu island field trip was one thing, a bunny mascot as the teacher was another, but a mutual killing? That was an entirely different level and quickly overshadowed everything in a malevolent sense. Whatever friendly atmosphere they had built in the first hour was harshly crushed by the suffocating miasma of despair.

Monokuma. She thought she knew the name of the sinister bear before he even announced it. His laughter echoed inside the walls of her head before it even escaped its sinister smile. He was familiar. Despair was familiar. Something about this screamed familiar to her and there was a foreboding sense to everything.

"Upupu! Welcome to the island trip of mutual killing! A rehash of the original because everyone loves beach OVAs!" Monokuma roared in laughter. Ryouko couldn't even suppress the chill that she got from that weird laugh. It irked her and yet it also beckoned her. But ultimately, she knew that he was dangerous. "If you want to leave this island then all you gotta do is do in somebody. Kill and not be caught or else you'd get executed and all that jazz. I'm sure you already know this so let's just skip tutorial."

"Uwawa! No killing! Usami will stop you!" Their so called teacher launched at him.

"Yeah, not gonna happen. This isn't island mode, sistah." Monokuma chortled and easily took down his assailant. He even gave her a total makeover for good laughs. "Now be a good baby and behave, Monomi. Big bro's talking with the soon to be murdering kids." Usami- now Monomi, couldn't even argue since her mouth was taped shut as she dangled over them tied up in rope.

"No one will be murdering anyone!" Makoto strongly objected when everyone else refused to speak out loud. "We're not going to kill each other just because you told us to! We're all friends here and friends don't just kill friends!"

"Oyaoya?" Monokuma tilted his head to one side as if curious. "That's some disgustingly positive words you got there. You should be a speechwriter or something just as pathetic." He mocked him and the redness in his one eye shone malevolent. "But do you really think that everyone here is as naive as you?" With a menacing grin, he added, "Besides, what can you do? You can't do anything on your own."

Makoto visibly flinched at his words but he didn't back down. He stood his ground and pushed forward. "I believe in them. I believe in us. I trust that we'll overcome your despair and hold on to hope instead."

His faith was clearly misplaced since there was already a murder the day after the motive was handed out.

The most shocking part was that the culprit had an entirely separate motive than the one Monokuma gave them. It was a crime of passion and it was her most passionate murder yet judging by the bloodbath of evidence. Genocider Syo was on the loose and Byakuya was right within her MO. The trial felt so wrong not only because they were basically condemning someone to their death, but also because Touko was an innocent bystander dragged into this. Just because they were separate personalities didn't change the fact that they shared a body. Syo was the one who killed and not Touko but both of them died together during the execution.

The next murder happened three days after the motive was given. Most of them thought that money wasn't enough reason to kill someone but Yasuhiro thought otherwise. He wasn't planning on killing anyone at first but then he divined that he'd pull it off successfully and he trusted his fortunes despite being correct only a third of the time. He chose Leon only because the fortunes told him that red was his lucky color. Unfortunately for him, this was one of his missed fortunes and he begged for forgiveness all throughout his execution.

Perhaps the most unexpected of them all was that caused by the Despair Fever. Kiyotaka had been the unfortunate soul to be inflicted with the remembering symptom without anyone noticing the change in his demeanor. He just wasn't the same person anymore. He kept going on and on about how despair was the ultimate compass and how he was leading justly. He admitted to killing the ever trusting Mondo who walked in when he had just finished slaughtering the easy target Hifumi. It was disturbing to see him so at peace over what he had done. He was the only person who looked like he was enjoying his execution.

The fourth murder wasn't supposed to be one at all. They were trapped in the strawberry house and they were starving. They would have all starved to death if nobody killed. Sakura was going to quietly sacrifice herself so that the rest of them could live. However, when Aoi found out, she raced to kill herself first. She even had her suicide note written hurriedly. In her final breaths, Sayaka had accidentally walked in on her. Instead of helping Aoi, she saw this as an opportunity and delivered the final blow. She almost got away with the murder if it weren't for Kyouko pointing out inconsistencies in her testimonies. She struggled but ultimately lost her life at her execution.

The final murder case seemed like the longest one not just because of the trial itself but also because of the high strung tension before it.

"Shall we make a gamble?" Celes played her best smile. "I bet that I can weed out the traitor."

"And then what? Kill him?" Mukuro eyed her warily, judging her every movement.

"There's no need for you to go to such extremes." Sakura intervened with a calm voice in an effort to diffuse the incoming fight. "What good would finding out the traitor's identity do us? Our priority should be preventing any more killings."

"I'm inclined to agree with Sakura." Makoto swallowed thickly. "We just got over that last one. I think we should rest and clear our heads first before jumping into decisions."

That sounded reasonable enough and yet- "But what if the traitor's planning something behind our backs?" Kyouko didn't even falter when all eyes fell on her. In fact if anything, she narrowed her eyes at Celes. "You're not the volunteering type. Finding the traitor's identity seems like an out of character move from you. What's your angle?"

The accusation only made Celes smile wider. "Oh, is that worry I hear in your voice? I'm flattered over your concern." She giggled when she saw Kyouko's lips form a thin line. "Relax, I'm just exercising my talent. It has been a while since my last use of it."

Kyouko did not have the patience today not when she knew that the gambler was planning something. She had to back her to a corner and make her talk before any more casualties arose. "What did you see in the Final Dead Room?" She pressed on.

Celes had been the only one able to enter the Final Dead Room during the lockdown and she's been tightlipped about her findings ever since. Weapons was all she would answer when asked but Kyouko knew that she was hiding something. Her poker face was incredibly unreadable so whether or not Kyouko's interrogation was phasing her, it was hard to tell. Celes' smile had not faltered ever since the conversation started.

"Weapons." She answered again, her smile was a touch bit of mocking. "But if you must know, a weapon is only as lethal as its wielder." She added lightheartedly what sounded like a threat.

Mukuro instantly changed her stance and growled, "If you try anything, I'll have you personally know why I'm called a human killing machine."

"P-Please, no violence!" Chihiro pleaded while shaking out of fear.

Ryouko on the other hand, wanted nothing of this. "This has nothing to do with me..." She mumbled to herself as she turned a blind eye over the fight. She's just here to figure out her memories. Anything outside of that, she was not obligated to be a part of.

As if she ate death threats on a daily basis, Celes answered Mukuro's steely gaze with her own, silently conveying her own resolve. She turned her eyes back to Kyouko's and proudly said, "I haven't lost a bet before in my life."

"What are you wagering?" Kyouko asked her one last question.

Celes' smile almost seemed genuine. "The highest stakes, of course."

She went missing that night and led them on a wild goose chase that lasted for almost a week. Just when they thought they'd caught up with her, the trail would go cold and a different clue would surface. They wouldn't have played her game of chase if only she hadn't taken the islands as hostage with bomb threats. She kept everyone on edge and on the lookout for her and for the bombs.

They found the bombs first and then her corpse next.

A locked room murder. That's what it was and after clearing suspicions on each other, they had decided that it was clearly suicide. There was just no other possibility.

"You've got that wrong!" Makoto objected just before they could cast their votes. "Don't you think it's a bit weird? Celes isn't the type to just kill herself."

"Yeah, well Kiyotaka looked plenty innocent too." Ryouko argued back. "For all we know, she could have been infected by the despair disease and hiding her symptoms all this time?.

"But wasn't that cured after the third trial?" Chihiro chipped in.

"It's true. My fearing symptom was alleviated as soon as the... execution was over." Sakura confirmed morosely.

"Well if you put it that way... We still don't know why she wanted to kill herself." Mukuro added thoughtfully.

"She obviously couldn't find out who the traitor was and killed herself out of gambler's honor or something." Ryouko argued with a scoff. She just wanted this to be over and done with.

"I doubt that honor is the first thing that comes to mind when being a gambler." Kyouko crossed her arms in thought. "But it is rather peculiar as to why she chose this specific method to die. Given all the hardship she's thrown over us this past few days, this death seems too easy."

"Then we all agree that we should discuss about this more, right? At least let's try to uncover the whole truth before we close this permanently." Makoto suggested and with most of them nodding in agreement, he continued with heavy breath, "We'll get through this, I'm sure of it... No matter what truth we uncover."

The truth may have been better left unknown as they all turned to the culprit with a sickening sense of betrayal.

“...Aww, you totally guessed right!" Makoto tried to smile but it came out half-hearted, somber. "Just as expected... Yeah, you got that right... I'm the traitor.”

But even more powerful than betrayal was the conflicting sorrow they felt over his fate.

"There... There has to be a mistake!" Mukuro pleaded with desperation. "How sure are we that it was the traitor who did the killing blow? Maybe it was Celes for all we know! Maybe Makoto's luck somehow saved him a few seconds just before he could become a killer unknowingly!"

"We've gone over this before..." Kyouko cut her off right there. Her bangs covered her eyes so it was hard to tell what kind of expression she was making but her voice sounded more collected than usual, unfeeling. "We're absolutely certain that Celes died by accidental intervention at the traitor's hands. With Makoto's streak of bad luck, it even makes more sense that he'd be the culprit."

"Of a murder he never planned!" Mukuro shouted, her voice was raw with emotion. "Are you seriously accepting this? His only crime was that he was at the wrong place, at the wrong time, and threw the wrong bottle! He's a murderer by a goddamn technicality!"

"But a murderer under the rules nonetheless!" Kyouko yelled back and the whole room fell silent. She held her chin up and revealed streaks of tears down her eyes. Her voice trembled now and it was so soft, it sounded like she would almost break. "I don't approve of this any more than you but we both know what we must do in order to survive." She couldn't hold back any more and covered her face as she cried over her helplessness.

Mukuro wanted to say something to that but she bit her lip. She knew and understood their situation. It wasn't Kyouko's fault that they had to make this choice but that didn't make her any less angry. Her fists were clenched so hard that if she hadn't been wearing gloves then she would have drawn blood. It wasn't just the two of them who were hurting over this. Everyone had their own anguish painted across their faces and sobs echoed through the trial room.

And Makoto, sweet innocent about to die Makoto, he was smiling softly.

"It's alright... I don't blame you for making this choice. If anything, I guess I'm happy that you chose to live." He offered with a small genuine laugh and that made them feel even more guilty at what they were about to do. "I'm sorry that you had to find out about me this way but at least I get to help you in the end."

"Why?" Sakura asked barely above her sobs. "If you just revealed that you were the traitor then maybe we could have avoided these fatalities."

Makoto just smiled somberly and crossed his arms as he explained, “A traitor who's not allowed to think that they're different from everyone else... A traitor who can only interact with everyone as a traitor..." He barked out a bitter laugh. "Because that's the nature of their existence... They can only exist as a traitor...”

