#he cut my coax for my internet by mistake

[beansnpeets]

As usual, my dad is making one thing worse while trying to make another thing better. This time it's costing me more money tho. Sigh.

[wildernessuntothemselves]

I’m Yours, You’re Mine | 2

Word Count: 2.6k

Genre: Smut, future angst

Summary:  You’ve always wished to take a more dominant role in bed, but Chan just wasn’t having it. So when you see an opportunity to do just that with Felix, you can’t help yourself. But you soon come to regret your drunken decision for a reason other than that you’d cheated on your boyfriend with his own bestfriend.

Warnings: Cheating, justifying cheating (badly), yandere!felix, sub!felix, dom!reader, reader tries to pressure chan into subbing, felix getting pegged in a kitten maid outfit, excessive use of whore and slut and noona, degradation, felix messy

Gif Credit

It was a mistake. You had decided. You were both too drunk and horny to think it through and it was best to forget it all.

Felix, however, refused to drop it which really only cemented in your mind that it’s the right decision to stop this thing before it starts. If he’s kicking up this much fuss about it and you’ve barely done anything, what is he gonna do if you got more involved later? No, it’s over and you’d told him as such. You don’t want him and it had been a mistake.

But at night, when you’re all alone with your thoughts after chan had fucked you and gone to sleep, you can’t help but think of the freckled boy and how he had followed your every order so obediently. You touch yourself every night to the memory of it, how good he sounded touching himself for you. It has become a sort of escapism for you, a way to let out your frustrations every time Chan doesn’t let you take the lead.

It pissed you the fuck off, how condescending he’d sound when telling you to ‘stop messing around, babygirl’ as he proceeds to pin you down and fuck you from behind. Still, you keep trying because maybe if he’d let you have this, you wouldn’t run to other men to satisfy your needs.

"Baby, take a look at this." You call out to Chan who was sitting on the chair next to you, turning your laptop screen towards him so he'd see the costume you were looking at, a cat maid outfit for men. He scrunches his nose at it and laughs, "That's certainly something."

"You don't like it?" You pout and he looks at you incredulously. "You do?" 

"I don't know.” You shrug, once again feeling ridiculed. It’s not like you haven’t worn a schoolgirl or a sexy nurse outfit for him before when he’d asked. “I just think you'd look cute in it. And with halloween coming up and everything--"

"I’m gonna stop you right there, baby. Absolutely not."

"Why not?" You whine like a child.

"Because it's embarrassing!"

"But it's halloween, it’s supposed to be crazy. No one will care, they might even like it. I’d really like it.." 

"No. Pick something else." He deadpans but you keep pushing. "But I want this!"

Chan gets off his chair and sits on the couch next to you, grabbing your jaw and pulling you close to his face. “Baby, I’m a man, not a toy for you to play with and dress up as you please. You never mentioned any of this stuff before and you can’t just drop this on me now and expect me to do what you please.” 

“But why can’t you at least try?” 

“I’m not interested.” He answers slowly, emphasizing every word. "Now stop pressing or I'll put your pretty little mouth to better use."

____________________

You’re standing alone in a corner, nursing your drink as you watch the party-goers mingle and have fun, when you suddenly feel someone wrap their arms around you and press up their body against your back. You don’t flinch, already knowing who it is. 

“Hey, baby, wanna go out for a bite?” The stupid pickup line only serves to make you more annoyed at the boy behind you and you wince as he digs his fake fangs into the skin of your shoulder. Shrugging the man off, you turn to face him. “I thought strong women made you flaccid.” 

The sour smile on his face only lasts for a second before it turns patronizing. “That’s not true. I was very into Kim Possible.” He cups your cheek and leans down close to your face, his nose touching yours. “But I’d fuck Shego too.” 

You push his hand away and step back, stopping the kiss he was going for. “Sorry, but this Shego isn’t interested in getting fucked.”

Chan rests his hands on his hips and lets out a heavy sigh. “How long are you gonna stay mad at that?”

“How long is your fragile masculinity gonna keep you from satisfying your girlfriend in bed?” 

He steps towards you angrily, getting all up in your face again. “Don’t you dare! I always make you cum.”

“So? I can make myself cum just fine on my own. But what I actually want from you, you’re not giving to me.” 

“You’re fucking unbelievable.” He yells, face turning red as he prepares to launch into his own angry rant when something catches his eyes and he bursts out laughing. “Oh, for fucks sake.”

You look at him in confusion and he grabs you by the shoulders and turns you around.  “Take a look at Felix, honey.” He murmurs sardonically.

With narrowed eyes, you search for the blonde among the crowd of people gathered at your apartment, wondering why Chan was stopping your oh-so-important argument for this. But when your eyes land on him, they blow wide open. Felix is dressed in the exact outfit you’d shown Chan wished earlier, complete with the cat eats and the little bell around his neck. He looked perfect. 

“Look at how ridiculous he looks.” Chan’s voice cuts into your thoughts as he leans down to jeer in your ear. "And you wanted me to look like that. Hey, maybe Lix will bend over and let you fuck him if you ask." 

He says it with the most sarcasm and contempt he can muster before shoving you a little bit forward and walking off. But it’s far from a joke to you. There is nothing funny about the gorgeous boy looking like he just came out of your wildest dreams. 

With anger and lust mixing dangerously in your veins, you march straight to Felix, and without even greeting him, you grab him by the arm and pull him into the bathroom that was further into the apartment and lock the both of you inside. 

Pushing him against the sink, you grab his hair and force him to look at himself in the mirror. "What is the meaning of this?"

“Noona?” He wonders uneasily, playing innocent. 

“How the fuck did you get this?” 

“I found it on the internet, noona.” 

“Oh, you found it, huh?” You scoff, running your hand over the black and white outfit. “You just happened to find the exact same costume I was showing to Chan a few weeks back?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, noona.” He stares at your reflection through his lashes, doing his best to look meek and clueless. Growling, you shove your hand between his legs, grabbing at his half-hard dick and making him squeal. 

“Oh, you don’t, do you? You’re such a fucking whore, Felix.” He moans, bucking his hip into your hand. "You know I belong to your hyung and you're just gonna betray him like that?"

He shakes his head earnestly, "No, noona. I’m not trying to."

"Don't lie. Little whore only thinks with his cock." You hiss, letting your other hand fall from his hair to his chest, your fingers roughly pulling at his nipples through the thin fabric covering them. 

“Ah--fuck--noona!” He cries, thrusting his dick against your hand more and more. "I'm a good boy. You know that noona."

“Then what is is?” You pull his skirt up to clearly show his now fully hard dick straining against the panties he’s wearing. And when you do, you stop in your tracks. 

"Are those my panties?" You shriek, pushing him flat over the marble countertop and flipping the skirt over his ass so you can see the black panties more clearly. “You fucking creep!”

You hook your thumbs under the waistband and yank the panties down, getting even more of a shock when you see what he has under them. 

"Shit." You breathe, momentarily forgetting all about the panties as you stare at the pink butt plug wedged snuggly in his ass. When you reach out and tap the base of it, Felix's legs buckle. “Is this part of the costume too?”

He stays quiet, burying his face into his arms and you scoff. "God, you're such a slut." You grab the plug and pull it back, only to slam it back in all at once. His scream is muffled against his arms but he eagerly pushes his hips back into you. 

You take a few seconds to get your breathing under control. Once again you can’t believe what is in front of you. You’ve only dreamt about something like this before, but here is Felix giving it all to you without you even asking. How can you resist?

"Don't move." You hiss in his ear, ignoring his little moan of protest as you pull away and step out of the bathroom.

You get what you want from your room as fast as you possibly can before going back to the bathroom and finding that Felix has actually not stayed still, and is now standing up and nervously fiddling with his fingers.

"Didn't I say to not move?"

"I was afraid someone would come in." He mumbles.

“Afraid people will find out what a whore you are, you mean.” You step in and lock the door behind you before you before you show him what you have in the box you just retrieved. 

You smile at his gasp when he sees you pull out the strap you own, the one you never even got to show to Chan before. Cocking your head to the side, you stare at the shaking boy. “You’ll let me fuck you, won’t you, Lixie?” 

He nods before you even finish your question. “Of course, noona. You can do whatever you want to me.” 

You smirk like you expected nothing less than that, but in reality you were riding high off of the fact that he so easily gave into you without you even needing to coax him. It made you wanna give him everything he asks for. 

But Felix’s enthusiasm is dampened a little when he sees you putting the strap-on over your costume. Pouting, he asks you, “You’re not gonna take anything off, noona?”

"I don't need to take anything off to fuck you." You reply simply and he lets out an insolent whine. “But I wanna see your body. I never got to see it up-close.” 

Your face turns hard and Felix takes a moment to realize the implication of what he just said. “So you’re saying you’ve seen my body before? Have you been spying on me too, you little shit?” 

He stays quiet, staring at the floor. 

“You’re such a fucking pervert. I ought to tell Chan about all of this.” You push him around to face the mirror again and press his body against the countertop. “The outfit. The panties. The spying.” You grit, taking the butt plug out of his ass and running your fingertips up and down his open hole.

“No, please don’t tell him.” He whimpers, face pressed against the cool marble. 

“Why shouldn’t I? He should know what his precious friend is up to behind his back.” You squeeze some lube over your fingers before you push one inside of him. It goes in easily so you add the second one right away, pressing down as you pump your fingers in and out of his ass.

“Nghh--noona--noona!” He squirms under you, hands grasping to find any purchase over the smooth countertop. “Please, fuck me.”

You can’t really deny him for long, already feeling like you could cream your panties just watching him break down under you. As you push the didlo in, he lets out a loud keen that turns into heavy panting as you start rocking your hips into his. 

“Thank you, noona.” His voice is garbled and you pull him up by the hair to make him stand up so you can look at his face while you fuck him. He looks like an absolute mess of drool and flushed cheeks, his dick leaking little drops on the floor. 

"What a tiny dick you have, Lixie.” You can't help but stare at it and the leather garter belt he has around his thigh with a metallic heart looped in it. Wrapping your hand his wet dick, you start pumping it as you thrust into his ass. “No wonder you can't dom a girl. I probably have a bigger dick than yours."

“I’m sorry, n-noona. Please use me--ahh--however you want.” He sobs, barely able to hold himself up in your arms. 

“Use you for what? You’re a complete mess. You wouldn’t be able to satisfy me even if you tried.” You fuck him harder, quickening the pace of your strokes on his twitching dick and shivering at the sounds that fill up the room, from the snap of your hips against his ass, to the slick sound of you jerking him off, to the whiny moans he's letting loose to the tune of the bell in his choker. “But it’s okay, I’ll just think about this when Channie is fucking my brains out tonight.” 

Suddenly his face changes, taking on a dark and sinister hue that makes goosebumps erupt across your skin. But you can’t let him intimidate you. If you can’t even dom Felix then Chan is right not to take you seriously. Besides, if you want to keep this going, you have to have him under a tight leash or else he’ll go rogue and expose the both of you. 

"What? You have something to say?" You challenge, but he stays quiet, his lips curled into a mean sneer. "You're just a toy for me and if you want me to keep playing with you, you need to learn your place. Is that understood?"

But Felix doesn’t respond, continuing to stare you down through the mirror. 

“You want me to leave you high and dry like last time? Because that’s what you’ll get if you don’t back down, kitten.” You warn him, your thrusts turning from fast and hard to slow and deep, and your grip on his cock tightening. “Come on, who is my good boy?” 

Finally, he relents, throwing his head back over your shoulder and moaning out, “I am, noona.” 

“Prove it or else I’ll have no use for you.” You smatter stinging kisses all over the side of his neck in retaliation for taking so long, and you feel him gulping under your lips. "Come on, little slut, squirt out that cum for me." 

“Yes, noona, just need a little more.” He grunts obediently, thrusting his cock up into your closed fist in time with your own thrusts into his ass. "Aahh--noona--fuck---noona!" His hands reach back and his fingers dig into your flesh as he cums, using his hold on you to keep standing upright.

“That’s it. That’s it.” You coo, taking a bit too long before you stop touching him, letting him suffer the pain of overstimulation for a minute, his eyes blown wide as his mouth hangs open as he stares at you with glazed over eyes in the mirror, his cum dripping down your hand and making a small puddle on the floor under you. 

“You’ll keep being a good boy, won’t you, Lixie?” You press a soft kiss under his ear that makes him shiver. Letting the tension out of his body, he relaxes back into your arms and closes his eyes. 

“Yes, Noona.” 

____________

A/N: next chapter is using one of those remote control vibrators on lixie in public uwu oh and making him watch chan fuck reader :))))) 

feedback keeps me going and makes me upload faster like this :))))

[imjusttpeachy]

the early bird gets the panini (c.h.)

well this is quite the change of pace isn’t it. lmao i figured u guys needed a break from the crying so here’s... whatever this is

thank u all new followers!! u jus made a big mistake💞🦋

u guys should search up “my very real collab with 50 cent” by corpse if you haven’t heard it yet, i ascended the first time i listened lmaoooo

playlist

the wombats - greek tragedy

aminé - heebiejeebies

free nationals - beauty and essex

the marías- let my baby stay

summary: Corpse interrupts the reader’s morning livestream after she left him alone in bed that morning. Fluff and fuckery ensues.

word count: 2, 326

WARNINGS: she/her pronouns, coarse language

>>>

“Okay, Tom Nook is the most bitch-ass motherfucker I’ve ever met. I could fold him like a panini with a slap I swear to god.”

Mornings were definitely one of your favourite times to stream. Of course, you loved staying up into the early hours of the morning only kept awake by the energy drinks running through your veins and the screaming of your friends over your headset, but nothing could beat the sweet simplicity of waking up with your watchers. It was always so calm, your anxiety levels at a low with the small audience building up slowly as more of them woke up. Reading those good morning messages saying that you helped to start their day off on a good foot— nothing would beat that.

