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strawberrystepmom · 6 months

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pokemon trainer au! gojo x f!reader. reader is a fairy gym leader and satoru is league champion and a flying type trainer. a bit of world building! we discuss fairy gym leader and satoru's first meeting and their future plans a bit. wc 2.6k

part one, part two (you are here), part three

divider by @/cafekitsune!!!! 🩵

Unsurprisingly, the news of the current League Champion stepping down spreads like wildfire and you chuckle while spooning cereal into your mouth and leaning against the counter in your kitchen, Skitty eyeing you desperately from the floor below begging for a bite.

You scoff at her and point toward where her bowl lies a few feet away, full to the brim, and she rubs her tail against your calves while you lean over the counter and narrow your eyes at the TV, chomping on another perfectly soggy mouthful while watching clips of Satoru’s recently televised battles as Champion flash across the screen.

“Damn he’s good,” you mutter to yourself as if it’s a surprise. You know very well how good Satoru Gojo is, it’s why you’ve spent the last three years refusing his requests to battle. He has no reason to battle you other than bragging rights and you know his ego to already be overly inflated even if it is rightfully so and you’ve been satisfied with your decision until now.

You’ve spent two days trying to figure out why he asked you on this journey in the first place, stuffing your long forgotten camping gear and various repel sprays and medicinal sprays in the largest bag that you own while pondering every aspect of why. Why you?

Thinking back throughout the years, you remember every interaction you’ve had with the man fondly. Perhaps it’s the teensy crush you’ve always harbored for him painting the memories as sweet or maybe he is simply sweet beneath the brash and arrogant exterior. People are capable of being more than one thing at once, an important lesson you’ve learned in your life. You met him when you were still going to school and he was a member of the Elite Four, your shock seeing the way he and his Sneasel worked together against a schoolmate of yours was enough to catch his attention.

The two of you were the same age back then, fifteen, but on two clearly different paths - he was destined to become Champion and your own future felt undefined but free, something you’ve always craved.

He winked at you that day in response to your wide eyes and parted lips and you’ve never forgotten it. Not that he’d ever let you, the starstruck look is something he manages to sneak into almost every conversation the two of you have had since. Clearly it had an effect on him too and you’ve been quietly smug about it for a long time.

“And now we have a few words from the Champion himself. Mr. Gojo?”

You nearly choke on the mouthful of cereal you’re working on swallowing, holding your chest while Skitty chirps happily at your near imminent demise. You’ve always been certain she’d be the first to eat you if you were to die so you glance down, shaking your head, before gluing your gaze back to the man on the TV with a glistening grin as wide as the screen he’s upon. It’s a surprise to see him, you were certain he’d let his spokespeople do the heavy lifting, and it does nothing to answer the question on your mind of why he picked you.

He would be infuriating if you didn’t find him so charming. His hair flops over his eyes, big and blue and beautiful as ever, and he is wearing a suit which is something you don’t think he has ever truly done before. You know the PR around this must be a nightmare if they’re hauling him onto daytime television in a suit likely designed by the finest designer in Johto and sheer amusement makes your lips twist into a smile seeing him nod politely to each question he has been asked.

“Thank you for giving me the time to talk about my future plans,” he grins and you scoff, Espeon now joining you by hopping on the counter. You start to fuss at her but stop yourself as soon as Satoru begins speaking again, his head bowed humbly. Whatever he’s saying goes in one of your ears and out the other, your eyes trained on the way his pretty mouth moves instead of what he’s saying, and Espeon chirps at you. You toss her a glance and reach for the remote, turning up the volume to actually listen to the man on the screen.

“How can someone call themselves a Champion if they aren’t rising to every challenge they can?”

Nodding, you’re surprised that’s the public reason he’s giving. Perhaps he won’t mention the travels of the two of you at all and you are his mere escort, someone far more familiar with the routes criss crossing your home of Kanto and the other regions than he is, and if so, you’ll accept that although his pretty mouth looks a little less pretty when you remove the thought that he may have a thing for you as well from your mind.

“I need to challenge myself to be even better, to see this entire world, to experience every Pokemon I can and I’ve invited a friend along with me,” his words fade out when he says your name and mentions Camellia Town, the place you’ve called home for the last five years, and you watch the camera pan back to the surprised expressions of the show hosts. Despite their shock, he continues carelessly and your jaw drops as wide as it did the first day you ever met him.

“If you see us out there, don’t hesitate to stop and ask for a battle! My partner is capable of more than she lets on.”

Almost as if every one of your companions hears him, they all turn toward you and you sigh. Espeon blinks, Skitty begs at your feet, Piplup chirps enthusiastically at your snowy white Vulpix - they’re as ready for adventure as you are and you’ve taken it too easy on them.

“I know, I know.”

Throwing your hands up in surrender, you intentionally ignore the buzzing of your phone on the counter next to you. The screen lights up with messages from your friends and fellow gym leaders, one of your best friends’ names at the top of the screen. You read her messages and snicker to yourself, shaking your head.

Call me now. What do you mean you’re traveling with THE Satoru Gojo?????????

THE Satoru Gojo you’ve whined and pouted over for years?????

Oh this is delicious. I love you. Call me NOWWWWWWW.

Scoffing at the last message, you drag the device to your ear and listen to the dial tone on the other end, only to be met with screeching when she picks up.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” You groan at her words and hear her boyfriend chuckling on the other end, probably making her breakfast in his cozy little Dark type gym in the city.

Some girls have all the luck and it comes in the form of raven haired gym leaders that think they hung the moon. Others get stuck with arrogant men that have the attention of the entire world on them at all times. You make a mental note to ask her for tips later but for now you play defense, shocked at the tone of your own very best friend in your ear.

“What was I supposed to say? This dude I’ve had a crush on for a decade asked me to go rough it with him?”

“That’s exactly what you’re supposed to say but you don’t talk to anyone about anything ever,” you let her go on a rant and you roll your eyes, pantomiming her words about needing to be better about telling everyone what’s happening with you.

It’s true, you’re terrible about keeping everyone up to date even your own mother who you’re certain is calling you judging by the beeping you hear alerting you another call is coming through, but you figured by this point in your twenties everyone would just accept it. You’re old enough that you won’t be changed and it’s time for everyone to just accept it.

“Okay, well, next time the man you’ve loved for ten years shows up and asks you to run away with him you better call me. I love you!”

You return her admiration, smooching and making kissy noises into the microphone, before immediately ending the call and watching the screen fade to blissful blackness, no notifications for a moment. The television screen pans back to the newscasters who are still buzzing with your name and you know anonymity on this journey is a dream.

Perhaps you should have known better from the start that it would be anything but a normal journey to travel by Satoru’s side but you have always been a little bit of a hopeless dreamer.

Your phone buzzes again and you sigh, looking down to see the name on the screen belongs to the man of the hour himself. Discarding your cereal bowl, you scramble to pick up the phone and press it to your ear.

“Did you see me?”

You snort, shaking your head while Espeon crawls across the counter to eavesdrop.

“I did and you looked great. New suit?”

You swear you can hear how smug he sounds from the other end of the speaker and you roll your eyes for the tenth time in an hour, scooting back from the counter to bend at the waist and press your forehead against it. How are you still reacting to a crush this way at 25?

“Yeah somethin’ stupid they put me in to make me camera ready but I didn’t call for compliments although they’re appreciated,” you hum and giggle, wondering what he could have to say next. “Did you like my little shout out though?”

“No. I’ve been getting calls nonstop for fifteen minutes.”

Gojo chuckles and you want to wrap yourself in the sound like a warm blanket. It drips with his confidence but it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard and tomorrow’s deadline of his arrival to come get you starts to loom when your eyes fall on your half packed suitcase that is spread across the floor of your living room. To get your mind off of it, you switch gears and raise your brows, cheeks puffing out as you exhale.

“Satoru, can I ask you something?”

He hums affirmatively. His mind wanders a bit to what you could possibly ask or if you’re rethinking your commitment to take this journey with him. Was this morning too much? He has been reminded endlessly his whole life that he’s too much and from everyone else, it doesn’t bother him. From you, it would wound. He has always wondered what you really think of him, not just a fifteen year old version of you in a denim miniskirt with her mouth agape at his abilities.

“Why did you invite me?”

He’s relieved you have no intention of wounding him after all and he plays off his relieved sigh with another chuckle, twisting his mouth to the side in the back of a car driving him from the PokeNews Network headquarters back to his high rise apartment in the city. The last two days have been a whirlwind of nonsense and he’ll be glad when the rush is over and the two of you are finally on the road to wherever the wind will take you next. The city rushes by outside of the tinted window and you wait for his answer, yanking your phone from your ear to scroll through your social media.

“Is it such a crime to want to get to know a pretty girl better?”

That’s the last answer you were expecting and it’s evident by the cough he hears on the other end of the phone. Espeon approaches you and rubs her head against your knuckles and you squint to read the name on the little dark screen.

“If you wanted a pretty girl I’m sure whoever @FlyHighGojo is must be pretty and would love to be by your side for the journey.”

Your eyes scan over the message in front of you eloquently listing out the ways you could never love the former Champion as much as whoever mans this account does and you laugh, swiping the app closed. He tilts his head, smiling despite himself.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Your rabid fangirls? They’re currently on my feed in droves and now they know what I look like so I’ll be shocked if I don’t have a crowd outside of my house by the end of the day.”

He sighs, thinking quickly on his feet. There’s no regret about mentioning you, in fact he’s proud he was finally able to do so since he thinks about you all the time, but he does feel bad that the droves are out and seething over it.

“I’ll come get you before they have the chance. Be ready by 5.”

Looking back at your half packed suitcase, you groan.

“Really?”

“Really. We’ll start tonight instead of tomorrow.”

“Okay, but give my question a real answer first.”

Words dance in Satoru’s head yet he struggles to string them together. How can he tell you it’s because he has had a crush on you for ten straight years without sounding utterly pathetic? This is the most powerful man in the League and certainly a figurehead of the culture of your life and that of all humans who love Pokemon, who would he be if he admitted seeing the look on your face that day has haunted him since?

He was in love at first sight, he has just always been too preoccupied to worry about it. Now, it’s all he can think about.

“I’ve always wanted to get to know you better and I’m running out of time to do it.”

He has been League Champion for eight years, unstoppable in every single way, and he’s willing to walk away from it just to spend time with you. Your heart feels so heavy and light at the same time, a lead filled balloon, and his honesty seals the deal.

“Perfect. I’ll be ready for you at five.”

Amusement is all you hear from the other end of the phone, his laughter making you grin. You make him feel so blissfully normal that he forgets to be embarrassed by his slip of his true feelings.

“That’s all you have to say?”

You hum affirmatively, mirroring his own response to your prior question.

“I don’t want to make you sick of me before we even leave so yes, for now.”

Although he thinks it would be impossible for him to ever get sick of you despite the little bit of distance that still remains between the two of you, he appreciates your forethought. This trip is a means to finally win you over, uninterrupted.

“Alright. I’ll see you at five.”

He ends the call with your goodbye and confirmation of the plan and holds his phone to his chest for a moment, shutting his eyes tightly. Most of what he knows about you is secondhand information fed to him by the same friend who just accosted you for your plans with him, the two of them close thanks to her relationship with his best friend. She has filled in every blank he has ever had when it comes to you and he finds himself indulging in imagining you filling in the rest of it during his ride home.

Yes, this is a chance to get to know a pretty girl better but you aren’t just a pretty girl. You’re you. Patient, kind, funny, gracious…he could go on but stops himself, raising a perfectly arched white brow while he looks out the window and into the limitless sky, as blue as his eyes.

It’s time for him to figure out who he is if not Champion and he can’t wait to do it by the side of the most patient person he has ever met.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #pokemon au #kendall writes

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kellysbookblog · 2 years

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Devil of Dublin by BB Easton is now live!

From the Wall Street Journal bestselling author of 44 Chapters About 4 Men (inspiration for the Netflix Original series Sex/Life) comes a dark mafia romance steeped in Irish folklore. I can't remember anymore if my grandfather's eyes were blue or green, but I'll never forget the way they wrinkled at the corners when he laughed at one of his own jokes. Or the way they sparkled with mischief when he told me tales about the magical creatures that dwelled in the forest behind his humble Irish sheep farm--shy fairies who liked to eat tea biscuits, cruel witches who liked to eat children, a moody lake spirit with a taste for expensive gifts. As a child, I believed every fantastical word. But when he warned me about the mute boy who also lurked in those woods, the one the priest had declared to be the spawn of Satan himself, I refused to listen. Kellen wasn't evil. He was kind, and beautiful, and special, and hurting. He was my friend. And with every summer I spent stolen away with him in those enchanted woods, he grew to become so much more. But when I return to Glenshire as an adult, grieving and engaged to someone else, all those legends quickly morph into nightmares. My grandfather had been right about everything, especially the boy. If only I had listened. AUTHOR'S NOTE: Devil of Dublin is intended for mature audiences who enjoy extremely dark subject matter, high emotional intensity, explicit adult content, graphic violence, heart-pounding suspense, fairy-tale worthy love, and gorgeous Irish scenery. If that sounds like you, then welcome to Glenshire! If you're unsure, please review the comprehensive content warning on my website before reading.

Download today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

https://mybook.to/devilofdublin

Special edition hardbacks and paperbacks are also available with an alternate cover designed by Emily Wittig and eight full-page, B&W photos of the gorgeous Irish locations mentioned in the book!

Also available in audio!

Narrated by: Elizabeth Klett and Eric Nolan

(an Irish actor seen on Game of Thrones, Vikings, Vikings Valhalla, & The Witcher)

Meet BB Easton

Wall Street Journal bestselling author BB Easton lives in the suburbs of Atlanta with her long-suffering husband, Ken, and two adorable children. A few years ago, she quit her job as a school psychologist to write books about her punk rock past and deviant sexual history full-time. Ken wasn’t super excited about that, but now that he’s appeared in three of her books and inspired a TV show character, he’s incredibly supportive.

BB’s debut memoir, 44 Chapters About 4 Men, went on to inspire the Netflix original series, Sex/Life, which was viewed by 67 million households worldwide within the first month making it the 3rd most-watched Netflix original series of all time. Because she had so much fun writing 44 Chapters, BB went on to publish four more wickedly funny, shockingly steamy, and heartwarmingly autobiographical books, one for each man in her memoir—Skin, Speed, Star, and Suit.

The Rain Trilogy—a dark, immersive, end-of-the-world romance—was BB’s first work of fiction. Or at least, that’s what she thought when she wrote it in 2019. Then, 2020 hit, and all of her dystopian plot points started coming true. Hoping to fix everything, BB returned with a fun, feel-good romantic comedy called Group Therapy, but alas, the world is still on fire … and so is BB’s desire to write intense, us-against-the-world romances. Her next release, Devil of Dublin, is a dark Irish mafia romance steeped in folklore and family secrets.

You can find BB procrastinating in all of the following places:

Website: www.authorbbeaston.com

Instagram: www.instagram.com/author.bb.easton

TikTok: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMeEKRLyS/

Facebook: www.facebook.com/bbeaston

#TeamBB Facebook Group: www.facebook.com/groups/BBEaston

Twitter: www.twitter.com/bb_easton

Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/artbyeaston

Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/user/bbeaston

Goodreads: https://goo.gl/4hiwiR

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/bb-easton

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hiccanna-tidbits · 3 years

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So I woke up at 4 am last night and my brain went “What if Jackunzel...but sapphic???”

aND HERE WE ARE

Also look, yes, I know Jackie/Jacquelyn Frost is the go-to when it comes to fem!Jack Frost names, but I just...didn’t think it suited her??? I wanted something a bit more unique, and I liked the sound of Jaina! And then I got very inspired and wrote a ficlet, so ENJOY SOME LESBIAN JACKUNZEL

DON’T TELL ME THEY WOULDN’T BE THE PUREST FUCKING SAPPHICS YOU’VE EVER SEEN IN ALL YOUR LIFE

The first time Rapunzel met Jaina Frost, she asked her if she was a fairy.

She certainly looked like one of the winged creatures from Rapunzel’s storybooks. She floated just off the ground and could flit around the room quicker than a hummingbird. Her hair whipped around her in long white tendrils, thick waves like hills of freshly-fallen snow. It shone like it, too--nearly blindingly when the sun hit it, Rapunzel noticed.

She could ice up the entire floor with one sweep of her staff and would whoop and cheer and laugh so hard she snorted when she slid around on it on her bare feet. All behavior Mother would find very undignified, Rapunzel was sure.

Not that Jaina had ever cared in the least about dignity.

She’d nearly fallen out of the tower window when she first saw Rapunzel poised to hit her with a frying pan. Her next reactions had been even stranger--hooting and doing flips and jumping around because apparently, people didn’t normally see her.

It was nice to have a friend. Mother hadn’t warned Rapunzel off of other girls, although Rapunzel was certain that in practice she wouldn’t approve of them. Not that it mattered. They quickly found that Jaina was as invisible to Gothel as she apparently was to everyone else.

Perhaps it was selfish, but Rapunzel liked that. She had Jaina Frost all to herself.

Jaina gasped in horror when she heard Rapunzel had never touched snow. Her hammy overreaction only got more and more ridiculous as Rapunzel explained she had only ever seen winter from the confines of her tower--and Mother usually shut the window to keep the cold out, anyhow. Jaina clutched her heart at this, pretending to faint in her despair.

“Well, if you won’t just leave and go outside, like I keep telling you you should...” Jaina crossed spindly arms and glared at Rapunzel. “I guess I’ll have to bring the winter to you.”

And bring it she does. When Mother won’t be back until evening, Jaina swirls together soft, cotton clouds and makes it snow in Rapunzel’s room. They make snow angels on the floorboards and toss snowballs at one another from behind dressers and wardrobes and chairs, giggling all the while. Rapunzel’s decided she’s going to blame any water stains left behind on some kind of flooding.

Mother won’t be mad over that sort of thing. She’ll just fuss over her and breathe a sigh of relief when Rapunzel can still sing as beautifully as ever.

When Rapunzel’s birthday rolls around, she confides to Jaina about the floating lights. She’s pushing 18, and she still hasn’t left the tower. Jaina fixes her with a catlike smirk, and turns away.

When she sweeps her hands back, she’s holding some kind of ice-blue cylinder, made of swirling crystals and snow with a crescent moon etched on the side.

“They’re lanterns,” Jaina explains. “The kingdom does a festival with them every summer. I’ve flown over it plenty of times. I could...”

Jaina looks away, and Rapunzel could swear she sees her friend’s cheeks go a little pink.

“I could take you. You know. If you wanted.”

Rapunzel shakes her head. “I can’t. You know Mother would...”

Jaina groans and rolls her eyes. “You’re really way too beholden to that woman, Rae. But if you insist on staying...I might be able to do something almost as good.”

And so they sit on Rapunzel’s windowsill, legs dangling over the side (Jaina can catch Rapunzel if she falls), and Jaina Frost puts on a show. She makes dozens of frozen lanterns and whisks them into the sky, and they float and bobble and catch first the dying rays of the sunset and then the soft silver of moonlight.

Rapunzel’s never seen something so beautiful in all her life.

She glances over at Jaina once, and she’s looking at the blonde girl like she sprinkled all the stars across the night sky the same way she dappled them onto her tower walls. Jaina looks away almost immediately, face reddening.

After a while, Jaina takes to spending the night. It was by accident the first time--the girls were up late having stupid pillowfights and telling each other stories in Rapunzel’s bed, and at some point they both started to yawn.

Before she knew it, Rapunzel was waking up with a faceful of white waves smelling vaguely of wintergreen, cedarwood, and cashmere sweaters. Her arms were curled around a thin, sleek waist, and she felt her heart speed up tenfold.

She had no idea why being so very close to her best friend was making her incredibly nervous, but here she was.

It’s the first of many nights they’ll wake up wrapped up in each other. Always, they claim, by accident--but neither ever seem to mind.

It becomes a routine of sorts. Rapunzel wakes up early and untangles herself before she has to give too much thought to the nervous sweat that nearly breaks out at every point of contact. She tries to get Jaina up too to help with morning chores, and Jaina rolls onto her stomach with her face in the pillow and whines and bitches and moans until Rapunzel relents and lets her sleep for 10 more minutes.