"That's right. In the end, you're still the traitor!" Ryouko pointed at him with a scowl. Unlike everyone else, her anger seemed to be directed at him. "You've been deceiving us all this time! I... We... We thought you were our friend but it turns out that you're working for them! All that talk about friendship and hope? Was none of that real?"

He steadied her a hard glance, his voice unfaltering. "Everything was real. Everything said and happened between us was real. Believe in me when I say that all of that was real and genuine. The only difference is that I'm just a traitor. I lied about not being the traitor but everything else was the truth."

"I don't understand. If everything else was true..." Chihiro said in between his sniffles. "Then what does you being a traitor make you different?"

"Sorry... but I don't have what it takes to tell you." When met with pleading looks he continued, "Even if you want to fly, you can't, right? Even if you want to swim where you please, you can't right? It's the same for me, I guess..."

Aside from the sounds of crying, no one spoke. The air felt too heavy to breathe in. Some of them shut their eyes in a futile effort to look away from the inevitable while the others bravely looked on with blurred visions, memorizing every detail before he would cease to exist. He was crying too but he was smiling more than anything.

It was his kind smile that they would miss the most.

"Yeah, yeah whatever! Look are you going to vote or not? 'Cause I swear I'm going to execute all of you regardless if nothing happens in the next ten seconds!" Monokuma ordered them impatiently and even began his countdown.

Makoto's smile was heavy in their hearts.

“...You guys can stay alive by believing in me.” He urged them on, almost pleading. He placed a hand over his chest, a gesture that showed he trusted them wholeheartedly to make the right choice. “You don't have to worry. Believe in me... and cast your vote.”

So they did and they were right. And oh, how they wished they were wrong.

“Monomi... I'm sorry, too." He said as he crouched to her level. "You're probably gonna get scolded by a lot of different people for this... But still, I want to protect everyone by any means. And... I'm happy that I'm able to do that.”

"I'm surprised that you would even do that!" Monomi said in between her sniffles. "I didn't think you could... pull it off."

“Maybe I wanted to protect everyone, no matter what the cost.” Makoto confessed and then shook his head. "No, not maybe. I'm sure of it." The smile on his lips seemed lighter as he continued, “I was able to think I wanted to protect everyone. That's why... I feel proud of my actions.”

"I'm proud of you too! You did good!" Monomi cried as she hugged him. "I can't let my student go in alone so... this teacher's coming with you."

"Are you sure?" He pulled back and stared questioningly at her eyes. "You know you don't have to. I'm the one who's supposed to be executed. Who's going to watch over them?"

"You've grown up, Makoto. You're able to make decisions on your own now. If you believe in them so much then I want to believe in them too." She puffed at her chest for emphasis. "This teacher needs to do some growing up too. I'm coming with you and that's final."

"Okay, okay. Thank you." He laughed out of relief. "To be honest, I'm kind of scared. I feel bad for bringing you along with me but if you say so..." He tightly held her stuffed paw as he stood up. “Let's believe in everyone... and leave the rest to them...”

He turned toward his friends who were reluctant to let him go.

“Well, I guess this is goodbye." He waved at them one last time with a smile that was too happy for the occasion. "Bye everyone... It's okay. A shining future will always be waiting for you. It's true... It's absolutely true... Because I believe in you! So don't lose hope!”

Makoto left them with hope but all the others could feel was an emptiness where his life should have filled in.

---

They didn't know what to believe in anymore.

Everything about this world was fake. The whole island and even them included, all was fake. This was all a literal game, a virtual program where they were just mere avatars walking about. They were all just strings of numbers without knowing it. No matter how real everything seemed to them, it just wasn't. They saw it firsthand how their world glitched and collapsed right in front of them. This was a virtual world and they were merely players. It made them question their existence. Was none of this ever real?

"So if our brains believe something is real... then it's no different than if it actually happened?" Ryouko couldn't believe what she was saying. This has got to be a lie, a horrible yet terrifyingly believable lie.

"If a lie is a believable lie... You're saying it might become the truth?" Sakura looked just as bewildered as the rest of them.

"We're really just connected to machines and our consciousness was uploaded into here...?" Chihiro understood more than anyone else just how possible that was but that didn't mean he was more accepting. "So we genuinely believed that this game world was real and we didn't know any better."

"The truth is... it was all a lie... That is this world's truth." Kyouko concluded grimly.

Mukuro tried to combat the shock with anger. "Who cares if it's a lie? If this is really a game world, everything that happened here took place inside the game, right?"

"I see, just because they died in the virtual world doesn't mean they died in real life." Sakura jumped onto her train of thought with an unexpected hope. "Those who left before us only died in spirit here but are still alive in the real world."

Chihiro didn't seem that convinced with the theory however. "I'm not sure if that's how it works..."

"You sore losers just don't get it do you?" Monokuma sighed and shook his head almost sympathetically if he was even capable of that. "The New World Program isn't just any game, it's next-gen software containing the ultimate reality. And speaking of that reality, if a player's avatar experiences death... Their brains inside their actual bodies will stop functioning too!"

Whatever little hope they were building up was trampled on just like that.

"Well nobody's gonna appreciate a game where you don't die where you're supposed to, right?" He casually said as if their lives meant nothing to him.

"You bastard!" Mukuro swore and she would have murdered the bear many times over if it weren't for the stupid rule about violence against this so called headmaster.

"Hey, don't blame me. I'm just here for the show. If you want to be mad at someone then get mad at Future Foundation. They're the ones who are forcing you to play this game." Monokuma suddenly paused and if it were possible, it's smile seemed to grow wider. "Speaking of the devil... The main cast has arrived!"

There was a flash of bright light at one of the stands. As the light began to fade, strings of numbers started to materialize until those numbers converged into something more tangible- a person. This person carried an air of power and authority that was more than just from their suit. Their hair was black and there was something abyssmal about its length as it mixed with their own shadow. And then there was the all piercing gaze from his red eyes. This person wasn't just anyone, whoever he was, he was unspeakably dangerous.

"Look who came for a fan favorite comeback! Classic!" Monokuma cheered and even clapped in encore. "Welcome Future Foundation's poster boy, the Ultimate Hope himself, Izuru Kamukura!"

Ultimate Hope? Ironically enough, all they could feel was trepidation as they regarded the suspicious newcomer with caution.

Izuru paid them no mind as he cut right to the chase, precise. "If you want to be saved then you all need to fully accept the situation you're in. Why do you think Future Foundation put you in the New World Program in the first place?" He expounded, "The New World Program has another name: Hope Restoration Program. By now you should be able to piece together your true identities."

"True identities? Aren't we the fifteen survivors of Hope's Peak Academy who were rescued by the Future Foundation?" Chihiro asked, obviously afraid of where this was going.

"But why would they put us in a Hope Restoration Program?" Kyouko countered and judging by her sudden pale expression, it seems that she may have already figured it out.

Something flashed inside Ryouko's mind, something fleeting and yet also familiar. A feeling. A memory. A truth.

A horrible truth.

"We're all... Remnants of Despair?" The words escaped her lips without thinking, her mind was still in shock over the discovery.

Izuru ignored the collective gasp and added, "Despair in human form but utterly inhuman... that's what you are."

Despair. And that's what they felt in this moment, despair piled on top of despair.

"That cannot be true! I refuse to believe that we are capable of falling so low!" Sakura found herself shouting at the outrageous accusation.

He sighed as if bored by their reactions and continued monotonously, "It might seem unbelievable at first because you only have memories from before you entered high school but you changed at Hope's Peak Academy. You were all tainted by Ultimate Despair when you came in contact with HER."

"Her? Just who is this bitch?" Mukuro practically snarled.

"The true Ultimate Despair... Junko Enoshima."

Junko Enoshima. There it was again, that name. It was that same name that nagged at her mind more than the name Ryouko Otonashi. For someone as forgetful as her, it was the one thing that she didn't forget. It was strange, it was as if the name was a parasite that dug itself into her brain. The roots were so deep that it was like it didn't want her to escape from this name. There was something important about it but she didn't feel thrilled at the chance that it was related to her memories. There was something sinister about that name and now she knew that it was because this name belonged to a sinister person. Not just any sinister person but the Ultimate Despair herself.

"Junko was the one who strongly influenced you in school and changed you into Despairs. And in order to remove that influence, you've been placed into the Hope Restoration Program." Izuru explained with no remorse. "The reason you're able to act like your normal selves is because you're within the New World Program but your true bodies in the real world are different. In the real world, you're part of a group that cruelly destroyed your family, friends, and even your own body. The Ultimate Despair defy all understanding and even their own hopes."

The room errupted into a chorus of denial and each face was painted with despair.

"T-There's no way we'd do something like that!" Ryouko objected but was surprised because a part of her believed what he was saying. No, not just believed... it was more like she already knew from the beginning.

"It's useless to feign ignorance anymore. Don't turn away from the truth." Izuru slammed his hand, effectively silencing the room. "Now face what you've done and from there take the first step towards the path of hope!"

Hope? What did he mean by hope?

"But if we're already Despairs as you said then what hope do we have?" Mukuro asked weakly not quite meeting anyone's eyes.

"There's no need to worry. If you just advance toward the hope I provide then you'll be saved. It's that simple." He crossed his arms as he expounded, "Essentially, your cohabitation inside the New World Program was just a simulation. If we removed the memories of your time at Hope's Peak Academy, would it also remove your Ultimate Despair? Although it deviated from the original plan of you collecting Hope Fragments, nevertheless you guys were able to overcome your unexpected trials and make your way here." He paused to let that sink in before adding, "That's why... all you need to do is choose 'Graduate'."

"And by choosing to 'graduate', we can get out of here?" Kyouko asked skeptically.

"However, if you 'graduate' from here, your school memories will never return." Monokuma pointed out.

"If you choose to 'graduate' and the Observer determines that there are no problems then you will complete the Hope Restoration Program and your avatar will be 'uploaded' into your real body." Izuru explained furthermore.

"By uploading our avatar's memories into our bodies, we're also forcibly erasing our past selves..." Kyouko pieced together out loud.

"H-Hey... What happens to the people whose avatars died?" Mukuro on the other hand was more concerned about those left behind than this existential crisis.

"If an avatar that needs to be uploaded has been deleted, there's nothing we can do." Izuru bluntly answered without hesitation. "If you choose to 'Graduate', it'll transfer your in-game memories but your school memories will be gone forever. Unfortunately, the people who have already died will not be able to wake up."

Despite being in a virtual world, they still couldn't escape the reality of their friends' deaths.

"Then... What will happen if we don't choose to 'graduate'?" Mukuro asked, her voice carrying a slight tremble.

"You'll continue living your tropical life. How boring." He stifled a yawn.

"Why would you even ask that? Don't you want to get out of here?" Ryouko asked, her voice laced with betrayal.

Mukuro simply looked away. "Well even if we wake up, we're still messed up... So what's the point?"