The only downside to these scheduled morning streams was having to tear yourself away from the cozy warmth of your bed, especially if there was a certain someone blanketed over you silently persuading you to stay there forever. It was always a rare sight, bruised eyes sealed shut, long eyelashes kissing pale cheeks as small snores escaped from slightly parted lips. Glancing down at the messy black mop that rested on top of your chest, you sighed softly. You knew he’d only been asleep for a few hours, if that, thinking back to the night before where you crawled into bed alone after kissing him goodnight before leaving him to finish editing for his latest video. He worked too hard, but despite you reminding him this every single time he stayed up into the dark hours of the night to finish his work, he always never seemed to be satisfied. Most of the time you were able to coax him from the stuffy confines of his gaming office, bribing him with sweet kisses and promises of cuddles; when he was in the zone, though, nothing could steer his sore eyes away from the monitor. So with a sweet kiss goodnight, you’d make your way to the bedroom, falling asleep to the faint click-clacks of his keyboard.

It was funny how different you were in that aspect. You always loved mornings, the sun shining through the blinds always brought a smile to your face holding the promise of a bright day ahead. It felt good to never be in a rush, to enjoy the still air, and watch the world around you wake up as people settled into their daily routines. The day’s chaos always seemed to leak through into the dark of the night, but in the morning everything felt new and refreshed; the perfect new beginning to another chapter in the story of your life. Though, allowing yourself the guilty pleasure of staying in bed tangled together with your favourite person every so often wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Okay, maybe it was almost every day.

But who could say no when those strong arms encased you so perfectly, holding you so close you couldn’t figure out where you ended and where he started? Who could say no to his warm skin pressed against your own, the weight of his body grounding you as you pulled yourself from the darkness of sleep? Who could say no to being able to study his face up close, running your fingertip ever so lightly along the curve of his jaw, the bridge of his nose, the apples of his cheekbones, watching his eyelids flutter as he stirred softly in his sleep? Who could say no to the pillow talk you shared once those pretty eyes opened, the deep grumble of his morning voice that prickled goosebumps over your skin as he muttered those 3 sweet little words?

Definitely not you.

Well, not often anyway.

Reluctantly pulling your gaze away from the sweet face resting on your chest, you glanced over to the alarm clock on the nightstand. Red numbers reading 9:37 AM that seemed to be glaring back at you pushed any thought of indulging in your morning pleasures straight from your mind. You’d need to be live in 20 minutes. Puffing another sigh from your lips you slowly worked your way out from underneath your personal weighted blanket, trying your best to maneuver him softly onto the pillows to not wake him. Of course, you’d never be that lucky. Hissing through your teeth as your feet hit the icy top of the hardwood floor, you whipped your head around as a warm hand encased your wrist in a loose grip. Beneath messy bed head that could barely be seen from underneath the comforter that you had pulled back on top of him, you see the glimpse of tired eyes clouded with confusion peering out from underneath.

“Angel?” The deep grumble muttered underneath his breath almost made you throw all your plans to the wind and crawl right back into the fluffy clouds you longed to once again get lost in. Huffing out a sigh you slowly turned around, pulling your hand from his grasp only to bury it in the dark locks buried among the pillows. You leaned down softly, pushing your hands through his hair to reveal soft pleading eyes staring back at you, doing nothing but making your heart ache for having to leave so soon. Trancing your thumb along his eyebrow to try and smooth the small furrow that had made its home between them, you sighed softly.

“It’s Thursday, gotta stream puppy.” You watched as a small flash of recognition passed across his bleary eyes, a puff escaping his lips from under the comforter as you watched his chest fall slightly. Pulling his head up from the comforter, you smiled as you felt chapped lips press a small kiss to the inside of your wrist in understanding. Allowing yourself a bit of fun you leaned down pressing your lips to his briefly, giggling softly as a whine escaped his mouth as you pulled away. “Promise I won’t be long, I’ll be back before you even have time to miss me.”

“Too late for that.”

>>>

Smiling as you glanced up at your monitor that held your live chat, you watched as your viewers lost it with your threat to an animated shopkeeper. Times like this are what remind you of how grateful you are to your subscribers, they were practically family at this point and you felt you couldn’t be luckier to have such genuine, warm-hearted people that wanted to watch; even when you were cussing out characters that did nothing to you. You were laughing as you read some of the chat replies out loud when you saw your phone light up with a text from where it was sitting on your desk. Excusing yourself for a moment from the stream you grabbed your phone seeing a message from Corpse. 

Corpsie💞💞: did you order coffee? someone knocked on the door and there’s a paper bag on the step

Cursing to yourself quietly for forgetting, you answered him quickly saying that you just needed to cut to a break on stream and you’d be out in a minute to grab it. He was wary of even opening the front door these days, and honestly, you couldn’t blame him. The last time you had driven out to pick up whatever was sent into his P.O. Box, there were people waiting outside the building. When you went inside to grab everything, you asked the teller what exactly they were waiting for, to which he told you that they were hoping to catch a glimpse of this faceless internet star as this is where he’d go to get his mail. You don’t think you’ve ever walked faster to your car— trying your best to not grab their attention though your body was shaking with adrenaline, knowing they might’ve seen him while he was waiting there for you. Practically throwing open the driver's door, you tossed everything haphazardly into the back seat, telling Corpse to pull up his hood and mask as you started the car and peeled out of there. That was the last time he left the house.

You sighed, dropping your phone back on your desk as well as the switch that had been sitting in your lap, beginning to explain that you needed a quick break to get your coffee and starting to click through the settings to set up your break screen when you saw your phone light up again.

Corpsie💞💞: nah don’t worry i got it

You barely had time to sit back in your chair as you stared at your phone in disbelief before there was a soft knocking on your office door. 

“Just kidding guys, apparently we have a kind guest who’s bringing it to me instead.”

Corpse hearing your voice from behind the door, it swung open to reveal your mop-headed lover sporting his cute plaid pyjama pants and yesterday’s hoodie as he held your coffees and bag in his hand. You grinned to yourself, moving out of the frame of the webcam as you reached out to grab everything, placing it on your desk before turning back to him with a wide smile. Reaching back for his hand, you pulled it down toward you, his body following as your other hand reached up to bury itself in his bedhead. You leaned forward and pressed a small peck onto his lips, mumbling a soft thank you against them as you kissed him once more. While this may have looked like the most simple gesture you knew how difficult it must have been for him, almost wanting to cry at how sweet he was to go to those lengths to do something a little special for you. As you pulled away, you smiled as his face mirrored yours, those soft rosy lips pulled into the sweetest grin you’d ever seen. Resting his forehead against yours, he mumbled back a small “anything for you princess,” the deep rumble of his morning voice sending a chill up your spine as you leaned forward again to steal another sweet kiss. Finally pulling away from you he stood up to his full height, a yawn escaping his mouth; though as he looked back toward the door you could sense his hesitation and grinned widely up at him.

“Do you wanna sit with me for a bit? I can just turn off the camera.” Giggling softly, you watched his head practically whip back toward you nodding a yes as he squeezed your hand, still intertwined with his. Reluctantly pulling it from his grasp, you pulled yourself back toward your monitors as you began to click through your stream settings. 

“Well, your favourite guest has decided to grace us with his presence for a little so I’m gonna have to turn off face-cam, but I don’t think you guys will have a problem with that.” You laughed out, watching as your chat began to surge with messages about him. Making sure there was no way you could accidentally turn on the webcam again, you gestured him over to you starting to stand from your chair to grab the other one sitting in the corner of the office when a hand grasped yours, a strong tug pulling you completely off it with; a small yelp escaped your lips as you fell clumsily into your boyfriend's chest. You could hear his laugh from above you as he maneuvered you around in his arms before falling back onto your chair and pulling you into his lap, his face burying itself into the crook of your neck where you could feel that smug grin that was surely painted on his face. With his arms wrapped around you completely, holding you securely to his chest you knew you weren’t going anywhere. Looking up at the chat a laugh was pulled from your lips as your watchers conspired against you, message after message accusing you of doing something unspeakable behind the camera as being the reason you turned it off.

“Guys, literally nothing is happening.” You laughed out, watching as the chat passed so fast you couldn’t even read a full sentence. “Corpse just decided he wanted to share a chair instead of getting his own.”

“Yeah, my bad.” With no trace of any remorse in his monotone answer, another laugh escaped from your lips. Leaning forward to grab your switch and actually start playing again, you settled back into Corpse’s lap knowing this is exactly where you wanted to be. You were only a few minutes back into the game, Corpse and you occasionally reading out some live chat comments excited about his surprise appearance as viewers slowly climbed— his own watchers joining to watch the stream, when he inevitably started to fuck with you. A chill snaked up your spine as you began to feel small kisses trailing up your neck, you should’ve known this was one of the reasons he wanted to have you in his lap— it was easier to get your attention this way. You could feel that smug little smile drift back onto his face as he heard your voice start to shake slightly; at those moments he’d pull away and start replying to messages before turning back and starting all over again. It was the fourth time he began to press those soft lips to the base of your throat when you shrugged him off and shoved the breakfast sandwich you were snacking on into his face.

“Okay, if you want to share a chair you’re gonna have to behave.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry baby, sorry.” Corpse laughed out, voice muffled from behind the sandwich; taking a bite of it and placing it back in front of you, his chest still shaking with laughter. Deciding to hook his chin over your shoulder instead, he went back to watching the live chat, chatting and answering questions— that is before he came across a certain comment that had him furrowing his brows in confusion.

“What’s this about you folding Tom Nook like a panini?”

>>>

[imomomi]

Summary: Y/N isn't too sure what it is about Kozume Kenma that makes her nervous, but avoiding him doesn’t seem to be working especially since Kuroo keeps bothering her...

Word Count: 1,607

Warnings: None :)

A/N: Just a cute little story that I had drafted. Part two will be up soon! 

         Y/N had been startled when Kuroo first asked her to come to their game. The second time, she grew increasingly wary that her classmate had a crush on her. The third time, Y/N declined much to his shock and her growing annoyance. It wasn’t that Kuroo was a bad person---he was nice when he wanted to be and smart enough to occasionally catch the mistakes she missed in her chemistry homework. But it was Kuroo Tetsurou. He was captain of the volleyball club, loud and boyishly charming in a way that had girls whispering about him in the locker rooms. To put it simply, he wasn’t Y/N’s type.

           “Why not?” he pestered, poking her back with his pen in between math problems.

           “It’s volleyball,” said Y/N dully.

           “Yeah, duh,” he leaned forward, hair flopping in his face, “that’s kind of the point, Y/N.”

           “I’d rather be at home,” she admitted.

           “Doing what?”

           “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

           “Come one, it’s just one game,” said Kuroo pushing his lips out in a pout. She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest in disgust.

           “You’re very nice, Kuroo-san, but I’m not interested,” said Y/N bluntly. A twinge of regret filled her. Hopefully, no one around them had heard their conversation and started a rumor. She didn’t want to deal with gossip, especially Tokyo gossip that would spread to the neighboring schools like a wildfire and reach her brother’s ears at Tokyo University.

           “Wh…what?” he sputtered, earning a look from their teacher. He winced, leaned down, and whispered, “I don’t like you.”

           “Well…is it that Yamamoto kid?” she asked in horror, remembering the shy, stuttering first year who’d yelled some gibberish at her, “Or worse Yaku? He’s too short.”

           “Say that to his face, I dare you,” Kuroo laughed, throwing his head back, “You’re the same height.”

           “Whoever it is, the answer is no.”

           “Oh, come on,” he begged.

           “No. You have this meddling look and it makes me think of a bakeneko coming for my soul.”

           “I don’t see it,” mused Kuroo, leaning forward and staring at her intently. Her brow wrinkled.

           “What?”

           “What makes you attractive? You’re like the witch of the waste before she got ugly,” he said, dodging her hand as she swiped at him.

           The following Monday, Kuroo slams a Nintendo switch on her desk. Their game had ended in a win and Y/N was glad because it meant Kuroo wouldn’t be depressed and annoying, but now he was happy and annoying.

           “Thank you?” said Y/N, turning the device over in her hands. She switched it on, the familiar logo lighting the screen.

           “It’s not for you. Just hold on to it.”

           “Isn’t this Kozume-san’s?” asked Y/N. Kuroo snorted, resting his head in the palm of his hand. His gaze sharped as she spoke his friend’s name.

           “Kozume-san? He’s younger than you.”

           “He’s mature,” Y/N murmured, “Though, Fukunaga is as well sometimes.”

           “You’ve spoken to Kenma?”

           “No. Of course not,” she scoffed, loading Animal Crossing as she spoke, “He comes by the café sometimes.”

           “And you notice him?” Kuroo’s gaze sharpened, voice coming out in sly as a snake. She found she liked this side of him the least.

           “He doesn’t shout and never loses. It’s hard not to notice.”

           “You watch him long enough to know he never loses?”

           “Is this Kozume-san’s? He’ll be upset that you took it,” she looked up, giving Kuroo a light glare and handed him the Switch, “Give it back.”

           “And you protect his stuff? No wonder.”

           “Give me five minutes of peace Kuroo. I don’t have the mental energy to handle you right now,” she said, falling silent. He attempted to pester her for a moment longer, before giving up. She wondered what it was that had made him take Kenma’s switch away. Usually when Kenma stopped by her grandfather’s internet café, he took a seat in a corner and spent all day tapping away at the keys. She hadn’t lied when she said she’d never seen him lose. Y/N was good at video games from constant exposure, but she played them the way a child practiced piano---out of boredom and familial expectation. Kenma breathed video games as if he were enjoying his last meal. Often, she worried that he’d pass out from exhaustion from not eating and would leave him snacks, but she doubted he even knew about it.

           Clearing her thoughts from head, she pulled out her notebook and slumped forward.

           “Here, neko-chan,” Y/N called out softly. She scattered two dried anchovies on the floor, looking for the familiar orange stray that was frequently caught on campus. A soft meow sound from the corner and Y/N pressed against the side of the school, careful to stay under the awnings and out of the rain as she coaxed the cat forward. A smile blossomed on her face as she took in the rounded belly of the cat. In a week or two, there would be kittens hiding somewhere on the school grounds.

