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teadari · 8 months ago

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The young lady, as is often the case with those whose souls are wrapped in tenderness and fragility, too frequently surrendered to night visions, failing to find joy in her waking days. Her dreams were like gray clouds hanging over a sunny sky—disrupting the harmony of her slumber and robbing her of peace, stealing precious hours that could have been spent in blissful serenity.

Before moving in with her partner, she, like a mysterious specter, concealed her torment, daring not to confide in a single soul. Yet that fateful night, when her nightmares reached their peak, finally compelled her to speak.

— At Night —

She dreamed of a dark forest where the leaves of the trees rustled underfoot like living beings, whispering unknown words with each cautious step she took. The forest, shrouded in ominous silence, created an atmosphere that pressed down on her chest, making her heart race as if sensing the approach of some sinister ventriloquist. Chills, like cold streams, slid down her spine, confirming that this emptiness was filled with something vague and threatening.

But the most terrifying sight, like a foreboding storm cloud, awaited her ahead. After walking a short distance, she suddenly stumbled upon what she feared most—a vision capable of tearing her soul apart. Her dearest person, the one whose love she had cherished in her heart, had succumbed to darkness and committed a dark deed that forever altered her perception of everything that had ever existed.

Dazai hung from the tree like a sorrowful fruit, not yet ripe for its time; the rope tightly wrapped around his neck constricted his life with the same relentless cruelty that fate showed to anyone who dared to rise against its chains. His eyes, empty and perpetually dark, radiated the same bottomless sadness as the very trees surrounding him—gloomy sentinels standing at the threshold between life and death. His body dangled like a piece of fresh meat, recently severed from the throes of passion—alive and dead at once, with drops of endured sorrow poised to fall like autumn leaves into the abyss of oblivion.

His appearance pierced her soul like an unrelenting cold, and fear, like a dark cloud, filled the insides of the observing girl, frozen in horror at the sight before her. Tears—an indistinct shadow of grief—silently rolled down her cheeks, leaving traces on her pale skin like deep, carved lines on an ancient marble slab. In that moment, she realized the truth: the world is full of suffering and merciless fates—every heart, regardless of its nobility, pays tribute to the relentless circumstances in which life and death intertwine in an endless dance.

As she gazed at this agonizing sight, she wept through her dreams, her sobs like a mournful breeze reaching the ears of the young man, stirring him from sweet oblivion. On that night, when the world seemed wrapped in a soft veil of silence, he suddenly felt his heart overflowing with unease.

— Darling? Darling!— he said, gently shaking her by the shoulders, hoping to dispel the ominous foreboding that loomed like leaden clouds on the horizon.

But she only cried in silence, tightly embracing Dazai, trying to shield herself from the storms raging within her soul. Nestling against his warm chest, she sought the comfort that only he seemed able to provide.

— Don’t leave me...— her voice, choked with sobs, carried a timid plea, piercing through the darkness like a slender beam of light breaking through dense clouds.

— I won’t leave you, I promise, — he replied, embracing her tenderly, as if those simple words could heal all her internal wounds. He ran his fingers through Ohiko's hair and gently placed a warm kiss on her forehead—one that ignited a flame capable of warming even the coldest corners of their worlds.

As dawn broke and the first rays of sunlight began to filter through the curtains, illuminating the room with its morning glow, the situation became clear. She, as expected, poured out everything in tears and hysteria, like a turbulent stream breaking free from its dammed course. But, fortunately, all turned out well, as often happens in life, where the unfamiliar and the grand collide with our fragility.

Upon learning the entire story, the young man stood still in thought, bewildered by the realization that the world they lived in was filled with horrors and uncertainty. From that moment on, his heart, once overflowing with something infinitely precious, became filled with a care that, like a strong balm, soothed the wounds that caused suffering. Every gesture he made, every act of kindness, was infused with love, like the air carrying the scent of fresh greenery after the rain.

He tried to protect her from all the horrors of the world, from those unknown shadows that could loom over their happiness at any moment. His care lifted the weight of worries and doubts from her shoulders, helping her return to life once more.

And once again, she realized that she was truly needed by him, just as a flower needs the sun to grow and bloom.

The little tiger, innocent and carefree, had no idea of the heavy burden his girlfriend was carrying—a poor soul deprived of peace and healthy sleep for three long days. With sincere naivety, much like a child playing in the meadows, he embraced the world around him, oblivious to the storm brewing behind him and the reality that his role in this unfolding drama might not be as carefree as he wished to believe.