"You don't have to force yourself to return to a painful reality. Let's just play this game forever and ever. Don't worry, I won't judge." Monokuma commented snidely.

"Is it really okay to sacrifice the others just to save ourselves?" Chihiro offered his own thoughts.

"But if we don't get out of here now, all the deaths we've endured will be in vain. We at least owe to them our survival." Sakura argued but even she seemed torn about it.

Kyouko who has been silent this whole time, finally spoke up but it wasn't about the current issue. "Something's not right..." Specifically concerning a certain bear. "How come Monokuma's isn't trying to stop us?"

"What? Don't tell me you're expecting so much from little ol' me." Monokuma blushed. "Hate to break it to ya but I'm just an NPC. Even I know when I'm not needed for plot."

"Are you really? Are you truly going to stay quiet and overlook us getting out of this game world? Then everything you did would be pointless, too." She continued her line of reasoning.

"Hey, not everything has to have a point! I'm an impulsive bear who does what he wants with no greater meaning." He needlessly twirled. "Not bothering to care or plan for anything keeps the stress away. How else do you think I got this wrinkle-free face of youth?"

"Not only that..." She then directed her accusation towards the only other silent person in the room. "Is it really okay for us to believe him? Don't you think it's a little strange?"

"Strange? It seems you still don't grasp your situation." Izuru didn't seem the least bit phased at all. "Be saved or don't be saved. Be grateful that you're even offered the first option when you are Remnants of Despair. How hard is it for you to understand that?"

"You said you were the Ultimate Hope and that it was you who put us inside this program, right?" She wasn't intimidated by him at all as she continued her interrogation with narrowed eyes, "Then tell me who Hajime Hinata is whom we met earlier and claimed to be the same?"

"..." He fell silent for a long while until a chuckle passed through his lips. "So you've made contact, huh? Should have known that he'd be able to hack through... I should have gone with his face after all but then again even I don't want to wear that boring loser's face." With that, he disappeared from sight.

"He vanished because he couldn't keep up the charade anymore." Sakura pointed out, still staring at where Izuru was just a moment ago.

"So that fake was all Monokuma's doing?" Chihiro was still overcoming the shock from that.

"Awwww, you found out I was faking! Th-This is so embarassing, I just wanna kill myself!" Monokuma acted all flustered and shy.

"Why would you give us a fake Future Foundation member!" Ryouko yelled indignantly.

"That fake was trying to get us out to the 'real world'..." Kyouko pointed out with a scowl.

"Then that's your plan? Is that where your trap is?!" Mukuro shouted, absolutely furious. "I don't care about the rules anymore! I'm going to kill you right here and now!!"

"Stop! You can't kill me yet! This isn't some stupid game with a half-assed ending like that!" Monokuma shouted back with just as much anger.

"You should stop calling all of this as that. This isn't a game." Sakura reprimanded and it looked like she was ready for murder as well.

That actually made Monokuma chuckle. "Oh, but this IS a game. And like all epic games, there's still the final boss." He tucked in his elbows and began charging energy. "Upupu... Get ready for the transformation you've all been waiting for! AAAAAHHHHHH!"

Ryouko felt an intense foreboding feeling about this. Like the inside of her brain was burning, sizzling, building up to explode kind of feeling. An inescapable kind of feeling of what was about to come.

"Now then! Make sure you burn this ginormous despair you're about to see into your memories!"

As Monokuma burned brightly in an aura of his own energy, a gigantic manicured hand squashed him unceremoniously out of nowhere. More of the world collapsed and crumbled, and from the debris rose a giant woman with a face that showed no remorse. Despite having the face of a fashionable teenager, there was something menacing about her aura. It's as if malice practically seeped through her. She then nonchalantly pulled out a phone and placed it in front of them. The screen flickered to life as the same woman was shown but this time more animated.

"This is... Monokuma's identity?" Sakura regarded her warily.

"We have to deal with this thing?" Mukuro's hand was already on her knife.

"Thing? How rude!" Junko huffed and wailed her arms. "I don't want to hear that from such a disappointing sister!"

"?!" Mukuro flinched and without a moment's hesitation, her glare turned up to a dangerous level. "Don't ever refer to me as anything remotely close."

"Well girl, do I have some news for you." Junko giggled shortly and all of a sudden her mood swung to a more somber tone. "Ah, but then again, spoilers. Can't let you know that early in the game."

"Can't let us know what?" Kyouko hounded her.

"Y'all can't take a hint, huh? I just said NO SPOILERS!" Junko yelled harshly and then started acting all bashful. "Kyaaah! This is so embarrassing! Everyone's staring at me so intensely!"

"Her personality isn't consistent at all." Chihiro pointed out fearfully.

Mushrooms sprouted all over Junko as she sighed. "Well sorry for trying so hard to cater to your generation's short attention span. You guys get so bored so easily that the only way I can keep up is by changing personalities every five seconds."

And while everyone was trying to absorb the sudden appearance of their ultimate enemy, there was one who was taking this harder than the rest, for reasons not even she could comprehend. "Are you... Are you truly the Junko Enoshima?" Ryouko asked with a trembling voice.

Junko paused and a large grin slowly spread across her face. "Hmm? Why would you ask that specifically?"

Ryouko's mouth opened to answer something but nothing came out. She's not sure either why she asked that or what answer she was expecting. If they only had memories from before high school then there's no way for her to have known Junko's face and yet... For some reason, Ryouko couldn't help but feel that she recognized Junko. And the manic grin on her face told her that Junko recognized Ryouko too. It was unsettling.

"I am the great Junko Enoshima among other things but you can just call me Junkie! After all, aren't we all Ultimate Despair here? So that makes us all buddies!" Junko happily announced in a sing-song tone.

"Like hell we are!" Mukuro objected and so did the rest of them.

"Sheesh, tough crowd." Junko sighed dejectedly. "And here I was thinking of you guys when I tampered with the Graduation Program."

"Tampered...?" Chihiro hesitantly asked.

"Got yer attentions now, ey?" Junko winked at them. "Remember what that fake Izuru said earlier? About what happens to you when you graduate, right? I feel like you guys weren't getting a big enough reward for graduating... So I decided to modify what happens so it's something exciting and unique, just like a game!"

The gigantic Junko retrieved the phone and tapped on the keypad a few times before setting it back with an image blown up on screen. "Uploading your game memories into your real bodies is fine, but letting your friends stay dead just sucks! That's why I'm pulling off a deus ex machina to ressurect them! This is the 'new Graduation Program' that I'm offering!"

"Can you really... bring them back?" Mukuro asked desperately, almost hopefully.

"Of course I can! Who do you think I am? I hacked into here so I can hack their lives back!" Junko then stood up straighter and sharply declared, "Besides, what are you all getting stressed for? It's just a game. Each and every thing that happened in this world was just an event within the game."

"Isn't what you're saying now is just contradicting what you said earlier?" Chihiro countered.

"I was obviously just messing with y'all. There's no way anything that occurred in the game could affect the real world." Junko casually said. "That's why you should finish this game and go back to living a normal life in the real world!"

"Will our friends be there with us on the other side? Is returning truly that easy?" Sakura doubted.

"I just said so, didn't I? Sheesh, kids these days don't know how to listen anymore." Junko scoffed at them.

"If we go back, what do you get out of it? What benefit do you get by making us return to the real world?" Kyouko questioned her, still not buying into the deal.

"All I want is to put on this graduation performance in a more dramatic way." Junko answered in her sickly sweet tone. "Well, if you doubt me, you don't have to go back. Is that what you want? Not to go back?"

"If it'll bring our dead friends back... it's all we can do."

"Everyone can go back together. There's no reason to hesitate..."

"There is no way we can choose to stay here after all we've been through... we have to get out."

"In the end, we need to get back to the real world... where we'll all be together again."

"There's no other choice... but even so..."

Light flashed and in its place, a person materialized. "Don't press it! This is... Junko's trap!"

"And thus, the main character gallantly appears!" Junko practically squealed in delight. "Here's the bland looking hero Hajimemes!"

Hajime just scowled at the nickname. "It's over, Junko. Now that I'm here, I can finally settle things between us once and for all."

"Uh, don't you mean twice? Since this isn't our first meeting or did you forget, silly?" She giggled and then her whole demeanor turned cold in a blink. "Your presence here won't do shit. As long as you're here, you'll be treated like one of my students. So you can't pull off any Ultimate Hope convenient talent under my watch."

"I know better than to use cheap tricks to defeat you." He crossed his arms defensively, not backing down.

At this point, everyone had forgone questioning Hajime's sudden appearance. There was something more urgent than that in their minds. "Hey, just what do you mean by "trap"? What is Junko's trap?"

His lips were a thin line as he answered, "She's lying to you about your dead friends coming back to life. Junko's goal is to convert the Hope Restoration Program to the Despair Restoration Program. She intends to upload herself into the bodies of everyone who's had their avatars deleted."

The whole room was shocked into silence as the color drained from their faces.

"Ding! Ding! Ding! Operation: Junko-fy All Mankind begins here!" She announced and even flashed a slideshow to go with her exposition. "Even if they're overwritten by my Alter Ego, it doesn't mean they'll be a completely different person. The data of everyone who died is stored within me, so I'm sure I can convincingly act out their personalities." She hollered boisterously. "With this, my despair utopia where you can despair as you please, Junkoland, will be complete! Aw yeah! Our dreams are expanding-anding-anding!"

"Why would you... why would anyone do that?"

"Because Junko Enoshima is the True Ultimate Despair." Hajime answered for them. "She doesn't yearn for any kind of future at all. She fills every person she meets with despair!

"For me, despair is not a goal, or a set of principles, or a lifestyle, or even an instinct." She added with a hint of pride. "It's what defines me as Junko Enoshima! It's just my characterization!

There was something about her words that resonated with Ryouko and at this point, she may have already gone past the point of caring.

"There is a way for you to get out of here without Junko getting out." Hajime offered. "The shutdown sequence that not even the teacher can stop."

"You say that as if it was an option." She stuck out her tongue at him. "Did Mr.-I-Have-All-Talents suddenly forget how to do math? Because last time I checked, six ain't a majority vote!"

"Who says that I didn't bring backup?" He smirked at her.

And as if summoned on cue, a bright flash of light shone in the stand on his right and from there another person materialized. "It's truly an honor to be here and witness despair get crushed by hope yet again!"

The same happened with the stand to his left. "There's no way we can leave these guys alone not when everyone has been fighting so hard!"

"Nggh! Fan favorite characters!" Junko scowled at the new arrivals with obvious disgust. "Stop stealing the spotlight from me! This fic ain't about you guys so scram!"

"Of course this isn't about you. You are merely a pawn in the grand scheme of everything. You're just here to serve as a stepping stone for hope." Nagito said with a smile but there was an underlying threat in his tone. "And it seems that you've already outlived your use."