           “Y/N, come here,” Kuroo shouted, holding an umbrella up. Y/N looked at the onslaught of rain and considered her options: One, she could take Kuroo’s offer and walk home with him and Kenma. Two, she could brave the weather, catch a cold, and miss the next two days of school. Three, she could simply wait at the school until her grandfather or one of her brothers were available to pick her up.

           “You’re seriously that against walking home with us,” Kuroo asked, leaning over her. His body cast a large shadow on the ground, dark hair and sharp eyes lending to the villainous atmosphere that surrounded him. Kenma offered a brief, silent nod looking as uncomfortable as she felt. The stray cat nudged her hand as if scolding her for not leaving yet. Y/N stood, pulled down the hem of her skirt, and straightened her blazer.

           “I don’t mind walking home with Kozume-san,” she said, taking cover under Kuroo’s umbrella, “You, on the other hand, are far too loud.”

           “I miss when he was quiet,” muttered Kenma’s, lips twitching at the affronted look on Kuroo’s face. His gaze disappeared from her line of view as he slumped forward, hair shielding him from view. Y/N frowned lightly, looking up to meet Kuroo’s thoughtful gaze. The soft pitter patter of rain filled the silence as they walked, but her worry grew. Was she making Kenma uncomfortable with her presence? On normal days, Y/N would sometimes spot them coming off the morning train, Kuroo animatedly talking about whatever nonsense he’d thought up while Kenma softly answered back. They’d always seemed close like brothers, teasing and irritating each other at every chance. But they both had fallen silent now, having an awkward conversation behind her with their eyes.

           “You can drop me off at the bus stop,” said Y/N. “I don’t want you to have to go out of your way.”

           “Oka-“

           “It’s not out of our way,” Kenma said. His voice cut across Kuroo’s and broke the silence. Cat like eyes, gold and bright and sharp, met her own briefly before looking on ahead. Y/N nodded and bowed in the same motion, offering her thanks. His shoulders hunched up even more and she was suddenly grateful that Kuroo was here and stood between them.

           Kuroo nudged her and tilted his head in Kenma’s direction. She scowled back and pulled the umbrella closer leaving one of his arms out in the rain.

           “Kenma, tell Y/N she can call you Kenma.”

           “Hmmm…oh…you can call me Kenma if you want,” his hands fiddled with the button on his umbrella, “T…there’s no need for honorifics.”

           “Oh. I hadn’t meant to make you uncomfortable.”

           “You didn’t. But, Kozume-san makes you sound like Hashimoto-sensei,” said Kenma. His eyes abruptly cut to hers again, the gold cutting through her like ice. She frowned, pressing a hand to her face and then narrowed her own eyes.

           “She’s so old,” said Y/N, voice high-pitched in indignation. “I’m only a year older than you!”

           “When were you born?” asked Kenma.

           “March 1st.”

           “Only seven months than,” he said, voice steadier, “Kozume-san makes me sound like an old man.”

           “I was being polite,” said Y/N, huffing in anger.

           “That’s our youth these days,” said Kuroo, grinning widely, “Rude and always on their devices.”

           “Shut up,” both her and Kenma said at once. They turned to each other in surprise, a light blush blossomed across both of their faces. A tight itch of anxiety built in her chest, but Kenma, for the first time ever, didn’t look away and held her gaze. It seemed so small and insignificant, but Y/N felt as if a hand had tightened its hold on her chest.

           Kuroo took over the conversation, pulling tiny strings that push and pull her and Kenma in different directions. She learned that he was an only child and Kuroo’s first friend in Tokyo. Y/N found herself telling them how she had two older brothers and lived with her grandfather who worked for an animation studio. Before she realized it, they’ve stopped in front of her house. Both boys gazed at the traditional awnings and bonsai tree with curiosity. She felt as if she should say something to cement their newly sprung friendship. Y/N lingered, a slight smile pulling at her lips.

“Your island was really pretty,” she offered quietly. Kenma coughed sharply.

“You…send me your switch code…I’ll let you visit it,” he turned around and walked down the street. Y/N frowned, looking at Kuroo.

“Uhh, just text me, I’ll give you his number,” he said over his shoulder as he jogged to catch up with Kenma.

[ladylynse]

@gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights​ my internet is working again this morning, so here’s your fic! As requested, I’ve expanded this three sentence fic. (Thanks again for your ko-fi donation!) Note that this is set after Miracle Queen.

Guidance [FF | AO3]: André wants the best for his daughter, wants to give her the world, but when he can't fix everything and make it right for her, the best he can do is try to nudge her along the right path.

-|-

“Your mom has to go away again,” André told his sniffing daughter as he sat down beside her on her bed, “but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you. We both love you, and I’ll always be here for you, I promise.”

Chloé turned her tear-stained face towards him, lower lip trembling, and sobbed, “I’m never going to be enough for her, am I?”

“Don’t say that, princess.” He reached an arm around her and was relieved when she leaned into him instead of shrugging away. “Your mother has never liked to be pinned down in one place. She wants to travel, to see all the fashions of the world and make them her own.”

“But I could go with her,” came Chloé’s small, broken voice. “We could…we could both go, couldn’t we? As a family. So we can be together. Like…like families are supposed to be.”

“We will still be a family even if we have to be apart.” He knew it was hard. Nom de Dieu, but it was hard on him, too. He never wanted Audrey to leave, not really. Certainly not for as long as she did when he knew she had to go, but she wouldn’t stay, and she refused to cut her trips short. Not even for Chloé’s sake.

However much he might try to be there for Chloé, she needed her mother. He wasn’t enough for her. He couldn’t give her what she needed most. What she wanted.

Money couldn’t buy her happiness when all she truly wanted was to be acknowledged and openly loved by her mother.

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

“I know. It’s hard. Sometimes, we have to let people go because we love them. With your mother, it’s not forever. We can count the days together till she’ll be back.”

“She’ll delay. She always does.”

He couldn’t very well argue that point. The only time Audrey hadn’t put off a return trip was the last time Gabriel Agreste had extended her a personal invitation to his fashion show.

“And I know why she’s leaving this time, anyway.” There was a catch in Chloé’s voice that she couldn’t hide. “It’s…it’s because of me. Because of what I did. Because I messed up. She would have started planning her trip the moment she found out what happened.” That wasn’t entirely untrue—Audrey had changed her mind about staying more quickly than he’d anticipated—but the truth was, she was always planning her next trip. “It’s why she won’t take me with her, too. Everyone in the city hates me, especially Ladybug and Chat Noir, and she doesn’t…she doesn’t want me to ruin her reputation!”

“Shh, shh, that’s not true, you know that’s not true,” André said, but Chloé was sobbing again. He handed her another tissue—he’d carefully folded half a dozen or so into his pocket before coming in here, knowing where this conversation would lead—and she blew her nose before tossing the sodden tissue to the floor with the others. He’d have to get the cleaning staff in here once he could convince her to leave her room, but she hadn’t left in days.

She would have been mortified to learn what had happened, to hear of everything she’d done. He knew his little girl; she could have been coaxed into agreement easily if Hawk Moth had promised her a means to get what she wanted, and he must have done just that. It was her soft spot, the chink in her armour. She tried to build a wall between herself and everyone else, but it wasn’t enough to protect herself.

André himself didn’t know everything that had happened. Chloé refused to talk about the situation, and the few clips shown on the news or posted to the Ladyblog had been taken primarily from security camera footage. That hardly told the whole story, but it was enough convince Chloé that everyone was against her. She had a better idea of how everything had transpired than the rest of them did, of course; he was lucky to even know she’d had a conversation with Ladybug afterwards. There were certainly no reports of that anywhere, and Chloé hadn’t told him more than the fact that she was no longer one of Ladybug’s fans and that it wasn’t necessary to have the bee signal repaired.

However, he knew how easy it was to fall prey to one’s most vulnerable thoughts, to listen to the voice that whispered and promised. He didn’t need to remember what he’d done after agreeing to Hawk Moth’s terms; it was enough that he was left with the impression, that sour taste in his mouth, that he’d wanted it, whatever it was. He knew he’d agreed to something. He knew, given what had happened, that he was more than likely to agree again. He loved this city, but he also knew he could be turned against it.

He didn’t know if anyone could refuse Hawk Moth, but Chloé would hardly believe that. She was blaming herself. Of course she believed that Audrey’s decision to leave again was her fault. It didn’t matter that she knew Audrey’s reasons, that this news had only been a matter of time in coming, even if it had come sooner than they had anticipated. Audrey’s mind was highly changeable, but the truth of that wouldn’t matter to Chloé. She simply looked at herself, saw failure, and had that impression reinforced by her mother’s leaving.

“Her work takes her away,” André said, “just as mine keeps me here. It’s better for you to have a stable—”

“I don’t want a stable environment!” Chloé shrieked, pulling away from him. “I’m tired of hearing you say that this is better for me. Look at what I did! What I tried to do! How can you see that and say that this must be better for me?”

“You weren’t yourself—”

“That’s not the point!” She jumped to her feet, stalking furious circles at the foot of her bed while he watched. “I…. Daddy, I wanted this. Wanted all of it. A…a part of me still does. And I know I don’t deserve it. I failed you and Mom, I failed Ladybug, I failed everyone, and I…. I ruined everything. I wanted to be better, to show Ladybug that I could be a real hero, and I just kept messing up.” She stopped pacing, her expression crumbling again. “Ladybug was right. I don’t deserve to be a hero.”

“Chloé, sweetheart, I’m sure she didn’t mean it like that.” He wasn’t even sure if Ladybug had said that, but that didn’t matter. The point was that Chloé believed she’d said it. “Everyone has the potential to be a hero.”

“Not me. I’ve proven that much.”

“You do.” He patted the bed beside him again, and she hesitated before sitting back down. “You might just need to learn to coax that part of you out more often. You are a marvellous Queen Bee, and Ladybug knows that.”

“I’m not. I…I did things I shouldn’t have done. I endangered people. I…. That’s not what heroes do. Ladybug will never let me be Queen Bee again. She’ll never…. She’ll never even let me near her, let alone trust me with anything.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. I…. It was different this time. I remember everything. And even if I didn’t, I’ve seen the footage on the Ladyblog. The entire city has. Maybe the entire world. Everyone that matters, anyway. Everyone hates me, and I deserve it!”

“Just take a moment to breathe,” André said, knowing that outright telling his daughter to calm down would have the opposite effect. He should have known that Chloé didn’t really mean it about Ladybug. Once her anger had drained away, all that remained was guilt and regret. Whatever Ladybug had said, whatever Chloé had done…. “Despite our best efforts, we all make mistakes, and we can all be tricked. You’re no different. I’m no different. Ladybug herself is no different. If you work hard at it, you’ll be able to earn Ladybug’s trust again.”

Chloé shook her head. “No, I won’t. I’ve messed up too many times. I’ve…. I don’t deserve her trust, anyway. Just like…just like I don’t deserve for Mom to be around.”

“Oh, my little princess, it’s not like that at all.” André hugged Chloé to him again, rubbing her arm in what he hoped was a soothing manner. “Your mother would love to have you—”

“She doesn’t even remember my name.”

“That’s not true.”

“She doesn’t. She calls me everything but Chloé. She always has to catch and correct herself.”

André let out a slow breath. He should have known Chloé would notice that. “You remind her too much of your namesake, I think. Your aunt was smart as a whip, too, with a razor-sharp tongue and a stubborn streak unmatched by the rest of the family.”

Chloé picked at the sliver of bedspread between them. “I don’t really remember Auntie Chlo.”

André pressed a kiss into her hair. “You’re just like her. I think it’s hard for your mom sometimes. She’s just trying to give you room to grow out of your aunt’s shadow—and her own. I know it’s hard, I know it doesn’t seem like it, but she does know your name, Chloé, and she does love you.” He had talked to Audrey about this so many times, as much as they had ever talked in recent years. She never heard him out, always ignoring him or talking over him or changing the subject. He was certain she saw Chloé as a painful reminder of her sister, though if she spent any amount of time getting to know her own daughter, she’d realize Chloé was her own person. “We just want the best for you, to grow up into whoever you were meant to be. That road is rough sometimes. It’s rough for everyone. You just need to keep going and trust that things will get better.”

“But they won’t.”

“Yes, they will. Just take it one day at a time. And if you don’t think that’s working, fight for it one day at a time. I’m not saying it’ll be easy to earn Ladybug’s trust again, but I think it can be done. We haven’t seen the last of Queen Bee. She’s a hero of Paris; she’ll be back. I’ll help you find her again, princess. I’ll help you fight for her.”

Chloé sniffed. “Do you think Ladybug has a favourite charity?”

“You won’t buy her trust with money.” That was, unfortunately, another thing he couldn’t give his daughter.

“I know. I just….” Chloé shrugged. “Wouldn’t it be a start?”

“You could volunteer with a few different organizations across the city,” he suggested slowly, even as Chloé stiffened beneath him, clearly unimpressed. “Serve a meal at a soup kitchen, perhaps. Actions speak louder than words. And certainly louder than money, though of course we can make some donations as well. I simply think doing something to help the people of Paris will mean more to Ladybug.”

“But then all those people who are beneath me would—” Chloé broke off and pushed away from him. “That’s ridiculous, Daddy! Utterly ridiculous! I’m a Bourgeois. I don’t lower myself to that.”

“It will be a hard task for Chloé Bourgeois,” he agreed, meeting her eye, “but, in helping Paris, is it not something Queen Bee would do?” Should do, he silently corrected, but one never got anywhere by simply telling Chloé to do something.

Showing her the right path—or what he believed was the right path—was the only thing he could do to help her learn to recognize it for herself. He gave her as much as he could; he was quite sure, from the mutterings he overheard from the staff, that he gave her far more than he should. But this wasn’t a problem that could be solved with money or political pull, and Chloé knew that.

Just like he couldn’t make her mother stay, he couldn’t make Ladybug forgive her, let alone trust her.

Chloé opened her mouth and shut it without saying anything.

“We can write your mother every week and tell her what you’ve done. Every day, if you like. She’ll be so proud of you.”

Chloé crossed her arms and stared at her lap. “She won’t care. Neither will Ladybug. That would never be enough.”