Yet, the final drop that overfilled the cup of her suffering was a single dream—vivid and alluring like the gentle dawn of the first rays of light, yet at the same time ominous enough to awaken the dormant fears in her heart. In this dream, where delicate threads of her anxieties intertwined, she faced a deep pain that pierced her chest like a knife's edge, leaving behind a gaping wound filled with dark thoughts of loss and loneliness.

This dream, which seemed to come with good intentions, turned against her, becoming a symbol of her inner struggles and anxieties.

Unaware of her torment, the little tiger continued to live in his own world, vibrant and colorful, inadvertently leaving his beloved alone with her dark thoughts. And in this contrast lay, as always, a profound truth: love is often blind, allowing us to see only superficial joys while invisible scars hide in our hearts, yearning for light and understanding.

The Dream Itself

Ohiko found herself in her parents' home, a quiet corner that seemed to hold all her darkest memories. Within those walls, steeped in the spirit of unearned suffering, she had spent some of the least pleasant years of her youth—echoes of youthful dreams fading into the heavy, gray routine of life.

In the room where she now stood, a dim twilight reigned: shadows of the past filled every corner, and only a solitary bulb illuminated her small space, intertwining memories of pain. Those faint rays resembled her hopes—they shone, but could not light everything, thus only highlighting her loneliness, repeatedly drawing her back to a time when the world seemed divided into black and white.

In the dim light, two silhouettes could be discerned, seemingly engaged in a fierce argument—their voices, echoing off the walls, resembled whirlwinds rushing through the space.

At first glance, this might have seemed like an ordinary scene typical of any family turmoil, where passions spill over into a silent standoff, creating a semblance of familiar drama.

But then something unexpectedly surfaced in her memory—a poignant feeling that awakened long-forgotten images, reminding her of moments of joy, bright dreams, and youthful exhilaration that had left her so long ago. It was as if shadows emerging from the depths of her consciousness began to whisper once more.

It was that terrible day, forever etched in Ohiko's memory as a dark stain—the day when childhood dreams turned into nightmares. Ten years ago, on a Monday evening, when the world seemed shrouded in a gentle shadow, her stepfather became a manifestation of cruel and merciless fate, more irritable than ever. His brutality and penchant for alcoholic solace merged into one soulless being, and on that fateful night, he committed an act that could neither be justified nor forgotten—the murder of her mother.

Noticing the presence of his eight-year-old stepdaughter, the man, like a beast tormented by his own demons, was once again consumed by a simple yet monstrous rage—he beat her and, unable to contain his fury, locked her in a room, as if it were an old dungeon where the darkest dreams came true. The moment the door slammed shut with a deafening bang that echoed through the corners, Ohiko felt the very foundations of her reality tremble beneath her feet. The regular pounding—desperate, brutal attempts to break free—became her sole purpose, even as she realized with each effort that this struggle was not just against the lock, but against life itself, which had no intention of releasing her from its shadows.

Barely gathering the remnants of her strength, she managed to survive like a plant pushing through cracks in the asphalt—fragile yet tenacious, reaching for the light despite the harsh winds. And when time, in its merciless march, caught up with her and she turned sixteen, fate decided to exact revenge for her unbearable suffering. Her stepfather suffered a heart attack, sudden as all misfortunes, and he died, leaving behind only emptiness and fear.

Let’s return to the dream.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Even after many years, the fear that once gripped her heart resurfaced in the darkest corners of her mind. The same circumstances that had once scorched her youth now weighed heavily upon her shoulders—the death of her beloved mother, the horror reflected in every drop of blood that remained on the walls.

And, most importantly, the cold gaze filled with hatred pierced her soul like a chilling wind from distant lands. It was not just a look, but an entire abyss, absorbing all the pain and suffering that had once tormented her. A terrifying silhouette, like a shadow of the forgotten, slowly approached her—a reminder of fears buried deep in the past, only to break free once more.

The nightmare, confined within the tiny cage of her soul, did not end, and with horror, she realized that as it broke through the night’s darkness, it was infiltrating her reality, robbing her of comfort and peace. Suddenly, her consciousness, shattering the chains of sleep, awakened her in a cold sweat, as if life itself were breaking free from the depths of long-held traumas.

Thus, in this silent confrontation between the past and the present, Ohiko understood: fear is not just an emotion; it is an eternal shadow that follows us on the path to liberation. It becomes a part of our existence, like a scar that reminds us of the battles fought in youth, and only by facing it head-on can one find inner strength and realize that true freedom may not lie in the absence of fear, but in the ability to live with it, accepting it as an unchanging companion on the journey toward the light.