"This isn't a game and you shouldn't be alive. You've been brought back to life one too many times and it's time to put you down." Chiaki declared with solid determination. "This is the final boss fight and we'll definitely beat you!"

"It seems the majority has spoken." Hajime's smirk hasn't been wiped off the whole time. "You set yourself up to fall the moment you hacked into my program."

Junko looked like she was backed into a corner but just like her personalities, that didn't last long since her confidence came back in full swing. "Is it really the majority? Wouldn't you like to know what the rest's thoughts are?"

The attention suddenly shifted back to the five survivors who was too caught up with the abrupt pace that they almost forgot that they still needed to decide.

"If we do the shutdown sequence... what will happen to us?" Chihiro asked even though he already had a vague idea as to what it was.

"If you shutdown the New World Program, everything within the program will be deleted." Hajime replied and looked them all head on. "That includes Alter Ego Junko and... even your avatars."

"Does that mean we'll... be deleted too?" Sakura asked softly.

"Yes, most definitely." Nagito answered all too nonchalantly. "But don't worry! It's a small sacrifice to pay for defeating the Ultimate Despair. You'll all be practically heroes of hope!"

"It doesn't mean you'll be deleted. The program will just finish without completing the Graduation Program." Hajime corrected. "Basically, your avatars will not upload... so you will revert to your original state before you entered the program."

"Back to being Remnants of Despair." Ryouko concluded.

"It may be a painful decision but I know you guys can endure it." Chiaki offered her voice of support. "That's why, in order to defeat despair, I want you guys to fight alongside us!"

"The brainwashing your bodies have gone through will be undone." Hajime further explained. "That's why I'm pretty sure you'll quickly revert back to the state you're in right now. Your safety and well-being will be guaranteed with this command."

"If our brainwashing is undone, the memories we made up until now... will vanish?" Mukuro knew it was the logical choice but she still couldn't help but hesitate. To forget...

"Does that mean we'll completely forget everything we did on this island? I don't want that!" Chihiro started crying over what would be the loss of precious memories. To forget...

"Even if there were a lot of painful memories, there are those that I would still wish to keep." Sakura brought a hand to her chest as she silently grieved. To forget...

"To forget everything that happened here... including him whose existence was solely created here." Kyouko didn't even mask her emotions this time as tears formed in the corners of her eyes. To forget...

"This is cruel! Why are we forced to make these shitty decisions? It's unfair!" Ryouko wailed in frustration at everything. Even if these weren't her original memories, they're still all that she has. To forget them all would mean having her start from nothing again. To forget...

"It doesn't matter what's fair, that's the reality. Every meaningless thing that happened here will vanish." Junko mocked their suffering with a lopsided grin. To forget...

"Oh, right let's not forget to thank the mastermind!" Junko clapped her hands giddily. "Who else could have pulled this off other than... ME!" She then turned her head to one person in particular. Her smile was full of malice. "Isn't that right, Ryouko?"

To remember...

In that moment, Ryouko finally remembered and so she died.

"Upupu..." She started chuckling until she was all out bursting with laughter. "Upupupu! That's right! Ryouko Otonashi, never, even, existed, in, the, first, place!" She was laughing so hard that she was hysterical. "Upupu, hilarious, isn't it? It's so despair inducing that it's hilarious!"

"Man, I can't believe that I was stuck playing this half-assed character for the span of a whole fic. Laaaame!" She complained with grand hand gestures. "Oh it feels so great to be me again! God I missed myself so much! I mean, there's no one quite as despairful as me!"

"What's going on?" Chihiro asked fearfully.

"Oh, right. I forgot that you guys aren't updated." She deadpanned to her classmates. "Turns out that Ryouko was just a poser. My true identity is far grander than that not so flat trying hard character."

"Could it be that you've regained your memories?" Mukuro questioned warily.

"Well duh! Obvious much?" She groaned. "Way to go for filler lines. Oh my god, you're as disappointing as ever! Just go kill yourself!"

"Did she really?" Sakura doubted. "It seems as if she's showing Despair Fever symptoms rather than mere memory recollection."

"What if it's both?" She smiled knowingly. "What if my memories are so despair inducing that I've fallen into despair all over again? Isn't that just despairing? All this struggle for survival and hope, only to find out that there's no hope for me at all! In fact, I don't want hope at all! Like get that disgusting hope away from me ya freaks!"

"This speech pattern... there's only one possible candidate." Kyouko's lips formed a grim thin line. "Your true identity is... Junko Enoshima, isn't it?"

"Fucking finally! The totally expected plot twist is revealed!" She whined. "Man, if this were a fic and I were a reader, I'd probably have given up on this at the third cutscene because the buildup for this has been too long! In fact, it's been so long that this scene is just anticlimactic!"

"But enough about me! Let's not forget that this whole thing was made for you!" AI Junko interrupted with a cheerful shout. Yeah, now there were two Junko's in the room. "You still have to cast your vote!"

"Tch. This was your trap all along..." Hajime said through gritted teeth.

"Um, correction. This was YOUR trap all along." AI Junko smugly replied.

"It seems that the plan backfired. As expected of the Ultimate Despair, rehabilitation was just not possible." Nagito let out a dejected sigh. "No matter how much you erase of her, there's always a residue of despair that no amount of overwriting can completely wipe off."

"We were hoping that the New World Program could rehabilitate even the True Ultimate Despair and maybe it would have if there weren't any interferences..." Chiaki crossed her arms. "But this turned out to be the worst case scenario. Rather than rejecting Junko Enoshima, she chose to accept her and rejected Ryouko Otonashi instead."

"And with Ryouko's personality dead, there's no chance of resurrecting her with that identity anymore." Hajime continued grimly. "If we did the shutdown sequence, everyone will revert back to how they were before... everyone including Junko Enoshima."

"Wait! That means that whatever we choose, this bitch will still come back to the real world!" Mukuro yelled, her face was the picture of desperation.

"Sucks to be you!" Junko stuck out her tongue at them. "Don't you wish you were me instead?"

"Never. You are the embodiment of everything we stand against. We would never even think of becoming anything close to a monster such as yourself." Sakura strongly objected.

"Ah, ah, ah!" AI Junko wagged her finger at them. "Don't say things that you don't actually mean." She grinned mockingly. "After all, we're all Remnants of Despair here. That means that at some point you did choose to become like me and at present, your real bodies are still the "monsters" you hate! Isn't that absolutely despairing?"

"We didn't choose you. You brainwashed us. I'm sure you manipulated us at some point and turned us into... into those things!" Chihiro trembled as he argued back.

"Fair enough, there was some brainwashing involved." Junko casually shrugged. "But let bygones be bygones, am I right? Who cares if I brainwashed you before, you're gonna have that conveniently ctrl+z'ed once you shutdown this shindig!" She grinned lopsidedly. "And I'm gonna be there with you once you get out and we're gonna party so hard it'll be like the end of the world all over again!"

"Don't think we'll let you get away with what you want." Kyouko glared at her with a venom unlike ever before. "We'll figure out a way to stop you and your despair. This isn't over."

"Oh, that you got right. It's far from over, upupu..." Junko laughed audaciously at their misery and AI Junko bellowed from behind. "The final chapter hasn't been decided just yet. Isn't that excitingly despairing? Who knows how this will end? Hell, even I don't know! So it's time to play one final game!"

The world as they knew it had long been destroyed and now all they have left was the future, a future that they had yet to decide on.

TO BE CONTINUED...

A/N Yeah, sorry for leaving you guys with a cliffhanger but you gotta understand, this was getting frustratingly long. I even got so tired that I forgone Junkie switching personalities. It was just too damn long and I wanted to write something else already. I burned out I guess... sorry.

It's kind of ironic that I started this prompt because I wanted to write specifically the scene where Naegi's ghost comes back to talk hope into the survivors but in the end, that's the only scene I didn't get to write. I do hope that you'd still appreciate the rest of this. Again, sorry for the incomplete mess but I hope you enjoyed some part of it.

[itsdeelightful]

Soul sistah, can I just say how badly I miss talking to you and sharing songs with you? I hope wherever you are, you’re reading my blog and you’re getting this message!! hahaha! I can see you laughing right now and saying, “Uh, no, Dee. I have better things to do… like you know, talk to Jesus!” 😂 I was listening to your playlist today and came across this song. And gurrrl, it brought me back to my childhood in the Philippines. I loved this song and thought these 3 guys were so cute! Lol Gosh, you were always such an old, authentic soul. You knew and understood life way beyond your years. I just miss you so much. I’ll be listening to your playlist all week, my soul sistah. ❤️ I wish I could ask you what new songs you like right now, because I’m sure I’ll like them too. I miss your realness. I miss your humility. I miss your faith. I miss your laughter. I just miss being in your presence. Your presence was generous and inviting. You were the best listener. You always made room for other people to shine in your presence. In our selfie, let’s-talk-about-me generation, they don’t make ‘em like you no more, my soul sistah. ❤️ I wish I could’ve spent more time with you. I was just so caught up in grad school. No, forget that. No excuses. I’m so sorry. That was my fault. I could’ve made time. I should’ve reached out to you. I didn’t know how bad things had gotten. I’m so sorry. I love you. And I miss you more than words can possibly say. ❤️

[gleefail]

Glee Memories: 1x13 SECTIONALS

A long, long time ago, as Glee was approaching graduation in Season 3, I found myself nostalgic with some rare free time on my hands. So I decided to rewatch the series from the beginning and jot down some memories, discrepancies that have arisen since, fave quotes, tally solos - all that good stuff, strictly for shits and giggles.

8 years later (eek!) and once more I find myself with an unexpected abundance of free time. With so many revisiting or being newly introduced to the show between binge watching during Quarantine and all the tragedy that has surrounded the show since it went off the air, I figured I’d finish what I started. And by finish, I mean go through the end of S3. Cause I truly cannot acknowledge what happened after that. Except for 5B.

Kicking this off by reposting the first 15 episodes I already went through. Enjoy!

1x13 SECTIONALS

Ah, memories. I watched this with someone who is now a very close friend of mine when we first started becoming good friends. I think it was the first time we hung out just the two of us outside of our big group of mutual friends or work. All snuggled up on her couch with her dog and wine and stars in our eyes over Matthew Morrison, lol.

Amber Riley looks so different (and so good!) here. Like a new person. I think it’s the hair.

Kurt also looks older and a little less chubby-cheeked. Did they have a filming break before this or something?

Um…toddler or not, Rachel is wearing some SHORT skirts sometimes in these eps. Like in that flashback just now. Yowzah.

Quinn immediately starts yelling at Puck and Finn who try to help her when she falls. I’m telling ya. Hardcore rage there.