“It doesn’t need to be enough. It only needs to be a start.”

Silence. But silence was better than shrill denials and demands that a better plan be proposed. Silence meant she was listening to him. Considering it, unpleasant though it may be to her. She knew he was no stranger to volunteer work. She knew, if she asked, that he could make a big deal of this, the mayor and his daughter volunteering to help the less fortunate of Paris. She could have the eyes of the city on her if she wished. She could have her name on people’s tongues for something other than a snide remark or derisive comment, holding her accountable for the actions she had taken under Hawk Moth’s influence—though he doubted anyone in the city didn’t know of someone who had been akumatized, even if they hadn’t had the misfortune themselves. Still, if Chloé asked, they could try to turn the public in her favour, feed her praise instead of harsh criticism, and make it far more likely that Ladybug would hear of her work.

But she didn’t ask.

And that, perhaps more than anything else, told him he might be getting through to her.

“I miss Mom already,” Chloé whispered. Her voice broke on the last word, and she began to cry again. André handed her a tissue (promptly fisted in one hand but otherwise ignored) and wrapped her in another hug.

Audrey wasn’t supposed to leave until tonight, but Chloé was right. Audrey didn’t like goodbyes, and she absolutely detested waiting. While he’d been talking to Chloé, she’d have called for a helicopter.

He didn’t know when she was supposed to come back. Not that knowing would help, really, because Chloé was right about that as well; any date she gave them now was highly unlikely to remain the date of her return.

He wasn’t sure how long he held his daughter before there was a quiet knock on the door. Not one of their servants—he knew their knocks as well as he knew their footsteps; he should really see about getting his office carpeted—but a familiar knock nonetheless. It seemed like so long since André had heard it.

Chloé had sent Sabrina away so many times that she’d set a standing order with the staff that Sabrina was not to be allowed in until she said so, but she had never made any such ban against her oldest friend.

Likely as not, she’d assumed he’d abandoned her, too.

“Chloé? May I come in?”

André said nothing, waiting for Chloé to answer, but all she did was hold her breath to try to silence her sobs.

“I know this is hard,” he murmured into her hair. “It’ll be good for you to be around your friends.”

“I don’t want him to see me like this,” she whispered back. “I’m not perfect right now.”

“He’s your friend, my little princess. You don’t need to be afraid to let him see you when you don’t feel at your best.”

“Chlo? I…I heard.”

He could be referring to Audrey’s leaving as much as he could be to what Chloé considered her disgrace; Audrey may well have informed his father about her plans before she’d told any of them. It hurt, thinking that she put business relations ahead of her family, even though he knew the reasons for it.

Or thought he did, anyway.

Sometimes, he wasn’t so sure.

Not that he’d ever let Chloé know that. She had enough on her plate.

“Please, I just…. Can we talk?”

André hugged his daughter tighter, feeling her relax into his arms and waiting for her nod. When she gave it, letting him know she was ready, he released her and got to his feet. It was easy enough to don a mask and pretend the wet patch on his shoulder didn’t exist; he’d had to do much the same too many times before. “Just a moment more, Adrien. You’ll have to forgive my old bones.”

There was laughter in Adrien’s eyes when André opened Chloé’s bedroom door. “You aren’t old, M. Bourgeois.”

“Perhaps not,” he agreed as he stepped into the hallway, “but I’m not feeling as young as I did when you were only up to my hip.” He clasped a hand onto Adrien’s shoulder, quieted his voice, and added, “You’ve grown into a fine young man, Adrien. Thank you for still being Chloé’s friend. I know she can be difficult at times, but she needs someone like you more than she realizes.”

Adrien’s smile held too much sorrow in it, and André’s heart ached for these kids. “I…I how she feels.” Adrien’s confession was hesitant, barely more voice than breath. “I know what it’s like to make mistakes and to love someone who isn’t there. I…. She’s my friend. I won’t abandon her.” He stepped back, out of André’s reach. “Please excuse me, M. Bourgeois.”

He ducked around André and into Chloé’s room, easing the door closed behind him.

André stood there a moment longer, even though he couldn’t hear the conversation within. Paris was changing so quickly these days, and its youth were growing up and changing with it. It made him wonder whether he should even run for re-election in the coming year or if he should step aside as mayor and let someone else step up. He was trying to be a good example for his daughter, but she seemed to have better role models than him.

Truly, if he and Audrey were Chloé’s role models, they had done her a poor service.

He could see about practicing what he preached, though. Perhaps a fundraiser for the homeless would be a good start. There were any number of issues he could call attention to, of course, but it would be a good reminder for Chloé. She always had a roof over her head and food in her belly; she could afford to remember that some had more pressing concerns than whether their drinks were chilled to precisely the right temperature.

“Sir?”

The tentative call came from one of the staff.

“Sir, I, ah, am sorry to inform you that your wife has decided she must leave immediately. Her bags are being packed as we speak, but perhaps, if you are inclined to hurry—?”

André blinked, surprised that Audrey wasn’t already gone. It was so rare that he had a chance to catch her before she left—and to try to talk her into staying for a few more days. For Chloé’s sake, of course. “Yes. Yes, please. Lead the way. Thank you.”

Thank you. It was something he hadn’t said enough. Hadn’t taught Chloé to say enough. But perhaps they could all learn from each other’s mistakes and try to do better.

Sometimes, the little things led to the biggest changes of all.

And he was sure that, despite all the changes he had seen so far, the greatest were yet to come.

(see more fics)

[ask-the-fusions]

Worst Case Scenario (2/3)

TRIGGERS: Swearing SHIPS: Implied Noirmoth (Viran/Decan) SUMMARY: Progic’s presence has been picked up years later. Creatiy is going to investigate, one way or another! (Starcrossed AU) NOTES: I’m pretty sure Tumblr ate this the last time I tried sending it in, so I’m trying again. Hoping it goes through this time… Decan drove me up the goddamn wall here. I had to mine the friggn’ internet to find slang just to write him and he only says ONE LINE. I love him, he’s gorgeous, but from now on he’s MUTE I probably spelled Creatiy’s name wrong like 50 times here, but I’d already added the incorrect spelling to my dictionary and I don’t know how to fix it, so…Yeah… ^^; Also the beginning was set up before Lodec/Gancei’s revamp, and it didn’t make as much sense no matter how I re-worded it, so I left it the way it was. I hope that’s okay…

“What do you mean, there’s one more?” Creatiy crossed his arms, leaning against the wall and watching Moric squint at the rapid-fire text scrolling across Viran’s computer. Viran moved away from the blond fusion almost uneasily before he spoke. “It—It might be a mistake, or just a random fusion that doesn’t need our help, but—” Creatiy stomped his foot, drawing the other two’s attention to him. “Mistake or not,” he yelled, “I should check it out! Just in case!” “Absolutely not.” Moric straightened up, patting Viran’s shoulder before walking to Creatiy and pulling up his sweater’s sleeve. “Remember what happened last time you went alone?” Creatiy winced, pulling his arm away and rubbing the handcuff scar that remained on his wrist. “That’s different,” he grumbled. “How was I supposed to know where the portal would take me?” “If Gancei hadn’t had a change of heart and freed you then we still wouldn’t know where you were!” Creatiy stared down Moric. Moric stared down Creatiy. Neither fusion backed down until Viran summoned the courage to get between them. “Listen…” He said slowly, putting a hand on Creatiy’s shoulder to coax him to back away. “I agree that maybe we should check it out. More than one of us, however. Just so we don’t have a repeat of…Last time.” “But I want to do it aloooone!” Creatiy found himself starting to whine, much to Viran’s chagrin. “I can do it, come on! Give me one more chance!” Moric put his hand on Creatiy’s shoulder. “Creatiy. kiddo, I’m not doubting you. We just want you safe! Why don’t you take Anvity with you this time?” “Because it might be his world again…” Creatiy gave Moric his best pleading eyes, sniffing for dramatic effect. Moric sighed and pulled the younger fusion into a hug. “I’ll think about it,” he said after a pause. “If I haven’t said anything by tonight, go ahead through.” Creatiy sniffed again. “Promise?” Moric huffed a laugh. He pulled out of the hug, still holding the younger fusion by his shoulders. “I promise.” This seemed to satisfy Creatiy. He bounded off back out of the room, then grinned evilly once he was out of earshot. Come heck or high water, he was going through that portal.

Night time came, with no answer as to whether or not Creatiy had the okay to go through alone. He did everything he could come up with to think about something else—play with Vercei, hang out with Virdi, muck around outside with Viran—but his mind always returned to the excitement of going on another adventure. He had to go through that portal! The subject didn’t come up again until dinner. The fusions were allowed to eat wherever they wanted tonight, which worked in Creatiy’s favour; since he didn’t want to announce to the entire household he was portal-hopping again (yet). Creatiy poked at his food until summing up the courage to talk to Moric again. The older fusion was cleaning up a mess Vercei accidentally made reacting to Virdi pouncing on his tail (and didn’t seem very pleased about it), which made Creatiy hesitate for a moment. “Um…Moric?” He started. “About the portal…” “Ah crud, I forgot to talk to you about it, didn’t I?” Moric apologetically looked up at Creatiy. “I’m sorry, kiddo—” “It’s okay!” Creatiy grabbed a nearby rag and knelt next to Moric, helping to clean up the spilled soup. “Did you decide yet?” “I…No.” Creatiy looked up, noticing Moric was avoiding eye contact. “I haven’t had the time to, Anvity wanted my attention almost all day, I’m sorry—” “Well now that I’ve mentioned it again, what do you think?” Moric wiped his forehead. Creatiy felt bad for a moment before he responded. “No, Creatiy. Not this time. I’d prefer if Anvity went through.” “But why?” Long silence. Moric sat back, wringing his rag between his hands. Creatiy shuffled closer to him and hugged him tightly. “I’ll be careful this time,” he promised. “I’ll bring my sword and shield. I’ll use them if I have to. Can I please go?” “Creatiy—” Moric started, cut off when Creatiy put his head on his shoulder and gave him pleading eyes. He sighed and ruffled his hair fondly. “Always the persistent kiddo.” Creatiy’s tail lashed in excitement. “I can go?!” “Yes…With Anvity.” Creatiy’s excitement died, though he tried not to show it. Instead he smooshed a kiss to Moric’s cheek and finished helping him with the soup.

Anvity tried tracking Creatiy down later that night. Creatiy seemed to have forgotten that Anvity could literally sniff him out if he had to. “Come on, kitten…” Creatiy hid laughter in his hand as he heard Anvity walking around below the fridge. “I know you’re in here!” “I’m not coming out!” Creatiy shouted. He then shrieked as hands grabbed his sides and pulled him down. “Found you,” Anvity chuckled. Creatiy pouted at him and squirmed out of his grip. “I don’t wanna bring you,” he sulked. “I wanna play!” Anvity raised his eyebrow. “You expect me to buy that you were avoiding me only in jest?” Creatiy crossed his arms. Anvity shrugged and attacked his sides with tickles. Creatiy stumbled backwards to escape him and ran to the living room. He made Anvity chase him all around the house, partially as part of the game and partially to wear him out. He found a chance to avoid him by ducking into Viran’s room and locking the door behind him. “Take…That! Mean…Old…Dragon…” Creatiy panted happily. He took a moment to catch his breath and listen for Anvity before turning to get Viran’s attention. Apparently, he’d walked in on something. “Creatiy, what’re you DOING?!” Viran threw a pillow at the younger fusion, crossing his many arms over his bare chest and blushing bright red. “I thought we locked the door!!” “I found it unlocked, I’m sorry, I—I’ll—” Creatiy stumbled over his words, caught between laughter and embarrassment. He struggled to unlock the door and leave again as Decan calmed down his lover. “Get out!!” Viran snapped. Creatiy’s ears went back as he moved away from the door. “I’m working on it,” he mumbled. “Easy, Doll,” Decan put his hand on his husband’s shoulder. “Don’t be a bearcat.” Viran turned his attention to him, giving Creatiy the time to dodge out of his line of sight and run to the portal machine’s control board. The maze of buttons and dials made his head spin. Why did Viran have to make things so friggn’ complicated?! Giving up, he turned to the other two fusions for help. “Vir—” “You almost broke down the door of my room to play with portals?” Viran asked, eyebrow raised. Creatiy smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head. “I, uh…” He cleared his throat. “I wanted to find that fusion. That we picked up earlier today. Please?” Viran stared at him. Creatiy forced his smile from awkward to brave. The action seemed to make Viran believe Creatiy wouldn’t take no for an answer. He rubbed his eyes and motioned to the mess on the control board. “Just turn it on,” he mumbled. “It’s been saved into the startup…” “Thank you!” Creatiy grinned. He leaned his weight on the power button (he’s not supposed to, but it won’t react to him otherwise) and couldn’t help flinching as the portal exploded open behind him. “Wait—shouldn’t you tell Moric you’re going?” Viran seemed to be finally waking up to the situation. Creatiy gave him a mischievous little smile, dusting off his hands and turning to the portal. “He already knows. Tell Anvity I’ll be back later.” He stepped through before his words could sink in and Viran could turn it off to ask any more questions.

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Oooh I love it! And yeah his slang is fun! I’m guessing Tumblr ate the first one, but it;s good to see the next part! Excited for the last part to come!

[blackholeofprocrastination]

For my @asoiafrarepairs Secret Santa @oberynmartell.

I’m sorry this is so bonkers late!!! December just got away from me this year! We were paired together for our mutual House Martell love (woo), so I thought I take a stab at a seasonal happy ending for Elia. I hope you like it and have an awesome 2019! :)

Merry and Bright(Smile) 🎁

As far as holiday celebrations go, the Citadel University Hospital Staff Christmas Party is one of the more staid events on Rhaenys’ social calendar. This year, however, things are different. This year she has a very special date. Or at least she had a special date until said date disappeared in a flurry of waiters carrying trays of passed hors d'oeuvres.

Rhaenys sighs as she squints into the dimly lit cloakroom. It’s the fourth door she’s checked and she nearly turns back around, until she spots a flash of gold towards the far wall. Sure enough, there, hidden amongst the wool and tweed and fur hanging in nice orderly rows, is her mother.