As she sweeps the floor, Rapunzel tries not to think too hard about the placid expression on Jaina’s face as she sleeps. As she mops, she tries not to think too hard about the way Jaina’s face scrunches up when she’s having a nightmare, and the way it makes Rapunzel want to wrap herself around the other girl like a protective shell. As she polishes the staircase banister, she tries not to think too hard about the way Jaina’s eyes shine like sunlight on icicles when her entire face erupts into a grin.

It’s probably peculiar, thinking about your best friend in such excessive detail.

Two years pass, and Rapunzel is pushing 20. When she looks in the mirror, she notices nothing seems to be changing. She doesn’t look any older than when she first met Jaina. Maybe the changes are just too imperceptible for her to notice, but 17-year-old Rapunzel seems to be stuck in a kind of limbo.

She wonders if it has anything to do with her magic glowing hair--the hair that makes her mother’s wrinkles disappear whenever she sings a special song.

She knows it should alarm her, not aging. Instead, she feels a strange kind of relief. There are worse things than being stuck as the same age as Jaina Frost.

There are worse things than not having to grow old and leave Jaina behind.

They’re lying in Rapunzel’s bed one afternoon, the blonde girl sprawled on top of Jaina to carefully brush on eyeshadow. It’s an elaborate picture--a beautiful deep twilight blue sprinkled with intricate snowflakes and rimmed with glittery white snow.

Rapunzel is the only one who will ever see it, but they’re both all right with that.

The eyeshadow is long done by now, Rapunzel getting carried away painting snowflakes and icicles and tiny pine trees on snowbanks dancing across Jaina’s cheeks and forehead. She smiles proudly and holds up a hand mirror. Jaina just snorts.

“You’re going to make me look like a clown, Rae.”

“Hmmmm.” Rapunzel puts the mirror down and continues adding a gleam to a white icicle on Jaina’s temple. “A very pretty clown.”

“You...think I’m pretty?”

Jaina’s gaze turns oddly serious. The timid way she asks it is unlike her.

Rapunzel stops, frowning. “I mean...yes. I always have.”

“Why?” Jaina wrinkles her nose. “I’m a mess. My hair’s always all over the place, and I can’t keep a room clean to save my life. All I can do is make ice, blow cold wind around, and leave a fucking wreck wherever I go. Why would you think I was...?”

“Jaina! Language!” Jaina just rolls her eyes.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.” Rapunzel smiles again. “These have been the most fun years of my life, thanks to you. You stuck around here with me, even when you have the whole world to explore, and I can’t even imagine how boring it must seem in this tower. That’s worth more than you know. And for the record, I think you’re gorgeous.”

Jaina’s cheeks turn redder than chrysanthemums, standing out starkly against her pale skin. “Oh, stop it,” she mumbles. “I look like a gremlin next to you. World’s nicest hair, flawless skin, the face of some kind of Greek goddess or something. You’re a knockout. I couldn’t even hope to measure up.”

“You...think I’m a knockout?” Rapunzel feels a blush of her own coming on.

“Well, yeah.” Jaina smirks. “I thought it went without saying.”

“Nothing really ‘goes without saying’ when you’ve only ever met two people,” Rapunzel points out.

“I guess.” Jaina shrugs. “I forget you don’t have a huge frame of reference. But trust me, ask anyone from that kingdom on the other side of the forest and they’d say you’re really attractive. I doubt any passing knight on a steed would be able to resist you, if they saw your hair hanging out the window like some...cascading sunshine waterfall.”

Rapunzel bit her lip, feeling unsettled by the thought of men on horseback finding her tower. She’d never met a member of the male gender before, and she hadn’t exactly heard good things.

“I don’t know if I want that,” she admits.

“I don’t blame you,” Jaina says. “Half of them are stuffy, arrogant pricks, anyways. Or they’re so sappy and poetic it kind of makes you want to throw up.”

Rapunzel bites her lip, feeling nothing but mild discomfort at the thought of a strange man trying to serenade her. Maybe it wasn’t fair to rule out what she didn’t know, but...

“No, I mean. I don’t know if I want men. Like...at all.”

“Oh. Oh.” A hopeful gleam swims into Jaina’s ice-colored eyes. Tiny, almost imperceptible, but there.

“Wise choice, honestly,” she says nonchalantly. “Even being invisible, I haven’t met many I actually cared to know. I think I’d much rather be here with you.”

Rapunzel wonders if Jaina would feel the same if any men could see her. She wonders if Jaina would still choose her company if some free-spirited, energetic boy was able to see the frost sprite, and wrote her beautiful sonnets about her moon-white hair. Some boy not stuck in a tower with an overbearing mother, some boy who couldn’t hold her back.

The thought fills Rapunzel with an unexpectedly bitter wave of jealousy.

She shakes it off, reaching into the makeup kit beside her and feeling around until her fingers curl around a tube of lipstick. She smiles, pulling it out.

Jaina groans in mock annoyance. “Are we still doing this? Aren’t I going to look ridiculous?”

“Not at all.” Rapunzel uncaps the lipstick and gently slides it across Jaina’s mouth.

The blonde girl leans back and admires her handiwork. She holds the mirror up to Jaina again.

Her lips are a bright, icy blue, like the glaciers Rapunzel can only ever hope to know through the pictures in her books. Slowly, Jaina smiles.

“You look like you could deliver the kiss of death,” Rapunzel teases. “Freeze your true love on the spot instead of awakening them from eternal slumber.”

“Want to test that out?”

Jaina smirks, voice surprisingly bold. Rapunzel can’t help but notice the pink rushing to her friend’s cheeks, though, despite her best attempts to sound casual.

“Huh?” Rapunzel frowns down at her, confused.

Jaina’s smirk shrinks a little, the first traces of fear darting into her eyes.

“Only one way to figure out whether I actually carry the kiss of death.” Jaina shrugs, still trying to seen nonchalant but voice not nearly as confident as before.

“Ah.” Rapunzel smiles playfully. “But if it works, you’ll have to find a new best friend, won’t you? Sounds like a lot of trouble for you.”

“That’s okay, Pascal will just be my new best friend if I kiss you to an early grave!” The chameleon squeaks disapprovingly from the dresser nearby.

“Come on, Rae,” Jaina says. “I really have to know. The curiosity’s killing me here.”

Rapunzel can feel Jaina’s breaths against her own chest, quick and shallow. Scared, almost.

Jaina is a lot more nervous than she’s letting on.

Still, looking down at the curve of Jaina’s lips and the unfailingly cheeky gleam in her eyes, everything suddenly feels just right.

Rapunzel slides her arms onto either side of Jaina’s head. She leans down, and captures Jaina’s lips with her own.

She tastes cold and sweet--like frosty vanilla and mint chocolate chip ice cream. Her lips aren’t perfect--chapped in places, pricked with tiny ice crystals, moving with a sort of nervous frenzy that comes with disuse.

Nonetheless, they feel like home.

Rapunzel slides her fingers into white hair, and it’s silky like clouds. So soft. So perfect.

The only real thought Rapunzel can process is that she never wants to let go. Perhaps part of her is terrified if she does, Jaina will dissolve into the ghost she is to everyone else.

She feels Jaina wrap her hands around the collar of Rapunzel’s dress, pulling her closer. It’s more comforting than Jaina knows.

Jaina pulls away first, hands loosening and head tilting back. She meets Rapunzel’s eyes for a few moments, processing what just happened before breaking out in an enormous grin and a series of delighted giggles.

“You just--you look so dumb,” Jaina chortles. “Like you tried to eat the sky or something.”

Rapunzel glances into the hand mirror, now long since pushed aside. Her mouth is smeared with bright blue, trailing onto her skin in pale smudges.

She smiles. “I can live with that.”

Rapunzel leans down and kisses Jaina again.

Yes I used that one picture of the girl straddling the other girl while putting her makeup on for inspiration for this, what of it???

Also for whatever reason, I love the idea of Fem!Jack calling Rapunzel Rae? I feel like Fem!Jack’s teasing and pet names would be a tiny bit different than boy Jack’s, idk.

I JUST AKSJCUBWSYD

I KINDA WANNA DO MORE FEM!JACK X RAPUNZEL CONTENT

Pic credits available upon request!

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xxwhisper255xx · 3 years

Text

Huma Fanfic- Goodnight

Audrey didn’t quite know what to make of her new roommate. She knew that she was the daughter of a sea witch, had a pirate crew, and apparently destroyed cotillion. There were worse roommates to have.

Uma mainly kept to herself, staying on her side of the dorm and avoiding conversation with the princess. It seemed to be going smoothly.

The first time Uma left their dorm at 9:30 at night, Audrey didn’t think anything of it. She was probably just getting a drink or something, and she returned just before curfew at ten o’clock. But this became a routine. After a week of the same thing, Audrey was starting to get suspicious. What was so important that she needed to do right before curfew? Was she planning some villainous act? Trying to take over Auradon like Mal and her friends did?Sometimes she worried that Uma wouldn’t return in time, but her roommate always managed to slip in the door just before ten. Her paranoia and curiosity eventually won over and Audrey decided to follow her.

Audrey followed Uma down the multiple corridors of Auradon prep. They had already past the kitchen and the entrance that led outside, but Uma hadn’t show any sign of slowing down. It wasn’t until they were in the section where the male dorms were that she stopped. Audrey quickly ducked behind the corner and watched in confusion as Uma approached one of the doors. What were they doing outside the boys dormitories?

Peeking around the corner, she realised that Uma has disappeared into the dorm. Audrey crept closer and found that it was slightly open, just enough for her to peek inside. She glanced through the crack, trying to stay as quiet as possible. The first thing she saw was Gil passed out on one of the beds. He drooled on his pillow, making the princess grimace. Uma appeared at his bedside, pulling blankets over the sleeping pirate. After he was tucked in, Audrey’s eyes followed Uma to the other side of the room. Harry Hook sat on the other bed, fiddling with his hook, which had been dulled when they arrived in Auradon. She watched as Uma sat beside him and they talked in quiet voices, not wanting to wake up Gil.

She looked back up just in time to see Uma embrace her first mate. He buried his face in her neck and squeezed her tighter. Audrey was shocked at the intimacy, not expecting to see a VK look so vulnerable. She stepped back, suddenly feeling bad for intruding on such a personal moment. A few moments later she heard Uma’s voice become clearer as the pirate moved towards the door. “... get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Audrey jumped back and darted down the hall, back to her room. Uma closed the door behind her just as the pink blur disappeared around the corner. She furrowed her eyebrows and sped back to her dorm. When Uma returned to her room right at 9.59, Audrey was sitting on her bed, pretending to read. The two girls’ eyes met, and Audrey froze. It felt like she could see right through her. The princess looked back, and the look of understanding in her eyes was enough to make Uma relax. The two went to bed without a word.

——

It was a few weeks later when Uma’s routine was suddenly knocked off balance. The two girls sat on their beds, Audrey writing in her diary and Uma doing homework for her goodness class. As an unspoken rule, neither had mentioned Uma’s nightly visits.

A loud static filled the room before Fairy Godmother’s voice came through the sound system.

“Attention, Auradon Prep. As we will be expecting some royals on campus for a meeting tomorrow, I expect all students to be in bed by 9.30 so you can wake up bright eyed and bushy tailed! Thank you, have sweet dreams.”

Once the sound cut out, Audrey glanced over at Uma. The pirate was glaring at her homework, her eyebrows furrowed.

“Uma, are you alright?” Audrey asked softly. The pirate looked back at her with a calmness that looked completely fake.

“Course, Princess.” She said, scoffing like the question was ridiculous.

Audrey frowned. She didn’t know why it was so important for Uma to see the boys every night, but she knew that it had to be big if she was like this.

“I’m sure they’ll be okay.” The princess said hesitantly. It was the first time either of them had directly mentioned Uma’s nightly visits. She immediately regretted breaking their unspoken agreement.

“I know,” Uma replied, collecting her work and dumping it on the desk. Audrey felt relief at her response and followed suit, putting her diary away before climbing into her bed. She glanced over at Uma once she was settled, but all she could see was her roommate’s back. Audrey sighed and rolled over, drifting off to a peaceful sleep.

——

It had only been a couple hours when her sleep was interrupted by a horrific scream. Audrey sat up quickly, looking around for danger. Finding none, her eyes landed on Uma.

Uma was still asleep, but she was panting and gasping for air. Her hand was reaching around for a weapon or something. “No! Don’t touch them!” She shrieked to an invisible threat.

Audrey leaped out of her bed and raced over, grabbing Uma’s arm.

“Uma, it’s okay, you’re okay,” she said, shaking the pirate. Uma trashed harder, tears now pouring down her face.

Audrey had to think fast. She knew that Uma wouldn’t want Fairy Godmother or Mal (who’s dorm was the closest) to see her like this, so they were out of the question. Suddenly, the obvious answer struck her and she stood up.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” She told the pirate, before dashing out of the room.

Audrey ran barefoot down the hallway, trying to remember the room number she was looking for. Spotting what she hoped was the right door, she skidded to a stop and knocked urgently. It took about ten seconds for the door to be opened, revealing a sleepy Harry Hook, looking confused at her sudden appearance.

“What do I owe the pleasure, princess?” He grumbled. She had no doubt that it looked weird, showing up at his door in her silk pink pjs at two AM.

“It’s Uma,” she barely got the words out before he suddenly became wide awake. Before she could say anything else, he had already pushed past her and was running down the hall. Audrey pulled herself together and followed him, having trouble keeping up with him.

She reached her doorway, panting. Harry was already beside Uma’s bed.

“Uma,” he whispered, sitting down and pulling her into his arms.

“It’s alright, captain. We’re in Auradon. You’re safe,” he continued to reassure her in whispers that Audrey couldn’t hear. “Harry?” Uma mumbled, her eyes opening.

“Right here, love. You just had a bad dream, is all.”

Uma choked on a sob and dropped her face onto his bare chest, her breathing still rapid. Audrey stood in the doorway, feeling like an intruder in her own room.

“I’ll get her some water,” she said, not sure if either of them even heard her.

——

When Audrey returned, she was met with only quiet. She opened the door and stepped in on her tiptoes, not wanting to disturb them. The two pirates were curled up on Uma’s bed, the girl in question being sound asleep. Harry looked up from his captain and met Audrey’s gaze. She tried to smile, lifting the glass of water.

“Is she okay?” She asked, looking at Uma asleep on his chest.

“Yeah. You did the right thing, comin’ to get me.” He told her, gratefully.

Audrey nodded, placing the glass of water at Uma’s bedside.

“So I assume you’re staying?” She asked politely, not wanting to sound like she was trying to kick him out.

“Anyone gonna know?” He asked, tightening his hold on his captain as if the very idea of leaving her was impossible.

Audrey chuckled and moved to her own bed.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,”

Harry gave her a small smile before looking down at Uma.

Audrey watched them for a second before speaking hesitantly.

“Has this happened before?” She questioned, her curiosity getting the better of her. Harry was silent for a moment and she wondered if she had overstepped a boundary.

“Happens on occasion, but it’s usually the other way ‘round.” He said finally. “There was always someone on the ship that woke up screaming.”

“Is that why she visits you guys every night?” Audrey spoke before she could stop herself. When Harry didn’t show a notable reaction to her question, she guessed that Uma had told him she knew.

“Yeah. We used to share a room back on the ship, but we can’t do that here so seeing her is the best she can do to help stop me from havin’ nightmares. I guess it helped her too.”

Audrey wondered if he was revealing all of this because he was tired, or if he really trusted her with that information. Either way, she was beginning to understand her roommate a little bit more.

“Goodnight, Harry,” she said, getting back into her bed. She heard him respond quietly before she fell into a deep sleep.

——

“Is everything okay? We heard noises from your dorm last night,” Mal asked at breakfast the next morning. Audrey saw Uma and Harry tense up across from her and jumped in.

“Yeah, it’s fine. I started sleep walking and Uma woke me up. Sleep issues seem to run in my family,” she glared playfully at Mal, who laughed in response.

The topic of conversation shifted quickly and Uma met Audrey’s eyes, nodding in thanks. The princess smiled back. The two girls shared a mutual respect, and Audrey knew that this was only the beginning of their friendship

#huma #uma daughter of ursula #harry x uma #descendants #descendants fanfiction

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txemrn · 3 years

Text

Happy (belated) Mother's Day! Book: TNA Warning: THIS IS PURE SELF-INDULGENCE! I decided to take some time and a) make Sam Dalton lovely and b) not kill off a certain handsome king; but fair warning, this is filled with fluffity-fluff-fluff with smidges of angst; discussion of infertility and maternal loss Song Inspiration: "We Thought You'd Be Here" by Wes King A/N: This is part of the Schuyler-Dalton Chronicles (Check out "Once... Always..." the mini-series that started it all); the characters belong to Pixelberry; I stole a quote from one of the greatest Christmas movies of all time 🎄; I am not perfect: I take full responsibility for all of my spelling and grammatical mistakes; I'm hoping you can ignore them and enjoy the story! 💗

Before the brilliant rays of the Sunday morning sun could greet the New York City skyline, Brynn stares aimlessly at the vaulted ceiling of the master suite. Although she physically craves rest, the clattering commotion of her congested thoughts keep her restless and exhausted.

Frustrated with her inability to calm her nerves, she quietly crawls out of bed, being careful not to disturb her peacefully sleeping husband. She retrieves his discarded pinstripe button-up shirt from the floor, and wraps it around her exposed body. After snatching her phone from the nightstand, she tip-toes cautiously across the wooden floor to the ensuite bathroom.

Staring at her abdomen in the mirror, the all-too-familiar excitement laced with sheer dread latches heavily onto her heart. Her breathing labors, loudly thundering in her ears; a sour uneasiness pours through her nerves, settling on her queasy stomach. She tenderly cradles her belly. Her fingers brush across the flattened contours of her healthy physique until they rest curiously on two tiny, flesh-colored scars: the remnants of a pregnancy that simply wasn't meant to be.

"Are you there, little one?" She whispers hopefully. She endearingly hugs her tummy once more fighting back tears from the painful emptiness she has felt many times before.

But, maybe this time was different.

Brynn turns to her digital calendar to ensure that this wasn't in vain, that there was a reason she was doing this today of all days.

She clicks her tongue on the side of her mouth. "The first day… that was the third," she mumbles to herself, "which makes today... one, two, three, ah! Four days late."

She fills a crystal tumbler with water before locking herself into their opulent water closet. Taking one last massive swallow of the room temperature fluid, she tears into the bright pink box. Without giving it another thought, she tosses the printed directions and plastic wrappers into the wastebasket as she places the apparatus between her legs. She knows the routine; this is far from her first pregnancy test.

Before Sam and Brynn married four years ago, the discussion of having more children created much discord between the couple. Entering his forties, Sam was satisfied with having just his twin boys, Mickey and Mason. They were growing older with flourishing social and academic schedules; keeping up with them alone was challenging. Sam's line of work wasn't slowing down anytime soon, especially with the couple's meditated decision to buy out their shares from Dalton Enterprises to start their own company projected during their first year of marriage.

Brynn was still youthful, ending her twenties by becoming a Dalton with her childhood dreams still intact: getting married and starting a family. She adored Sam's boys, quickly and naturally claiming them as her own; but, a large part of her desire was to become a mom biologically, to carry a child created by her and her beloved.

After experiencing a tragic ectopic pregnancy early in their relationship that almost cost Brynn's life, Sam's heart softened to the idea of having another child. He saw the depth of Brynn's broken heart; he felt the depth of his own humanity, facing the possibility of losing the love of his life. Again.

Somehow having the last word about the size of their family didn't matter to Sam anymore. Conceiving would be difficult, but they agreed to cherish the journey together, whether the family expanded or not.

The shattering of crystal startles Sam awake. With one eye peeking open, he inspects the empty disheveled sheets on Brynn's side of the bed.

"Brynn?" he gruffly calls out as he reaches for his eyeglasses on his nightstand. Listening fervently into the silence, he hears a muffled whimper. Throwing on a pair of heather-gray sweatpants, he investigates the tinkering of something sharp being scraped on the floor from the bathroom.

"Babe?"

'"I'm fine--" her voice is dampened by the door. And her tears.