“I’ve never told you guys this before, but I’m a little psychic.” I kinda hate RIB for not keeping or exploring that talent of Rachel’s. Seriously. How funny would that shit be with her trying to predict things?

“It’s nothing to be scared of. It’s not like Carrie or anything!”

hahaha. I love this ridiculous cross calling as they all walk down the hall together. Wonderful.

“Sex is not dating.” “If it were, Santana and I would be dating.” Yes. The birth moment of Brittana. :) Also, the pause in response, even in the music. Golden.

Except Artie said Rachel’s a ‘total trout mouth’. No no no. Sam Evans (be still my heart) is the only Trouty Mouth at McKinley. Bite your tongue, Artie!

Rachel manipulating the truth out of Quinn. Ugh. Unnecessary. Yeesh, Rachel. None of your business! Real problems and people’s lives that you’re messing with! My God.

“She’s the one they made me talk to when they found out I was keeping that bird in my locker.”

Mercedes just said she works just as hard as Rachel. And Rachel doesn’t argue. So….when did that change? When did Rachel start working harder than everyone around her? I missed it. Let’s see if I can catch it in my rewatching.

Again, this moment with Mercedes, Mike and Matt. Isn’t she popular? Cause obvs, besides Kurt and Tina, they’re her friends. So…?

I love watching everyone watching Mercedes sing And I Am Telling You. Artie’s so enamored. Kurt’s such a proud papa.

You can’t see me. But I’m giving Mercedes a standing ovation right now. Holy. Fucking. Shit. Amber Riley, ladies and gentlemen. I have no words for that performance.

This is where it started. Rachel has to ‘approve’ of Mercedes getting that solo over her. Even though it’s not necessary, she’s gotta say her piece and give her blessing. It all started here.

Also, this is where Rachel’s “I’m gonna hug you now” thing she does that I hate started. It’s not cute. Stop it. Just hug her. Don’t announce it cause you want praise for it or whatever. Ugh. I need to stop before this all becomes an I hate Rachel Berry rant. (too late?)

“So all that stuff in the hot tub…you just made that up?” #BlessFinnsHeart

“I was selfish when I told him. I wanted to break you two up so that he would wanna be with me.” WHY IS THAT OKAY?!

Quinn’s gonna do this pregnancy thing on her own. Hmm…except…doesn’t she go straight into living with and dating Puck anyways?  Or am I forgetting about a step before that? Ugh. Not at all condoning what Quinn did but…just imagine when she had to see Carol to move out of Finn’s. The look of disappointment. God. I can’t even think about it anymore.

Jacob was a member of ND for a hot minute. I forgot!!!

Rachel says that going first or last is best. She learned this in her ��extensive’ auditioning for community theatre. Her reasoning, as a Musical Theatre major, I completely stand by. However…Kurt asks her if she ever got any of those parts she auditioned for. Her face clearly says ‘not a one’. Besides Glee club and Maria, what on earth is on her resume? #oops.

Mercedes’ face while Jane Adams is singing And I Am Telling You is hiLARious. Omg.

Artie’s face as he watches them do Proud Mary. Aw. I just wanna hug him.

Rachel’s face as she’s trying to console them all and the crowd gives a standing O. Ha!

“I’m reasonably confident that you will be adding ‘revenge’ to the long list of things that you’re no good at right next to being married, running a high school glee club, and finding a hairstyle that doesn’t make you look like a lesbian. Love ya like a sistah.”

“Because sometimes being special sucks.”

“Mr. Schue, you forgot your keys.” “No I didn’t.” Cute. Also…can Finn drive?

“What happened to the white guy with the jerry curl?”

haha – Britany waves hi to the deaf choir as they’re performing as the rest of ND mopes. Hahaha, people are crying watching them.

Aw. Santana just admitted she likes being in glee club. :)

“Perhaps I could improvise some of my def poetry jams” oh Artie. Oh Tina’s response. Oh Artie’s “no?” in response to Tina’s response. You are all that is magical and glorious about this show. Moments like that.

Okay, I’m sorry, but no. It is not true that Rachel is the best SINGER that they’ve got. I get it that Rachel’s their star. I agree with that at this point in the series. But best singer is not accurate. It’s just not. I have a couple folks I’d throw in contention for that title.

Rachel just said she’s been working on Don’t Rain On My Parade since she was 4. Not 2 like she says in Choke. #oops.

I always hated (and still do) that they have all those damn songs they’ve CHOREOGRAPHED and LEARNED already this season and they can’t find a song besides Somebody to Love to complete their set list. Are you shitting me? Um…True Colors, His Name, Keep Holdin’ On, Crazy In Love/Hair, Halo/Walkin’ On Sunshine, It’s My Life/Confessions…no? None of em? …ok then.

I love that Finn non-chalantly mentions that he trashed the Cheerios copier after he used it to make copies of sheet music. Love it. Cause he’s so pissed at the world that I don’t doubt for a second that that copier was reduced to mere dust.

So they got dressed, did hair and make-up, learned that new song musically, rehearsed the other(s), choreographed that new song…in an hour? Riiiight.

Will on the phone with Emma confuses me. Is he not allowed, like the general public, to even be in the building to watch the performance? Really?

Alright, it’s happening so very much, I can’t NOT do it – restarting Don’t Rain On My Parade and counting the number of times Rachel squints/closes her eyes. Here we go: 23. In 2 minutes and 36 seconds. So…that’s a squint every 6.7 seconds. Hmm. I’m making a game of this from now on. “Can I count to 7 while she’s singing without her squinting her eyes shut?” is the name of said game. This will be fun.

OMG. First judge’s room ever. Ad;kfafdsasodi. I love these so much. Back when they were funny. OMGOMGOMGOMG!

“I’m just gonna come right out and say it: this is a singing competition. I dunno how those deaf kids got in. They weren’t singing, they were like, honking, and everyone was crying and I was like “get off the stage, you’re terrible, and you’re making me super uncomfortable”.”

“I have no idea what the hell I am doing here. I’m serious. I don’t understand what a glee club is and I had never even heard the term ‘showchoir’ til about 3 hours ago when my boss told me he had tickets to NASCAR and I had to fill in at this fool event.”

I just love that we see these kids put their hopes and dreams into this and stress and stress…and it comes down to 3 fools who have no idea what they’re doing. I LOVE the irony of this. I LOVE Glee that doesn’t take itself too seriously. Ah, memories.

“Get me the HELL outta HERE”

Terri’s seeing a therapist. Yay. ...at the local community center. Not yay. That can’t be real, right?

Oh. Even if people had come, this is the saddest wedding. There are just meat trays and lollipops and Munchies in a bowl.

I had forgotten until just now that I was a fan of Wemma. Like, it was the only relationship on the show I felt anything for at this point. Wow. That was so long ago.

“I can’t see you without feeling heartbroken” Oh Emma. I’ve been there hun. I feel your pain.

“The setlists were on Cheerios letterhead.” “I didn’t do it.” “They say ‘From the Desk of Sue Sylvester.” “Circumstantial evidence.” “They’re in your handwriting.” “Forgery.”

“(You have) besmirched the name of William McKinley!” “A FAILED PRESIDENT!” “Oh please – the greatest one who ever lived!”

Figgins just fired Sue. Knew she’d be back but thought it’d be awhile. RIB. Oh how little I knew you then and what you are capable of.

“Get ready for the ride of your life, Will Schuester. You are about to board the Sue Sylvester Express. Desination: HORROR.”

“You know you just woke a sleeping giant. Prepare to be crushed.” Silly Will. Didn’t you read the Hogwarts crest?! It warns you and everything!

So….Will was on the phone with Emma as they were performing. And Sectionals were Saturday. And it’s Monday. And he didn’t know until afterschool at Glee Club whether they won or not? Teacher of the Year indeed…

I still love My Life Would Suck Without You and the montage of former choreography and moments from musical numbers thus far in the season. It’s like…choreographed with memories. I love that. I would say I wish they’d do that on Tuesday in the graduation ep, but…I’ve learned not to get my hopes up. ;) This is still one of my favorite Glee moments though. And makes me all nostalgic and emotional watching it now, lol.

haha, towards the end of that, someone did something to fuck with Kurt’s little solo soul train moment cause he’s pissed.

ah, the first Wemma kiss!!! And then the promo was like “see ya in April!” and my friend and I were screaming and like “WHAT?! NOOOO!!!!” And then we continued to drink wine and wish we were Jayma Mays cause she got to kiss Matthew Morrison.

SOLOS: Mercedes (1), Rachel (3), Finn (1) MERCEDES TAKES THE GLORY NOTE: 4th time, 1st time in a competition

[cashmierathoughts]

Riley 'Nem pt. 7: The Virgin

"Did you cum?", whispered a deep, immature voice.

"Yea", I lied.

"Good. Me too. I love you, baby", he said.

"I love you too", another lie. Then I hung up the phone.

I sighed deeply, rolled over, and headed for the bathroom to wash my hands. The floorboards were old and creaky so I tried to walk as softly as I could so that I didn't wake my folks up. I wasn't supposed to be up this late on a school night, let alone, be talking on the phone.

"Keeshaaaa?!", rang a stern voice.

"Yes, ma'am", I answered.

"Why aren't you in bed? And I KNOW I didn't hear you on my telephone a few minutes ago".

I rolled my eyes, "No, ma'am", I answered and continued on my way to the bathroom. "I know I didn't hear you on my telephone...", I mimicked to myself. Boah she killed me. Ain't paid a bill since she moved in here. "Nigga dis my daddy house" -- I laughed.  

I got back to my room, shut the door behind me, and turned on the lamp by my bedside and picked up my tattered copy of 'The Coldest Winter Ever'. It was one of my all time favorites. My cousin Riley and her bestfriend Jordyn and I were sharing this one copy and it was my turn to read it. I'd read it once before in eighth grade, then again sophomore year, but it was senior year now and my boyfriend, Mike, was pressuring me to have sex, so I thought it was appropriate to revisit the storyline.

You see, I was a virgin. Most of the guys I dated assumed I would fuck because of how developed I was. I guess they thought that just because I was built like a grown ass woman, that I was ready to do grown ass woman thangs. And every time, they were left with a hard dick and hard feelings.

I did like Mike, really, I did. But did I love the nigga? No. Did I think that he loved me? Hell nawl. He just be sayin' that shit 'cause he thinks it sounds good. Not to mention, he thinks saying, "I love you, baby" is gone get him some pussy. But if he can lie about lovin' me to get what he wants, so can I. What did I want, you're probably wondering... I wanted status! Mike was the shooting guard for our school's team and was ranked top five in the nation amongst high school ball players. I was gonna make sure that I was on his arm when the time came.