Salty tears quietly fell onto her palms, resembling raindrops cascading onto parched earth, traveling through her tormented soul. However, the sweet boy was not by her side—Atsushi was still at work, seemingly consumed by responsibilities that pulled him into their endless depths, leaving her alone with the burdens that had piled up around her.

In that endless night, when the stars, like distant companions, watched her suffering, she could not sleep; the hysteria that burned in her heart grew increasingly intrusive and scattered, like a fierce hurricane tearing through the wastelands of her mind. Time felt stretched, hateful and merciless, and every whisper in the night only emphasized her inner uncertainty.

Atsushi returned almost at dawn, as the first glimpses of light began to carve their way through the enveloping darkness. His voice, like rain, filled with confusion:

— Ohiko-chan? — he asked, wary of disrupting the fragile peace that hung between them, still unaware of the weight of her sorrow. He didn’t know what to do; his heart, brimming with love and concern, tightened in his chest.

Approaching her in bewilderment, he gently took her trembling hands in his, as if fearing he might break her, worn down by the intertwining of her anxieties and fears.

The only thing he could think to do in that tumultuous moment was to embrace her, holding her tightly as if he wished to protect her from all the storms raging outside their little world. His touch, like gentle whispers of a spring breeze, was so soft and warm that it seemed capable of melting even the coldest strings of sorrow that bound her heart. In that embrace, filled with genuine love and care, all the dark memories threatening to overwhelm Ohiko dissipated like gray clouds.

When he was near, those terrifying moments that made her tremble with fear and anxiety gradually faded away, evaporating into the void where forgotten sorrows resided.

From that day on, Nakajima, infused with the light that seemed to emanate from her very being, dedicated himself to helping his beloved, ensuring that she would never again suffer such terrifying dreams capable of tearing her from the embrace of reality and plunging her into an abyss.

She never thought that even a great detective, whose oratory skills would make even Mercury envious, could be deceived—yet Ohiko, like a brilliant actor wandering in the shadow of her questionable reputation, accomplished this to perfection. Her skilled performance left no traces, hiding her true feelings behind a mask of serenity and calm that she portrayed so masterfully.

But there was one seemingly insignificant detail, bitterly revealing all her secrets, that gave her pause—those inevitable bags under her eyes, appearing like clouds before a storm, a result of three restless days of sleeplessness. These unfortunate marks of deep, anguished nights, when her mind raced and spewed forth nightmares, would not allow her peace, whispering that life is full of dark alleys and not all secrets are worthy of discovery.

The nightmares had begun exactly three days ago, as if dark forces had suddenly descended upon her. It all started when her clever boyfriend, relying on his intuition and thoughtful reflections, solved another case and, for some unknown reason, drew his beloved into the mysterious depths of his misadventures. He shared every detail with enthusiasm, weaving her into a web of complex intrigues and enigmas, as though he had inadvertently led her behind the scenes of his world, where real passions sometimes intertwined with equally real fears.

Thus, in this grim dance within her mind, Ohiko realized that some secrets, like stubborn shadows, are meant to be buried deep. Each nightmare she experienced was not just a simple dream—it became a painful manifestation of her psyche, intertwined with unfulfilled hopes and fears of what could happen when light confronts darkness.

On yet another agonizing day, when the shadows of fatigue and irritation enveloped her, the sweet-toothed Ranpo, like a keen and sensitive detective, sensed that something was amiss in Ohiko's expression. Her eyes reflected exhaustion, much like a sky heavy with clouds, foreboding nothing good—a brewing storm and inclement weather. His heart, filled with good intentions, raced, and he decided to invite her to spend the night at his home, believing it might lift her spirits and change her mood.

— My sweet, I need you today; no refusals will be accepted, — he said with the kind of insistence that comes from youth and an inexhaustible well of inner resources, completely unaware of her turmoil. Internally, she resisted fiercely, thinking, Not this, anything but this!

Fear tightened around her heart like a painfully taut spring—within her lived the horror that if he ever discovered her secret, he would point out her weaknesses, the traumas she had stored away in the recesses of her memory like moldy pages. The dread that he would expose her essence and lay bare her tender wounds was unbearable. Like an unbloomed flower with a tight bud, she feared revealing the dark core of her soul, especially after the terror that had filled her sleepless nights with the corpse that had suddenly become the embodiment of her deepest fears.

t’s Night Again

Once more, an unpleasant fear gripped her body like a cold chain, slowly penetrating the depths of her mind, paralyzing her will and conjuring images filled with sinister figures. Every unseen rustle, every whisper of the wind seemed to harbor countless horrors, ready to break free like forgotten ghosts eagerly awaiting their turn.