"Brynn baby," he softly knocks. Opening the door to the small area, he reveals his kneeling wife with shards of glass splayed all over the floor. On closer inspection, she's attempting to clean up the mess with her bare hands. "Oh my God--"

"I'm sorry. I'm such a klutz. I-I-I know it was your favorite--" she stutters through her sniffles.

"Baby!" he grabs her wrists, forcing her to drop the broken pieces. "Stop-stop-stop. You're bleeding."

"I'm fine--"

"Come here." Sam grips his wife's arm snuggly, pulling her into a stand before tucking her petite body into an embrace. Pressing his lips against her hairline, he reaches down with his arm, lifting her body into a cradle-hold against his chest.

Sitting her on the sink, he quickly inspects her feet, ensuring no glass had blindly infiltrated her skin.

"I'm sorry--" she silently offers, wiping away the wetness in her eyes.

'Stop," he brushes a wisp of her hair behind her ear. He leans closely towards her, desperately wanting to dive into her stormy blues; but, her eyes stay trained on her hands.

Sam takes her injured hands in his palms, and gingerly rinses them in the sink. After allowing the water to run clear, he finally breaks the pained silenced.

"Was it negative?"

"I-I just needed a sip of water to take some Tylenol, and-and--"

"Baby," he coddles her face, making her look at him. "Did you--did you think that you--? That we were--?"

Brynn drops her head as rivers from her eyes roll down her cheeks. Sam delicately wraps her in a tight hold, peppering her sweetly with kisses.

"I thought for certain," she sniffles. "I was so shocked when nothing popped up on the test that I dropped the tumbler." She sarcastically chuckles through the sadness to herself. "And I thought it would be so sweet to find out today--today of all days. It sounded like a fairy tale, but it's now turning out more like a nightmare." She buries her face into Sam's shoulder as he tightens his arms around her body.

"I think it’s time that we--” Sam lets out a sigh, “--make an appointment--"

"No." She breaks from his hold, turning to leave the room.

"Brynn."

She angrily twirls around to face her husband. "And what, Sam? We've made appointments. What could they possibly tell me that we don't already know?"

"Okay-okay-okay--" Sam stifles the budding fire. “Forget that I mentioned it.” He reaches for his wife, pulling her back assuredly against his chest. "Please don’t cry,” he whispers into her ear, his hands rubbing her back intimately. “I am your husband, your confident. I am in your corner. Always will be." He looks down, lifting her chin attentively to his eyes, a subtle smirk growing across his face. "You want the moon?"

Brynn chuckles through her sobs resting her hands on his bare chest.

Sam presses his lips to her forehead. "Just say the word," he quietly teases. He nibbles across her cheek, his voice becoming lower, huskier, "and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down--"

Brynn meets Sam's lips in a tender kiss. She slips her arms around his neck, tugging him in closely as their mouths entwine as one.

Pulling back to dance in his sultry chocolate eyes, Brynn casually twirls the wavy locks in the back of Sam's head.

"You are my moon, Samuel."

Sam presses his forehead to hers. "I love you. We'll work through this." Looking back into each other's eyes, he begins to trace small circles on her back.

"We always do," Brynn playfully kisses his nose. "I love you, too."

"Let's head back to bed," he suggests, holding Brynn tightly, escorting her backwards to the bed. "I have a feeling that two eleven-year-old stars in our galaxy have a special surprise for you later this morning."

*****

"Happy Mother's Day, Mom!"

Brynn pops one eye open to a brightly sunlit room, only to be met with two pairs of doting brown eyes crowding her weary face. She lets out a guttural yawn.

"Mmm… thank you, boys." Brynn turns over, pulling the down comforter over her head.

"The subject is still sleeping, but moving, Dr. Dalton!" Mason playfully speaks into his watch. "I think we have a heartbeat!"

"Can't be too sure, Mr. President," Mickey dramatically grabs Mason's arm, keeping in character. "I'm afraid we're going to have to shock her. Or amputate."

Brynn squeezes her eyes closed, pretending to still be asleep as she hides her snickers. She loves listening to the boys play, using their vivid and clever imaginations. Even though they were getting older and 'too cool' for some things, she's pleased to see their dreaming hasn't stopped.

"Charge to fourteen zillion. And-- clear!"

All of a sudden, the boys ambush Brynn, tickling her feet and pinching at her sides.

"No-no-no! Ah!" She yelps, her words caught up into her laughter. "You turkeys!" She breathes heavily as she inadvertently kicks her feet wildly.

"Stop--ohmygod--Sam! Please!" she beckons between snickers, "I can't breathe--"

"Very fine work, doctor!" Mason cackles.

"Thank you, Mr. President!" Mickey mimics his brother, continuing to jovially attack their stepmother with tickles.

"ENOUGH!" Brynn screams. She grabs Mickey by the arm, pulling him into her lap, and starts plastering sloppy kisses all over his face.

"Gross! Mom! No!" he screams in agony, all the while Brynn giggles with each goofy kiss.

"Eww!" sputters Mason as he starts to crawl off the bed.

"Oh, no you don't, mister!" Brynn grabs him by the ankle, gathering him in an embrace as she plants tender kisses on his cheeks.

After a few more minutes of laughter and slathering of kisses, Brynn feels the struggle dissipate in her arms, the boys now cuddling tightly to her body. She rests her cheeks on the tops of their heads, eliciting a gentle, satisfactory moan. Soaking in the moment, Brynn realizes the truth: she is a mom. She already has everything she has ever wanted wrapped up in two beautiful bouncing balls of energy.

As the boys share the plot of the game they were playing, she secretly savors the scent of their warm brandy curls, cherishing the soft texture of their waves against her skin.

My boys. The thought of a life without them terrifies her; though her heart longs to create and deliver a baby with Sam, she would never trade this unexpected, ready-made motherhood she inherited by becoming a Dalton. In her eyes, her family is already perfectly whole. She hopes that with time, her desire for a baby will be silenced.

"Boys?" Sam calls from the kitchen. "Where are my sous chefs? This fruit isn't going cut itself."

"Uh-oh," Mason lowers his voice, "we better go, Dr. Dalton."

"Roger that, Mr. President!" salutes Mickey before turning his attention to Brynn. "Stay right here, Mom. Mother's day is just getting started!"

"I hope it's fluffy with maple syrup on top!" Brynn singsongs as the boys bounce off of the bed. She gleefully tucks herself back under the weighted comforter, glowing from the beautiful moment she shared with her sons.

Moments later, the boys barrel around the corner, this time with Sam in tow, balancing a lap desk with an immaculate breakfast spread; but keeping with tradition, the spread is for everyone. Brynn refuses to eat in bed alone.

The delightful aroma of the feast teases their stepmom's senses, and she quickly steals a strawberry slice. She instantly starts dividing up the pancakes, the grilled sausage and scrambled eggs as all the Daltons climb into bed.

"Mickey, do you want some of this--" she stops mid-sentence, her attention being stolen. Her eyes focus on a white satin jewelry box, tied with a pale pink bow.

"What is this?" She curiously lifts up the box while Mickey and Mason beam with excitement.

"It's a new kind of tradition," Mason coyly answers.

Brynn, clearly touched by the gesture, turns to her husband who's relaxing on his elbow. "Did you know about this?" she whispers. "No gifts--"

Sam raises his hands in defense. "They really wanted to do this. They did this all on their own. Saved up their allowances--"

"Uncle Robin took us to the mall and helped us pick everything out," explains a humbled Mickey. "Can she open it now, Dad?"

"She's the mama," he chuckles, swiping a kiss against the back of her hand.

Brynn meticulously unties the bow and unfastens the delicate pieces of wrapping paper, revealing a simple white box. She takes a moment to soak up her sons' excitement, who are intently watching her.

Biting her bottom lip, she opens the lid, revealing a stunning, white gold charm bracelet, already hosting several ornate charms. Brynn's mouth falls open in shock while her eyes well with tears. Taking it as their cue, the boys crawl into her lap.

"You said you always wanted one growing up--"

"Yeah," interrupts Mickey, "so we thought we could make you a mom charm bracelet."

Taking a few breaths to find the right words, Brynn distraughtly looks to a grinning, elated Sam. She looks back to the boys before fixing her eyes back onto the thoughtful piece of jewelry.

"Here, Mom," Mason takes the chain, and loops it around her wrists to clasp it. "We've been practicing,'' he smiles.

"You're doing it wrong, Mase," whispers a slightly irritated Mickey.

"I am not," Mason huskily rebuttals.

"You are, too."

"Am not!"

Brynn pulls her wrist away as the twins begin to stick their tongues out at each other.

"Guys! C'mon--" chastises Sam as he takes over,, clasping the bracelet to his wife’s arm. "Don't ruin the moment."

"Sorry, Mom," the boys simultaneously apologize, giving Brynn heartfelt looks of remorse.

After squeezing them tightly and thanking them for the very thoughtful gift, Brynn continues to admire the charms they picked. Two identical charms in the shape of a boy silhouette and a tourmaline birthstone catch her attention first.

"'Michael Aaron' and 'Mason Alexander'." A large smile plants securely on her mouth as her fingers trace over the etching of their names.

She tinkers through a few more charms, including a soccer ball, a microscope and a stand mixer. She stops at a simple silver heart with the inscription 'November 18.'

"I thought this was a mom charm bracelet," Brynn jests. "Why is our wedding anniversary on here?"

"Because that's when you officially became our mom."

Unable to control her tears, Brynn pulls them onto her lap, rubbing their backs before caressing their heads in her hands. Sam leans over, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips again and again.

This is all she ever wanted; this was her childhood dream. This is her family.

The four Daltons quickly ate breakfast in bed, laughing at the irregular shapes of the pancakes and the random eggshell in the midst of their scramble.

"Well," Brynn finishes first, "in the spirit of new traditions, I'd like to start a new one now, too. But we have to clean up and get dressed."

"Really?" squeals Mickey.

"Cool! What is it?" inquires Mason.

Brynn shakes her head. "It's a surprise." She hands the boys their empty plates, giving them a knowing wink. They both eagerly grab the dishes, and hurry to clean up the kitchen.

"Should I be worried?" Brynn flashes a sweet smile to an inquisitive Sam.

"Trust me, baby."

***

"Happy Mother's Day, Mrs. Brynn--"

"Oh, Mr. Carter!" Brynn collects a stunning bouquet of lavender tulips from Dalton's longtime driver. She takes a quick sniff of their sweet fragrance, wrapping an arm around endearingly around the older man's neck. "These are lovely! Thank you so much!"

He graciously nods, adjusting his hat with a sweet smile.

"So, the farmer's market?"

"Yes sir--"

"And I have the second address pulled up and ready to go."

"Perfect. Thank you for doing this."

***

Brynn and Sam walk hand-in-hand through the aisles of vendors, the boys remaining close. She has a destination in mind, but Brynn refuses to rush such a lovely sunny Spring day with her special guys.

They make a pit stop to try a few samples of freshly cut mango and dragon fruit. The twins sweetly plead a case for a smore with homemade marshmallows and tempered chocolate.

They finally stumble upon a florist with a delectable selection of gorgeous bulbs and gathered creations.

"We're here, boys," Brynn announces with a big smile.

"You wanted flowers?" Mickey wrinkled up his nose, sharing a confused look with his brother.

"Well," Brynn squats next to her sons, "sorta. I want you two to pick out the biggest, most beautiful bouquet."

"'Biggest'?" echoes Mason. "And 'most beautiful'?"

"Yes," Brynn giggles, "I want the biggest and the most beautiful. When you're finished," she holds up her crossbody purse, "my treat."

Sam gingerly grabs hold of Brynn's elbow, holding her back from the flower search.

"You're up to something," his eyes darken, staring into her stormy grays. A corner of his mouth curls waiting for an answer.

Brynn captures his bottom lip in a tender tug. "Trust me," she whispers, pulling his lips back into hers. His hands naturally find the curves of her rear, massaging her lovingly. "C'mon," Brynn grabs Sam's hand, her fingers intimately lacing with his.

The twins did not disappoint. With the help of the florist, Mickey, true to form, picked out a beautiful bouquet of red, white and blue wildflowers, homage to his favorite football team. Mason was charmed by the long-stemmed sunflowers. He has a stunning arrangement of orange and yellow flowers amongst a cloud of babies' breath.

"Guys, these are absolutely perfect!" A glimmer and sparkle grow in Brynn's eyes as she investigates the colors and smells. "You two did wonderful!"

"Happy Mother's Day!" Proud of their work, Mickey and Mason offer their bouquets to Brynn, but she quickly waves them away.

"Hold them for me, please. We have one more stop to make."

***

Carter picks up the Daltons, and quickly takes a detour, leaving the city. The car remains silent from conversation; the gallop of the wheels plodding against the rubber road lull the boys into a nap. Brynn rests her head against Sam's broad chest. His strong arm wraps tightly around her shoulders, his cheek basking amongst her vibrant almond waves.

"Excuse me? Mr. And Mrs. Dalton? We're here."

Carter kindly opens the door for the family to exit to their new endeavor in the country. There is a brisk chill in the air, but nothing the bold sunshine couldn't cure. Instead of the familiar sounds of people shouting and horns honking, they were surrounded by birds chirping, grass whistling, and leaves gently clapping.

"Where are we, Mom?" whispers a nervous Mickey, the first to file out of the car.

Brynn bends over, kissing his head. "You'll see, baby. You'll see. Did you grab your flowers?"

Mickey nods, handing the other bouquet to Mason.

Sam climbs out of the car, instantly aware of his surroundings. "Um, sweetie," he motions with his finger for her to come closer. "You think they're ready for this?"

"They've been ready for this. Trust me." She touches her hand to his downcast face, offering a tender smile. "How about the boys and I go on ahead?"

Sam soaks in the nature around him as a sweet breeze lingers on his face. Grabbing Brynn's hand, he kisses it delicately before letting go with a squeeze. "Okay."

"C'mon, boys," she reaches out, taking the boys by the hand, "we've got someone to talk to."

They enter the iron gates, walking respectfully on the stony pavement. They wind around on the path, trees gracefully blooming above their heads. They finally come to a fork in their venture.

"Okay, you two," Brynn walks in front of them only to kneel down to stop them. "Do you know where we are?"

"A cemetary?"

"That's right, Mase--"

"So, there are dead people buried underneath us?" Mickey cautiously asks. “Cool.”

"They are buried here," explains Brynn, "but we aren't walking on top of them. Their bodies are marked by those big rocks with writings on them--"

"Headstones!"

"That's right, Mase. They're called headstones."

"Why did you want to bring us to a cemetery for Mother's day?" questions Mickey. "That seems weird."

Brynn chuckles pulling him into a tight embrace. "Cemeteries are a beautiful place to communicate with those who have already passed. Sometimes on special days, like birthdays or anniversaries--”

“Or Christmas!” interjects Mickey.

“‘Or Christmas,’ that’s right.” Brynn stands. “Those days can be sad and lonely for those of us still alive on earth because we miss them so much.” She begins to draw closer to a plot with a large white granite headstone. “Spending time with them where they are buried is a way to remember them and to show them that we still love them.”

“Do they, um, talk back?” nervously asks Mason.

Brynn smiles sweetly at her stepson, hugging him tighter as they continue their saunter. “I’d like to think so, but not in the way we expect them to. Like sometimes, it might be a familiar fragrance, or a familiar song. Something to remind us that they are looking down, watching us, loving us.” Brynn nods in the direction of the breathtaking, large stone. “Go ahead.”

The boys cautiously step towards the monument, laying their flowers on top of the glistening stone.

“Caroline Austin Dalton--” Mason reads out loud, tracing the etching carefully with his fingers.

“That’s mama, right, Mase?”

“I think so, Mick.” The brothers endearingly hold each other’s hands as their eyes focus on her name. Mason’s eyes begin to well with tears first. “I can barely remember her--”

“Me, too.” Mickey quickly turns to Brynn, motioning for her to come closer. “What do we say to her? You’re our Mom--”

“--and she is your mom, just in a different way.”

“How do we talk to her?” shrugs Mickey.

“How do you talk to me?” Brynn smiles warmly, pushing a curl out of Mickey’s face. “Just talk. Talk about your day. Your favorite food. Your soccer game on Thursday.”

The boys raise their eyebrows at each other before returning their gaze back to Brynn.

“Here. Let me show you.” Brynn crawls onto her knees, facing the memorial. She clears her throat. “Caroline? Your boys picked out the most beautiful flowers for you.” Brynn grabs Mason’s hand. “You’d be so proud of them. Mason here is a straight-A student. Loves science, and is quite the little baker.” Brynn wraps an arm around Mickey. “And your first born here loves to play sports, and has a very vivid imagination.”

Brynn clears her throat. “It’s now your turn,” she gently rubs their backs. “Don’t worry; if she is anything like me, she’s dying to have you talk to her. Go ahead.”

Mason steps forward, placing a sincere hand on the headstone. “That’s Brynn, Mama--”

“And she’s a really great Mom,” chimes in Mickey, “she was originally our nanny--”

Brynn slowly backs away, allowing the twins to talk. She casually glances to the side, and notices a man out of the corner of her eye, taking swig from a flask: her husband.

Brynn casually walks up to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. She kisses the exposed skin of his chest, her lips crawling up his neck to his stiff chin.

“Please don’t be mad at me for this.”

Sam chuckles, avoiding eye-contact. “Some warning would’ve been nice--”

“So you could stop me?”

“Touché.” Sam takes another sip of bourbon, drifting back into a silent watch over the boys.

Brynn tightens her embrace around her husband. Breathing a sigh of satisfaction, she listens to the sweet bursts of giggles amongst the conversation being held by the twins in the distance.

Sam grips tightly to Brynn’s body, his mouth attempting to form words. “They haven’t been here since--” he swallows thickly, “since that day. I always wanted to keep her memory alive and bring them here, I just...” his voice begins to wander.

“Sam?”

“Hrmm?” he glances back down into Brynn’s sparkly blue eyes.

“You’re allowed to miss her, too--”

“Brynn... I--”

“It’s okay, baby--”

Sam caresses Brynn’s cheek with the back of his hand. “I love you--”

“That’s not what this is about,” she kisses his hand away from her face.

Sam clings tightly to his wife, rubbing his hands up and down her back. Painful tears that he had been holding back for over nine years spill down his cheeks as the floodgates of emotions wash over his body. “You truly are the best thing that has happened to this family,” he purrs in between sniffles.

After a few minutes of holding each other tenderly, Sam joins the boys at the graveside. Sharing sweet memories amongst each other, Mickey and Mason find solace in their father’s lap.

Brynn discovers a nearby bench to watch and wait. Humbled and satisfied by the day that had started so terribly, she smiles brightly as her beautiful family spends time, savoring the precious stories of the past.

A sudden gust of wind barrels across Brynn's face. Drying the rushing rivers from her cheeks, her hair dances carefree in the tumbling breeze. Her eyes flutter close as she lays her hands on her abdomen.

"It's okay, little one," she sweetly hums, "but if you like laughing, and if you like living... and if you like dancing and dreaming," Brynn cradles her abdomen tightly, "we'll be waiting."

The afternoon sun seeks refuge into darkness; the street begins to illuminate with the buzzing of lamps and lightning bugs. The laughter dies down and the conversation quietly stops. Sam slowly rounds up the boys, guiding them back to Brynn.

“I think we’re ready to head back,” Sam suggests, wrapping his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Anymore surprises?” he chuckles, pecking his lips to hers.

The corners of her mouth curve. “You three go on ahead,” she playfully pats Sam’s rear. “I’ll be right behind you guys.”

Sam raises an eyebrow before nodding his head. Placing his hands on each boy's shoulder, they walk towards the car where Carter is dutifully waiting for them.

Brynn approaches Caroline’s tombstone, graciously sitting next to it. She casually traces over her name, imagining how excited she must’ve been the first time she signed her name 'Mrs. Dalton'--just like her. Brynn finally rests her hand on the cold stone, tears of joy recollecting in her eyes.

”You gave me everything I could’ve possibly wanted,” a sob hitches in her throat. “Thank you for making me a mom. It was never supposed to be like this,” she chuckles to herself. She looks over her shoulder, watching Sam load up their sons into the car. “God, it’s so much better than I could’ve ever imagined. I promise I'll take care of them--"

“Brynn?” Sam calls out from the distance. “Ready, baby?”