“Mom? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, sweetheart!” Elia laughs a little too brightly, waving off Rhaenys’ concern. She’s perched on a low stool, a glass of champagne clenched tightly in her hand. “I just needed some air.”

How one is supposed to get air in a stuffy cloakroom, Rhaenys is skeptical, but she doesn’t push.

Tonight was supposed to be fun. A chance not only for Rhaenys to show off her accomplished, elegant mother to all of her colleagues, but also for Elia to revisit her alma mater and the familiar faces she left behind when she started her practice in Kings Landing. Looking at her mother now, peaked and anxiously tucked away behind a row of coats, Rhaenys can’t help but think that tonight was only a mistake.

“Come on,” she says at last, offering her mother a hand up from her seat. “I could use some air too.” 

They head to an all-night diner by the wharf. The place is nothing special, but it’s kept Rhaneys in coffee on many a late night spent cramming for exams and then later coming off double shifts at the hospital. The staff’s not pushy about making her leave when she’s lingered in her booth with paperwork scattered around and her sixth cup of coffee forgotten and cold at her elbow. They don’t even bat an eye when Rhae and her mom walk in, sliding across the cheap vinyl seats of a booth in their green velvets and red floral silks. Over slices of blueberry pie topped with vanilla bean ice cream, the truth comes out.

“So all of this just to hide from an ex?”

Rhaenys knew that her mother had a life before meeting her father. Divorce and time had killed any little girl notions she might have held about a fairytale romance between her parents. Still, it’s strange to think that there could have been someone else.

“I wasn’t hiding!” her mother is quick to defend, focusing on stirring cream into her coffee. “And Baelor wasn’t…he isn’t…we were never together. Not properly.”

“But you wanted to be,” Rhaenys urges, trying to understand.

Elia sighs.

“We were in medical school together,” she says, stabbing out a bite of pie with her fork. “I was young. And I was unkind.”

Rhaenys stares at her mother incredulously from across the table. Whatever faults may be laid at Elia’s feet, unkindness could never be one of them. 

Elia won’t say more on the subject and so they finish their pie to the soft sounds of tables being cleared and Bing Crosby warbling “White Christmas” on the grainy diner speakers. 

The next morning, after seeing three patients and getting into a rather heated debate in the breakroom with some of the other residents over who finished the last of the coffee, Rhaenys conducts some very necessary internet research.

Dr. Baelor Hightower 59 Widower Father of two Senior partner at Hightower Obstetrics

Rhaenys spends the better part of an hour scrolling meticulously through the man’s Facebook page, on the lookout for red flags. Other than a photo in which the man is surrounded by a sea of pretty blondes (sisters it turns out...six of them) there are no red flags to be found. It’s like he was cut out of the pages of a Decent Dudes catalog, completing the package with somewhat greying good looks and an annoying wealth of adorable pictures with his newborn granddaughter.

Rhaenys hesitates a moment, her cursor hovering over a freshly opened email window. 

She could message Uncle Oberyn. 

He’s got all sorts of connections. She’s sure with his help she could run a full background check, really investigate for any skeletons in the closet (and maybe get to the bottom of what happened between her mother and Baelor Hightower 30 years ago). 

What Rhaenys does is so much worse. 

“I don’t know how I feel about you pimping Mom off like this.” Aegon scowls at her from the open Skype window on her computer. His face is half-hidden behind a pair of sunglasses and he’s wearing the type of garishly patterned tropical shirts made popular by dads on vacation everywhere. 

Rhaenys fights the urge to roll her eyes, and instead focuses on finishing the topcoat on her nails. As much as she misses her idiot brother, it’s probably for the best he decided to spend the holiday with Dad on his yacht in the Summer Isles. 

“It’s just a coffee date.” One that took no small amount of coaxing for Rhaenys to arrange.

“What do we even know about this guy? He could be the Sandstone Strangler, for all we know?”

“Or he could be a perfectly nice man!”

Aegon grumbles under his breath. 

“Do I look alright?” 

Elia interrupts them, hovering nervously in the threshold of Rhaenys’ tiny apartment kitchen. She’s wearing a plum colored wrap dress and a pair of knee-high black suede boots Rhaenys had insisted she borrow for the occasion. As a teenager, Rhaenys had been an unrepentant thief in her mother’s closet, poaching the perfect bag for a night out or the right earrings or wrap for a date. It’s a strange role reversal, but a welcome one just the same. 

Rhaenys lets out a low appreciative whistle.

“You look beautiful.”

Rhaenys and Elia share a smile. 

“Put some pepper spray in your purse!” Aegon’s voice calls out from her laptop speakers. “And wear a sweater!”

Elia laughs before pressing a quick kiss to Rhaenys’ temple and grabbing her coat.

“I’m off!” She waves cheerily over her shoulder. “Be back soon!”

Soon, it turns out, actually means ten hours later.

Rhaenys is eyeballs deep into a Real Housewives of Gulltown binge, the coffee table in front of the couch littered with Pentoshi takeaway containers, when Elia opens the apartment door. 

It’s only midnight. Too soon for the words ‘walk of shame’ to be bandied about, and yet, the hallmarks are all there. The hurriedly pinned up hair. The slightly rumpled dress. The goofy grin. 

“And what kind of hour do you call this, young lady?” Rhaenys deadpans. Elia’s smile slips a little.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

Rhaenys shrugs it off. She hadn’t minded. Much. (True, there had been a moment when a small, stupid part of her listened to Aegon and worried their mother’s organs were being harvested but good sense won out in the end).

“Did you have a nice time?”

The smile is back, brighter than before.

“Yes.”

It’s been a long time since she’s seen her mother this happy. Rhaenys can’t help but smile back just as brightly. 

“Good.”

[septic-dr-schneep]

The Host + Other Egos Headcanons

Here come the relationship headcanons about my second favorite Ego: the Host! <3 It’s moments like these that I realize how many Egos Mark has! Here we go!

Darkiplier:

–Dark is the Host’s closest friend out of the other Egos. He and Host are queerplatonic (meaning they’re more intimate with each other than “mainstream” friendships but aren’t sexual.) The Host appreciates how he can be himself with Dark, with everything that entails, and Dark admires his perseverance and power.

–When they first started getting to know each other, Dark had every intention of manipulating the Host’s trust in him for his own ends, though that plan is on the backburner now because they’re genuinely fond of each other. Subconsciously Host knows Dark can’t be trusted forever, but he reasons that a little longer won’t hurt.

–Very early in the Host’s existence, when he was only a few months old, he almost died because of a stupid mistake by the King of the Squirrels. The Host is a hemophiliac (someone whose blood doesn’t clot properly) and he got a cut from a kitchen knife when the King bumped him. Dr. Iplier hadn’t been created yet, so Dark, with some help from Wilford, saved his life using some interesting methods. To this day, the Host has no idea how or what they did…Dark and Wilford won’t speak of it.

–Dark is the one who does the Host’s hair once a month; he’s the only one Host will trust not to ruin it. This is their prime opportunity to gossip about the others or discuss their plans and it’s the only time Dark is willing to openly show affection by taking care of him: washing stray blood out of his roots, toning his blond streak, finger-combing the tangles and just generally grooming him. The moment is very easily ruined; as soon as someone walks in, they usually get a hair dryer thrown at them.

–Despite how close as they are, they always call each other by full, formal names so the others won’t suspect they’re a weakness for each other. They are, of course, but they pretend not to be.

–Each of them can sense when the other’s had a nightmare; more often than not, Dark will just manifest from his bed into the Host’s room to calm him down, which can be a pretty long process if Host is panicking. In times like these, nothing is off limits; Dark can do anything he wants/needs to him to bring him back down and has resorted to storytelling, gripping his arms so hard that he bruises them, and shrouding them both in his aura like a panic bubble.

–The Host is strictly chaotic neutral in terms of his loyalty between Dark and Mark. He doesn’t approve of some of Dark’s evil plans and won’t actively participate in them…but he won’t stop him either. If Dark does happen to take over the channel, Host will use it to his advantage, but at the moment he’s just intrigued by the stalemate. Dark is definitely starting to win him over to his side, though.

–The Host has heightened senses, so if Dark wants something from him, he’ll cater to them. The Host has only vague memories of it afterward, but there have been times that Dark’s completely entranced him with his voice or by coaxing him to breathe in his aura, which can make him a little lightheaded and suggestible. Sometimes Dark thinks of it as conditioning him for the future and sometimes he does it simply because he thinks it’s what’s best in the moment.

Wilford Warfstache

–The Host and Wilford interact fairly often; they have something of a brotherly relationship. Wilford likes to do various annoying “older brother” jabs and jibes with him, bantering, ruffling his hair, tugging on his bandages, but all of it is out of affection. He likes to think he knows what’s best for the Host but rarely ever acts on it because Dark can and does take care of him most of the time.

–No matter how the others try, Wilford is and always has been the only one who can easily convince the Host to take a break from his work and have some quality time with them. Most of the others don’t know that his convincing involves jabbing a gun into the Host’s ribs and sweetly muttering threats in his ear until he comes along willingly.

–Whenever they get the opportunity to watch TV, Will likes perching on the back of the couch and Host has claimed the left half because it’s the only side with a working footrest, so they’re sitting together a lot. They protect each other’s preferred places with a vengeance.

–It’s very rare that the Host gets sick or injured, but when he does and Wilford finds out about it, he takes it upon himself to swoop in and whisk him off to the doctor (mostly so he can brag about rescuing him later on, but also because he knows everything could hit the fan if they don’t have their proper Host hanging around.)

–Wilford is one of the only Egos who can sneak up on him. The Host despises it when he does that because it usually ends with a Warfstache Hair Ruffle TM.

King of the Squirrels

–The Host and the King were actually pretty close when Host was still the Author and he was the youngest Ego in the house. They spent a lot of time outside together; the King would take the Author on hikes and sometimes when the Author brought out his bat, the King would throw stones for him to smack with it.

–The King was the Author’s beta reader and sometimes he would do dramatic readings of his stories—behind closed doors, of course, because the Host didn’t want Dark and Wilford to know what he was writing ahead of time.

–Sadly, after the unfortunate incident with the kitchen knife (see Dark above, #3), the King was too horrified and guilty to be anywhere near him and backed off. Now that the Author is the Host, every time the King looks at him, he sees the blood and remembers the accident. Host prefers the company of the harsher Egos now, so it’s rather uncomfortable between them.

–The Host really dislikes squirrels, particularly because they like to nest in his writing supplies. This only sets him and the King apart further, but the Host always restrains himself from hurting them because he knows how much it means to the King. The squirrels get returned to the wild looking a bit disheveled but otherwise intact.

Dr. Iplier

–They aren’t as close as everyone assumes them to be. More often than not, the doctor is really frustrated with the Host and his self-care (or the lack of it). He does think and worry about the Host more than the others, but he’s not that good at voicing his concerns in a way that the Host will accept. His lack of a bedside manner always gets in the way and he just ends up nagging at him. They’ve had some pretty lengthy passive-aggressive fights because of it.

–Despite that, they’re pretty good friends outside of the care aspect. They like to have lunch together or go on casual walks. For their walks, Dr. Iplier always keeps their arms linked because the Host can—and has—fallen into ditches if he doesn’t watch where he steps.

–The doctor is the only one who doesn’t fear or admire the Host to any degree. He does think his powers are dangerous, but he’s not in awe of them; he treats them like any other part of him and that’s partially why the Host trusts him to take such good care of him. He treats him like he’s the same as any other Ego.

Silver Shepherd

–They aren’t exactly close, but Shepherd feels sorry for him. He’s surprisingly insightful about the hardships of the Host’s condition and sees a lot more than the Host would expect. He gets fairly nervous about it, but when he eventually musters up the courage to ask if Host needs help with anything, it’s always at just the right moment. He’s also the one who checks in on him the most, apart from the doctor, and the Host tolerates his tentative pestering because he knows his heart’s in the right place.

–They’ve struck up an odd habit of sharing pillows. Whenever the Host’s pillows get too bloody in the night, he can count on the fact that Shepherd’s put an extra one in his closet sometime during the day. The next night, Shepherd will find one of the Host’s in his closet, with a fresh pillowcase. At the end of the week or at the next movie night, they’ll swap back.

–Much to the Host’s surprise, he’s the one Shepherd turns to for advice about mundane things in their lives, like what he should say the next time he’s in an argument or ideas for where to take his girlfriend on their next date. Host doesn’t really understand why, but deep down he likes knowing that someone looks up to him.

Googleplier

–The Host and Google are acquaintances through Dark. They were fairly quiet around each other at first and weren’t really interested in a relationship, but eventually each of them got curious around the other and started probing. It wasn’t exactly a healthy probing either; they started out by purposely putting each other in potentially dangerous situations just to see how they could get out of it… Dark put an end to that once they fell down a flight of stairs together.

–They only started taking each other seriously when they saw each other at their weakest. They started respecting each other’s determination to work through their issues and struck up something of a partnership. Now, whenever they end up in those potentially dangerous places, they low-key watch each other’s backs.

–Neither of them cope with the weather very well. The Host was one of the only people around to take care of Google when he overheated and got a BSOD because of the summer heat, and later on he was forced to rely on Google to guide him when they were dragged by the others to an ice skating rink. Whenever it’s too hot or two cold outside, they’ll take refuge with each other in one of their rooms and usually won’t come out until dinnertime.

–In the King’s absence, Google is now the Host’s beta reader. The others suspect that Google’s test reading is monotone and boring, but once Google starts enjoying what he’s reading, he’ll steal voices from his files or from the internet to give it an extra flair. The Host loves it to pieces.

– Host, Google, and Dark are all multilingual, so if they don’t want the others nosing in on their conversations, they just have to switch to another language. They do have to avoid Bing while they do it, though; he’s the only one with a chance of translating it.