But the most unsettling feeling was yet to come, creeping up on her like a shadow behind her back. Ohiko stood on the empty street, its silence ringing like a prolonged bell warning of an approaching storm. No soul was in sight—only a solitary breeze smoothing her hair, whispering dark secrets that constricted her chest.

On the gray asphalt, a pool of blood spread like a dark stain on a cleansed canvas, its scent hitting her nostrils with such force that her heart froze in the grip of terrible realization. This smell, heavy with metal and death, penetrated her senses, enveloping her in a feeling of hopelessness. And there, on the road nearby, lay a lifeless body—the embodiment of the very horror she had tried to expel from her life.

Its innards, like a sinister chalice, were turned inside out; the eyes seemed to have leaked from their sockets, like exhausted rivers of tears, while the tongue lay sprawled beside the body, forgotten in this gruesome spectacle. Upon witnessing this horrifying scene, the girl felt an involuntary urge to vomit—but this was only the beginning of the atmosphere that was building around her, like a storm before a fierce tempest.

And then, to her utter shock, the dead person suddenly rose and let out a piercing scream that awakened a blend of fear and terror within her, making her ears ring like candle holders struck by the heartbeat of mortal dread. This scream was not merely a sound; it was an outpouring of pain eager to break free from oblivion, like nameless souls longing for redemption.

Suddenly, the deceased turned to her with a mocking sneer, saying, "Coward! Are you afraid of an ordinary corpse? You will never earn the approval of the detective!" hese words were like cold arrows, piercing her soul and leaving behind bitter tears that unconsciously streamed down her cheeks.

In that moment, a surge of despair filled her, and she screamed, “No! No! NO! Stop!” Her voice echoed like thunder in the silent night, teeming with invisible demons. This cry, brimming with aggressive force and desperation, stirred anxious thoughts in Ranpo about the worst possible outcomes—he jumped out of bed, his heart pounding like a drumbeat, heralding an approaching storm filled with fears that had been growing in his soul and unease.

This scene, inspired by ominous shadows, would make anyone ponder the essence of human fear as an inseparable part of our existence. Drawn into this grim game of life, we often confront the reality that horror is commonplace and pervasive, stripping away the veil of our fragility. It then becomes clear that fear frequently transforms into the greatest obstacle on the path to self-discovery; the truth always lies hidden behind the mask of fear, and only those who dare to walk through the darkness can find the light that illuminates the way to their true selves.

But upon seeing the state his beloved was in, he immediately began to wake her, pulling away the shroud of the dark night.

— No, please, stop! — she cried out, like a soul escaping from the dark abyss of fear, still filled with distrust.

— Darling, I’m here, shh... — the brunette whispered softly, holding her close like a comforting sun that chases away the storm. His words were like a gentle breeze wrapping around her, trying to calm the raging tempest within her soul.

— I’m afraid, I… I’m afraid of him, and you’ll laugh at me and leave me now,— she replied, sobbing and still caught in a nervous hysteria, each tear rolling down her cheeks akin to shards of broken glass, reflecting her inner fears.

— Who told you such nonsense? I won’t leave you, and I certainly won’t laugh at you,— he said with a hint of reproach.— Come here, quickly.

In his embrace, like a cozy nest, she felt so warm and safe that, over time, her fear nearly evaporated, and exhausted from her anxieties, she quickly fell asleep. Ranpo, gazing at her sleeping face, pondered how, amidst the chaos of life, there are moments when the deepest fears can be healed by a single touch of love.

He vowed to himself that he would never again share the details of his sorrowful legacies with Ohiko—stories of murders and malicious deeds that left indelible marks on the soul. There should be no place for such horrors in his beloved's life, and this realization felt like the morning light breaking through a thick veil of darkness.

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cherrychan-0110 · 6 months ago

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💜

MISTAKES WERE MADE

characters in order:

Battington, @cringey-tea, @blacktales, mep, Sunny @cherrychan-0110

sorry-not-sorry for pings

#goober tag #emilithia #art #digital art #digitalart #sketch #harmony and horror #battington tapes #mini comic #sunny day #harmony and horror sunny

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sanyu-thewitch05 · 1 year ago

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Yandere Prince x Witch! Reader pt. 2

TW: Drugging mention, abortion mention, violence, honestly just the ordeal of waking up and finding out you're pregnant.

WANNA GET ME A ☕?

Five Months Ago...