“--all three of them.”

***

"Goodnight, boys. We love you," Sam whispers to the boys as he closes their bedroom door.

Brynn's eyes twinkle at her handsome husband, his gaze falling deeply on hers. She effortlessly takes his hand, draping it around her shoulders, pressing her tired cheek against his chest. Kissing the top of her head, he escorts her to their room, switching off lamps along the way.

"I've got one more surprise for you," Sam growls as he shuts their door.

"Mmm…" Brynn begins to tug at his waistband. "I love these kind of surprises," her mouth gently presses into the side of his neck, her teeth gingerly nipping at his pulse point.

"Baby," Sam chuckles, his wandering fingers combing through her golden waves. "I, um--" he clears his throat, "I actually do have something I want to talk with you about."

"Oh?" Brynn suddenly cups her hand over her mouth. "Oh!" she sighs, "I know, I know. I probably should've at least told you about my plan of going out to Caroline's grave--"

"Baby, I--"

"It just made sense in my mind at the time," she interrupts. "I don't want our boys forgetting they have two mothers that love them very much--"

Sam raises an eyebrow, a mischievous grin growing.

"What? Is it about the tumbler? I swear, I'll replace--"

"Brynn baby?" Sam takes ahold of both of her hands. "I love you," he places a sweet peck on her lips, "but shut up--" they start laughing at his words before he continues. "--now, come with me."

She follows him into the bathroom where he hands her a bottle of water.

"Wh--what's this about?" she furrows her brow.

"I was taking out the trash this morning after breakfast, and noticed your test--"

"Sam--"

"Your test, baby," he steps closer to her, holding it in his hands. "The box says it expired two years ago. I know you stockpile these things and keep them hidden." Brynn crosses her arms as her neck flushed with embarrassment. "Isn't there supposed to be some kind of line on it to show that the test is still okay to take?"

"A control line, yes. What's your point?"

"Brynn," his eyes pierce into hers, "yours doesn't have one." A playful grin crawls across his face. "And-and-and according to Google, you need one for the test to be even considered valid."

Brynn looks at the test, and realizes it's completely blank from any and all lines. She appreciates her husband's passion and agrees this is peculiar, but the point he is trying to make sounds way too good to be true. This isn't a movie or a fairy tale. And those lines fade after a test has been performed. Or do they?

"Brynn? Did you hear me?"

Brynn nods her head, biting her lip in deep thought. She wants to feel his excitement, but she can't be let down, not even just one more time. It had been the absolute perfect day with the absolute perfect family to where she is mom. Can she just end Mother's day feeling, well, like a mom?

"C'mon," he steals her water, popping the cap. "I bought a new test today while we were at the market--one that wasn't expired. Let's try again."

"Sam, no," she refuses to take the water back. "Besides, it's best to take it first thing in the morning--"

"So, what you're saying is that you want me to wake you up in a few hours to pee--"

"No, I'm saying let's drop it." Growing irritated, Brynn brushes past her husband and back into the bedroom.

Sam drags his fingers down his face. He follows suit, chasing after her. He reaches for her shoulder, but she dodges his touch.

"Brynn baby--"

"No--"

"Answer me this then," he bites back, "why did you take a test in the first place?"

Brynn freezes for a moment, staring at the ground. She doesn't want to argue, and she knows that her husband's questions come from a good place. They had always been open with one another; why not now?

"I thought I was." Brynn crosses her arms, blinking away tears.

Sam sits on the bed in front of her, looking tenderly at his bride. He grazes his finger tips up and down her hips until she finally looks down at him, drying her eyes.

"You might be, baby," he whispers, smiling into her gaze. "That was one test, one test that I'm pretty sure was bad."

Brynn casually combs Sam's waves back with her fingers, curling around his ear. Sam presses his nose to forearm, inhaling deeply the remnants of her floral perfume.

"For me?" Sam grazes his lips up her arm, finally resting them on her bare abdomen.

Touching his chin, Brynn tenderly nods.

***

Sam sits on the side of the garden tub, his elbows resting on his nervously bouncing knees.

After what seems like an eternity, Brynn emerges from the closet bathroom. Uncontrollable tears drench her red, blotchy face.

"Sam--?" her voice panics, her body shaking as she reaches for Sam.

Without missing a beat, he lovingly captures her in his arms. His hands intimately stroke her back as she sobs into his chest.

"Shh... baby. It's okay." Sam presses his lips into her hair, holding her close. "It’s going to be okay--"

"Sam--?" Brynn pulls away from Sam's chest, offering him the test as she cups her mouth.

Sam inquisitively takes the test from Brynn. And his eyes widen, shaking his head in disbelief. And he smiles.

“Happy Mother’s day, baby.”

*****

TNA Tag List (please let me know if you would like to be added/removed): @ao719 @charlotteg234 @chemist-ana @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @lovelyladyk88 @lucy-268 @neotericthemis @pixie88 @sfb123 @shannonwrote @shewillreadyou @secretaryunpaid @thefrenchiemama

#the nanny affair #m!sam dalton #m!sam x mc #mickey and mason #choices tna #tna fanfic #mother's day

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doridoripawaa · 3 years

Text

Zenderella

What’s the point of wishing upon a star at night?

Could stars even hear wishes from up in the sky?

Zen continued to dream, with aspirations bright,

And hoped that one day, he would be able to fly.

Each day felt like a nightmare, trapping him inside,

As he strained to endure his family’s abuse.

Their cruelty was something he could not abide,

As they treated him like some hideous refuse.

But he found a release in the form of the stage

When he was not tidying up around the house.

Theater helped to free him from his family’s cage

That forced him to act as a quiet, ugly mouse.

One fateful night would transform his entire tale.

A night that’d show dreams and love would always prevail.

Clean as could be. Not a speck of dirt or dust in sight.

To meet these goals, Zen would likely need to work all night.

His parents and his brother would be off to the ball,

While they expected him to stay home and clean the halls!

Little did they know, tonight in that grandiose gala, the primary source of entertainment would be coming from the one who they had scorned, ridiculed, trampled, abused. The highlight of the night would come not from the dancing and music--which were to be expected at this type of event--but from the players who would take the stage and enchant the guests with a whimsical tale. Apparently, the princess of the kingdom had been struggling lately, living a life devoid of joy, hope, wonder, or optimism; thus, the king and queen had demanded a riveting tale that could restore the spark to their child’s eyes.

What kind of life was that? Even Zen, pitiful as he was working on his hands and knees in his family’s home, had his dreams. He had a reason to live, a reason to keep pushing forward. Did royalty ever feel troubles, though? At first, he hadn’t been sure; he thought all nobles and royals were born with a silver spoon in their mouth and would never understand what it meant to truly toil and suffer. However, after hearing the plight of the princess….

Maybe, just maybe, that princess was different.

A sudden rap at the door interrupted Zen from his tumultuous thoughts. With a grunt he lifted himself off the floor to his feet, and he brushed the dirt and dust off of his apron and his knees before heading over to the front door. The rest of his family had already left for the ball, leaving him behind to make their home sparkling clean before they returned.

Maybe, just maybe, today would be the day he wouldn’t have to return.

A second knock came, sharper and more urgent than the first. Zen brushed some sticky, loose strands of his feathery grey-white hair out of his face, and then he hurried over to the door, not wanting to keep his guest waiting.

Honestly, he’s lucky that he decided to run, because as soon as he opened the door and saw a brunette woman scowling at him, he realized that she probably would have broken down the door if he had taken much longer.

“J-Jaehee,” he stammered as he looked down at his castmate. Out of all of the members of the troupe, she was the one with whom he felt the closest connection. She had an incredible work ethic, a true passion for the stage, a meticulous eye, and a personality that wouldn’t shy away from any task given to her. She would always be the first person to speak up if she didn’t like the idea for an upcoming show, but she’d also be the first person to shower the rest of the cast in praise for their heart-wrenching performances.

She also seemed to have a special fondness for Zen, which did wonders not only for his ego but also for his motivation. An actor’s job wasn’t to smile--it was to make others smile.

However, Jaehee also was the type of person who could easily kick you to the ground in three seconds flat if you messed with her or her crew. Apparently, running late was something that could land you on her hitlist, because the glare that her fierce coffee-colored eyes gave him was one that sent shivers down the young man’s spine. He was already ashen, but somehow, he felt as though that stern look made his face grow even paler. “What a delight to see you, babe.”

A soft blush rose to her cheeks, but she quickly managed to force that down. “Don’t b-babe me,” she muttered. “You were supposed to arrive backstage an hour ago. I had no choice but to fetch you myself.”

A whole hour? Zen glanced at the clock and his ruby eyes flew wide open in a panic. “Shit,” he muttered. “I got so distracted by this stain that I… well, that isn’t important.” He sighed and began to untie his apron. “Let me gather my belongings, and I’ll scamper off with you into the sunset, okay?”

He couldn’t tell if her face was flushing red from embarrassment, ire, or exasperation. “P-please make haste!” was all she managed to sputter before Zen headed to his room with a wink and a flick of his wispy ponytail behind him.

~~~

Ball gowns and smiles, pressed suits and polished shoes.

A room full of guests who appeared amused.

As MC stepped down the staircase that night,

Her eyes swam with woe, rather than delight.

Royal life was difficult to abide.

She felt lonely, with no one by your side.

What sorrows could have the heir to the throne?

A life of solitude, scared and alone.

She hoped to enjoy herself at the ball.

She wondered if you would feel joy at all.

When she descended the steps, her eyes glowed.

They had arranged for her to see a show.

The lighting in the room dimmed down and a hush fell over the attendants as actors made their way to the elevated platform at the front of the room. Murmurs and mumbles began to spread throughout the crowd. What was happening? Was this planned? Of course, the king and queen would never allow for any tomfoolery to take place at their event, so this must have been carefully orchestrated. But why take time away from the socializing, the dancing, the mingling? Would this show be enough to dazzle the audience?

Zen had the drive and the skill to ensure that it would.

A sharp inhale of breath, as Zen smelled the perfumes of the ballroom.

A twirl of his long, cascading hair around his fingers, as Zen relished in its softness.

A glance at Jaehee, as Zen sought comfort in her level smile.

A bite of his lip, as Zen tasted the remnants of berries on his tongue.

A twitch of his ears, as he strained to hear the music that signaled his cue.

And as soon as the clock struck, Zen departed from behind the scenes, and Cinderella strode out onto the stage.

Cleaning, cooking. Obeying, behaving. Little “Cinderella” was stuck, trapped at the whims and wills of her abusive family. As Zen knelt down to “scrub” the stage and enact all of her chores, he couldn’t help but feel a growing pit growing in his stomach and anxiety welling in his mind. He wasn’t worried about not portraying the character accurately-- on the contrary, he was nervous that he had embodied her too well. The parallels in Cinderella’s life with his own were almost frightening.

But here, on this stage, this was the one place where his chains were released, his shackles were open, and he could fly, free as a bird. He could forget his worries, he could abandon his burdens, he could become someone else and live his ideal life.

He could sing to his heart’s content, as a free bird, rather than a caged one.

A step. A song. A smile.

The fairy godmother was spinning her magic and casting a spell on the entire crowd, watching with wide eyes and gaping mouths. Above all, however, Princess MC found herself absolutely entranced, hooked on every word and her eyes tracking every single motion, every spin, every twirl, every wave of a wand, every flutter of a skirt. The costumes, the dances, the makeup… they were all spectacular. But above all, the star of the show, Cinderella, really shone like a princess in her own right. Who was this actor with skin as white as snow, hair as soft and pale as the clouds, and eyes that sparkled brighter and warmer than the reddest flame?

Cinderella, despite all of her hardships, had never let go of her dreams.

As Cinderella spun around and her filthy rags turned to magnificent robes, MC’s eyes twinkled and she felt a rush of excitement flood her. When was the last time she had genuinely felt so… happy? Watching this character’s aspirations be realized, watching Cinderella break free and manage to escape for one night of whimsy and fantasy at the ball, made MC’s heart swell. She wanted to cheer Cinderella on, encourage her, support her. Cinderella, who suffered at the cruel hands and horrible words of her family.

The way the actor walked forward, radiant white locks tumbling down his back as he took those first steps towards his dream. The way his drab brown and grey costume melted away, revealing a soft pink tunic and radiant periwinkle cloak, perfectly accentuating his figure while giving him an air of regality. He reached up and clutched a hand to his chest, and then when he opened his mouth to speak, MC felt certain that she had died and been transported to heaven.

That was no mere mortal whose voice she was hearing. She was currently being serenaded by an angel.

Princess MC was only snapped back to reality by the sudden sharp increase in volume of the music.

“And so Cinderella went to the ball,” the narrator announced in a booming voice, trying to orate over the echo of the strings and percussion. “Hoping to grab a dance before midnight should fall. Please, esteemed guests, enjoy your time to dance. Like Cinderella and her friends, may you find your fairytale romance.”

At once the actors and actresses began to mix with the crowd. Most of them moved in pairs and began dancing with the lads, lasses, lords, and ladies of the party. A few of guests rushed up to the actors and actresses--one of the actresses, a slender young woman with short chestnut-colored hair and eyes warm like mocha, was particularly popular--to try to woo them and coax them into a dance.

Perhaps on any other day, MC would have rolled her eyes and tutted softly, disappointed in their fawning and flattery. Today, however, she felt… softer. More in touch with her emotions.

Emotions that she had feared had disappeared into thin air, vanished as she drowned in the duties and obligations of her station, without a chance to fantasize or dream like she had done as a child.

The princess wasn’t normally one to take advantage of her station, but as she stepped forward, heels clacking against the tile ground, the crowd seemed to part ways before her. Out of reverence, out of fear, or out of pity, she couldn’t be sure, but their motives were the least of her concerns. As long as she could reach her destination, her goal, the means didn’t matter.

“Excuse me, Cinderella?”

Silence befell the folks gathered around the grand actor, as the princess of the kingdom spoke. The actor himself looked somewhat startled, but he masked it well; MC could only detect a faint glimmer of apprehension flicker in his rich red eyes before it faded away and a smile settled onto his white lips. “Good evening, Princess,” he greeted MC with a wink. “Did you enjoy our show?”

Enjoy? That would be putting her feelings mildly. “I absolutely loved it,” she whispered, and then she cleared her throat. No point in being meek with her request-- she was determined to obtain exactly what she wanted. “In fact, I liked it so much,” she went on, tilting her shoulders back and lifting her chin to stare directly into his eyes, “that I have a request for you.”

He tipped his head to the side in confusion, causing his flowing white tresses to sway with the movement. Nevertheless he kept that same smile on his face. He then nodded firmly and asked with that little coy look in his eyes, “Of course. Anything for you, babe.”

Babe? Now that was a new one. MC could feel her face flushing as crimson as the actor’s eyes, but she tried to ignore it and hoped that he wouldn’t be so brash as to actually draw attention to it. Nobody would dare to tease the princess, right? “If I may be so bold as to tear you from your fans,” she began, “then might I ask Miss Cinderella for a dance?”

A new expression lit up those eyes, that pair of flames that stood out in stark contrast to the rest of his ashen features. Was he… surprised, flattered, bewildered, flustered, or…?

She couldn’t be sure, but despite whatever turmoil was burning in his eyes, he kept the rest of his expression level. In fact, the corners of his mouth twitched upward into a… smile?

“It would be my honor,” he told her with a wink and a bow at the waist.

“We haven’t much time left in the night, so to the dance floor, we shall make haste.”

And so he extended his hand, which MC graciously took with a squeeze.

To the center of the dance floor they scurried, where they could dance as they pleased.

With one hand on MC’s shoulder and the other resting right on her hip,

Cinderella led her across the floor, with a waltz, a twirl, and a dip.

The princess, for the first time, let herself give in to another’s demands.

She simply followed, losing herself to the feel of his step and his hands.

His grip was firm but gentle as he guided her to and fro ‘round the floor.

The princess could lose herself in his rhythm, dance with him forevermore.

His radiant ruby eyes matched the ribbon in his flowing, snowy hair,

But it was the warm smile on his face to which no gem could ever compare.

His statuesque features glimmered under the chandelier’s glorious light,

And as she took them in with her gaze, she knew she’d never forget this night.

As the music reached a crescendo, the actor pulled her close to his chest.

“Thank you, mademoiselle,” he whispered, and she felt her heart pound in her breast.

“The pleasure is all mine,” she told him, as she reached up to caress his face. “Thank you for making a world of magic and wonder in this humble space.”

He laughed at her words, and as he leaned in with his breath hot against her ear,

“Princess, you’re the one who made my night magical,” he whispered, “my dear.”

The chime of a clock tower suddenly boomed, and quickly they pulled apart.

Princess MC felt relief, as she struggled to steady her pounding heart.

The actor’s expression, however, had shifted from mirth to misery.

“They said they would return at midnight,” he murmured, “which has arrived, I see.”

Before she could ask what he meant, he lifted her hand and gave it a kiss.

“Thank you for this memory,” he told her, “and for a night I’ll truly miss.”

Then he dropped MC’s hand and dashed away to the entrance to the grand hall.

As he flew away like a frenzied dove, something from his outfit did fall.

Princess MC tried to scamper after him, but she was left in his wake.

Then she spotted the fallen accessory, which from the ground she did take.

A ruby-red ribbon, which matched the mysterious actor’s gorgeous eyes.

“I never got his name,” she said; his identity remained a surprise.

~~~

As soon as the sun rose the next morning, Princess MC followed suit. She knew that she had to hurry after that actor in fast pursuit. What if he belonged to a traveling troupe and they’d be gone by the end of the day? Princess MC knew she could not allow the object of her affections to get away.

With any luck, he was still somewhere within the territory, but she would have to act fast. The princess carefully scrutinized the team of knights she had amassed. She told them, “We’re searching for a young man with hair and skin fair.” Then she lifted the ribbon: “With eyes the same color as this ribbon,” she declared.

Near and far, to and fro, the princess’s team began to search. They checked the shops, the plazas, the gardens, the parks. They asked residents, merchants, children, adults--anyone who might have a hint. Every now and then, the princess would find someone who looked vaguely reminiscent of her prince, but as soon as she lifted the ribbon to their hair, she would just shake her head and sigh; his hair would be too dark or his eyes too brown. What was it about her Cinderella that made him so… ethereal? Someone that beautiful must have been a mistake from God, an accident that wasn’t supposed to bless mortal eyes.

Here and there, high and low, the princess’s team continued their quest as the sun traveled overhead. They had left at the first pink and orange streaks of dawn, carried on as the burning bright sun hovered directly overhead, and now they were finally allowing themselves to take a rest as the sun grew ever closer to the horizon once more.

Could the troupe possibly have left town? That thought kept creeping into the back of her mind, and she desperately tried to push it away, push it down, push it… somewhere else. She couldn’t afford to let such doubts sneak up on her, or she couldn’t promise that she wouldn’t give in to her despair and cease her search altogether. This Cinderella, her first glimmer of light, her first ray of hope, in days, weeks, months. While her life as a princess was entirely different from Cinderella’s, who was practically a slave in her own home, MC could relate to the feeling of being trapped in one’s duty, being trapped by one’s circumstances, being trapped by one’s family, being… a bird with clipped wings.

This actor had given her the power to fly again.

“Your Highness,” one of the knights murmured to her as they rested for a minute underneath the overhanging shade of an oak. “May we take a moment’s respite? Most of us haven’t eaten since the morrow,” he asked tentatively. He looked full of trepidation, which only served to send pangs of guilt emanating from within her chest.

“Of course,” she told him with a feeble smile. “Let us find some food or drink to sustain us, alright? I wish to keep searching until the sun goes down, but…” Her gaze flickered to the sky, and even though the colors of the sunset were unobscured in the clear sky, she could feel dark clouds beginning to rumble in over her heart. “I’ll go fetch something,” she offered, barely suppressing a sigh. “It’s the least I can do,” she insisted quickly, before her knight could open his mouth to object. With a reluctant but firm nod, he watched as MC walked away, in search of a cheap, quick bite. They could feast upon their return to the castle, but candidly… as twisted as her heart and stomach were right now, the princess didn’t have much of an appetite.