I scanned the pages of the novel, skipping past a few words here and there because I'd read them so many times that I was able to finish the sentences without having to actually read them. My daddy never touched no dope, and we didn't live some unimaginable lavish lifestyle, but somehow, I could relate to Winter's dumb ass. She was a go-getter and so was I. She used niggas for their money and status, but unlike Winter, I wasn't giving away my body for trinkets and designer threads. Shid, I was barely giving out my time. But that was more of my parents' doing than my own.

I couldn't do shit. Couldn't go on dates, couldn't have people over, couldn't go to parties. None uh dat. It's a wonder that I wasn't fast and bussin' it already. People always talking abut how if you keep a teenage girl locked up in the house, she gon' be the biggest hoe of all. But I liked to prove people wrong. Yea, I snuck out from time to time. Got caught a couple of times and got hands put on me for it, but it was worth it. Most times though, I'd just go over to Riley's and go from there. My aunt and uncle were real cool and didn't mind us going out. I'm pretty sure that they were hippies in their day. Every time I go over there, they're playing old Isley's records and burning sage, tryna mask the funk of the weed they smoke in the basement. Riley thinks it's embarrassing, but I think it's cool.

It's funny how the same thing a man loves, is the same thing that he hates. What makes me stand out as a woman is that I have non negotiable principles, strength, and faith in my people. From the time that we shared that, you seemed to love that, admire it, even. Now you hate it because my ways have isolated you. The truth is, you've isolated yourself. --- (Sistah Soulja Excerpt TCWE) 

And on that note, I passed out, book resting on my chest and all.

The next day at school, I skipped homeroom to meet up with Riley to copy the trig homework. Riley was super smart and good with numbers. Jordyn was the chem wiz and me; I wrote all our papers. We had the whole school on lock; charged $25 for book reports, $10 for trig worksheets, and $15 for chem homework. I don't know if the kids were dumb or just plain lazy, but either way, we was eatin'.

I found Riley all caked up against the lockers by the gymnasium. She and Rod had been going out off and on since freshman year. She was holdin' out on him too but every day, I could tell she was getting weaker and weaker. They had the "real thing" though. Equally crazy about one another. Inspiring.. if you believed that your high school sweetheart was really the "one". But as for me.. you already know where my head is.

"Ahem", I cleared my throat, hoping it would catch their attention and interrupt them. Nope. They were still swallowing each other's tongues. So, I got a little louder the second time..

"AHEM, got dammit", I joked.

"Oh hey Keesh", said Riley as she wiped the corners of her mouth, never even looking in my direction.

"Wassup girl", followed up Rod, also not breaking his gaze from Riley.

"Well I hate to interrupt BUT, Riley, we got somewhere to be..", I reminded her. I didn't want to say out loud that we needed to meet up with Jaron to make a drop 'cause Rod wasn't Riley's biggest fan when it came to her doing homework for students. You would think he'd be proud that his girlfriend had a hustle hand. Guess not, though.

"She's right. Get to classsss babe. See you later."

They kissed again, then we headed for the back of the auditorium to make the drop and so I could copy her homework.

"Wassup, Jaron?", he was waiting for us by the bleachers.

"Wassup, Keesh? Wassup Riley? Aye, Keesh, when you gon' stop playin' and fuck with a real nigga?"

"Jaron, do you have the money or what?", I said, getting straight to the point.

"Dang, it's like that? Bet. Yea. I got yo money".

He dangled the wrinkled bills in my face, snatching them away every time that I reached for it; then he finally handed the money to Riley.

"She isss the math wiz, right?", he teased.

"Whatever nigga, here..", I said as I handed him the paper. Me and Riley left and headed in the opposite direction.

Riley gave me her homework to copy and disappeared down the hallway. I hurried up and copied it, then met up with Mike in the stairwell to "talk". I already knew what he was gonna want to talk about. Senior prom was coming up and according to the rumor mill, he had a suite downtown that night.

"Hey, baby", he said, greeting me with a warm hug and a bag of M&Ms. He knew they were my favorite.

"For me?", I asked, knowing damn well they were.

"Anything for my baby", he said.

Okay nigga, cut the theatrics. Now he was doing the absolute most. He was really trying to butter me up. I liked it though, so I let him continue to do his thang.

"Okay, Mike...wassup? What's all this for?". I can be a bit direct at times.

"Soooo..after prom...I was thinkinggg....that you...and me... could spend a romantic evening at the Westin downtown. My cousin George got the hook up on the rooms and said he would look out".

"You want to spend the night there? You know my folks are not going for that, Mikey. I'm sorry, I can't".

"So that's it? Just like that? A flat out no? You not even gone TRY to think about it or come up with a plan or a lie like you usually do?".

"It's PROM, Michael.", my tone got a little more defensive. "My parents are gonna be on the defense about my every little move and be noided about everything. There's no way they're gonna let me break curfew or "spend the night" at Riley's on that night. They might be old, but they're not stupid."

"Alright, fuck it then. If you not even willing to try, that tells me you don't love me like you say you do and you're not willing to take this relationship to the next level."

I couldn't even argue with him saying I must not love him like I said I did.. 'cause truth be told, I didn't. So instead, I said,

"Nigga, what!? So because I won't lie to my parents and sleep with you, I don't "love you like I say I do"? Yous a clown, Michael."

Like I said before, all the while, I knew damn well that I didn't love this boy, but it was the principle of the matter. I felt I had to take a stand for all the virgins and girlfriends out there who weren't ready to give it up!

"You damn skippy", he shot back. "And as a matter of fact, gimme my hoodie back. Oh yea, I'm taking Tasha to prom. It's over, Keesha."

And just like that, I'd gotten dumped and left in the stairwell. For whatever reason, hot tears fled my eyes and ran down my face like lava down the side of a volcano. I was heated. I was sad. But I was not heart-broken. I cried, gathered my shit, wiped my face and headed to class and pretended nothing had happened. At least I still had the M&Ms. I was starving.

It was the end of the day now and by this time, damn near the whole school knew that me and Mike had broken up. Probably because we didn't sit together in the commons at lunch and more evidently, he was all hugged up with Tasha at the pep rally. I immediately started going through the mental list of niggas that I'd turned down. I couldn't think of one available guy that was up to par. In the middle of my brainstorming, I got a text from Riley saying she had to tell me something and to meet her at her bus.

I followed orders and went to bus 938 and waited. It wasn't too long before I spotted her through the crowd of kids. She looked...different, somehow.

"Wassup? What you gotta tell me?", I asked, getting right to the point.

"Dang, what's wrong witchu? Why you shitty?", Riley asked.

"So you haven't heard?", I said dully.

"Heard what?", she asked.

I could tell that she really had no idea.

"Mike broke up with me because I wouldn't fuck. He's taking tacky Tasha to prom", I blurted out.

"Big booty, Tasha??".

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, nigga".

"Aw damn. I'm sorry Keesh. Well that makes me not even wanna tell you my news now...".

"Girl, I'm coo. Two tears in a bucket won't fill it so fuck it. (My dad always says that) What's going on? And why you lookin' all...different?"

"Wellllllluhh...", she said hesitantly. "I did it. Well, we did it! Me and Rod...made looovvvee".

I was secretly disappointed but I didn't want to make her feel bad about her decision so I went along with it. In the back of my mind, all I could think was that she had given away her power.. something I vowed not to do for as long as I could. It was that moment there that I told myself I would never have casual sex.

[mysteryfanfictheatre3000]

Back to the Frollo, Chapter 12

Warning: Frollo cries again.

Chapter Twelve

Several days passed before I ventured outside. I barricaded myself in the house, cried all the time, and could not stop thinking about Claude Frollo. I never quite got over that kiss -- that spontaneous, wildly passionate, oh-so wonderful kiss.

She’s sure freaked out by five minutes of a yelling and a short kiss. She seems very emotionally unstable.

Oh Claude! I didn't want things to get this crazy; I really loved you! But I didn't care if I ever laid eyes on Claude again.

Is she talking to modern-day Frollo? Is he reading this story? What?

I made arrangements with a young man who was organizing a trip to the East, a trade expedition in search of spices and fine fabrics. I was a little nervous about going to medieval Persia and Arabia, but I didn't care.

Dude. You’re going to die. You are going to get attacked by robbers at the very least, and probably pick up smallpox, plague, cholera or some other ancient disease along the way. The possibilities of the various horrors that will kill you are endless!

Besides, Fern was still in Texas and wouldn't be back for several weeks; I decided not to wait. I had to get out of Paris as soon as possible.

Just abandon everything about your previous life like that. Not an issue.

I knew good-byes were in order, and I didn't have the heart to tell the children I was leaving. I gathered them in the square those last few days and played games with them as if nothing was wrong. Looking into those little faces made me re-think my decision, but no, I wouldn't give Claude Frollo the satisfaction of thinking he'd "won". Saying good-bye to a certain bellringer, however, would be even more difficult.

No, don’t drag poor Quasimodo into this mess even more! He’s innocent, leave him alone!

******

"Oh Nisha, do you have to leave?", Quasi asked as we packed the now-finished Civil War battle set. "I'm sorry, Quasi, but let's just say your master and I don't exactly see eye-to-eye", I said, admiring the amazing accuracy of Quasi's work, even though the events depicted would not happen for almost 400 years. Although I never told him of my latest stormy encounter with Frollo, Quasimodo became strangely defensive of his guardian.

It’s called Stockholm Syndrome.

"Look, just because he said some things that rubbed you the wrong way....", he said with a sigh, "Frollo's not the easiest man to get along with, but I'm grateful to him...I mean...Don't leave because he got on your nerves." Quasi then gave me a big hug. "You've been a wonderful friend, brightening up my days. You don't know what it's like up here, all alone with no one to talk to."

Did Phoebus and Esmeralda just disappear? Danisha seems to indicate this took place after the movie and Frollo somehow survived, so either Esmeralda died like in the musical and Phoebus just ran off someplace and abandoned Quasi, or they both just left Paris and never came back. I guess it makes sense for them to run away if Frollo was in charge, but if so, why not take Quasimodo with them?

He then grinned broadly, saying, "Thanks for reading to me and telling me those wonderful stories. You know, I sometimes recite those poems to my gargoyle friends." He nodded to the three funny-looking stone figures nearby.

Yes, let’s add in the most irritating characters by far just to stretch out this awful story a little bit longer.

I mulled over his words, then told him, "Quasi, how can I leave such a good friend. I promised I'd stay the rest of the summer, and...well...I not the type to break promises." We hugged each other again, and, just before Quasi headed downstairs, he said, "Just say you'll stay." When I told him I'd stay for the rest of the summer, Quasimodo was elated. "Great! I KNEW you wouldn't go! I've got chores to do downstairs. When I'm finished, could we read some more of those poems?"

So she changed her just mind like that? Really?