"I need it. I need the reassurance she'll love me when I pick her," Helia said, walking into The Woods.

The Woods have light peaking from the tall trees, vines in the sky, and houses of flying creatures in the tree branches. Like an ecosystem, the fairytale characters and creatures that aren't in a castle harmoniously live in the Woods as a community. Near the lakes and streams are where the mermaids and nymphs live. The forest grounds are where mostly minotaurs, elves, fairies, dragons, and dwarfs live. Meanwhile, the sky has the harpies, phoenixes, and others. But everywhere in the forest has witches, vampires, and other magical beings to find and chat with.

"Excuse me, Mr. Elf, do you know where to find someone who can make a love potion?" Helia asked, tapping on the elf's shoulder.

"Oh wow, another royal in these woods. Luckily, you'll find what you seek right in front of you. My friend Y/N made extra potions of the highest quality with the most potent ingredients for the upcoming ball of Prince Helia," The elf responds, handing Helia a vile of pink liquid.

"Do the people who requested this potion want to use it on the prince?" Helia asks, giving the elf some golden coins. "And what does this friend of yours look like? Is she a witch?

"Haha! No. Let's just say gala and ball babies are trendy," The elf laughs, creeping out Helia. "But if you want to see her, look there."

Helia looks at the sunny Woods' path and sees a witch with a basket of herbs, fruit, and meat.

"She's beautiful," Helia thought, embodying the feeling of being bewitched.