This was a part of town with which the princess didn’t have much familiarity-- while the constant growth of her city was definitely a welcome sight, since she hadn’t ventured out of the castle too often recently, she found herself a little confused and disoriented by the unexpected developments. Had that shop always been there? What about these homes?

Exhausted, distressed, and admittedly hungrier than she had initially realized, MC nearly began to weep with joy as the sudden scent of batter wafted up to her nose. A freshly baked bun, calling for her, crying her name, luring her person. What delectable treats had she almost passed? What delicious delicacies were waiting in the middle of the street?

MC followed her nose and her soul, yearning to fill every one of her senses with whatever this mysterious morsel may be.

Her surprise upon reaching a humble little stall in a side alley was, to say the least… significant.

‘Don’t judge a book by its cover,’ she chided herself gently as she neared the stall, although anxiety began to tug at her and drag her feet. ‘Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.’

Sometimes, gifts came in the least expected places. That actor had been a surprise to her last night, after all. Maybe this snack--a fish-shaped bun, judging from the sign--would be a pleasant surprise as well.

Nothing could have prepared MC for the surprise that awaited her as the customer in front of her turned around, though.

Glittering white hair, like sunkissed snow.

Pale, translucent skin, with a gentle white glow.

Above all, the element that caught her by the most surprise,

Was this young man’s resplendent ruby-red eyes.

With a gasp, she immediately began to shuffle around in her satchel for the ribbon. “E-excuse me,” she stammered, “but… have you… lost this?” Her hands trembled as she pulled the little accessory out of her bag, but judging from the way his mouth fell open and his eyes grew wide, he was equally as stunned as she was. Nervously she reached up to brush a feathery lock of hair from his face; his hair was pulled back in a ponytail, so she couldn’t be exactly sure that this was the same man who had enchanted her last night.

As if on cue, he put down his bag of fish-shaped buns and pulled his hair out of the hairtie, allowing it to cascade around his shoulders and tumble down his back.

As if that hadn’t already confirmed her suspicions, MC lifted the ribbon and placed it gently in his hair. In the glow of the setting sun, its scarlet hue shone vividly, perfectly matching the sparkle in his eyes.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, princess,” he murmured, and a shy smirk played onto his lips. “Have you been… looking for me?”

MC felt a coy grin tug on the edges of her mouth as well, but the salty tears that were beginning to sting the corners of her eyes were probably ruining the effect. “Only for my entire life,” she breathed.

A Cinderella who dared to dream.

A princess who dared to wish.

Their fates overlapped by chance,

But were now sealed with a bean-flavored kiss.

This is my piece with @/watereddowncoffee on instagram for the @mysme-rbb! I hope you enjoy our fairy tale!

#zen #hyun ryu #mystic messenger #mysmes #mysme #mmrbb #cinderella #fairy tale

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phoenix-manga · 3 years

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Lilia adopts Briar - Bat Dad AU

NOTE: I clearly mentioned Briar’s origins in her family headcanon. Which I might have posted or not. I am kinda forgetful...

How this will play out will be kin of tricky, but Lilia has technically visited a LOT of places. Let’s say he’s on his way to the Slumbering Willows when he sees a frazzled old lady holding a baby. He tries to go see the problem because he isn’t going to let the old woman be stressed, now would he?

Once the old lady finished explaining the situation he ponders for a moment and decides to take the child and raise her in the Valley of Thorns, he can handle human babies easier than fae babies.

Briar’s last name is non-existent, she is just called Briar.

He never misses the opportunity to dress her up in cute baby clothes, and he probably will continue getting any frilly dress he got his hands on to put them on Briar.

Briar wasn’t a noisy baby, she sniffled when she had to cry and most of the time she is clingy. Lilia has to make sure she is asleep when he leaves the house. But he does relish in the fact that the baby is attached to him to this extent.

Not long after, he adopted Silver too. So, now there are two precious babies under Lilia’s care. The image of Briar clinging to a sleeping Silver is forever etched onto Lilia’s mind.

Silver calls her “Onee-san”.

When both of them start to grow up and Silver takes up swordsmanship while Briar is practicing on honing her magic. While he already has plans on having Silver be introduced to Malleus as he will become his guard in the future, he does want to show off his daughter to him. He hasn’t exactly shown Malleus what his daughter looked like but he babbles on to the prince about how precious she is.

He says screw it and takes Briar along with Silver to the castle of the Draconia royalty. Silver is dressed in a rather plain dark suit while Briar was dressed in a pale pink dress covered in white lace patterned with thorns and white roses. Needless to say, everyone is focused on Briar first before realizing that it was Lilia who was holding her hand.

The family of three stood before the prince and his parents, which the latter took notice of the golden-haired child beside Lilia. He didn’t miss a beat as he introduced her to the royal family.

Briar was holding onto Silver as she was kind of nervous because there were a lot of strangers who held high authority. That just made her more adorable. So, whenever Silver has to train to be a guard, Briar sometimes comes along with Lilia which prompted her and Malleus to slowly become friendly acquaintances.

Along the way, they meet little Sebek (I have no idea how his backstory is supposed to be since I don’t play the game). Sebek is very flustered because Briar is very pretty and she and Silver stand out from the other children who live in the Valley of Thorns.

Sebek can now go cry to Briar when Silver falls asleep after witnessing Lilia’s terrifying persona during Halloween. Briar is trying to convince herself that it was just a nightmare.

Briar grows up with somewhat the same gentle and motherly personality but less depressed and neglected. She is more open and social, fussing about those younger than her.

NRC Present Time:

She visits the Diasomnia quartet when she can. Because she is still chosen to go to Diamond Crown Academy. Lilia sends her photos of the boys in their robes and she sends a picture back of her school life.

When she visits, they have no idea that she is acquainted with Malleus and Lilia. When they do, they get the shock of their lifetime.

Briar usually brings snacks (because she knows that Lilia’s cooking is a disaster waiting to happen), the boys are secretly celebrating because they don’t have to make excuses to Lilia why they weren’t hungry.

Silver still calls her “Onee-san” while Sebek calls her Lady Briar but still gets flustered whenever she dotes on him, it doesn’t help when Lilia enables her. Even Malleus finds it endearing, calling her a mother goose fussing over her goslings.

Silver and Sebek are overprotective of Briar during her visits, all those boys trying to get her attention when NONE of them are worthy to even talk to her, or so says Sebek.

Since she is also performing idol concerts in the academy, Lilia would stream it to the dorm to show them how talented his precious daughter is.

Lilia: “Look at her! She’s making me proud!”

Hopefully the happy times never end... unless a certain fairy king tries to find her.

#phnx #dca #diamond crown academy #dca headcanons #headcanon #twst oc #twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #sebek zigvolt #silver #lilia vanrouge #briar auroria

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legionofpotatoes · 3 years

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we decided to watch all story cutscenes from the new resident evil village videogame on a whim, since it’s not really our cup of tea gameplay-wise but seems to be this massive zeitgeist moment that made us morbidly curious. And I know how much everyone cares about my thoughts on things I know very little about, so. let’s get into it huh gamers. and yeah spoilers?

for context, I’ve only played resident evil 4 and a small portion of 5. I also read the wikipedia entry for 7’s plot recently. all this to say I was only vaguely aware of how tonally wacky the series was going in

I also completely gave up following the plot of the mutagens’ soap opera, so that paid off in spades here as you might imagine

anyway so that baby in the intro. that baby’s head is just massive. humongous toddlerdome. when ethan finds the baby’s head in a jar later on. there is no way that head would fit into that jar. bad game design. no not even game design. basic stuff. one hundred years in prison for jar modeler

if I see a single functional hetero marriage in video games I will cry tears of joy. I understand their misery is kind of The Point irt them badly working through the hillbilly romp trauma but like. sheesh. at least set that up as an emotional story goal the plot will help resolve. but nope they start off miserable and it goes nowhere

I know I know the mia thing has a huge wrinkle in it but like. not really in terms of dramatic function?? set up a happy end to the re7 nightmare (miranda can keep up appearances for all she cares) and then take that all away from angry griffin mcelroy for manpain. it will still absolutely work to set up the dramatic forward momentum. why throw in this cliche Hollywood Tension in their marriage if you’re not going to address it oh maybe because it’s normalized as automatically interesting because nuclear families are a self-propagating pit of a very narrow chance at emotional happiness relying on social stigma to preserve their empty function oops my baggage slipped in yikes abort mission

I called him griffin mcelroy because I saw his face on twitter and. yeah. I will continue to do this occasionally. my house my rules

... fuck the reason I’m hung up on this is specifically because the rest of the game is so tonally dexterous (which is a shining point to me! more on that later!), and yet they felt weirdly compelled to create the aesthetic trapping of a family-at-odds trope without following it through too well. a sign of both the good and the bad stuff to come

but listen the real reason why I wanted to talk about any of this is to nitpick the fascinating backwards-engineered nucleus of the entire thing; in that this game essentially creates a melting pot of just SO many disparate horror tropes and then makes a no-holds-barred unhinged effort at weaving thick lore to piece them all together. it is truly a sight to behold. like straight up you got your backwoods fright night situation, your gothic castle vampires, your rural-industrial werewolves, and don’t forget your bloated swamp monsters over there, with then a hard left turn into robotic body horror, and the entire ass subgenre of Creepy Doll writ large, and the bloodborne tentacle monsters, and a hellboy angel bossfight, which rides on the coattails of a mech-on-mech pacific rim bonanza, and just jesus henry christ slow down

almost all of these are textural hijack jobs that don’t really get into the metaphor plain of any of those settings but the game sort-of makes an argument that the texture IS the point and revels in it. It is kind of admirable almost. The same reason why the intro felt boxed in and unmotivated is also why the rest of the game just blasts off of its hinges to the point of complete and self-indulgent tonal abandon. I kinda loved that about it. lady dimitrescu made sure to hold her hat down as she bent forward in mahogany doorways and then suddenly she’s a giant gore dragon and you settle in your temp role as dark souls man with Gun to take her ass down. Excellent??

this rhino rampage impulse to gobble up every horror aesthetic known to man comes to head when the game wrestles with its FPS trappings in what is the most hilarious solution in creating visceral player damage moments. Since most cinematics and the entire game is in first person, that leaves precious little real estate for the devs to work with if they really want to sell griffin’s physical crucible. To wit. This dude’s forearms. Specifically just the forearms. They are MASSACRED throughout the story. The poor man lives out the silent hill dimension of a hand model. by the end cutscene he looks like a neatly dressed desk clerk who had decided to stick both his grabbers into garbage disposal grinders just a few hours prior. like in addition to everything else it manages to rope in that tinge of slapstick violence into its general grievous genre collection except this time it IS for a lack of trying! truly incredible

but wait his miracle clawbacks from everything his poor paws go through are retroactively explained away, yes, but far too vaguely and far too late to console me as I sat and watched everyone’s favorite baby brother reattach an entirely severed hand to his wrist stump by just. placing it on there. and giving it a lil twist ‘n pop terminator-style. and then willing his fingers back into motion right in front of my bulging eyes. this game just does not care. it does not give a shit. and boy howdy will it work to make that into one of its strongest suits

cause generally speaking resident evil was THE premiere vanilla zombie content destinaysh for like a decade, right? and as the rest of the world and mainstream media started encroaching and bloodying its blue ocean it went and just exploded in every single conceivable horror trope direction like a smilodon on catnip. truly, genuinely fascinating franchise moves

yeah the big vampire milf is hot. other news; grass... green. although I do love the implication that her closet is just identical white dresses on a rack. cartoon network-level queen shit

apropos of nothing I’ve said there’s also this hobo dante-devimaycry-magneto man, and I can’t believe this sentence makes sense. anyway he made that “boulder-punching asshole” joke referring to chris redfield and it was probably the only easter egg that really landed for me and boy did it land hard. I have not seen him punch the boulder in re5, mind. I had only heard about how funny it is from friends. and here this dude was, probably in the same exact mindset as me, trying to grapple with that insane mental image. with you on that ian mckellen, loud and clear

I advocate vehemently against the shallow pursuit of hyper photorealism in art direction but I gotta admit it works really in favor of immersive horror like this. the european village shacks especially gave me super unchill flashbacks to my rural countryside retreat in western georgia. I could smell the linoleum dude. not cool

faces are weird in this game. can’t place it. nice textures, good animation, but the modeling template is... uuh strange? and the hair. it has that clustered-flat-clumpy look that harkens to something very specific and unpleasant but I just don’t know what. sue me

griffin’s mental aptitude to take all this shit in stride and end every seemingly traumatizing bossfight involving some fucking eldritch being yet unseen through mortal eyes by essentially throwing out an MCU quip is just. What the fuck dude? I mean that was funny how you casually yelled the f-word at a god damn werewolf that you considered a fairy tale an hour ago but are you like, all right?? it was swinging a sledgehammer the size of a bus at you, ethan

oh oh the vampires are afraid of cold and your last name is winters. I get it haha

Pro Gamer Nitpick: boss fights seemed a bit unnecessarily long?? idk why the youtuber we picked decided the ENTIRE propeller man fight counted towards the vital story scenes he was stitching together, but man mr big daddy lite there really had some get up and go huh??

why are they saying dimitrescu.. like that. is it really how you say that word or is the english language relapsing into its fetish for ending every single word with a consonant at all costs

I’m not saying it’s a dramatic miss of a twist in context of all that’s going on, but the “you died in the last game actually and have been DC’s clayface ever since” revelation is low-key. it’s. it’s just funny to me, I dont know what to say. century-old god-witch fails her evil plan after she mistakenly removes heart from what was definitely NOT just some white guy with eight fingers after all

chris realizing he’s about to become the player character and immediately swapping out his tsundere trenchcoat for the muscletight sex haver sweater

the little bluetooth speaker-sized pipe bomb he taped to his knife was nuclear?? really??? I must have missed something because that is just too good. I buy it though I totally buy it. chris just got them fun-sized nukes in his car trunk for, you guessed it, Situations

anyway this is all for now just wanted to briefly touch on how unexpectedly funny and tonally irreverent this seemingly serious game turned out to be. did not articulate any cathartic story beats whatsoever but my god it had fun connecting those plot points. he just fucking put his severed hand back on his stump and it Just Worked todd howard get in here

#text #another one in my bulleted review series with no rhyme or reason #sorry resident evil fans this could be a painful read pls turn away #i know almost nothing about it but i am gonna be super fake familiar and critical of this one hey ho

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anakinisvaderisanakin · 3 years

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The Mask of Death - Fairy Tales and Waking Nightmares (aka Vader obliterates a Rebel unit in typical, spooky fashion)

He wasn’t real.

He couldn’t be.

When Viola Perry had joined the Rebellion, he had been entirely prepared for all that entailed. He despised the Empire and its government, despised its regime and its knack for exploiting the weaker star systems and depleting them of their natural resources for the benefit of the elite. Even as a chancellor, Emperor Palpatine had tended to favour only the worlds and civilizations he considered useful and worth a damn. As Emperor, he had doubled down on that mindset - and while the planets of the outer rim were falling into a lawless haven for criminals, while the Moffs extracted every ounce of goods, riches and pleasure from the worlds they had handpicked and settled down on; Perry saw her people waste away. True, she had been raised coruscanti, on a mid tier level by a single father who laboured day and night as a mechanic. His life had not been aided by the Empire’s rise to power, instead, he had been pushed out of service by official Imperial service systems requiring customers to pay a higher amount of credits for a lesser amount of expertise. Like so many other things, there was a penalty to disobeying and neglecting the restrictions and guidelines.

As soon as Perry was able, she fled. She joined the Rebel Alliance, seeking justice for her father who had died impoverished and imprisoned for conducting and encouraging illegal behaviour - apparently, doing a greater job as a mechanic than the Imperial forces was a crime and a felony - and she had been with the organisation for four years now. Four years of fighting the good fight, winning small victories and taking back the autonomy of the galaxy little by little as hope spread like a wildfire amongst those already saddled with doubt and distrust. Chancellor Palpatine had failed to live up to his hype, why would Emperor Palpatine be any different? Perry had seen firsthand just how far the Empire was willing to go, in order to eradicate the resistance fighters and downplay their growing masses as a trivial and unimportant wayward attempt at terrorism. Only the rebels themselves knew that they were slowly but surely becoming a legitimate threat.

Perry had, as had most rebels she had fought alongside, been wary of any information spread by the Empire from the start. Propaganda and deliberate misinformation were only a couple of the tools used to lure the populous of the vast galaxy into some sense of security. As such, she had laughed the very first time she’d heard the tall tale of Darth Vader. Apparently, a mole within the Imperial ranks had shared the myth as a warning. By most of the Alliance, it had been taken as fiction sold by the Imperial sovereigns to saw fear within their resistance. Vader, as the story went, was a seldom seen assassin of the Empire. The tale painted him as clad entirely in black, seven foot tall and wielding mysterious and invicible powers. He could kill with simply a look, or a wave of the hand. At first, the story had begun as such - vague, raising more questions than it answered about this fantastical and implausible boogeyman. Perry had concluded Vader could be little more than a false narrative, invented to instill doubt within the hearts of any nervously inclined resistance fighter.

But, as time went on, more and more stories with a similar twist kept turning up. Every now and then, a delirious dying fellow rebel with haunted eyes and baited breath would ramble about a monster clad in black. Eventually, the concerns grew to a point where even figureheads of the Alliance such as Mon Mothma and the Organas would openly discuss the matter. Rumours said viceroy Bail Organa in particular was inclined to believe the stories, and while Perry viewed him as level headed and logical - that was one leap of imagination she wasn’t willing to trust him on.

It was only when Perry’s closest friend and confidant, Oliwia Blix, was slain on her own home turf - an ambush assault led by what was later revealed to be the 501st Imperial squadron, surprising the freedom fighters she was responsible for - that Perry began to question her conviction. Oliwia had not survived the attack, and her body was never recovered but those who did persevere knew she was deceased - they had seen her there in the midst of the chaos, barking out orders and desperately attempting to call for help through the sliced comlink connections. Out of the handful of survivors, Perry trusted only Juno Eclipse. Eclipse was a young, blonde woman who had once been closely affiliated with the Imperial military but who had become disillusioned one way or another. She never spoke much of her Imperial days. Her insights were always helpful, and she had aided many a favourable outcome in battle. She possessed inside knowledge and codes that were invaluable - and she was firmly decided that the ambush had been a ploy to get her; she was the target and she was responsible for the death of her affiliates.

Eclipse was reasonable, and Perry admired her judgment. That’s why, when Eclipse spoke of Vader; Perry put aside her skepticism to actually listen. According to Eclipse, Vader was the man the Empire sent out when all else failed. He was undefeated, possibly invincible; shrewd and secretive. If he came for you, he would not stop coming until he had carried out his mission. In her case, Eclipse had expected she’d be put on trial for treason when she first broke away from the Empire, but once Vader had been sent on her trail - she explained - she had realized she was no longer worth the hassle. When Vader came to collect, you were as good as dead already. Perry had asked whether Eclipse had seen this infamous monster, and Eclipse had simply chuckled in sullen surrender as if she had already accepted her own fate.

‘He’s not a monster,’ she had said. ‘He’s a man. Or, I think he was a man, once. I’m not sure what he is now.’

Eclipse had said little in addition to that, only that she was certain that he had been present on the planet Cordaan’a where the incident had occurred. Perry got the firm impression that the ex Imperial officer had seen someone or something she perceived to be this Vader, and while she didn’t want to press the already anxiety ridden woman; she chalked most of it up to stress, fear and trauma. Even Eclipse - intelligent, brave and immovable - could be deceived by the rush of adrenaline that came with battle, as her senses were jumbled. That, along with the fact that her life was in jeopardy and that she knew the Empire wanted to see her punished for her desertion, could make anyone hallucinate a phantom such as the propagandistic tale of an Imperial hitman.

That was, until two weeks later. At noon, the base camp of Brakko had prepared for a subtle, incognito transfer. Perry’s unit had been targeted for elimination by Imperial forces, and while there were no signs suggesting the Empire knew where exactly their base was hidden - it was unsafe to stay in one place for too long. As the early afternoon rolled around, every necessary scrap of ammunition, weaponry, rations, credits, and other various equipment had been rounded up and packed away. Only a few chunkier, stolen cannons and proton bombs remained unaccounted for. That was the moment during which the Empire decided to make their presence known. A well aimed rifle shot, and the second largest of the docked freight vessels was blown up in the span of milliseconds.