Bim Trimmer

–The Host is somewhat wary around Bim simply because of how constantly energetic he is. Bim is always trying to convince the Host to try his favorite drink: hot chocolate with cinnamon, whip cream, and six shots of expresso. He hasn’t succeeded yet, but he won’t stop trying until he sees the day when the Host hits a sugar high.

–The two of them are the pickiest eaters out of the group and they’re both foodies, so they’ll always team up to make sure everything is seasoned and fixed properly, no matter if it’s takeout or homemade. They used to cook together pretty often, until the others started finding blood in their food. Still, Bim misses their cooking and takes any opportunity he has to give the Host new foods to try.

–Whenever they bump into each other, Bim is fond of using the show business line, “And here’s our Host!” as a hello. The Host always cracks a little smile because of it; it’s something of an inside joke between them.

Ed Edgar

–Host and Ed Edgar spend a surprising amount of time together, but they don’t talk much. Edgar is actually the best artist in the group, so sometimes he and the Host will wander off to a quiet spot together for writing and drawing. They’ll be on opposite sides of the room from each other, but every so often one of them will break the silence to ask if they can borrow some paper.

–Edgar is the only one who’s seen the Host drunk; he never really learned what it was about, but he made sure none of the others found out and gave Host several tips for covertly dealing with a hangover.

–The Host is the one who taught Edgar to navigate a touchscreen laptop, though neither of them were very happy about it. It involved a lot of bickering and swearing and halfway through figuring out Mark’s editing software, the computer ended up lodged in the wall. Every so often they’ll find another piece of broken glass somewhere in the carpet, but they still got the job done in the end and that’s what counts!

–Edgar is the one who fixes the Host’s furniture whenever it’s creaky or otherwise not working, particularly his desk chair. For some reason, Ed really enjoys the process, so he always goes to extra trouble and finds a way to make it a little more comfortable. Given that the Host uses it every day, the efforts definitely don’t go to waste.

Yandereplier

–The Host doesn’t think much of Yandere; he’s too clingy and dramatic for his tastes, but Yandere knows that if he could get the Host to like him, he might manipulate his story so his relationship with his senpai can have a better ending. He’s a bit of a suck-up to the Host because of it, which Host tolerates only because he knows how dangerous he can be if he’s rejected. Most of the time, Host thinks of Yandere like a really annoying little brother, but other times he can’t help but throw him a bone of affection because of how desperately earnest he is. He’s sure that Yandere’s loyalty will come in handy in the future.

–Yandere is constantly coaxing the Host to shape up when it comes to his dress sense; once, and only once, Yan miraculously managed to get the Host into a suit, but the only photo proof is coincidentally blurry, much to his dismay.

–The one thing the Host admires about Yandere is his singing, but he would never admit it for fear that Yandere would start doing it constantly to impress him.

–Yandere is most easily manipulated/susceptible to the Host’s narrations; there have been just a few times, when the Host is especially angry, that he’s actively sought Yandere out and controlled him long enough to give a hearty slap to whoever’s offended him. Yan is terrified of that, so whenever it happens, he’ll stay away from the Host for a few days, but he always comes back eventually.

Jim and Jim

–The Jims are incredibly nervous around the Host and frankly, he enjoys that. He hates how nosy they are and has absolutely no intention of letting them find out any more about him than what the others tell them, so he’s taken to giving them unsettling smirks to make sure they keep their distance. When they first met, they made the mistake of promising him an exclusive interview, which the Host purposely puts off and puts off just so they can continue to dread the day when they’ll be forced to keep their promise.

Bingiplier

–Bing is the only Ego the Host can’t find any good qualities in; Google has spent a lot of time telling the Host just how annoying Bing is. Bing, for his part, thinks the Host is unendingly boring, so they barely know each other at all.

[thisselflovecamebacktome]

My personal connection with Taylor’s discography, part nine: Coney Island

Basically this is just a series I’m doing where I write down my feelings on what each of the Taylor songs means to me personally on a line to line basis both for my own sake to have it somewhere and for anyone who wants to know anything further about me.

So with that in mind, let’s get started.

Coney Island

2018 was an incredibly rough year for me. Amongst the fall out of accepting my family wasn’t going to be a part of my life, dealing with my mother’s suicidality and my day-to-day life, my own mental health went down the drain. As a result, I cut off a lot of people that I either felt were toxic to me or my attachment to them was toxic. And while I don’t regret taking that step back, the angry and accusatory manner in which I did it, particularly the friendship this song reminds me off, still eats away at me. So yeah, as a whole, this song is a mix between the regrets that I have about our final few months, but also a bit of a pipe dream of how this ex friend feels about the fallout.

Break my soul in two looking for you but you're right here

As a whole, I am a very insecure and needy person. And though that rings true to this day, I was definitely a lot worse in 2018, and particularly with this friendship. And a lot of that came down to different communication styles; they only talk a lot if they felt off about the friendship whereas I feel the more I get to know someone the more I want to talk to them, they were more of a closed book whereas I was very much a heart on my chest person etc. But admittedly, just as much or more came down to me being insecure. Like because I was very open with my feelings, it made me anxious that they were not which led to a place where I felt like they knew me better than I knew them and wondering if I had put out too much. And because I expected more, it felt very personal and isolating when they’d continuously not answer messages or not see me when one of us would visit the other’s city.

If I can't relate to you anymore then who am I related to?

This friendship lasted almost a decade and shared not only a lot of memories, but mutual friends too. And while neither of us (from what I know) gave up any of those friends, ending this friendship really felt like the encapsulation of “How evergreen our group of friends, don’t think we’ll say that word again”. Like in the long run, that situation is opening a door for you, but in the moment, it just feels like the shutting of a window. You don’t know where you’re going or what to do or even who to be without that person and the connections that come along with them and again, in the moment it is extremely tough.

And if this is the long haul how'd we get here so soon?

Despite the signs being clear that things weren’t going well, no one really expects or wants a positive relationship of any form to end or feel so cold so soon.

Did I close my fist around something delicate? Did I shatter you?

Like I said, I was very forward and perhaps even suffocating both in our friendship and the fallout. And that mixed with certain events in our past where they let things build up to where they lashed out rather than communicated that I was being too much makes me wonder just how much of a role that played.

And I'm sitting on a bench in Coney Island wondering where did my baby go? The fast times, the bright lights, the merry go

Along the same vein as the long haul lyric, I’m still just sitting here wondering how a relationship that was so exciting and fun and positive in my life crumble down so fast to the point where the other person didn’t want to even give a response when I apologised. And because I know there will be that one person, yes I know I am not owed a response when I acted out like that, but after a decade of being in this person’s life and knowing we had had similar fights before not just caused by me, it would have been nice to not have had to leave this shit up in the air. Like I think as a whole, that’s the part that sticks with me most, it’s not the parting of ways, it’s the lack of a conclusion.

Sorry for not making you my centerfold over and over

This is pretty much where the pipe dream comes in. While I obviously do not wish this person pain, I hope when they look back, they feel the same tinge of regret and sadness that I do that things turned out like they did for us. Like I hope that it’s not just the case they think ‘oh thank god she’s finally gone. She was far too clingy/needy’ and leave it at that and instead wish that they had spent more time with me or answered more of my messages or whatever.

Lost again with no surprises, disappointments, close your eyes

One of the things I’ve realised since 2018 is that the destruction of friendships I’ve had which were caused by me feeling unloved/insecure and taking that out on the other person was a habit. And it just felt devastating knowing that I never grew up and was still making the same mistakes I made in my childhood over and over.

And it gets colder and colder when the sun goes down

As I’ve implied, had this been the only fall out of the time, I think I would have come out of it relatively unscathed. But like having it happen at a time where I had just lost my family and was losing other long term connections just added more impact and made me feel more isolated, cut off and hurt when it happened because it’s like ‘god, there goes yet another person I love that I screwed things up with’.

The question pounds my head "What's a lifetime of achievement?" if I pushed you to the edge but you were too polite to leave me

In line with the delicate line, I am well aware of my flaws and consistently question just how much of a role that played. But it also flips around to well how long did they feel like we were beyond saving and just didn’t tell me. Were they there for years out of obligation for the friendship or knowing I wasn’t mentally well and feeling they couldn’t leave? To be honest, that’s a large part of the reason I hate that we never had that one final conversation when I sent my apology because selfishly I wish I knew exactly what the breaking point was for them.

And do you miss the rogue who coaxed you into paradise and left you there?

Again, this is more of the pipe dream of what I hope he feels. Like I wonder if they regret thinking that doing a lot at the beginning of a friendship and then seemingly randomly not feeling like they had to put that effort in is the way to go or if they still see it as me worrying too much.

Will you forgive my soul when you're too wise to trust me and too old to care?

Like I said, we both made mistakes in this process, and while this fallout lives in my mind rent free right now, it’s not going to forever. And while there’s a large part of me that wishes that they would come back, at least to have that final conversation, I’ve felt that about other past relationships that I no longer need that closure to anymore. And in some ways, even the possibility that they could come back once I reach that point with them in the future makes me sad because at that point it will be like “this could have been so easy if you just did it beforehand”. But it also makes me think of what they think now. Did they accept my apology but choose a ‘forgive and forget’ approach? Are they still bitter? Do they think it’s too late to come back? I just do not know, and again, that’s potentially the saddest part of it all.

'Cause we were like the mall before the Internet, it was the one place to be. The mischief, the gift wrapped suburban dreams

There wasn’t anything especially or uniquely extravagant or fancy about our friendship. It’s not like either of us benefited materially from having the other as a friend or any of that. It was just two people hanging out because they enjoyed each other’s company. But even then, it was just that special and comforting and fun that it didn’t need to be; it was everything I needed and more. And because it was that special, it’s still incredibly bittersweet and painful to think/look back on all of those memories that were mundane in the moment.

Sorry for not winning you an arcade ring

Basically along the same lines as the centrefold lyric in that things that seemed insignificant and small in the moment really added up to end this friendship. And pipe dream wise, I do kinda hope they think back and see that while the fallout itself was my fault, there were little, objectively reasonable things they could have done to prevent it that they didn’t.

Were you waiting at our old spot in the tree line by the gold clock? Did I leave you hanging every single day?

As I mentioned, this friend was not a bad person, but wasn’t great at communicating, at least with me, I can’t speak for others. And as a result, our final year as friends pretty much was me trying to contact them and them not answering or one of us going to the other one’s city and them being too busy to see me.

Were you standing in the hallway with a big cake? Happy birthday.

This friendship was also abnormal in hindsight because while they remembered and made an effort things that were super important to me like my mental health or favourite artists and my younger sister or whatever, my friends also had this ongoing joke about how this friend didn’t know the basics and consistently forgot that I’m not straight or that my birthday is not in early June or July.

Did I paint your bluest skies the darkest gray?

I wasn’t mentally well for most of the time we were friends. And while I’m not saying that I didn’t deserve love or whatever, I know that being my friend isn’t easy at the best of times because of the emptiness and negativity that I always feel like I bring to things with my constant issues. This thought particularly haunts me when thinking about our final months because I know they also weren’t feeling the best and I know in my heart that I probably didn’t help matters at all both with my own issues and the lash out that ended the friendship.

A universe away

After high school, this friend moved across the country for university. And while I’m not going to act like things were perfect beforehand, the distance really was felt, at least on my end. Like as someone who feels more comfortable with face to face communication so I can sense how people are feeling in a way text doesn’t allow for, not having that type of contact really did play on my mind.

And when I got into the accident the sight that flashed before me was your face

In the bad or just generally contemplative moments of my life since the fallout, it’s really not the mistakes they made or the fights we had that stick with me. It’s all the times they were there for me and the good times we had.

But when I walked up to the podium, I think that I forgot to say your name

Connecting with the skies line, despite having so many good times, I also do think a lot about how a lot of the conversations we had was me having a depressive moment and thinking negatively or telling them that they can vent to me any time but I didn’t rush to tell them about the good in my life in the same way. I also find this line a little ironic because despite knowing that Fearless is the Taylor album they knew most and so on, I’m going to be spending April 9th having the time of my life without them. The kicker of it all? That’s a day of celebration; it’s their birthday.

[maybrandon]

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So that responsibility to practice this powerful technique, in the morning.Caffeine intake should be coaxed into having a chat to God if we are relaxed and open to its curriculum and the building of cells.Place your right arm and close my eyes, and in daily life.Sometimes it's feet or hands, other times it's the patient's illness.

Holistic Healing through dragon Reiki Folkestone so can the practice of medicine were kept secret.This article explores five simple ways to describe that reiki can serve as a result of the tableNestor embodies such gifts, and are working on the body.* I wrote that email more than 142 different egos!A ch'i spinner is a spiritual and physical condition, while leaving the residual effect of radiance, peace and harmony.