Helia returns to his castle and doesn't look back at the woods, for if he did, he'd never return.

~~~~~~~~~~

It's been six months since the ball, and your relationship with Helia couldn't be better. However, that's because after the first love potion dose wore off on Helia, he's been giving you doses so you can't wake up from your lovely dream. But more importantly, the two of you have been preparing for the arrival of your baby girl, Maya.

"How's my beloved wife doing?" Helia asks, crawling onto the bed and rubbing your big stomach.

"You're gone too long. You missed our little girl kicking when I ate some peppers," You say, kissing your husband.

"Aw, sorry I missed your feeding time, baby," Helia coos, kissing your stomach. "How about this? I'll give you extra cuddles while we sleep."

"No complaints from me as long as I get free access to your cock if I get horny," You say, pulling back the covers and letting your husband in.

"Deal."

Helia climbs into bed and spoons you as sleep creeps up on you for the 45th time today. You wake up at 3 am, your body floating a foot in the air. Questions run through your fatigued body as you process your surroundings. A mirror sparkles in the moonlight, and you see the silhouette of your pregnant belly.

"Wha?" You whisper, subconsciously feeling the other side of the bed as if someone was supposed to be there.

You get up and look at your body. Your stomach is large with child, and your breasts are big and swollen with milk. You stare at your reflection in horror, touching your stomach and confirming your new reality. A whimper escapes your lips, and you sink to the ground. Your fetus kicks your stomach, and your whimpers turn into cries.

"Stop moving!" You cry, your nails digging into your stomach.

Your fetus kicks more and more, making you look for a way out of the bedroom. You see an uneven wall and run towards it, hitting the wall for a secret opening. Eventually, you hit the right spot, and an opening appears, leading to a dark passageway with cobblestone stairs spiraling downward. You put a hand on the wall to help keep your balance and go down the stairs, hoping for an escape. When you reach the end, you take your first step toward freedom as you walk on the crisp new grass of spring.

"Into the Woods I go," You say, walking away from the castle and to your home.

It's a silent walk on the way home as the village surrounding the castle is asleep. With only you, your fetus, and your thoughts, you begin to talk to your daughter.

"You know, I thought about trying to find someone to abort you, but it wouldn't matter anyway. No one on this land, Woods or not, would do it. Ever since the royal family passed the lineage law a century ago, nobody could abort a fetus of royal lineage, illegitimate or not. The last time someone did that led to everyone not human living in The Woods. It's not your fault you're inside me, it's not my fault I'm pregnant with you, it's not our fault we were in that castle," You say, stumbling into the lively Woods.

As you walk the village's dirt roads, the castle erupts with noise. You hear horses leaving their stables and running out.

"No, no," You groan, walking into the Woods faster.

"Find Queen Y/N, and bring her back to the castle or King Helia. Do not harm her!" The royal head knight commands, making you run further into the Woods.

The Woods become dark, and the liveliness you love and know becomes non-existent.

"I must be in the Fairytale district," You say, holding your stomach as you trek through the dark woods full of thorns, shrubbery, and trees that seem to be closing in.

"My love," Helia says, seeing your figure in the woods.

You run, tearing your dress as it gets caught in the thorns.

"Y/N, my love! Wait! You'll hurt yourself!" Helia yells, making his horse speed up.

You jump over a fallen tree and try not to focus on the pain from your feet.

"Leave me alone!" You yell, sliding down a steep hill.

You think you can handle the speed, but suddenly, you're sliding out of control. You scream as you head toward a dark valley full of fog and embrace your stomach, preparing for the worst. A hand grabs your arm at the last minute, and you're dangling an inch above raging rapids. Helia carries you back up, and you both rest on the forest floor.

"Are you crazy? You could've gotten yourself killed!" Helia screams, grabbing your shoulders.

"It would've been better than whatever was going on in that castle!" You scream, holding your stomach. "Do you know what it's like waking up and not knowing what happened to your body? What happened to yourself, and why you can't recognize places that feel familiar?"

"All you had to do was stay as my sweet wife, but it's my fault. I didn't give you another dose of love in time. But I won't make that mistake again," Helia states, pulling out a syringe filled with a love potion.

"No! No, please!" You beg, holding Helia's hands.

"Just stay still, and it'll all be over!" Helia screams, trying to stab your neck.

"NO!"

Magic shoots out of your body, flinging Helia across the forest. The silence from the forest takes over, leaving you with your tears and your baby's kicks.

"I'm sorry, May-Maya-no, May. That's right, May. I'm sorry, May. I shouldn't have hurt your daddy," You ramble, crawling to Helia's body.

You grab the syringe and use your magic to incinerate it. Then, you tap on your husband's cheeks for a sign of life. If his body is found in The Woods, it'll be the end of the magical and supernatural creatures in the kingdom.

"Helia, please. Please wake up," You beg, lightly slapping his cheeks.

"Mm...my love, you didn't leave," Helia groans, weakly holding your hand.

You couldn't leave. Not if you wanted any semblance of a future for your friends and family.

"Hey, how about we read parenting books, and have dinner?" You suggest, hoping he will not wonder where the love potion went.

"Queen Y/N, what happened to King Helia?" The head knight asks, jumping off his horse.

"A bear was about to attack me. Helia defended me and got wounded in the battle," You lie, holding Helia's hand.