As its explosive cargo content shattered the clunky ship, the shockwave sent most resistance fighters flying. Shrapnel became deadly projectiles, and as Perry struggled to regain her bearings - the force of the blast had sent her several feet back into the rough, and jagged gravel of the walkway leading towards the underground bunkers - she noted familiar faces; bloodied and beaten. Some unrecognizable, some wheezing as steady streams of red liquid poured out of their nostrils. Perry herself found her hearing was dulled, as if she were underwater - the distant, faraway yells and shrieks of her terrified comrades preparing retaliation blocked out by a loud shrill ringing. She struggled to her knees, instinctively reaching for her trusty blaster where it sat holstered at her hip.

As soon as she looked up, Perry could see the swarm of stormtroopers welling forth from every direction. They were undistinguishable in their white polished armour, black visors covering their eyes. Her legs moved out of self preservation, her chest burning with extortion as she fired aimlessly at her assaulters. A few fell by the wayside, and Perry dove behind the wreckage of one of the smaller shuttles that had been affected by the explosion. Three more rebels cowered there, taking turns firing fervently to keep the troopers at bay - only for the two additional blasters wielded by who Perry recognized to be Admiral Parlak and Sergeant Ilija to be literally ripped out of their grip with no visible cause.

“Come out with your hands on your heads,” said one of the troopers, his cadence entirely void of empathy.

“You’ll gun us down if we do,” Perry snapped in defense, and realized only afterwards that she had spoken at all.

Her hearing was beginning to return, as Perry and her small group peered cautiously over the edge of the ripped off shuttle wing that provided their makeshift shield. Even as her head became fully visible, no additional shots were fired. A platoon of what Perry estimated to be forty stormtroopers stood in a half circle, making three rows with their blasters aimed meticulously at the unguarded hideout. Around them, a few smaller squads mirrored their stance. A good four feet in ahead of the mass, stood a single trooper - his more lavish suit of armour indicating that he was a higher ranking soldier, possibly a commander - with his hand raised to signify cease fire. Perry assumed he had been the one addressing them.

It was only then that she realized how eerily quiet it had become. Her eyes darted around, both relieved and unsettled when she spotted a few grimy, scuffed and fretful faces poking out from behind various chunks of debris much like her and her group. Apart from feeble moans and sobs of pain, and crackling of the fires that had spread from the explosion to the trees and vegetation concealing the base camp - everything was deathly silent.

Silent, until a deep, booming voice broke the impasse.

“Not if you cooperate.”

In one fell swoop, the mid section of the platoon parted like a tidal wave. They made room with no fuzz, moving as one single unit and stood at courtly attention. From the smoke, the ashes and the flames behind them; the shadows of even more soldiers merely silhouetted revealed as a backdrop, came a predator. Even before it could be viewed in all its horrendous detail; its large frame drew all attention. Tall, broad shouldered, chest wide - and with it followed a hissing, mechanical breathing cycle reminiscent of a respirator. At any other time its pathetic sounds may have inspired pity or sympathy, but in this instance; its intervals were decidedly ominous, as this thing traversed the ground littered with fresh corpses in a careless stride.

Towering over and dwarfing the stormtroopers; the looming dark spectre emerged fully from the dust and cinders swirling through the air. Clad in all black; head to toe. Black armour, black cape, black robes, black gloves, black boots, black helmet; black mask covering the monster’s entire face from view. Still, the lenses through which the grim presence viewed the world were tinted ever so slightly crimson. In its hand, the thing clutched the hilt of a saber - its plasma blade red and humming as energy surged through it.

“Please, no,” Perry caught a hitched gasp, frightened disbelief colouring the unmistakable tone of Eclipse - and Perry spotted her pale face off to the side; crouched behind a severed landing hatchet.

“I have come for Captain Eclipse. I have been informed that she hides among your ranks. It is unfortunate for your organisation that she would lead me to you - I, however, view it as a welcome surprise.”

The voice was so deep, it seemed to reverberate through Perry’s very bones - and despite the heat of the flames' licking, flickering nature as they consumed the palm trees with a gleeful greed - the world seemed as cold as ice. Curling in on herself, Perry wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to stave off the worst chill; her breaths coming out as puffs of condensed mist. Still, she could do nothing but stare at the empty, hollow eyes of that face plate. The monster turned its head slowly in the direction of Eclipse’s hiding place, tilting it in a disturbingly comedic manner. If she could have seen its mouth; Perry was convinced the monster would have smiled at the collective hopelessness at its disposal.

‘Darth Vader is real,’ so many fellow rebels had insisted - and Perry had disregarded every single one as superstitious and foolhardy.

'Darth Vader is a fairy tale,’ she had stubbornly countered.

Perry didn’t even have the time to flinch as the monster’s large right hand cut through the empty air. The motion was swift, smooth and effortless - and the bulky piece of scrap metal Eclipse had been huddled behind was sent flying as if it were completely weightless. The hefty durasteel went from sitting completely still to hurdling a distance of about thirty yards at an unfathomable speed; smashing right into a tree trunk which it sheared clean off simply by momentum. The monster did not move, even as the tree collapsed and brought another down with it; but Eclipse yelped and covered her mouth. Perry had never, never seen her be anything but resolute - and slightly shaken once, while relaying her tale of this predator whom Perry had refused to believe might materialize. Now, her features spoke only of regret and dread. Her shoulders were trembling, her blue eyes glassy with tears.

“Did you believe the Emperor would not aim to see you destroyed? Did you believe he would forget you?” the monster mocked, and with obvious sarcasm he added, “You must think so highly of the Emperor’s sense of compassion. I am truly sad to say that I must dissuade such unfortunate delusions.”

“Do what you please with me, but spare the rest,” Eclipse blurted out, desperation in her voice as she stumbled to her feet; taking one unsteady step towards the monster and dissmissing his jeering entirely.

‘He’s not a monster, he’s a man. Or, I think he was a man, once,’ Eclipse had said back then; and while her eyes were now still brimming with yet unshed tears, her expression was one of bargaining.

She was attempting to appeal to this thing’s - this man’s humanity. Instead, he simply cocked his head a bit farther to the side as if perplexed by her emotional outburst, regarding her silently with a deliberate intent to unnerve and rattle her. Perry realized only then that she, too, was trembling not only from the cold. It was as if this man’s entire being radiated a dark, black, vicious hatred. A vile, twisted sense of entitlement and disgust alike. It permeated his surroundings, spreading like a contagious disease; infecting everything it touched, tainting and tarnishing anything it could corrupt. His unwavering gaze and dead eyeholes seemed to demand a cruel mixture of respect and fear; and Eclipse clasped her hands in what resembled a feeble prayer.

“Lord Vader. I beg of you. Let them go. It’s me you want.”

A tear slipped down her gaunt face; her complexion ashen and her bottom lip quivering. Her blonde hair fell over her forehead in unruly chunks, a damp patch of dark blood staining the upper sleeve of her jacket. Vader simply raised his hand once more; beckoning Eclipse with his fore and index fingers in an almost gentle manner. Eclipse had no chance to move of her own volition, nor to deny the request before her feet were lifted off the ground and she was yanked unceremoniously forwards. Her motion stopped only when she was mere inches from Vader; her face level with his mask as she levitated freely in the empty air. Vader’s outstretched hand was steady, holding its posture - and Perry realized with horror that the powers all the rumours spoke of were factual, as well.

“While it is a touching sentiment - your saviour complex serves you no favours with me, Captain.”

There was no compassion in Vader’s tone, the cadence mechanical and stilted - and yet, the words came out an overt, obvious commination. Shifting the hand Perry had assumed was efficently preoccupied with suspending Eclipse in the air, Vader gestured at his troopers and they immediately switched into action. Eclipse still hovered several feet above ground; and Perry reared back as Vader’s empty lenses came to rest on her hiding spot. As before, there was no prelude - the torn wing of the shuttle was simply shoved aside in one fluid swipe. The same thing occured simultaneously to any other covers; Perry's fellow rebels attempting to defend themselves in vain. One moment, Perry was fumbling for her blaster with numb fingers; the next, a stormtrooper had her arms trapped behind her back. Some of her comrades attempted to resist the capture, and were subsequently executed on spot with a single blast to the back of their heads. As they were rounded up, only twenty-two of the at least seventy rebels that had stayed behind loading up supplies remained. They were forced down on their knees; hands on their heads. Perry glared at Vader who seemed to eye them all with a disinterested boredom, but her hammering heart betrayed her collected facade.

“I suggest you watch, Captain. Let this be a warning to abide by. I have orders to bring you off world. While the Emperor wishes no audience with you, Governor Tarkin is most excited to have a word preceding your eminent, public execution,” Vader informed as if there were no other witnesses, no further participants to the event than him and Eclipse alone. “You will watch this.”

The final words were sinister, their implication crystal clear and the demand irrefutable. Eclipse’s slumped head was forcefully yanked in the direction of her kneeling coworkers, the men and women she had bravely fought alongside, who had become her confidants and friends. Perry expected to be anticlimactically shot, icy dread churning at the pit of her belly. Still she was transfixed by Eclipse’s horrified; apologetic eyes as they stared back at her- wide and unblinking, as if she could not close them had she wanted to. Holding the stare, a pressure closed around Perry’s slender throat; like an unseen hand encompassing her fragile neck and squeezing her windpipe until she could no longer inhale. She panicked, pawing at her throat as her lungs burned and the edges of her vision began to fade away. Next to her, the choking noises of her fellow rebels rose; all of them clawing desperately at the invisible hand strangling them unanimously. The last thing Perry saw; pure terror coursing through her veins as her pulse slowed to die away and a loud, cracking pop signified the snap of her neck caving under pressure, was Eclipse’s guilt ridden eyes, and the tears now falling from them.

Perry slumped to the ground, and Vader’s large boots stalked past her crumpled body to sear themselves into her minds eye as one final bitter irony.

He was real.

Then, she was no more.

---------

Posted a teaser before, but I like this installment so much I felt I needed to post the entire thing so here you go. Link to the full fic below:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24049894/chapters/79969921

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bluepenguinstories · 3 years

Text

Remoras Full Chapter XLIV: Sting Ray

Exhaustion set in as soon as the form before us faded. Vague shapes of the people around me blurred further until they were just airbrushed silhouettes who swayed from side to side. They were both close to me while also being further away. Miles away, even as they stood in place, next to Sunny and I. Even without exhaustion, I would have felt the same, thanks to the high setting in.

“I can’t believe it’s over...”Sunny muttered as she puffed the last of her joint. I think we were all shaken by the experience, even if none of us were naive enough to believe we were rid of such a monster.

Before we were ready to move on, Remora stepped out in front of us and lowered herself down to one knee.

“Aw, are you about to propose to someone?” Sunny leaned in and teased. Remora looked up and tilted her head.

“...What?” She asked, perpetual confusion. “No. I just...well, I do have a proposition.”

“Well, out with it!” Sunny urged.

Remora lowered her head, then continued:

“I left you all at a time when I suspected we weren’t rid of the one who sought to harm us. Thus, I put you all in danger. For that, I am sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I tried to reassure her, “I don’t think any of us knew Cronus could conjure up a fog like that.”

“Even still...I left and I shouldn’t have. For so long, I wanted a home, some place I felt right in. Maybe this place wasn’t what I would have considered ‘home’ at first, but over time I found you guys to be important to me. Yet I left you all behind, because I was scared. Because I didn’t understand what you all meant to me. So, even though I know I have no right to ask this of you, I will do so anyway: may I be a part of your lives once more? If you refuse, we’ll part ways once we reach the surface and you’ll never have to see me again.”

We all stood in silence. Despite the haze which was taking over, I took the initiative and cleared my throat.

“Oh my. I wasn’t expecting this,” I remarked.

“I’m serious,” Remora replied.

I can’t do serious. Not when I’m starting to feel the buzz kick in.

“I know. It’s just that you should know by now that at least in my eyes, you’ve always got a home here.”

“Yeah, I don’t see why you’d need to worry about something like that,” Sunny added.

“Still,” Remora turned her head away from Sunny and I, “I want to make sure it’s okay with everyone.”

Tigershark stamped her feet as she marched up to Remora, then tapped her on the shoulder.

“I still don’t like that you used to kill people. That’s not a very nice thing to do. But the you that I know is a good person now, so that’s what matters to me. Besides, you’re still one of my precious older sisters!”

“I…” Remora sounded ready to object.

“If you don’t stay, I’m going to be mad, so you have that to think about!” Tigershark roared, hands on her hips.

“I guess I do, huh?” Remora chuckled a humorless chuckle, awkward smile to boot. Afterward, she turned her attention toward Demetria, to which, the rest of us did as well.

“What? Why’s everyone looking at me for?” Demetria stammered, then on the defensive, took a step back and crossed her arms, “what do you need my opinion for? It’s not my decision to make.”

“Everyone means everyone,” Remora told her, insisting on an answer.

“Sure...Yeah. Whatever.”

“Is no one gonna ask me how I feel?” Tigershark jumped up as she asked.

“How do you feel?” Sunny looked down to humor the child, still with enough energy to jump in place.

“Terrible! Thanks! This whole thing has been a nightmare! First, there was that other you,” Tigershark looked over at Remora, “who turned out to be a monster. Then we fight rock monsters. We’re all bleeding and getting hurt. Then we fight another guy who’s a monster and apparently he’s the one who killed my parents? It wasn’t a blizzard, but a scary guy? And now...I’m ready to wake up.”

“Aw, we’re sorry, dear,” Sunny pursed her lip.

“No, I agree, though,” rasped Demetria’s rough voice. Odd, ‘rough’ when I had known her to have more of a mouse-like voice. “What else could it be called other than a nightmare?”

She didn’t speak another word after that, opting instead to hobble her way closer to me, and further from Remora. It was remarkable, that even in my high state, I could notice such subtleties. As we made our worn-out strides out from the room of Cronus’ design, I noticed little pebbles fall into my messy black hair. I ruffled through my hair, trying to shake the flakes out, all while more fell onto my head.

Of course. This part of the tunnel is one of his own design. Once he’s faded away, so too do his illusions.

“Don’t mean to rush any of you all, but I think this place is about to collapse,” I dropped the hint, and being the smartypants that they were, they looked at each other, eyes bulging, then in a panic, began to pick up their pace.

“Demetria, if you find it hard to walk, you can hold onto the side of my suit,” I offered to her. She scowled, though the scowl dropped to a more relaxed frown. As if to say, “fine. If it comes to that, I’ll allow it.”

“Good, and Sunny,” I added, then turned to my wife, my life, “you can do the same with Remora. If either of you need to lean on each other, that’s totally fine,” I gave the thumbs up. Sunny winked.

It was more like a game of hopscotch than a race of peril. Really embarrassing, if I were to be honest. If I had thought to bring a video camera, or even just record them on my phone, I’d look at the footage of us running for our lives and I would laugh. As it stood, I didn’t have that luxury. Any reason to laugh had to be put on hold as my breaths grew short and shallow and the collapsing rocky ground continued to close in behind us. Its pace picking up alongside our own increasing pace.

Other short breaths followed my own as if the other four were a barbershop quartet with stage fright. Hell, with me alongside them, it may as well be a quintet.

Remora and Sunny were both tall ladies. Tigershark was somewhere. Demetria was not a tall lady and I was a Short King (OK. So actually, I am Average Man height. Like 5’7”-(on my good days) 5’9”. Probably). Together we made up a group of people trying to get by with our lives.

I felt a little pull against my arm sleeve. I looked down and saw the orange jelly bean, Tigershark herself, held on tight to my sleeve.

“Hey! Look at you! Good job!” I congratulated her as I tried to work up a smile. If not for myself, then for the kid. She still looked ready to cry. Maybe when we got back to the diner, I could make a cake. If we even still have enough ingredients. Dammit Cronus (because the fog, not because he stole our food, which in an indirect way, he may as well have).

“Fancy weather, innit?” Sunny tried up a Parisian accent.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re underground,” Remora replied in a non-emotive shout, partially muffled by the rumblings around us.

Out the false tunnel and into the original tunnel as we slid our way through as the collapsing illusion. As it shut behind us and became a wall once more, it caused a miniature quake and had us all jump into place before we fell into the ground.

“Worst trampoline I’ve been on in a while,” I remarked as I rubbed my sore bum.

Tigershark was the first to stand back up and made cymbal crashing motions as she danced around with an angry chicken look on her face.

“When I get back, I’m going to bang pots and pans, because I deserve to!” She roared.

“Yeah, can’t argue there,” Sunny murmured. Then her and I laughed.

When we struggled back up and continued walking, I decided to break the ice:

“So, anything you wanna talk about?” I peered at the Demetria beside me. She didn’t say a word.

“Ah, the quiet game. I see,” then I turned to Remora who had a confused look on her face, but also said nothing. “You’re playing too, I see.”

“You’ll have to excuse my Ray of Sunshine, he’s a little high right now,” Sunny waved her hand around in a fanning motion.

“High?” Tigershark looked up. “What’s that mean?”

“He’s ascended,” Sunny then fluttered her hands to the side, like she was breaking out of her cocoon and becoming a beautiful moth fairy.

I tried to keep quiet. I knew I should. There were rules, and if all the world was a stage, then I was a character just as much as anyone else around me. Which meant, there were rules. One of those rules was that I was to stick to the established personality traits of my character. Any deviation was forbidden.

Oh, but much like someone who drank a gallon of tea needed to pee, if we walked through this long tunnel with neither Sunny nor I saying a word, I think I’d be in throbbing pain.

“A word,” Sunny took one for the team. “That’s all I’m going to say, though.”

Wow. Do we share the same mind?

“Thank you, dear,” I told her.

“Any time. Just remember: you’re my wife.”

I chuckled in response.

“I’m your wife, just as you are mine.”

“Wife and Malewife. We’re a gay male and female couple,” Sunny snapped her fingers and remarked.

“That’s what I’m saying!” I exclaimed in agreement.

Collective groans were made from the other three ladies.

Much of our trip back from then on was a blur, other than the fact that at one point, Demetria remarked, “gee, I bet everyone else back at the diner’s wondering what’s taking us so long.”

Although I was still a little outside of my mind, I let out a chuckle.

“Yeah, they’re probably thinking, ‘it can’t possibly take this long just to turn the lights back on’.”

Speaking of lights, as weary as we were, the sight of the bright, yellow glow flooded into view the closer we reached the entrance back into the basement. I looked beside me and saw Tigershark blink several times and rubbing her eyes. The others might have been just as astonished to see light again.

For my part, I was just hoping I had a spare pair of glasses somewhere once we got back up to the surface.

We walked through and everyone’s astonishment was voiced through low “ooh”, “aah,” and “wow.” While they all looked around, I couldn’t help but notice little red streaks on the otherwise clean floor.

No doubt from the fight that went on.

Everyone else made it up to the ladder before me. When it was my turn, I noticed some red marks upon the bars of the ladder. Whether blood or rust, I couldn’t tell. I just hoped they were dry enough that none of the others had gotten it on them. Even without getting it on them, one thing was certain: all five of us were due for a bath (but not at the same time).

Once I made my way up into the kitchen, I closed the hatch behind me. Sunny dropped to the floor, a wide grin on her face, then shot her arms up.

“Whee! Let’s do that again!” She cheered.

“NO!” The rest of us shouted in unison. It couldn’t be helped, of course. She was still riding that high, even if I was starting to come down.

I half-expected for someone, or a few someones, to bolt through the kitchen door and check in on us. When that didn’t come, I expected to hear commotion from the dining hall. Then, when that didn’t come, I just had to investigate. My heart beat like a dog would wag their tail at the prospect of a treat. Though replace ‘treat’ with ‘mystery’.

So I strolled, or strode, whichever suited my fancy, out into the dining hall where I saw the crowd...that wasn’t there. Yes, despite my poor vision, I still couldn’t believe my eyes at the emptiness of it all. There were still plates and messes on each table, signs that life had been there. But where they had gone, that was still a mystery.

Everyone else came out from the kitchen soon after me. Behind me, I heard Tigershark ask, “where did everybody go?”

Yes. Good question. Just how long were we gone? What could have happened in the meantime? Were they all hurt?