"Sure, Quas, take your time. I'm not going anywhere", I replied with a smile. He was right, I just couldn't leave; Claude and I will just have to keep our distances. After Quasi left, I settled down with a delightful little volume of James Whitcomb Riley's poetry. I got lost in the words; Riley's Hoosier homespun rhymes, written in that wonderful Indiana dialect, made me so oblivious to my surroundings that I almost didn't feel the tap on my shoulder. Quasi finished his chores already? I turned around and looked dead into the eyes of Claude Frollo.

And so we get more terrible, sappy “romance” between two people I hate. Oh joy.

I immediately got up and headed for the steps, but he caught me by the arm, and tenderly said, "Please, Nisha. Don't leave, my dear. There is so much we need to say to each other." I was getting ready to slap him, but his manner was so unusually gentle this time, I sat down again and listened. Claude sat across from me, took my hands into his, and began what sounded like an apology. "I did not come here in search of a fight, but forgiveness. What happened those few days ago..." His voice began trembling with emotion. "I shouldn't have let things get so completely..."

Since when has he been gentle, understanding and respectful of women? He’s a horrible human being, and he doesn’t care about Danisha’s feelings or forgiveness! If any of this was even half true he’d be off commanding soldiers to murder some innocents because he can’t deal with a crush!

I finished his sentence, "So completely out of hand, Claude?...No, Claude. I was the guilty party. I said terrible things to you, not to mention causing all that mess in the first place...." The words came tumbling out of my mouth. Claude sweetly kissed my hands, his voice still quavering. "Don't put all the blame on yourself, darling." He then got up and knelt in front of me. What was to come out of Claude Frollo's mouth would change my life forever. Claude's graceful hand gently caressed my face as he gazed into my eyes. "My dear Danisha," he began, his voice breaking with emotion, "you know I've grown quite fond of you..."

So their relationship began with sexual assault, weird pet names and drama? i’m not sure why I expected anything different.

He stopped himself, rose to his feet and paced the room. His turned and covered his face as if he didn't want me to see the depth of his emotion. Then Claude wheeled around to face me. His eyes were hot with passion, tears streamed down his finely chisled cheekbones.

Why is he such a crybaby? He breaks down in tears over things that normal people don’t even bat an eyelash at. I think he’s crying in half his screentime here!

"Why don't I just come out and say it!", Claude bellowed in a voice choked with anguish, "For the past few days I have thought of nothing but you!" I felt as if shot a hundred times. I sat riveted to my chair, unable to move or speak. He continued, "Night and day, I longed to feel your silky honeyed skin, gaze into those enchanting brown eyes. Oh, to hear your voice, that gloriously musical voice, saying you love me." Claude then knelt before me again, caressed my hands, face, and hair, then finally confessed, "I love you, dear sweet Nisha, I love you." My eyes were still locked into his; I had to say something.

This is when you should call the police and/or get the hall out of here, because he’s quite obviously some sort of stalker weirdo.

"Claude...did you say...what I think you said...You love me?" "Darling, what more is there to say?", Claude gently replied, as he drew closer to me and tenderly, yet passionately, kissed my mouth. My arms enfolded him and I, without hesitation, responded to him with equal passion. It was a long, slow kiss that rivaled the sultriest and steamiest of Indiana summers; it was that intense. Afterwards, Claude said to me, "There, my love. Now...how can you leave Paris? I was so looking forward to spending the remainder of summer with you." "Ooh Claude", I cooed back, "I'm so glad I decided not to..." I suddenly stopped myself.

The fact that she even considered abandoning her entire life because she was mad at one dude should be enough to give her pause.

Hold on! Time out! HOW did he know I was leaving town? I told no one except Quasi, and even then I didn't reveal any details. Claude looked at me half-amusedly. "Quasimodo is not the..what is that phrase your friend uses...'tell-all'?...sort, my dearest. But you really should be more careful with whom you make travel arrangements." Claude Frollo, his mood now changed to full-tilt hilarity, continued laughingly, "My dear! The young "organizer" of that little expedition is one of my best spies!"

Fern? Was this entire thing a ruse to get Danisha and Frollo together? I don’t understand anything that’s going on here!

He was now on his back, rolling and convulsing with uproarious laughter. I was livid! The man who just poured out his heart and soul to me, with whom I shared the sweetest and hottest of kisses, was getting a kick out my naivete. "How'd I know that dude was a spy?", I spoke sistah-style. "It's not funny, Claude."

Oh, are they referring to the guy Nisha made arrangements to go to Asia with? This author really has to be more clear as to what she’s talking about. And she has to stop talking in “sistah-style.” It isn’t sexy, funny, cute or likable, just weird and vaguely racist sounding.

"Oh, yes it is, dear heart. And it's not just with WHOM you are travelling but to WHERE!" He sported a wide, evil grin as he continued his digs at me. "Honestly, darling, for the life of me...I can just visualize you in the wilds of Arabia." Claude words were punctuated with his deep, throaty laughter as he continued, "You, ending up in some sultan's harem, and the poor man putting up with your ever-changing moods and saucy tongue!" Still grinning, he sat in the chair across from me and looked at me in earnest.

This reminds me of Darth Vader from Splinter of the Mind’s Eye, calling Leia a “steel kitten,” in that it tried to sound villainous but just comes across as OOC and weird.

"I'm sorry, darling, but I needed the laugh after...If I offended you...I'm sorry, but...it's all so funny." He was still amused, and I was still smarting from the levity enjoyed at my expense. Out of some sense of false, wounded pride, I immediately got up and headed for the steps.

They are so incredibly on and off again, and I feel like they go from making out to hating each other in seconds. It’s just oddly paced and confusing.

Claude, his amusement now turned to serious concern, caught me from behind. "Don't tell me you're still leaving, after all that was confessed here tonight." I pulled away from him, gave him the look that I reserved only for men who did me wrong, and told him, "It appears YOU did all the talking, confessing your 'love'. And I really wanted to believe you." Claude looked at me in disbelief, but I kept on, "Then you have a laugh at my expense, poke fun of my...What did you mean my 'changing moods and saucy tongue'? Never mind, I'm out of here."

But… you did change your mood every five minutes, and you do sound saucy, intentionally nonetheless!

As I turned to descend the steps, Claude came after me, pleading, "Please, Danisha, don't leave me. I love you!" "What do you want from me, Claude?", I asked. Claude Frollo gave me that same little-boy look I beheld after our first encounter. "Just tell me you love me, and that you will stay." He reached out for me, but I stepped back.

“Or I’ll murder you with fire.”

"Claude, there're only two things that'll keep me here", I began, "and that's Quasi and the kids, but I think they can get along without me." "And what about ME?", Claude emotionally asked. I sneered back, "What about you? You say you love me, but what'll happen down the road? You'll just turn around and treat me like yesterday's garbage." Claude's eyes were bright with emotion.

That’s actually very true. They could never have a healthy relationship because he’s him and she’s her and they’re both too awful for that.

"I'd never do that, my dear. I'd never mistreat my sweet precious..."

Why is he suddenly Gollum? “My precious….”

He had his arms around me, and began kissing me again. Oooh, how I loved the way his lips caressed my face and neck. Mmmm...this feels so wonderful! I was really enjoying this, so much I wanted to melt with him, be his woman forever and ever... But something inside me snapped. I withdrew from his embrace, faced him with hellfire and fury. "No! I don't want this! I'm sorry, Claude, but I got to get out of here."

She’s in love with him, and then hates him, and then she loves him again- these constant heel-face turns are just weird and confusing to read. Stop doing that.

Claude again pleaded with me, "Why can't I make you understand? Don"t you want to be with me, to love me?" I edged my way to the steps. "Save your sob story for someone else, baby. I'm outta here! And for what it's worth, I may not end up in Arabia, but I'd rather slog through the Louisana swamps, take my chances with the 'gators and snakes, than be stuck in Paris with the likes of you!" And with that, I stormed down the steps.

She changed her mind again?!

He didn't even try to follow me. Good! I don't need him, don't want him, don't love... I was halfway down the steps and Claude still made no attempts to pursue me. I stopped, sat down on the step, and couldn't believe what I just did. I threw it away! A once-in-a-lifetime chance, a golden opportunity at happiness was handed to me, and I blew it!

And now she regrets it. Reading this chick’s internal monologue is so weird. I thinks he has some personality issues at the very least from what I’ve read thus far.

All at once, Claude's words of love finally seeped through thick layers of my stubborn pride. I actually loved him! I wanted him, needed him... Maybe it's not too late!

Because he’d want you back after that? He probably wants to burn you to death! Why are you manipulating and messing with the one person Fern specifically told you not to mess with?

Tears rolled down my face as I raced back up the steps. It's now or never, girlfriend, if he changes his mind, you'll know who to blame. I stopped in the doorway and saw Claude Frollo, the esteemed Minister of Justice, a man of power and control, huddled on the floor, sobbing softly. I tip-toed up to him and lightly stroked his now-disheveled gray hair. "Claude", I said sobbingly, "I'm...I'm sorry." Claude raised his eyes to me, and stretched out his hand.

And now they’re both crying again. I should start a counter for every time someone starts sobbing unnecessarily because of “feels.”

Without hesitation, I fell to my knees and embraced him. I felt his arms around me and heard him say to me over and over, "It's all right, my love. I understand, my sweet Nisha. You are forgiven, darling."

Darling, honey, love… these nicknames are forever ruined for me.

We kissed again and again, sweet, passionate kisses that would be exchanged countless times to come. "I love you, Claude Frollo, I love you. I didn't mean to hurt you", I tearfully confessed. There! I finally told Claude I loved him, something I should have done days before, but did not have the courage. We kissed again and held each other a long time.

Is this happening in the middle of Notre Dame? are they just crying and making out on the floor of the church in front of other people? I think that would raise some alarm in the parishioners.

At last, Claude stood up, and helped me to my feet. He neatened his hair and donned the famous triangular hat. He then embraced me again and tenderly kissed my a41 face as if to erase my tears. "Come along, my love, I'll take you home."

Her a41 face? What does that even mean?

****** Claude and I walked arm-in-arm down the long corridor of Notre Dame. Our eyes were locked on each other; we almost didn't notice Quasimodo, who was heading for the belltower steps. "Master...Mlle. Nisha...I thought...What's going on here?", he asked confusedly.

“Oh, we’re just making out and changing our opinions of each other every six seconds. Just because, y’know?”

Claude Frollo turned to his young charge. "I am seeing this young lady home, Quasimodo. I will visit you tomorrow. Good night, dear boy." "Good night, Quasi", I echoed. "Good night", replied Quasimodo as he scratched his head in puzzlement.

I feel you, Quasi. I’m equally as confused by this mess of a story.

Outside, Claude boosted me up into the saddle. I never rode such a fine horse! Claude settled himself behind me, and, with the reins in his right hand and his left arm around me, guided Snowball towards the little house Fern and I shared.

I thought Fern had that chateau she didn’t let you in because she was “doing business,” but then again, nothing else in this godforsaken thing does either.