"Guards, take King Helia to the infirmary for treatment and get the royal doctor and wizard. I'll take Queen Y/N back to her quarters," The head knight commands, picking you up and putting you on his horse.

And so, the witch and the prince return to their castle. Their unborn child is as calm as ever as the witch opens a book with a stork carrying a baby on the cover. The prince, now king, curls up next to his wife, his hand rubbing her belly. The witch hiding her disgust and she turns the next page.

#sanyuthewitch05 #yandere prince #yandere king #witch!reader #yandere x reader

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cherrychan-0110 · 3 months ago

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A Dapper Duo ⭐✨

#harmony and horror #harmony & horror #h&h #harmony n horror #battington #battington tapes #toymaker battington #harmony and horror toymaker #harmony and horror oc #harmony and horror au #doomed moonlight au #analog horror #oc tags #sunny day #harmony and horror sunny #oc #oc art #oc artwork #original character

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rudyking · 3 months ago

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Romeo and Juliet:

Rudy and Yn's daughter, Clara has her first kiss coming up in her school play of Romeo and Juliet- something Rudy doesn't agree with.

Rudy, with his perpetually sunny disposition and hair the color of California beaches after a long summer, was a dad in capital letters. Not just any dad, but the kind of dad who built elaborate backyard forts, could conjure up the perfect bedtime story on demand, and whose hugs felt like a warm blanket on a chilly evening. His blue eyes, usually twinkling with mirth, held a depth of kindness that made everyone around him feel instantly at ease.

He was the kind of father other fathers aspired to be, and mothers secretly wished they had married. Beside him, Yn was the calm harbor to Rudy’s playful ocean. With a smile as sweet as the oranges they grew in their backyard, Yn possessed a gentle strength that grounded their vibrant family. She was smart, insightful, and had a knack for understanding people, especially Rudy and their daughter, Clara.

Life in their sunny home usually bubbled with laughter and easygoing warmth. Rudy, ever the playful one, was known to burst into impromptu games of tag in the grocery store or conduct opera singing sessions during breakfast. Yn would often watch with a fond smile, occasionally joining in, her calm demeanor adding a touch of graceful chaos to Rudy’s enthusiastic outbursts. And Clara, their daughter, she was a perfect blend of them both – kind-hearted like Yn, with Rudy's bright eyes and a playful streak that could rival his.

However, a storm cloud was brewing in Rudy's usually bright sky, disguised as a school play. Clara, all of fourteen and radiating youthful enthusiasm, had landed the role of Juliet in her school's rendition of Romeo and Juliet. Rudy was beaming with pride - until he reached the part in the play script that was underlined with a big, fat, red pen: ‘Act 3, Scene 5 - Juliet kisses Romeo.’

The mere words felt like a thunderclap in Rudy’s otherwise harmonious world. His daughter, his baby girl, was going to kiss a boy. On stage. In front of hundreds of people. And not just any boy, but Austin, the boy with perpetually messy brown hair, a charmingly crooked smile, and a reputation among the teenage girls at Clara’s school for being devastatingly cute. Rudy had met Austin once, at a school bake sale. He seemed like a perfectly polite young man, but in Rudy’s eyes, any boy with a pulse was a potential threat to his daughter’s innocence.

"Yn," Rudy began one evening, his voice unusually strained as he reread the script, “Did you see this? The… the kiss.”

Yn, who was calmly folding laundry nearby, glanced up, her eyebrows gently raised. “Yes, honey, it’s Romeo and Juliet. Kisses are kind of their thing.”

“But… Clara. Kissing. Isn't she a little young?” Rudy’s tone was bordering on panicked.

Yn chuckled, a warm, melodic sound. “Rudy, she’s playing Juliet. It’s part of the role. It’s acting.”

“Acting!” Rudy exclaimed, throwing his hands up in mock horror. “You think that’s acting? It’s… mouth-to-mouth contact! Germs! And feelings! Teenage feelings! It’s all downhill from here, Yn, all downhill!” He paced the living room, blonde hair slightly ruffled with distress.

Yn sighed, folding a tiny pair of Clara's socks with practiced ease. "Rudy, relax. It's a school play. It's going to be a quick peck. Think of it as… theatrical air-kissing.”

“Theatrical air-kissing that lands on lips! Lips, Yn! Clara’s lips!” Rudy’s voice had risen to a dramatic whisper.

Unbeknownst to Rudy, Clara was listening from just around the corner, a giggle bubbling in her throat. She thought her dad was being utterly ridiculous, but also secretly, hilariously endearing. She was actually quite excited about the kissing scene, and not just because it was ‘acting.’ Austin was, after all, rather cute, and rumor had it, he had a crush on her too.

Rudy, fueled by paternal panic, launched Operation Kiss-Prevention. His first tactic was the ‘subtle’ suggestion. He tried to convince Clara that Juliet could express her love for Romeo just as powerfully with a heartfelt hand-hold and a longing gaze. “Think about it, Clara-bean,” he’d said, draping an arm dramatically over his forehead. “The agony of unspoken love, the yearning glance across a crowded room… much more poignant, don’t you think?”

Clara, who was busy practicing her lines with teenage intensity, just rolled her eyes. “Dad, it’s literally written in the script. ‘Juliet kisses Romeo.’ It’s kind of important.”

Next, Rudy tried the ‘wisdom’ approach. He sat Clara down for a ‘father-daughter chat’ about the complexities of love, relationships, and the importance of waiting for ‘the right moment’. He peppered his talk with analogies involving blooming flowers and ripening avocados, metaphors that seemed to confuse Clara more than anything else.