“That’s a good question, pipsqueak,” Demetria replied.

“Hey! Who you callin’ pipsqueak? In a few years, I’ll be taller than you!” Tigershark shouted back with ferocious fury.

“Man, I love you all,” Sunny drawled out, an adorable smile spread across her face.

“Uh. OK? Thanks?” Remora didn’t know how to respond.

Two things caught my attention: one, though outside looked fuzzy and dark, it did not look foggy. Which could only mean that the fog was lifted. The other thing I noticed were a few sheets of paper spread out on a nearby table. Ignoring their banter, I wandered over to the table. Each sheet had our names written on one side, with a series of text on the back. Although I couldn’t make out the individual words of our names, I could tell who was who by the individual letters shown and the vague shapes that made them up.

I chuckled at the absurdity of not even being able to read a simple letter.

I hope I have a spare pair of glasses somewhere.

“Hey guys,” I motioned for the others. It was my own little way of obfuscating from the fact that I couldn’t see what was written, “come check this out.”

The others scrambled on over and noticed the sheets of paper on the table, just as I had.

“They’re...letters?” Demetria blinked, astonished, and just a slight tinge of confusion.

“Man, oh man! This is too much!” Sunny held one hand over her face while the other held the sheet of paper, “she spelled it ‘hoomin’! Like Moomin, but with an ‘H’!”

“It’s Astraea!” Tigershark gasped as she read her letter, “she said that everyone else went to the hospital and she followed them there! Apparently there’s someone in particular she wants to see.”

“What does yours say, Demetria?” I turned to her as she parsed through the page. Before she answered, she folded up the paper and put it in her pocket.

“Nothing important,” she answered in a dry manner.

“Same here,” Remora added with a shiver and a shifty look.

Nervous, much?

“In that case,” I smiled, still trying to save face, “I’ll keep my letter private as well. They are meant for the individual, after all.”

“Aw, I wanted to know what yours said,” Tigershark whined. I pat her head and chuckled.

“Maybe I’ll tell you about it later,” I suggested as a means to reassure her.

“...Heh...Hoomin,” Sunny mumured to herself and laughed a howling laughter.

Now that I think about it, she probably has less of a tolerance to that kind of stuff than I do.

I strolled over to each table and picked up each plate, ready to take it to the kitchen. As I held a stack in hand, I turned to the other four.

“Now, we’ve all had a long day, so how about we all relax? Go ahead, sit down, I’ll get you guys something to drink.

“I’ll take vodka,” Remora requested whilst lowering herself down to the booth next to her.

“What’s vodka?” Tigershark asked.

“Shitty alcohol,” Sunny answered, not seeming to care about the swear, “I’ll have whiskey, take it or leave it.”

“Both of those sound gross!” Tigershark stuck her tongue out. “I’ll just have some hot cocoa.”

“Whip or no whip?” I asked.

“Lots and lots of whip cream!” She roared and cheered, fist pumping into the air.

“How about you, Demetria?” I turned my attention to her and watched as she slumped over in her seat, next to Sunny, and sulked at the table.

“Coffee,” she stated, which I found interesting, as I never pictured her to be a coffee drinker. Then again, I didn’t know what kind of drinks she tended to like.

“And how do you take your coffee?”

“Orally.”

Her response left me no choice but to make my expression as dull as hers as I teased, “oh, really? And here I thought you took yours rectally.”

“Wha...no. I mean, black, I guess.”

Sunny cackled into a thunderous laughter and slammed her fist on the table, which shook the poor thing every which way.

Sheesh. It’s like I’ve got my own laugh track. Thanks hun.

As I worked my magic in the kitchen, washing dishes and preparing drinks, I thought it over and decided that what Sunny really needed was water. As for everyone else, it went over just fine: I didn’t have to venture back down into the basement to get some vodka (thank goodness) as there was a bottle in the fridge. After I poured a shot, I filled another shot glass with water from the tap. Next, I brewed a pot of coffee, boiled a kettle of water on the stove, and as I waited for each one to heat up and fill up, I took off to the back of the diner to search for a pair of glasses.

There were none in my desk drawer. Next, I ascended to the upstairs bedroom. Sure enough, on the night stand, there was a box for glasses. I opened it up, half-fearing that it would be empty, but my heart fluttered upon seeing that there was indeed a pair for me.

Thank my lucky stars. Feels like things are finally starting to turn around.

As soon as I put them on, the world opened up to me.

“I can see clearly now the rain is gone,” I hummed and made my way back down.

Before I went back into the kitchen to prepare the final three drinks, I unfolded the paper and read its contents. For the sake of posterity, I will transcribe it without so many spelling errors (trust me, just about every word was misspelled):

Dear Ray,

Thank you a lot for letting me be a waitress. I appreciate what you taught me about humanity, just as much as I do with the things Sunny and Tigershark have taught me. Tigershark is my friend, you know. Also, I liked asking people what food they wanted to eat. I learned so many names of foods.

I think we’re a lot alike, because we’re both curious about things. It’s good, I think, because there’s always more to learn. While I didn’t understand what was going on at the time, I know a lot of people weren’t doing too good and you looked a bit sad. But I think even if bad things happen, you’re still very nice. I also want to be very nice! But I think I like tricking people too. That’s fun (Tigershark taught me about tricking).

As for how I managed to write all this after everyone went to the hospital it’s because I can write fast (Tigershark taught me to read and write). I’m very fast! Maybe not running but I can do things fast!

Also everyone left because someone called the doctor and the doctor mobile picked them up. I was in my room but I heard that someone fell over. It sounded interesting, so I’m going to walk to the hospital now. I might come back, but it also might take me a lot of days. I can’t always tell where I’m going.

P.S. I think you would like Animal Crossing. Tom Nook is kind of like you. He’s a nice man and maybe human.

I smiled and folded the paper back up, placed it into my desk, and strolled back into the kitchen. There were still some missing pieces, some gaps that needed to be filled in, but I’m sure they would be explained in time.

Actually, I’m growing a little impatient on that front.

After pouring in the hot cocoa mix into the boiling water, I stirred it. Then I filled it sky high with whipped cream. The coffee was easy, since it was all automatic. Really, needed no explanation. As for my tea, I chose a nice cup of ceylon and jasmine tea, and let it steep. While it sat, I decided to call up Dr. Cole-Slaw. To my surprise, she answered right away.

“Ray! You better have a good explanation for all this!” She huffed into the phone, clear annoyance rang through her voice.

“I’m sorry, Shir – Doctor, but I was hoping you could give me one. I was away while everything went down. One moment, I was attending to business in the basement, the next, all my patrons are gone.”

“Are you aware what ‘DOA’ means?” She asked, a little ‘tsk tsk’ in her tone.

“Yeah. Of course. I’ve been a wanted man in a few cities.” That was a joke. I wasn’t as popular as some might have believed me to be.

“Dead on arrival, smartass. One of your friends, Xena Warrior Princess over here, called me to go retrieve a dead body. Is this some kind of practical joke?”

Dead body? What?

“Whoa, whoa, slow down. I don’t know anything about that. Also, Xena Warrior Princess?”

“I dunno, purple sword lady.”

“Wendy. I don’t think she’d appreciate being called that.”

“Oh, no, she does. I ran it by her first. She said it’s quite amusing. Anyway, care to explain?”

Still the same Shirley, I see. Still...this is concerning.

“Trust me, I’d love to. I’ve buried a couple of people outside of the diner, but there shouldn’t be any corpses inside.”

“Excuse me? There’s more? Have you gone off the deep end, Ray? I know you’ve done some questionable stuff, but I didn’t know you had it in you to be an ax murderer.”

“It’s nothing like that. Look,” I slid back from the counter, “I’ll tell you what I’ve been dealing with for the past year: there’s been a terrible fog, maybe you’ve seen it? Maybe not. But there’s been monsters in the fog attacking people and I’ve been sheltering as many people as I could, trying to keep everyone alive on what limited supplies we had.”

“No offense, but I’ve got a hard time believing that.”

“Maybe it’s better that you don’t. I’d rather it wasn’t real, myself. But as you could see, it’s been lifted. For equally supernatural reasons, I presume.”

I got to thinking about all that I’ve endured the past year. All that we’ve endured. How all that time, I never bothered to learn the names of the people I sheltered. It was just as Aurora said. Perhaps if I had gotten to know everyone, I would have figured out Sister Cecilia’s identity sooner. I would have figured out Captain Aca...okay, that one was obvious. But still, I wished that I had a stronger bond with the others. Maybe then I might have had higher spirits.

“Say, do you know who it was you picked up?”

“No, sorry. But your cohort seems to have an idea. I’ll put her on the line. She’s agreed to mop the hospital floors while she’s here. I figure it’s a fair enough deal since I ended up hauling off a whole crowd of people.”

“Great. Do it.”

“Oh, and by the way, our little Jane Doe’s still breathing. For now, anyway. She’s in, uh, not good condition, but it’s something.”

“What a relief. Wait, I thought you said dead on arrival?”

“Yeah. But I didn’t say arrival to the hospital. I’m a genius, I know,” she gloated.

“OK, let me hear from Wendy.”

She passed the phone on over, then I heard Wendy’s raspy yet sly voice.

“Hey, Ray, guess who I’m with at the hospital right now?” She posed the question.

“Are you going to tell me?” I wasn’t really in the mood for guessing, nor did I have enough information on hand to do so. “I know they’re a woman, that’s about it.”

“Hmm…” she lingered on that last ‘m’, “have you taken a look in the mirror since you got back? I do take it you’re back, and not just calling me from underground.”

“No, I haven’t. I should get on that, but I’m busy preparing drinks for the other four.”

“You sure sound exhausted, that’s for sure. I bet you look just as bad as you sound right now,” she suggested.

“Probably. I just sound this way because I’m coming down from a high, but we all need our rest. Now, since you’re not going to tell me about this mystery patient, will you at least tell me what went on while I was away?”

“Aw, you’re no fun. But sure. Basically about a minute or two after you went down, the lights flickered back on and we were all excited. I told everyone to temper their excitement, as we still don’t know what to expect. What a statement that turned out to be, as maybe a little more than an hour later, we hear someone coming back up. Some of us got all giddy, thinking it was you guys, but instead walks out this woman none of us recognized. Well, some of us thought we did, but I’m not gonna name names. She fell down once she saw us, but not before saying something, I think it was, ‘that’s all, folks’ in a weak voice.”

“Someone besides us was down in the basement?” My heart skipped a beat. I knew there was that impostor, and later on Cronus, but I didn’t think there would be anyone else. “Did she sneak down there and hide or something?”

“Couldn’t tell ya. I’m as lost as you are on that front. But I’ll say this: upon seeing her face, I flew into a panic. I shouted for someone to call a doctor. Others thought it was ridiculous, but then we saw that the fog was gone and that was when we all wanted a doctor. Someone had the number to your good friend, Cole-Slaw, and she was happy to come out and get us all.”

Something tells me she wasn’t very happy at all, but let’s put that aside.

“Speaking of coleslaw, what’s the deal with it? You put mayonnaise on radishes and lettuce or something and for some reason that’s supposed to taste good?”

“Any other time, I’d love to talk about what constitutes as food, but I’m just a little beat.”

“I get you. I think even I would be, given what you all must have gone through. But hey, now we’ve got clear skies. That’s something to celebrate, no?”

“Yeah. Maybe in the morning I can get a good view outside. As it is, it’s just a little too dark for my liking. But anyway, I should go,” but before I did, I got to thinking, “oh, and hey: if this mystery patient manages to make it, I’d like to meet her in person. Maybe you can invite her back to the diner and Tigershark and I will treat her to a nice meal. How’s that sound?”

“Sure thing, Ray. We’ll see.”

There was a great list of things to look forward to, and that just became one of them. But anyway, I needed to deliver everyone their drinks before the hot drinks turn cold and the cold drinks turn warm. So once I ended the call, I brought out each of the drinks on a platter and strode out into the dining hall.

“Here you go, ladies,” I set down each drink onto the table. Sunny, without hesitation, downed her shot.

“Damn,” she wiped her mouth, “that’s the best whiskey I’ve ever had.”

I suppose the irony may have been that it would have been easier to mistake water for vodka than it would be whiskey, but since she was still riding a high, perhaps it was just a little hard to tell.

Tigershark sipped on her hot cocoa, a little whipped cream mustache forming above her lips.

I, meanwhile, too my seat at the booth just behind them. It wasn’t a matter of isolating myself from the others. No, I just liked to listen in as an outsider while I took comfort in the solitude.

“It really has been over a year. How old are you now, Demetria?” Remora asked, working up her best kind voice.

“Twenty-four,” Demetria replied and shrugged whilst sipping her coffee.

“Aw, man! That means I missed your birthday!” Remora then complained.

“Uh, yeah? That’s what being away for over a year means.”

“Still, it’s good to see you,” Remora smiled and continued to try to lighten the mood.

“It is? Why?”

“Because I’ve missed you.”

“No you didn’t. You just missed the attention.”

“That’s not true…” Her voice turned desperate, before lowering it.

“Sorry. That was maybe too harsh of me,” Demetria looked away as she mentioned.

“No, you’re right.”

Demetria got up from her seat, took the coffee cup, chugged it down, then announced, “I’m going to my room.”

She walked off a couple of paces, then turned back.

“Don’t worry, Ray. I’ll wash out my mug before I go.”

She walked a couple of paces once again, almost to the kitchen, then turned back once more.

“Actually, I’m going to take a shower, then I’ll go to my room.”

I couldn’t help myself, perhaps a tad insensitive of me, but I cupped one hand over my mouth and called out to her.

“Actually, you’ll go through the hallway, then take a shower, then go to your room!”

She twitched, it seeming to strike a nerve, but then just said, “yeah…”

I then saw Tigershark, still with her whipped cream mustache, look over with an incredulous face, then turn back to Remora.

“What was that for?! We just got back and she’s already got an attitude?” Tigershark thew her hands up.

“It’s because of me,” Remora turned somber and stared down as she explained, “the whole reason why she left last time, and why I left.”

“Why?”

“Because I told her that I didn’t, and couldn’t care about her. Or anyone. I really thought that at the time, too. She didn’t take it well, which...understandably so. So I tried to bargain with her, and...that made it worse, because I panicked and I wasn’t feeling well, just recovering from being sick, which probably contributed to the whole thing. So...I can’t blame her for being wary around me.”

“Well, that’s stupid! You care about us, right?” Tigershark was incensed and poised for a rant.

“Yeah, but it took a long time to figure that out.”

Interesting. I never thought I’d hear her say that. Perhaps in her absence she went through a long journey of self-discovery and probably has many stories to tell of her adventures.

“So? Just tell her that.”

“It’s not that simple…”

“Yeah it is. You just told me.”

“I’m sure she’d want me to prove it, and I don’t know how to.”

“That’s dumb too! And I’m sure you missed us, too! Also, what’s wrong with wanting attention? Who says you can’t miss people and want attention at the same time? Attention is good.”

“You don’t get it. You’re just a kid.”

“So what? What’s that got to do with anything? I’ll have you know, I’m eleven now!”

“Wow. I’m gone for over a year and all of a sudden everyone’s a year older,” Remora muttered. It was almost like she was making an observation, but to anyone else, it may have come off as sarcasm.

She looked out the window, listless, then peered her head over to where I was; to be honest, I was a little caught off guard that she would notice me, given that I was just there sipping my tea and listening in to everyone else.

“I’m going to my room, too, and, uh, Ray?” Remora announced.

“Yes?” I addressed her.

“Your wife’s asleep at the table.”

“Ah. Thank you. I suppose it’s time we get some rest. In the morning I’ll make us all a large meal, how does that sound?” I offered.

“I can do it! You’re still hurt pretty bad!” Tigershark shot her hand up.

“Very well. I’ll leave it to you, then,” I gave a light chuckle as I got up from my seat, took one last sip of my tea, and led Sunny up, first by tapping on her back.

“Come on, hun. It’s time we got ourselves to bed,” I coaxed as I helped lift her up.

“Boobas…” She murmured in a half-asleep daze. She must have been dreaming about bubble tea or something.

“Yes, dear. I understand quite well.”

We stumbled our way to the back, then up the stairs to our room. She rubbed her eyes a bit, but rather than start to wake up, as soon as we were next to our bed, she collapsed right into it. I followed suit.

The following morning, I fumbled getting my glasses back on, surprised that I had slept without taking them off, and my head almost crushing them while asleep. Once I had conquered that battle, it was time to...well, check the time. My phone read 5:31 AM, and as early as it was, I accepted it and forced myself out of bed.

As I got up, I felt the intense soreness of yesterday’s struggle. What a terrible and aching physical reminder it was. It got worse when I went down and took a shower; the hot water stung against the wounds on my sides and on my face. After getting myself dressed, I headed to my desk in the middle of the hallway and sat down. Yes, it may have been wiser to have brewed another cup of tea, or perhaps, dare I say, coffee, but I just wanted to sit and think for a little while.

What a day yesterday. For better or worse, we all made it back, and the diner is once again empty save for the five of us. While I do hope to get some customers sooner or later, I must say that I enjoy the quiet. We’ve all earned it. Now, even if some things may be different in terms of everyone’s personalities, if we are getting back to business as usual, then I ought to make a phone call.

The downside is that based on our timezones, Cybele would probably still be asleep.

I know. I’ll just send a text.

Me: It’s safe now. You can return if you’d like.

I set my phone down on the table, then almost jumped out of my seat upon seeing Remora seated across from me. Her serious expression made whatever she was there to say seem urgent.

“So, I just had a dream that we were all on a battlefield and then Demetria died and I got sad, so there’s no denying it now: I’ve got a crush on her.”

I matched her dull expression with my own.

“Remora, it’s like 6 AM,” I informed her.

“Is it? I don’t have my phone with me, so I can’t really tell the time. Anyway, I don’t see what that has to do with the dream I had, so quit beating around the bush and tell me what you think.”

Is this really all I’m good for?

“It doesn’t really sound like a crush,” I shrugged, figuring she wouldn’t give up staring until I gave her an answer, “it just sounds normal. You’d be sad if I died, wouldn’t you?”

She paused. Didn’t say a word. I let it linger for a few seconds longer, then I couldn’t help myself.

“What?! No answer?!” I spat out.

“I’m still tired,” she replied, “I have to think about this.”

I was still just a little baffled, but I let it go.

“Even if it turns out you haven’t developed a crush, like you theorize, I can still tell you’ve discovered some things about yourself, so I commend you for that. Maybe later we can discuss some of the things you’ve learned.”

“Anyway, I’m pretty sure it’s a crush,” Remora dismissed, as if she didn’t even listen to what I had to say, “but I’m going to deny it, because I already know a relationship wouldn’t work out.”

“I agree. As it stands, I don’t think either of you are ready for such things. Besides, I know how she used to be, but do you think that’s something she wants now?”

“What? That’s not what you’re supposed to say. You’re supposed to say, ‘go for it, what do you have to lose? You only live once, et cetera’.”

“I’m agreeing with something you said. Isn’t that good enough?”

“We’re friends, right, Ray?”

I put my palm over my head.

“Yes, Remora. We’re friends.”

“So you’ll tell me anything I wanna hear, right?” She closed her eyes, crossed her arms, and smiled.

“That’s not how that works.”

“I know, but can’t you just pretend?” Her smile lowered and she pleaded.

“OK. What do you want to hear?” I humored her.

She just slammed her head against the desk and groaned.

“Ugh...I don’t know. What should I do?”

“First you should get your head off my desk,” I instructed. She didn’t, at least not at first.

“Ugh...you’re so mean, Ray,” she whined before lifting her head.

“Now, you should go back to bed. You clearly need some rest.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right,” she blinked, her face back to the blank expression I was used to seeing on her. “What are you doing up so early, anyway?”

“I’m just sitting and thinking. I like to do it sometimes.”

“Wow. That’s such an old man thing to do. You’re not that old yet, you know,” she pointed out.

“Don’t you ever do that?”

“Only when I need to.”

“Well, then, I think you need to do some of that after you’ve gotten a little more rest. You said yourself after we got back last night that the reason she’s acting the way she is around you is because of what happened before you left over a year ago. So don’t you think that should be addressed first before any prospect of a relationship?”