I softly sang that old Etta James song, "At Last, my love has come along..." "What are you singing, sweet darling?", Claude chuckled in my ear. "Oh, just a love song that was popular when I was a child." I then grinned and said playfully, "I'se Min'ster Frollo's woman now."

STOP USING THAT VOICE. IT’S WEIRD, JUST WEIRD.

Claude chuckled again, his lips grazing the back of my neck, "You certainly are, my dear. You are finally mine, and I am yours." He softly sang a sweet French love song in as we neared my Parisian home. Claude saw me to my door. He kissed me good-night,saying, "Pleasant dreams, my love". I was a little disappointed. "Oh Claude, I'd thought you'd come inside for a few moments."

NO. DO NOT.

Claude just laughed and said, "Now, my dear, we both know we had a very emotional evening..." He flashed a broad smile. Oh, he has the sexiest smile! "All right, honey", I said, "I'll get some rest. Will I see you tomorow?" Claude kissed me again and playfully replied, "Oh, my dear Danisha, you'll see me in the morning, in the afternoon, in the evening, and the next day, and the next..." I joined in Claude's hearty laughter and kissed him again. "This is definitely turning into a summer to remember", I said.

Oh my god, I want to vomit. The cheesiness, the awfulness, I just can’t.

We finally said good-night and I watched him ride away. I was right; Claude was right. We finally found each other. But the summer was not over and the fireworks were just beginning.

Please let it end, please let it end-

[creativedogtrainingonline]

My Worst Valentine’s Day. Ever. II

Lay # 2 would be Ashley (the blonde but dull hottie) and I ‘d need to wine and dine her at her favorite elegant restaurant (as typical). Late into dinner, I would look at an “immediate e-mail” on my “Crackberry” and say sorry about having an unanticipated teleconference with a Hong-Kong-based client in 90 minutes, which would require me to go back to the workplace after supper. By then, she would have had sufficient alcohol and romantic V-Day talk for her to go along with my “fallback” for consummating Cupid Day together: I ‘d take her into the restaurant’s perfectly personal and fancy unisex restroom and fuck her between supper and dessert. With adequate wine and appeal, by that point I ‘d most likely have a 60-70% opportunity of scoring Lay # 2. She would definitely be the hardest part of my International Love Day, but I enjoyed the challenge.Lay # 3 was going

to be ghetto-girl Cassandra. After fucking Ashley, who thought I was going back to the office (where I had actually already employed sick), I would take a taxi to East Harlem, get some flowers, wine, and chocolates near Cassandra’s place, and then knock on her door at around 10:30 or11 p.m. (I told her that I wasn’t sure when my Lay # 2 – I suggest my conference call at the office – would end).

Having sex with 3 different ladies, races, income classes, cultures, and worlds – all on Love Day – would be LEGENDARY. To make it even more of a historic Valentine’s Victory, I was getting anal from Lisa and Cassandra (whom I had actually trained and charmed into giving it on a routine basis) and a minimum of doggie from Ashley (who was lastly occurring to my favorite position). If I might do all that on February 14th, it would be a personal finest for me. Something to show my crew for the glory and the laughs, or to cheer up the next friend of mine to get disposed or cheated on.So that was the V-Day dream. Now here’s the problem that ensued. Lay # 1 goes according to strategy and I even get Lisa to talk unclean to me in Cantonese during anal, which was a first for me, and a bit odd – maybe due to the fact that I usually speak Cantonese only with my loved ones. Refraining from doing that again. Anyway, Lay # 1 was an otherwise amazing start to what guaranteed to be my finest Valentine’s ever.But Lay # 2

is where it became my worst Valentine’s ever. I shower from Lay # 1, placed on my Armani fit, and take a taxi from my apartment or condo to the elegant dining establishment to fulfill Lay # 2.

Whatever is going as planned till I see that Ashley has actually hardly touched her wine glass or food after buying the priciest bottle and numerous of the most pricey meals on the menu. As I’m doing the math and understanding that I’m probably going to be stuck to a $ 400 tab for this supper date, I’m aiming to play it cool and find out how when to recommend we go to the bathroom. And just as I will lay on the Yi-Wang-Smooth, I see Lay # 1 and Lay # 3 program up to our table and take the 2 empty seats nearby.Yes, you read that correctly: Lisa and Cassandra have shown up to my dinner date with Ashley. There’s actually no other way to sum up exactly what took place next other than to give you the discussion.” Wh-what are you two doing here

?”I stammered in confused shock.”We sistah’s was havin’a lil

‘fantasy goin’ on. And we was talkin’ about our ideal Valentine’s, thinkin’we had actually all like to get a piece of you on V-Day,” Cassandra said, with vicious swagger.

“Bu-But how do you … How do you even understand each other?” I was really perplexed by this most unfortunate coincidence.

“Now, Narc, I know you is the lawyer here. However we goin’ do the deposition this time. Then you can ask yo’ dumbass questions.”

“Yes,” Lisa chimed in. “We’re asking the concerns first. What does the word ‘anal’ suggest to you?”

This was getting uglier by the minute, I thought. There truly was no simple escape, because we were sitting far from the exit and the waiters knew me from prior supper dates with Ashley and I hadn’t paid the tab yet. Why the hell was Lisa asking exactly what the word “anal” means to me?

“Um, well, I’m a quite anal person – I guess that’s why I work as a legal representative. You know, you have to be really anal to chase after commas throughout the day in various drafts of a business spin-off agreement.”

Lisa continued: “To me, anal suggests a certain degree of intimacy and exclusivity. How about you, Cassandra?”

“Damn straight. Narc ought to understand about exclusivity. ‘Cuz I know a few of ‘dem agreements you writin’ be all about that shit.”

Ashley then joined the fray: “And exactly what does the word ‘dog’ imply to you?”

Like a driver who has lost control of his car, I was bracing for the impending crash. “Well, I have actually told you that I was never ever a huge fan of pets, however I did try to make an exception for your poodle.”

“Yes, and I was never ever a huge fan of doggie, however I made an exception for you too. Somehow you made me feel special – like you deserved it.”

Lisa continued however this time in a hot and suggestive voice that practically offered me a minute of hope: “After you left my place this afternoon, Cassandra provided me a call, and we began talking about how our fantasy for Valentine’s Day was to offer an entire brand-new significance to the words ‘anal’ and ‘doggie’ – you understand, simply to take these things to another level that none people has actually ever experienced.”

If it weren’t for that Cassandra must have never had Lisa’s contact number, that could have seemed like an invite to have a kinky foursome after this disastrous dinner I had to get away. I knew that I was heading into some kind of dreadful trap but I couldn’t resist the curiosity they had actually provoked in me. So I asked Lisa, “What do you mean, take anal and doggy to another level that none people has ever experienced?”

Lisa replied, “Well, this wasn’t so simple to establish. And – as in the sexual context – the anal part was actually a bit trickier than the doggie part, best Ashley?”

“Yeah, I need to get after Jennifer anyhow,” Ashley agreed, referring to her aggravatingly barky white poodle.

“What do you imply?” I asked in dread.Ashley pulled

her distribute of her bag, holding a plastic bag of Jennifer’s poo. “This is doggie!” she stated, hurling the bag of pet dog shit all over the upper body of my Armani fit.

“And this is anal,” Lisa included, tossing her own plastic bag of crap and striking the side of my face. “It’s a bit harder to obtain than doggie, as you understand,” she added.Cassandra added the coup de grace: “And here’s yo’ second anal, Narc. ‘Cuz I was thinkin’ two anals and a dog on Valentine’s would be the SHIT.” And her bag of shit landed smack in my face.After I took

a 20-minute-dung-removal bird bath in the dining establishment bathroom, paid the $ 400 supper bill, and went out as embarrassingly red as an Asian face can get, I get a text message from Cassandra. “4 a well-read lwyer u sure is a dumbass, plannin VDay on ur fone in my bthrm after u was gettin herbal.”

And after that the complete degree of my arrogant dumbassness struck me. I had scheduled UN Love Day with Lay # 1 and Lay # 2 a few days previously, while I was taking a dump in the restroom of Lay # 3. I did this with my personal cell phone, which – unlike my work Blackberry – had no password on it. I was a bit stoned and drowsy at the time, and forgot my phone in the restroom before Cassandra and I had one more round of sex. Then I was down for the count. However not the lady. And women go to the bathroom. And if your phone is sitting there in the restroom without you and a text message gets here, they will read it, in addition to all of the other text messages. Then you’re actually fucked.After reading

Cassandra’s text, the full level of her revenge-seeking, wicked genius dawned upon me. She deliberately planned to undermine whatever AFTER Lay # 1 (Lisa, in Newark) so that I ‘d believe absolutely nothing and believe V-Day was going as smoothly as planned. Cassandra shrewdly waited up until after Lay # 1 happened prior to telling Lisa what she had actually discovered on my phone. Then the 2 of them plainly conspired with Ashley over all the details of their shitty revenge.The next night, my buddy Sammy (aka “Heeb” )dropped in my office to tell me everything about his best Valentine’s Day ever. After he closed the door, he detailed how he had actually transformed a shit sandwich into an epic rating that left him absolutely victorious. When I then told him about my actual shit sandwich, he was up to the floor laughing in uncontrolled hysteria. So for about 15 minutes, I had this brief, chubby, baldness guy on the carpet of my office shaking in violent laughter and desperately gasping for air. Then he was gloating about the whole thing for weeks after that.Whatever.

I had to let him savor the one time that he trounced me in a sex smackdown – on V-day no less. Approved, I did get some anal however I experienced it as no male ever should. The entire thing made me consistently accept monogamy. For about a week.Needless to state

, that was the shittiest Valentine’s Day of my life. Actually.

Zack Love finished from Harvard College, where he attempted to produce a bachelor’s degree in Females. With the bachelor portion of that degree in hand, he settled in New York City however – to afford leasing his bed-sized studio – found himself flirting primarily with a computer system screen and stacks of documents. Figured out not to pass away a corporate drone, Zack decided to compromise sleep for screenwriting, an active social life, and Internet start-ups offering temporary billion-dollar fantasies.To feed his steady diet plan of NYC night life, he routinely crashed VIP celebrations in the early 2000s and two times bumped into his blossoming crush, a Hollywood starlet. But -much to Zack’s surprise-neither of those awkward conversations caused marriage with the A-list actress. Zack ultimately consoled himself by picturing fiascoes far worse than those involving his celebrity crush. While doing so, he dreamed up a motley gang of 5 men inspired by a few of his college pals and quirky work coworkers. And therefore was born Sex in the Title. But the novel is not autobiographical: Zack never had his 3rd leg attacked by any mammal (nor by any plant, for that matter). In fact, keeping his member safe has been among Zack’s lifelong goals -and one of the few that he’s managed to achieve. campaign