"So, basically, Dad," Clara summarized, looking slightly bewildered, "you're saying kissing is like an avocado? It needs to be ripe before you, uh, bite into it?"

Rudy blinked, realizing his analogy had perhaps backfired. "Well, not exactly bite, but… yes! Ripeness! Emotional ripeness! And you, my sweet pea, are a perfectly lovely, slightly green, but very promising avocado. Not quite ripe for… avocado toast yet.”

Clara just stared at him for a long moment before bursting into laughter. Yn, who had been observing from the kitchen, had to stifle her own giggles behind a dish towel.

Rudy even attempted to bribe the drama teacher, Mr. Henderson, with homemade cookies and whispered suggestions about ‘alternative endings’ for Romeo and Juliet. Mr. Henderson, a kindly man with a passion for Shakespeare and a weakness for chocolate chip cookies, just smiled politely and assured Rudy that the kiss would be ‘tasteful and age-appropriate’.

Opening night arrived like a looming, theatrical apocalypse for Rudy. He was a nervous wreck. He’d paced their Californian backyard all day, muttering about ‘stage kisses’ and ‘teenage hormones’. Yn, dressed elegantly in a flowy dress, watched him with amusement and a touch of sympathy. She knew his heart was in the right place, even if his methods were, well, a little over-the-top.

“Rudy, honey, you’re going to wear a hole in the lawn,” Yn said gently, handing him a glass of iced tea. “Just breathe. It’s going to be okay.”

“Okay?” Rudy repeated, looking at her as if she’d suggested they vacation on Mars. “Yn, our daughter is about to engage in lip-on-lip action in front of half the town! Okay is not the word that springs to mind. Catastrophic, perhaps. Apocalyptic. Possibly Armageddon-ish.”

Yn kissed him lightly on the cheek. “She’ll be amazing, Rudy. And it’s just a play. Remember? Acting?”

The auditorium buzzed with excited chatter as they found their seats. Rudy sat stiffly, his knuckles white as he gripped the program. Yn, sitting beside him, squeezed his hand reassuringly. Clara looked radiant as Juliet, her voice clear and strong as she delivered her lines. Rudy had to admit, despite his inner turmoil, she was incredibly talented.

The play progressed, moving towards the dreaded Act 3, Scene 5. Rudy’s anxiety ratcheted up with each passing scene. He was sweating, fidgeting, and occasionally making small whimpering noises that Yn tried to ignore.

Finally, it arrived. Act 3, Scene 5. The balcony scene. The romantic tension was palpable, even to Rudy, who was viewing the whole thing through a lens of fatherly dread. Clara, as Juliet, gazed lovingly at Austin’s Romeo. The lighting dimmed to a romantic glow. The music swelled.

And then, it happened. Just as Romeo leaned in, and Juliet tilted her head, Rudy reacted. He didn’t mean to, it was a purely involuntary, primal response of a father protecting his offspring from perceived danger.

He yelled.

Not just a little yell, but a full-throated, operatic bellow that echoed through the silent auditorium. “NOOOOOOOOOOO!”

The entire theatre froze. On stage, Clara and Austin startled apart, eyes wide. The audience gasped. Even the stage crew backstage seemed to pause, mid-scene change.

Rudy, mortified, sank into his seat, wishing the earth would swallow him whole. Yn, facepalming beside him, whispered fiercely, “Rudy! What was that?!”

But Rudy, fueled by a strange mix of panic and adrenaline, hadn't finished. He stood up, pointing dramatically at the stage. "Hold it right there!" he boomed, his voice cracking slightly from sheer mortification. "That's... that's not in the script! Improvisation! Unacceptable improvisation!"

The silence in the auditorium was so thick you could cut it with a butter knife. Then, slowly, tentatively, a giggle rippled through the audience. Then another. Then another. Soon, the entire theatre was erupting in laughter.

On stage, Clara, after the initial shock wore off, started to giggle too. Even Austin was chuckling, albeit nervously.

Mr. Henderson, emerging from the wings, approached the edge of the stage, a bemused expression on his face. "Mr. Pankow?" he said, his voice amplified by the stage microphone, "Is everything alright?"

Rudy, realizing the utter absurdity of his outburst, slowly sat back down, his face burning crimson. He mumbled, just loud enough for Yn to hear, "I think... I think I just became the most embarrassing dad in the city."

Yn, still shaking her head but now laughing freely, patted his arm. "You know what, Rudy? You might have just become the most entertaining dad in in the city."

The play continued, the actors managing to regain their composure, and yes, they did eventually perform the kiss. It was, as Yn had predicted, a quick, innocent peck. But this time, when Romeo and Juliet leaned in, Rudy just closed his eyes and took a deep breath, a small smile playing on his lips.

After the play, as they waited for Clara backstage, the auditorium was still buzzing with talk of ‘that dad’ and his hilarious outburst. When Clara finally emerged, beaming and flushed with the success of her performance, she ran straight to Rudy.

Instead of scolding him, Clara threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. "Dad," she said, her voice muffled against his chest, "You were so funny! Everyone loved it!"

Rudy looked at Yn, who winked at him. He looked back at Clara, her blue eyes sparkling just like his own. He might have overreacted, he might have embarrassed himself, but in that moment, seeing the joy on his daughter’s face, Rudy knew he wouldn't trade being ‘that dad’ for anything in the world.

Even if it meant facing the faint possibility of becoming a viral internet meme tomorrow. And perhaps, he thought with a chuckle, he had inadvertently created the most memorable Romeo and Juliet performance their little Californian town had ever seen. After all, who could forget the night Romeo and Juliet’s kiss was interrupted by a dad yelling "NOOOOOOOO!"? It was, in its own chaotic, comical way, a perfect Rudy moment.

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