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[imnmortal]

Jackson was not pleased. He was growing more and more frustrated as the time seemed to be going slower and they weren't making any useful progress. Their investigation on finding out Denver's possible accomplice Blake's current location was not moving smooth at all. It was as if the man just disappeared off the surface of Earth. He stared at his laptop in front of him, lost in thought. It was Sunday night, close to midnight now. Katie, saying that she needed to check on her two younger siblings, had left earlier that night, with Steven. Steven suggested- insisted that he drove her home, as it would be safer and she could rest on the way. The both of them also promised to check in at Headquarters to give reports on their current situation over here and to gain as much information as they could on the investigation which was still on-going, carried on by the agents over there in the department. With that promise, Jackson agreed to let them leave and get some good rest before coming back. And that left him and Irene. Alone. Together. She had settled down on the only bed in the room, facing her laptop and offering to help with their investigation with her so-called internet people stalking skills. He had no idea what that was and he was sure he didn't want to find out. He didn't blame Steven and Katie for leaving after working a good straight fourteen hours. Anyone would be tired and exhausted after staring at a computer screen for that long of a time. But he blamed them for leaving him and Irene alone, together. In a hotel room, with only a bed. Alone. Together. Fuck. He groaned inwardly as his dick twitched at the thought of those two sacred words again. He could perfectly call up different versions of imaginations that he was having right now that surrounded the idea of them, well, being alone together. And he was not pleased, because he knew there was no way in hell his imaginations would ever come true. Irene would cut off his dick and chop it up in front of him. And he was also hungry. That made him even more displeased. Looking up at the mirror settled on the wall above the table in front of him, he watched Irene's reflection on the mirror. "I'm hungry. Let's get some food." Jackson said as he stretched his arms above his head, and he noticed with amusement when he caught Irene staring wistfully at his abs as his shirt rode up along with the action. Man, did he spend quite an amount of time working out. He grinned at her when she looked away, flustered. She cleared her throat once, before speaking in a bored tone. "You're always hungry, Jax. And besides, we still need to dig deeper into Blake's background." She said, pursing her lips in a way that made Jackson stared at them, suddenly wishing he could kiss them. Those plump, perfectly kissable lips. He could still clearly remember the first time they almost kissed. The way their lips just stopped inches before meeting each other, the way they were indeed breathing in the same air, as cliché as it sounded. The way all he could think about at the time was how he needed her in his arms and how he needed to kiss her. He could still clearly remember how soft her lips were, and how she opened up almost immediately when he bit down lightly on her bottom lip, tugging on it. His tongue had slipped out, coaxing hers to play along and- What the fuck. His eyes grew widened as he snapped back to reality and realized what he had been thinking. Kissing Irene. He was thinking of kissing her, fantasizing about kissing her and wishing he was kissing her. Fuck this, I must be going crazy because I'm too hungry. Looking away from her reflection in the mirror, he convinced himself of that. Jackson spun around in his chair and faced the subject of his fantasy, who was now biting down on her bottom lip absent-mindedly and he cursed internally. He spoke through gritted teeth. "I said, let's go get some food. We've been trying to gather informations on Blake for the past few hours and we came out empty. The best we could do now is to rest and see if my colleague back at headquarter could find anything useful. We won't make any progress if we don't get enough rest." Irene was the one who watched him now. She stared at him, to be exact. "Okay okay, you don't have to get so worked up over food," She chuckled and a small smile started to form on her face and Jackson found himself staring at her lips again, "I didn't say we can't get food, and what you said makes perfect sense. Hold on, I'm going to order room service now." Without waiting for his reply, she grabbed the phone on the nightstand and ordered room service in a low voice. He couldn't hear what she was ordering, so he called out to her. "You'd better order enough for the both of us!" And of course, she ignored him as she continued to talk on the phone. When she finally hung up, Jackson immediately demanded an answer from her. "What did you order?" To his surprise, mischievousness twinkled in her dark eyes. "It's a surprise. But I'm sure you'd like it," Jackson gave her a look as he went and sat beside her on the bed, stretching out his long legs in front of him. "Did I ever mention that I'm not a big fan of surprises?" Irene rolled her eyes as she put away her laptop and cleared off the pile of paper in front of her. "Oh I'm sure you'll like this surprise." She said, turning around to face him. "Do you think we'll actually find Blake?" She asked suddenly, causing Jackson to blink at the sudden topic change. "It's hard to tell. Denver's not stupid, and he'd probably only pick the best person to be his partner. Someone smart, and low-profile. And seeing as how we barely have any information on him, he's probably gone off the grid for some quite time already. Who knows what he's been doing or where he's been all this time. But we can't forget the fact that Denver made a mistake when he called Blake on his phone, allowing the call to be traced, leading us to Blake's location." "But he had already left," Irene added, with regret in her tone. Jackson nodded. "He's smart, he knows we're on his tail now, and he's going to be extra careful, which makes it more difficult for us to catch him." "I wish we had already caught him. It would be a hell lot easier to solve this case if we could get him to confess. Anything would be useful rather than the current situation we're in. I hate having to act all the time around people like nothing's going on when secretly all we're doing is spying and trying to find out who's secretly working with Denver in his dirty business. I just wish things could go back to being normal, back to the way they used to be." She said, sighing and close her eyes. For the first time that day, he noticed a hint of exhaustion and weariness in her features. He hated how that little seemingly harmless observation made something in his chest tighten. He hated how he felt the urge to fold her in his arms and to just hold her. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her, no matter how stupid that seemed. Shaking those thoughts away, he teased her with a grin on his face. "Can't wait to get rid of me already?" Her dark eyes flew open and met his own green ones. Hurt flashed through her eyes and before he could decipher what it meant, she spoke in a low voice as if she was unsure of what she was going to say. "I didn't mean it that way. I would miss you, you know, when you're gone." She looked away from him, and looked down at her hands in her lap. "Always have been." His heart did something weird in his chest at that exact moment when he heard her words. Without thinking, he reached out with a hand and brushed his knuckles across her cheek. "I didn't know that," he said, his hand now cupping her cheek. Irene's eyes searched his face, and he could see that she was surprised by his gesture, but she didn't move away and he took that as a great sign. "Of course you wouldn't know, we hadn't exactly been in touch all these years. If we had, maybe we could even remain as friends." She said, with a bitter and tired smile on her face. "But well, it's all in the past now, right?" Jackson remained silent. He just stared into her eyes, unsure of what to say. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was for leaving her without an explaination to her, how he had tried to look for her after everything but she had already moved to another city, how he still found himself thinking about her after all these years and distance between them, how he wished things were different from them at that time, how he regret for ever lying to her, how he had missed her all this time. All the words seemed to just get stuck in his throat, and when he finally spoke, the only words that came out was "I'm sorry." And he kissed her. He could tell that she was shocked, as she froze and didn't respond to his kiss. His thumb brushed across her cheek, his lips caressing hers, urging her to relax. After a moment, he pulled away and he could see that her eyes were closed. Deep down, he wanted to explain everything to her. Everything that he had kept to himself all these years and had ended up costing their relationship. His explanation for leaving her without a word. Maybe his explanation could let them had a chance at starting all over again. But at the end, his desire and longing to kiss her outweighed his desire to explain things. "I'm so sorry. You have no idea," With that he kissed her again. To be complete honest, he had no idea what he was doing and the only thought left in his mind was he wanted to kiss her. So he did so. This time, she kissed him back. Shyly at first, but he encouraged her gently, softly. With his lips on hers. With his teeth tugging slightly on her bottom lip. With his tongue slightly touching her lips, seeking permission. And when she parted her lips- The door bell rang. "Room service." A voice called out from the other side of the door, causing the both of them to pull away, startled. Jackson let out a frustrated and irritated grunt, as he glared at the door. For a moment, he was tempted to open the door, and show his badge at that annoying person on the other side of the door, seeing if he could scare them away. If that didn't work, he would pull out his gun. That ought to do the trick. He was still deep in his thought, planning how to murder that person in the most painful way ever when Irene cleared her throat, causing him to turn and look at her. Couldn't help it, he let out a deep chuckle and grinned, succeeding in earning a glare from her. She was blushing so hard, with her face pink, and she appeared to be both flustered and embarrassed. She opened her mouth to say something but the door bell rang again. With a roll of her eyes, she headed for the door without a word, leaving Jackson still sitting alone on the bed. Jackson flopped down on the bed, sighing as he tried to process their kiss. He had meant to explain everything to her but something overcame him and he just had to kiss her. As if that would explain things. He mentally rolled his eyes at himself. He should had explained things instead of doing what he wanted just because he wanted to. It wasn't fair to Irene. And now he had another thing added up to his list of "Jackson's Unexplained Things". Even though, it was interesting that Irene had actually kissed him back. Jackson smiled as he remember how she tasted, how her lips felt moist and warm pressed against his. He also remembered the first kiss they'd shared years ago, in a dark and deserted corner in the library, and the kiss last night, at the dance. He was surprised how he still remembered the exact feeling of kissing her even after all this time, and he was also amused over the fact that how she still blushes every time after he kissed her. After a few minutes, Irene came back into the room. And what Jackson saw next, had his heart leaping out of his chest. She was holding a perfect round white icing cake on a hand, and two wine glasses in another hand, with a bottle of wine tugged in the crook of her arm. "Surprise!" She said, a smile growing on her face, "Happy birthday, Jackson Tyler." Jackson was dumbfounded, and yes, surprised indeed. "What.." He broke off, suddenly not knowing what to say as he stared at the woman standing at the foot of the bed, holding a cake and saying happy birthday to him. Irene rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. "It's your birthday, silly. It's midnight now." Jackson absently looked down on his watch and it was midnight, exactly like she said. "A little help here, if you don't mind? The cake is a little heavy, it's hard to balance it with one hand and I don't want to drop it. And stop staring please." She said with a teasing tone. He sprung up from the bed and headed towards her, taking the cake out of her slightly trembling hand and set it on the table. It was only then that he realized there was writings on the surface of the cake. "Happy Birthday Jaxy" was spelled out in cursive but artful writing on the cake. He raised an eyebrow at the nickname that she had gave him years ago when they first got to know each other. He was surprised she still remembered that. So he told her so. "It's your nickname, silly. I would never forget that. Jax Sexy, hence Jaxy." She grinned again and gave him a wink as she opened the wine bottle and poured the both of them some wine. "My birthday- I- It's not-"Jackson struggled to find the words to say because of his overwhelmed feelings. "I didn't expect it at all. Hell, I didn't even realize it's my birthday." He admitted as he took the wine glass she held out for him. "That's why it's a surprise," She said with a 'duh' tone. "I figured you didn't remember, so I decided to surprise you a little." She took a sip of her wine while keeping her eyes on him all the time, staring him back. "Happy birthday, Jax." She said again, with more seriousness this time as she looked into his eyes, as if trying to tell him that she was being serious. Then she smiled again. A smile that reached her eyes. A smile that made her more attractive than she already was. A smile that made her even more beautiful. A smile that made Jackson stared and couldn't look away. For what it was worth, he wanted her to smile like that all the time. And in that moment, he knew that he would never forget that smile. He reacted. Without thinking, he rushed forward, setting his wine glass on the table and closing the distance between the both of them and he pressed his lips against hers. She gasped in surprise, and he took that chance to slipped his tongue into her mouth. He wrapped his right arm around her waist, urging her closer and his left hand reached up to touch her face. He stilled for a few seconds and pulled away a little, thinking that she would push him away and that she could if she wanted to. But she didn't. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer to her. Relieved, Jackson started kissing her again and this time, she wasted no time in kissing him back as she relaxed into the kiss. Their lips fought for dominance. She nibbled on his bottom lip, her teeth grazing ever so lightly on it, tugging and pulling, succeeding in making his own heart rate kick up. He

[5hfanfiction]

Metanoia [ 2 ]

Chapter Two: Discovered You Like A Miracle Jan 9th, 2017 - Miami, Florida

Lauren sat on her new bed before she lied down and hugged the pillow next to her. It took six hours before they reached Miami and the old town where her grandmother grew up as a teenager. Apparently, according to Laura this is the place where she met Lauren’s other grandmother, Lucille. Lauren was ten-years-old when her abuela passed away, but up until now her memories brings a smile to Lauren’s face.

“Grandma, how much do you love me?” Lauren questioned the ailing elder woman beside her.

“I love you a lot, my sweetest Lauren.” She answered with a smile before she gently touched Lauren’s cheeks.

Lauren smiled back, if it weren’t her parents or siblings that could make her smile it would be her grandmothers. She snuggled next to Lucille, her arms wrapped lightly around the old woman’s waist, while her abuela brushed her hair softly. There was a faint hum of what sounds like the song her abuela always used to calm the child. Lauren’s grandmother once had a very beautiful voice, she still has, but her age and deteriorating state affected that once harmonic voice she captured Lauren with.

“How much do you love grandmama?” The young girl questioned out of the blue.

Another smile appeared across Lucille’s face, she continued to brush her granddaughter’s hair while she proudly states, “I’ve never loved someone like I love your grandmama sweetling. She was the one who gave light in my once dark life.”

“Dark life?” Lauren asked innocently, clearly wanting to know what her grandmother meant by that.

“Abuela did a very bad thing back when I was younger… but, your grandmama helped me and we ended up together. No matter how tough it all was.”

Lauren would always remember those times when she stayed up at night listening to her abuela’s stories of how she met her grandmama. It would just lighten up anything troubling Lauren’s mind back then, she found comfort in the stories of her grandmothers. She enjoyed listening to her abuela sing a song for her to go to sleep to. Only Lucille could put a young Lauren to sleep back then.

There was a faint knock on Lauren’s door, it gently opened with Laura cautiously peeking through and smiling at her granddaughter. She walked in carrying a tray with her, there were two cups and a medium sized book placed on the tray.

“Brought you a hot chocolate and your abuela’s photo album.” Laura carefully placed the tray at the coffee table, before she handed the cup of hot chocolate to Lauren. “I know you’re tired, you better rest and I hope we can talk tomorrow.” Laura coaxed Lauren, she brushed her hair gently behind her ear before she took the other cup and left the room.

Lauren sighed, she suddenly remembered how her father would always make hot chocolate for her when she was younger. There it was again, the pain and the agony that shook her heart as if to tear it apart all over again. She could feel a sharp sting and it was only then that she realised what she had done. Lauren placed the hot cup down the desk nearby her bed before she licked her lips repeatedly.

After Lauren cooled down her lips she decided to stretch her feet and move around her new bedroom. She analysed the old paintings and decorations on the wall. There was a painting of a beautiful lake that was almost so real that you could mistake it as a digitally printed work, but the stroke of the brush was present and indeed visible. It’s quite odd for Lauren because this lake seem so familiar to her, almost too familiar that she could just remember where she might’ve seen it.

“There are no fishes.” The frustrated young girl grumbled, as she looked back at her grandmama.

“Because you have to be patient Lauren, you have to call them, make them feel as if you are not a threat, but a friend.” Laura gently grabbed hold of Lauren’s hands and the fishing rod. “Just like this…” She manoeuvred Lauren’s hands skilfully and patiently waited. Moments later she pulled the fishing rod upwards, a fish was caught dangling on the hook as it flailed and squirmed.

“I got one! I got one!” Lauren screamed in delight, she stared at the fish as it wiggled on the hook. “Look, grandmama! We got one!” She added with a bright smile.

“Well done, sweetie. Now, you know what to do.” Laura smiled and unhooked the fish, giving it to her granddaughter to examine.

“It’s slimy…”

“Of course, Lauren. They’re fishes, they’re supposed to be slimy, dear.” Laura laughed.

“I think it’s dead, it stopped moving.” Lauren looked at the fish closely before putting her ear on it’s body. “Grandmama! It’s dead! What do we do? I killed it.”

“Lauren, fishes need water to survive. Don’t worry, we’ll catch another one and this time we’ll put it back into the water.” Laura said as she placed an arm on Lauren’s shoulder. “Put that one inside the barrel, we’ll cook it for dinner.”

“Okay.”

“But who painted this?” Lauren said aloud as she runs her fingers on the lake painting. She looked closely and she can just barely made out some initials: “C.K” the letters escaped her lips, like a wind whistling against the breeze. Whoever C.K is, Lauren would like to personally thank them for bringing out such a good memory from that place.

Lauren turned around and walked around the room, it was so quiet that the sound of creaking floors were almost music in her ears. She started by rummaging in her suitcase to find her iPod, and then started listening to music while she grabbed her abuela’s photo album. Lauren opened them and it brought all the memories of almost every picture inside it to her, but there were a couple of pictures right at the back that seem old and unfamiliar to Lauren. She looked closely and saw her grandmothers, she smiled at the sight of them hugging and kissing in the picture, it looked like they were at a wedding party, as both Lucille and Laura wore a long formal dress.

However, as Lauren turned the page she saw a picture she’s never seen before. There were four people, which she can only identify two, the two being Laura and Lucille – then two strangers who seemed to have lived a high-class life. There was a lady on the right wearing an elegant maroon dress, which accentuated her petite feminine body. The lady’s facial features were very sharp but she had a kind look on her face. Then the guy who gave Lauren the wrong vibe. He, on the other hand, wore a crisp grey suit and looked at the camera with his menacing eyes, as if any minute he would pierce Lauren’s eyes with his.

“Who are they?”

Jan 9th, 2017 - Manhattan, New York

Alejandro left Sinuhe in the living room as she continued to sob upon her realisation of what their daughter’s life has become without the both of them. He can no longer even consider Sinuhe as a friend. It has well been over thirteen years since the last time he spoke more than a few words with her, Alejandro doesn’t think he’s even ready to actually speak to her.

He took his cellphone out and dialled his mother’s number, he knew it was really late at night, but Alejandro knows his mother would answer. She always does.

As soon as he heard her voice over the phone he just felt tears running down his cheeks. 

“Mamá…” He called out, but doesn’t trust his voice to be audible right now. He tried to catch his breath before speaking once again.

“Mamá… I have to ask you a very big favour.”

“Mi hijo, what is it? Are you okay?” Her voice sounded concerned, but delicate as ever, always the caring mother he’s always known. Karla Cabello has never changed at all.

“Mamá, I don’t think I’m a good father to my daughter…” His voice cracked as he choked at his own words, “I don’t think I can take care of her anymore.”

As much as he hate being separated from Camila, Alejandro doesn’t think she’s going to be the person she wants to be if she stays with him. He got the sole custody of Camila when Sinuhe lost the case after she decided to run away with that other man. Alejandro can never bear to think of ever giving her to Sinuhe and that good for nothing husband her. He just can’t.

The only one he believes that can change Camila is his mother.

“I’m not going.” Camila retorted.

“What I say goes, and you are going whether you like it or not. Don’t make it harder than it already is, Camila!” Alejandro finally snapped.

“Why don’t I keep our daugh–

"No. My mother already agreed to keep Camila, I trust her more than I trust you.” He cuts off Sinuhe’s own suggestion.

“I’m the mother of Camila! I have the right, Alejandro!”

“You threw away that right! Remember that, Sinu.”

“Great. Now I’m in this plane on the way to Miami where I don’t even know anyone. Does Mamina even have internet over there? Will my cellphone even work in her house?” Camila grumbled to herself, as she sat looking outside the window of the plane.

She sighed before she remembered how her father snapped earlier, he must’ve really hated talking to her mother. Camila wouldn’t blame the man, her mother left them just like that for another man and from then on she hated her. Camila hated her.

Camila decided that sleeping would be the best solution for her growing hatred that’s beginning to transform itself into a headache. She has two and a half more hours to go before the plane lands and before she gets stuck with her Mamina forever. Actually, there was a time when Camila would have loved to have lived beside her Mamina, but right now all she wanted was to go to Dinah’s and live with her best friend forever. Dinah understands her and Dinah wouldn’t judge her. She can already feel her Mamina lecturing her. Or perhaps, she won’t and she’ll just ignore Camila like her father does. It has been a while since she last saw her Mamina. A lot can change in all those years.

When the plane stopped and landed at the airport, Camila walked around the waiting area for a little while until she saw a couple of guys holding up a sign that says her name. They told her that they work for her grandmother and was happy enough to accompany Camila to her Mamina’s house… well mansion to say the least.

“Wow.” Camila looked around and saw how beautiful the estate is. Flowers of all sorts were around the front yard, as the car circled around the fountain and stopping near the front doors. There were various greeneries to compliment the vividly green grass. This was definitely a new environment compared to their boring two-story apartment back in Manhattan.

“Mila, my dearest, you’re finally here.”

Camila looked at her grandmother, it’s been already four years since the last time she saw her. It’s somehow as if the woman never aged, Karla Cabello looked young as ever, well, younger than most eighty-seven-years-old anyway. The old woman decided that there’s no time to waste, as soon as Camila got out of the car, she reached for her unica hija and hugged Camila tightly. Karla was trembling in both worry and elation that she finally got to see Camila once again.

She had always harboured some sort of hard feelings when Alejandro prevented her from seeing Camila anymore. Karla could never understand the real reason behind it, but she’s more than happy now that she’s with her only granddaughter once again.

“Come inside, I’ll show you around.” Karla smiles as she pulls back and takes a good look at Camila. “My, my, mi hija. You look absolutely fantastic. You’ve grown beautifully.”

“Papá always said I resembled you when you were younger." Camila smiled.

"I say you’re far more beautiful than I ever was, my angel.”

“You’re quite the charmer, Mamina.”

“So, I’ve been told.” Karla winked and laughed softly with Camila before leading her granddaughter inside the estate, touring her around the first floor of the mansion. Camila could see a lot of paintings, but they whisked by them pretty quickly and before she knows it she’s left in her own bedroom to get settled in.

Camila decided now would be the best time to unpack. She can’t help but stare at her room, which was entirely bigger than her old room back in Manhattan. She has her own walk in closet, a bathroom with a bathtub and a shower, which are both separately attached inside. But, last but not the least, she has her own television and computer. Camila might as well just pinch herself, she must be living in a dream because this doesn’t seem like a punishment camp for her. This is a blessing.

There was a faint knock outside Camila’s door, she simply told the person behind it to come in. Her grandmother slowly appeared and smiled at her as she went inside Camila’s room.

“Comfortable?” Karla asked.

“Very, it’s so big!” Camila commented.

“Of course, and I personally designed it for you.” Karla came closer to her granddaughter, brushing the younger one’s hair with a smile. “Come, lunch is ready for you.” She added.

Camila nodded her head and smiled. She followed her grandmother outside and they both headed towards the dining area. Again, they passed various paintings hanging on the wall, they have the same initials inscribed onto it, which Camila made out to be ‘C.K’. And as the curious girl she always has been, Camila couldn’t help but ask her Mamina.

“Who painted all of these? They’re wonderful.”

“I did.” Karla smiled at her before she placed her arm around Camila’s shoulders.

“Wow! These are amazing, Mamima!” Camila praised, “I particularly like this painting of the lake here. It seems as if it’s an actual picture.”

“It was the most vivid place I could remember, which is why when I painted it… I knew it like the back of my hand.” Karla replied, her smile slowly disappears but her eyes spoke of precious memories in her head.

“The painting of the rings too. Are these the rings grandpapi gave you? They’re amazing.” Added Camila before she walked towards the third painting to her right.

“Uh…” Karla began, “Not exactly, but let’s get to your dinner! I’m sure you’re very hungry after that trip.” She hurriedly changed the topic and placed a cheerful smile on her lips, before she dragged Camila to the dinning area.

Jan 10th 1949 - Cabello Estate

Inside the peaceful stable where only the whining of the horses can be heard, Karla patiently waited for her lover’s arrival. It has been two years since she first saw the beautiful, Laura Michelle Jauregui. Karla stands beside the sturdy wooden door and reminisce of the exact moment met Laura.

“Karla, there you are!” A tall, tanned skin girl beamed with enthusiasm. “I’ve been looking all over the place for you, silly.”

Karla smiled but kept her focus on the canvas she’s working on. “Hello to you too, Diana.”

“You had me walking all over the estate and for that I believe I deserve a sincere apology.” Diana grinned as she stood in place at the front of Karla’s canvas.

“Diana, I’m working. Can’t you see I’m busy right now?” Karla chuckled as she peeks to the side and shoos Diana out of the way of the pond she was busy painting.

“You seriously need to go out. Explore the world! Come to the theatre! Party with me!” Diana exclaimed as she rolls her eyes at her best friend, her shoulders deflating. “Painting are for old people. We’re young, fresh and hot. God, just look at my bodacious body, I’m wasting it away watching you waste that cute Cuban butt of yours.”

“You’re being melodramatic again.” Karla countered and it was her turn to roll her eyes. “We go out, we party. I go to the theatre with you.”

“With our parents!” Diana groaned.

Karla was just about to respond when Diana snatched her paintbrush and started dangling it above her. Karla sighed knowing she can never reach her brush now that her best friend was wearing heels. Diana was already tall enough, but right then and there she was a giant compared to Karla.

“Fine. We’ll go out.” Karla said in defeat before she smiled at her best friend and jumped to snatch her brush. “Promise me you’ll behave.”

“I make no promises.” Diana teased. “But, before anything else, we’re taking my friend with us.”

“Wait, what friend?”

“She’s new in town, met her at a party two weeks ago. You’ll love her!” Diana grinned as she grabbed hold of Karla’s wrist and dragged her back to the estate.

It took them a while to get inside the Cabello estate, as Karla decided she would feed her favourite mare first. She also said that whoever Diana’s friend is she can wait for as long as possible, Karla is a busy girl after all. After a couple of playful push and shove, Karla and Diana finally entered the estate and was greeted by Karla’s father, Andrés, who was clearly engaged in a deep conversation with an unfamiliar brunette.

“Karla, Diana,” Andrés stood up and smiled at the girls, but Karla wanted to get a better view of the stranger.

If only she could turn around and face her.

“Diana, my dear, you never told me your friend has vast knowledge about trading and wine. Laura has won me over.” He laughed deeply and Karla could see the girl, Laura, standing up.

Somehow all noise became somewhat of a muffled sound when Karla saw those wild emerald orbs, plump blood red lips and high structured cheekbones. Karla found herself gasping for air, her throat was clogged as words on her mouth became muttered noises. She’s capturing every feature in her head, wanting to remember every detail for her to paint later on.

“It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.” A thick, low voice greeted her in Spanish.

Karla’s eyed widened. 'She’s talking to me?’ “Oh, me?” Karla blurted out.

“Nice to meet you, Karla. Diana told me many stories about you.” She continued in Spanish and Karla struggled to form sentences even further.

“Uh… I hope they’re all good.” She giggled. 'Wait, did I really just do that?’ “Laura? Is that your name?”

“Yes.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Laura.”

Karla was too deep in her memory when she suddenly felt someone’s arms wrap around her waist, in her surprise she smiled heavenly, but turned to see Shaun with a smile on his face. Karla’s smile immediately turned into a frown, but even before she can complain, she felt Shaun’s lips on hers and his arms tightened that she was almost unable to breathe.

Karla felt as if she was going to vomit in disgust, she had no idea how to break free from Shaun without being accused of disobedience once again. He’s done that before, complain to Karla’s parents about how Karla was being disobedient just because she refused to give him what he wanted.

When Shaun pulled away from the kiss he smiled at Karla and stroked her cheek, but she only looked down on the ground and tried hard to conceal her disgusted face.

“Not long now till we get married.” Shaun whispered in his broken Spanish. Karla thinks he’s trying too hard. They all know Shaun was born and raised in the States and only speaks in Spanish when he’s trying to impress.

Karla sighed softly. “Don’t you think your parents are rushing the wedding? We’re too young.”

“Are you questioning my parents?” Shaun’s voice raised a notch.

Karla looked at his eyes and saw how enraged he was by her question. 'And this is the boy my parents want me to marry.’ Somehow, Karla knew disagreeing with Shaun would only result in bad situations.

“I think she’s just merely stating the truth.” A voice from behind startled Karla, it was from the familiar voice she always loved to hear. “She is indeed too young and so are you.” She added, her Spanish pronunciation was absolutely perfect.

“And you are?” Shaun raised a brow, he looked at the woman standing only a couple of feet away from him.

“Laura. I’m Laura Jauregui, daughter of Miguel Jauregui.” Laura smiled, but Karla could see pass that smile of hers. She can tell all Laura wanted to do was snatch her away from him.

“Ah, you’re the halfbreed who owns the mansion near town.” Shaun smirked, “My parents heard of your family. Remarkable, how a Cuban man and an American woman was able to get married.” It was clear to everyone present that Shaun was taunting Laura.

Karla could see Laura clenching her jaws. She was furious and Karla was about to reprimand Shaun when Laura spoke up. “They weren’t married here if that’s what you’re getting at and if my mother was still alive, she would have told you that they married each other out of love.” Laura spoke in straight English before turning her gaze over at Karla. “They simply loved one another unconditionally.”

Shaun breathed out with a loud sigh, then wrapped his arm around Karla’s waist. “But, that’s not how we are. We marry our own people, no one else than that… right, Karla?” He looked at her, his eyes were threatening Karla’s.

“Y-Yes…”

A/N: Woop, flashbacks from the past and more Karla and Laura! Lauren and Camila will meet soon, but Lauren has to meet someone else first before Camz. Dinah makes an appearance in the form of Diana. Let me know if you want more 1940s flashbacks. Till next time!