“Hm. Yeah. OK. Back to bed I go.”

A few hours later, Tigershark had made pancakes with strawberry syrup for everyone. She, Sunny, and I sat together while Remora and Demetria sat alone in booths at opposite ends of the diner silence.

“So, I was thinking, hun, how we don’t really charge people for meals most of the time,” Sunny brought up in between bites of the fluffy pancakes.

“Yeah. We used to a few years ago, but there’s been many changes since then,” I replied.

“Right. But you don’t mind that we don’t charge, do you?” She pondered.

“I suppose not.”

“So I’ve got a couple of ideas: we could turn this place into a hotel and start charging. If we hire more staff, then it shouldn’t be all that stressful managing all those people. Yeah, we had to house many people already and it was awful because of the circumstances, but if people can go in and out, then it should be fine.”

“It would cost a lot of money to expand this space in order to accommodate,” I pointed out.

“Right. My other idea is: why do we need to be a business at all? Like, sure, the front half is pretty much designed like a business, but there’s nothing saying we have to. We get by just fine on our own as it is. So maybe we could provide free meals to anyone who comes in and advertise that.”

“So basically what we’ve already been doing, but announce it?”

“Yeah!”

“I won’t rule it out. Not sure if I really want the attention, but it’s an option.”

“What do you think, Tigershark?” Sunny turned to the kid.

“Hmm...oh! You could do both! Make it like a free hotel!”

I put my palm over my mouth and chuckled.

“So like a homeless shelter, but fancy...not bad, not bad. Still would be expensive to see it through, but it seems like the kind of thing Wendy would approve of. Not to mention, just like with the previous hotel idea, we’d have to hire more staff, and even if they’d live here with us, they’ll probably want to get paid for their labor.”

“Oh! Have you heard from Wendy?” Tigershark asked.

“Yeah, I talked to her last night. She’s doing fine. Just hanging out at the hospital.”

“That idea…” Sunny scratched her chin. “Tigershark, you’re a genius! It’s easy! We make lots of money by taking on requests again!”

“That’s one way...but then there’s the chance of Cronus striking at any moment. Sheesh, everything’s become so complicated.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure out something, hun,” Sunny reached across the table and gave me a pat on the shoulder. When she sat back down, I felt my phone begin to ring. I picked it up and saw that it was Cybele.

“Oh my Goddess! This is the best day ever!” Cybele gushed over the phone, her excitement at maximum capacity.

“Is it really?” I chuckled.

“Yes! I can’t wait! I’m going to head back on over right away! Oh, but what should I do about the big house? Should I sell it? Should I give it to a homeless person? Oh, but if I do that, then they wouldn’t be able to afford to pay utilities, so that wouldn’t be very fair.”

“You can sell the house, then give the money to a homeless person,” I suggested.

“Yes! Brilliant! Thank you so much, Ray!” She hung up right after, without so much as a goodbye.

“Who was that?” Sunny asked.

“Cybele. She’ll be coming back soon,” I informed her.

“Awesome! We’re getting the band back together!”

“Band? What band?” Tigershark looked at the both of us, turning her head back and forth.

“It’s a figure of speech,” I explained.

After breakfast, Tigershark and I tended to the dishes. Once we had finished, I headed back to Sunny and I’s bedroom so I could fetch myself a book to read. We had an extensive collection along multiple bookshelves, enough that if we expanded the space just a bit more, we could have ourselves our own little library.

After much deliberation, I decided to settle on a collection of Akutagawa’s short stories. His tales were amusing, if nothing else, so it should at least pass some time away.

As I made my way back downstairs, I heard some commotion between Remora and Demetria.

“We need to set boundaries! So you stay at your end of the hallway, and I’ll stay at mine!” Demetria shouted whilst holding a stick of chalk.

“But the bathroom is on your end of the hallway and sometimes I have to pee. Also, what about showering?” Remora stated her case.

“You’ll have to get creative! We’re not good around each other, and this is a good solution!”

I made my way to the bottom of the stairs, then turned to the two.

“Hey Demetria, I need to cut something, so can I borrow one of your knives?” I asked.

She looked up at me, blinked, then dug into her pocket.

“Uh, sure, here.”

I took her knife and held it up, making a slashing motion into the air.

“Yep. It’s just as I thought. The tension in the air’s so thick that you have to cut through it with a knife.”

“What?!” Demetria stomped her foot at my little theatrics. I handed her knife back to her, then smudged out the chalk line on the floor with my foot. She, of course, took issue with that. “Hey! What are you doing? I’m setting boundaries, here!”

“You’re acting like a child, is what you’re doing.”

“Am not! She started it!” Demetria pointed at Remora. I faced Remora, who then backed away a step.

“I was just trying to talk things out with her, but I understand wanting space and I’m willing to compromise, but please let me take a shower sometimes,” Remora pleaded.

“There’s the bathroom in the dining hall,” I explained, “but yes, there’s no reason to restrict what bathroom you use. That’s just ridiculous.”

“First off, when she tried to talk things out, she just made things worse,” Demetria was still going at it.

“Look, I’m fine if you guys fight with each other, but can you two not take up so much space? Sit down at a table, or go to a room and go at it there,” I told them.

“I don’t want to go at it with her, I just want us to coexist,” Remora explained.

“We can’t coexist! We’re not good around each other!” Demetria shot back.

I shook my head. This was really trying my patience.

“Maybe you’re right,” I relented.

“Ha!” Demetria gloated.

“What I mean is, if you two can’t get along, you both can leave. We don’t need any of this bickering.”

“What?! You can’t do that! I was here first!” Demetria protested.

“Technically speaking, Remora was here first,” I pointed out.

“Well I came back first!”

“Well, I’m...uh...taller?” Remora interjected in an absentminded fashion.

You do realize this isn’t a competition, right?

“I’m serious. Get along or else,” I reiterated.

“But we can’t get along!” Demetria whined.

“...You won’t have to. I’ll be in my room, so, there should be no issues,” Remora stated, then walked away back to her end of the hallway. Even if she didn’t look like one, the image of a sad little puppy conjured up.

Once she entered into her room and closed the door behind her, I turned to Demetria.

“Anything you would like to drink? Tea? Coffee?” I offered. She looked up, confused, but answered.

“Espresso?”

“Very well. Go ahead and sit down, I’ll make you some.”

I brewed a cup of espresso, then set it down for her and sat across from her at the booth.

“What gives? First you say I’m acting like a kid, and now you’re rewarding me?” She asked after taking a sip.

I smiled before I spoke.

“I figured ‘let’s have a drink’ would sound less like you were in trouble than ‘let’s have a talk’.”

“I see. It was a clever ruse.”

“Not really. So, care to tell me what I missed?”

“Nothing much,” she scoffed, “she just came up to me and said she was sorry and that she’s started to feel things. I didn’t get it and I still don’t. She asked me if we could be friends, at least until she figured things out.”

“What did you say to that?”

“I asked if it was even possible for her to be friends with someone.”

“Don’t you think that was a bit harsh? It may have hurt her feelings.”

“Does she even have feelings?”

Can you not tell?

“Sure she does,” I answered, “maybe she doesn’t express them in the same way that you do, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t. I don’t know, but I’m thinking she’s started to figure that out as well.”

“I’m sorry, then,” she muttered, then slumped her head down onto the table. I wanted to get her head off the table, but...I let it slide.

“I don’t need any apologies.”

“Well, she said in response to that, ‘I don’t know, but I’d like to try’ and so I gave in and said that I guess I could do that much. It’s just, what does she mean?”

“I think she means that she’d like to be friends?”

“But what does that mean to her? Can I really do that? It’s not like I really know what to do with friends either. I’ve never been good at that kind of stuff.”

“In that case, maybe it will be a good learning experience for both of you.”

“Why...why does anything have to be a learning experience?” She grunted, “I don’t want any more learning experiences. That’s not what I came here for. I don’t even want to like her anymore.”

“Don’t want to?” I questioned.

“That’s...you get what I mean.”

I do. It’s just that you’re trying to convince me that you didn’t say what you meant.

“Demetria,” I commanded, “what is it that you want?”

She looked up, leaned back toward the window, and looked out.

“I don’t know,” she replied.

“Because you don’t have to be her friend if you don’t want to. It wouldn’t be right if you forced yourself to, would it?”

“Look: I came back to protect you guys. She wasn’t on my mind at all. I did everything I could to get her off my mind and just move on with my life, but I couldn’t bear the thought of the rest of you in a dangerous situation beyond your control. So if for nothing else, I wanted to return for that.”

“And I thank you for that. Seeing as the cat’s out of the bag, I think it’s fair to say you know what I think of you.”

“But I wish I didn’t have to be in disguise to hear it.”

“Yes, but I’m telling you now: we all like you. Tigershark likes you, even if she might like to pick on you sometimes. Sunny took a liking to you right away.”

“I’m not interested in stealing your wife from you,” she replied and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Not what I meant, but I’m amused that you took it that way.”

She puffed her cheeks and scowled. I felt like getting a needle and popping one of her cheeks, though I doubted it would pop like a balloon.

“We’re all happy to see you back, don’t get me wrong. But you should have known that there was a chance of her coming back as well.”

“Really? I thought she didn’t care about anyone.”

“Oh, come now,” I flashed a toothy smile, “and I thought you knew better than to take people’s words at face value.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She turned to face me.

“Figure it out yourself.”

Again, she puffed her cheeks. I wasn’t going to spell it out for her, but I figured an elaboration was in order.

“Don’t get me wrong, even if she was how she was just a couple of years ago, she’d have justified it by saying ‘I’m only doing this because it’s my mess and I need to clean it up’ or something to that effect. But how is that any different than ‘I only came back to protect you guys?’”

“It’s plenty different! What? You saying I’m a liar? It was a big motivating factor! If I never heard that you guys were in trouble, I probably would have never returned. That would have been that. Like I said, I wanted to move on with my life.”

“I don’t want to put words in your mouth. You say you came back to bail us out, I believe you. And so you did and we are thankful, so now there’s nothing stopping you from moving on with your life.”

“Uh, yeah there is. Cronus is still out there and he could come back any time. What then?”

For a moment, I had forgotten that whole matter. Oh, such sweet ignorant bliss.

“It’s true he really had us on the ropes. Drove me to the point of despair, took lives right in front of me, all for the sole purpose of wearing me down. But if the same incident were to happen again, even more hopeless this time, I want to maintain compassion just to spite him. I want to learn everyone’s names, that way even if their lives end up lost to his petty game, at least they would be remembered. However, now that we have more knowledge at hand, going forward it will be that much easier to prepare. What I’m saying is that while there’s no guarantee, you shouldn’t have to hinder your future for our sake.”

“You wouldn’t be hindering my future,” she muttered.

“Oh? Why not?”

“Because if it’s something that I chose to do, then it’s on me.”

“I see. I’m just saying, you can choose to do other things. It’s true that there are times situations are out of one’s control, but you’re crafty in ways that even surprise me sometimes. If you need support, I could try and assist you in any way. Even if there’s something you want to do and you can’t achieve it, I’m just saying that I want you to have the option of trying.”

“Thanks,” she replied, then let out a dejected sigh, “she’s going to be disappointed. I’m not the same person she remembers.”

“So what? Why worry about disappointing her?”

“I’m not. I’m just saying, if she’s expecting things to go back to how they were before, she’s setting herself up for disappointment.”

“I think it goes without saying that we’ve all changed since we’ve last seen each other, but now I’m curious: how exactly have you changed?”

“First of all, I finished school. I can be a marine biologist if I want to now.”

“Good job. I’m proud of you,” I gave a little clap, “if you want to be a marine biologist, you should. There are many benefits to being a marine biologist. If you want to stay in the area, you can find an aquarium to work at and visit here from time to time. We could talk about how your job’s treating you, and how life’s been, and we can both share a good laugh.”

“I just don’t know. I didn’t get it because I want to be a marine biologist. I wanted to, once, but I don’t know. I didn’t finish school because I wanted to finish school, either, but because I didn’t want it to go unfinished.”

“So perhaps it was a pride thing less than interest?”

She either laughed or scoffed. It was hard to tell.

“Yeah. Might have been something like that. I...also killed a few people.”

That took me aback. Though not appalled, just surprised. But given where we were at, who she was talking to, she should have known that there wouldn’t be any moral condemnation.

“You and Remora have something in common, then.”

“Is this a joke to you?” She rasped.

I smiled and shook my head.

“No. At least not one I benefit from laughing at.”

“I didn’t enjoy it.”

“I doubt she enjoyed killing, either. She was just conditioned to treat it as a chore or routine. Just another assignment.” However…

“That said,” I continued, deciding not to keep my thought to myself, “there is a certain thrill she gets from intense fights, hunts, perilous situations. It may not be that she enjoys pain. Whether it be inflicting or receiving. But...it’s a rush that’s hard to satiate.”

Demetria gulped, as if she knew what I meant. Sensing that she was afraid to speak, I continued once more:

“There are things that she was conditioned to believe about herself, things that she’s told herself, that she’s had to unlearn. Then after that, there’s learning new beliefs in its place. I can’t imagine it’s easy. I’d say it’s probably been scary for her, as well, and in that process of challenging such old mindsets, she’d resist them. Maybe she’s changed since then, and she’s not the person you first had a crush on and maybe you’ve changed and you’re no longer the person she was hoping to see again, but even if that’s the case and things can’t work out between you two, I think you should still have a talk with her.”

“About what?”

I snorted, then coughed up a laughter. It wasn’t like she said anything funny, nor did it warrant a laugh, but I couldn’t help myself.

“Anything. Just say anything to clear the air. Even if nothing’s resolved after, at least it would be better than avoiding each other. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying you have to, nor do you need to do it right away. If you need time, if you don’t feel ready, that’s fine. But I do think it should happen sometime.”

“It’s going to be hard to face her,” she replied, and some of the edge in her voice had diminished, in its place an aching timbre.

“I can imagine.”

“What if we try to talk, but then I snap or lash out and that just makes things worse between us?”

I shrugged.

“I’d rather than not be the case, but at least then you’d have made an effort. Forty percent is better than zero, y’know?”

“Sounds like a wasted effort if it still ends in failure.”

“No effort is wasted, dear.”

She got up from her seat without another word. Her face looked a little more relaxed, though I wondered how much that had to do with the talk and how much it had to do with the caffeine. Then again, there’s the possibility that giving her so much caffeine would have done the opposite of relaxed her and make her unable to sleep, so...my god, why did she want that? Why not some relaxing herbal tea?

After dusk, Tigershark made tartiflettes for everyone with buttered sweet rolls on the side. Again, Sunny, Tigershark, and I sat together, while the other two (no need to name names) sat far away from each other at opposite ends of the diner. Both were thankful for their meals, but they remained fixated on the food in front of them, not on anyone else, let alone each other.

Once that was said and done, I walked back to my desk, gathered up papers, and examined any possible requests or avenues in which to make money through unethical means. Just me, a middle aged man, sorting through papers. As if that was what my life had been reduced to. Even with my glasses on, the words all seemed to just bleed into each other after a while. Every little option or scheme carried with it some kind of risk, and balancing risk and reward...man, it was a stress and a half.

I reached into my drawer, hoping for a joint, but none were to be found.

Sunny must have taken them. She might even be getting higher than a hot air balloon in outer space right now. Lucky her. Can’t really blame her, either. To quote a certain little nun, we all ‘went through hell.’

Going back over to the stack of papers, I looked up and saw Demetria emerge from her room and saunter (maybe ‘saunter’ wasn’t the right word choice, but she couldn’t stop me from describing her movements that way) through the hallway. She caught my gaze and turned her head.

“You said it didn’t have to be right away, but better now than never,” she told me, before crossing the threshold into the other end of the hall.

I expected that she would have knocked on Remora and Tigershark’s door (I didn’t know where the kid was, at the moment. My suspicion was in the kitchen, either cleaning up, or baking treats for herself). Instead, I watched as before she could get to the door, she bumped her head on an invisible wall. I heard her hiss, “ow,” then slide her back down against the wall until she sat, legs folded up, and her head down.

“Figures you would put up a literal wall. You’re not really one for metaphors,” she muttered, “then again, at least you’re direct. Here I’ve been trying to keep you out of my mind and avoid you to little success.”

I figured after saying that, she’d get up and go back to her room, given that it didn’t seem to be the right time. Props to her, though. She was a persistent one.

“Funny how that works, huh? I started out all obsessed with you. I wanted you, or at least I thought I did. Well, I’m pretty sure I did. I had all sorts of fantasies you probably wouldn’t want to hear about. Somewhere around the line those fantasies faded and in their place, I just wanted to know you better. Even then, though, I was still pretty attached, and I still think I wanted you to notice me, more than anything else. Now…” She shook her head, “Ha. You don’t need the whole recap.”

She folded her arms over her legs. It was like she was trying to cradle herself, but she remained still and just held on tight.

“You probably can’t hear any of this. That’s fine, too. Maybe it’s better sometimes to talk to myself and pretend there’s someone else listening. I’d do it more often, but I don’t like the sound of my own voice.”

I watched as the illusion shattered, the wall must have come down, and in its place, Remora sat at the opposite end of Demetria, in the same position. To boot, her back was against Demetria’s.

“I only caught the last bit,” Remora spoke up, “what was the rest of it?”

Demetria, startled, but regained composure within the same sentence, replied, “I’m not going to repeat myself.”

“That’s fine. But what are you doing on the floor?”

“I came to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know. I guess just to try to work something out. Figure out where to go from here.”

“Well, you don’t have to believe me, but I’m glad.”

“I’ll choose to believe you – but only because if you aren’t, it doesn’t really affect much, but if you are, then it makes things a little better.”

“But what if you believe me, but then it turns out not to be true?”

“Dammit. Why do you have to ruin this?”

“I just want to cover all the bases.”

Demetria huffed, then answered, “I think I’ll choose to believe you anyway. I know how I’ve been since we got back, but I really would like us to be on good terms as well.”

“Do you mean that?”

“What? Now you’re doubting me?”

“No. It’s just that if you didn’t want to, I’d have understood.”

“Well...when you asked about being friends, it really caught me off guard. For one, the last time the subject came up, it was how you said you could pretend if I wanted, but it wouldn’t be real. When you brought it up this time, it was ‘at least until I figure myself out’. Which means that maybe after a while, you’ll come to the conclusion that you don’t want to be.”

“I know. It’s a risk. One that you might not want to take. I can’t really say what conclusions I’ll come to or how things will turn out. But I prefer to be upfront about what’s on my mind and how I feel, and at the moment, how I feel is that I would like to try being friends with you. I think I’ve reached the point where I can say that whether it’s pretend or not is a moot point, because if I think of us as friends, then I’m going to treat it as real.”

“B-but...what does being friends even mean to you?”

There was a pause and Remora lifted her head up.

“I’m not sure. Friends are...friendly to each other? Well, that might go without saying. I know friends are people who like each other. Get along. But then there are friends who don’t get along. So I’m not sure. I feel like I should know, it just seems more vague when I try to put it into words.”

“Well,” Demetria replied, “that makes two of us. I’ve never been good at that sort of thing, myself.”

“Then...we can not be good at it together,” Remora suggested. “Maybe we can both learn.”

“But how would we do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t know, either.”

“See? We can not know together.”

“But how would we both be friends if we don’t know how to be friends? That just makes no sense.”

“I know. But I think if we were both in elementary school, we wouldn’t think so much about that sort of thing. One of us would just go up to the other and be like, ‘let’s be friends!’ And either the other would say, ‘yeah!’ Or say something like, ‘ew! Go away!’”

“That’s kind of a cute idea,” Demetria remarked, “if only we had met that way.”

“Hm. I don’t know. Even as a kid, I preferred to be left alone.”

“Oh. Yeah. Me too.”

“But now we’re adults and we’ve spent so much time wanting to be left alone that –”

“– you no longer want to be left alone?” Demetria suggested as she tried finishing that statement.

“Hm. No. I was going to say, ‘even if we have some friends, we don’t really know what it means.”

“Oh. I guess that’s true, too.”

“Yeah. But I like your answer better.”

“Yeah. But your answer applies to you and mine applies to me.”

“It’s kind of nice that way, though. Each different perspectives.”

“You know, when we talked earlier, and you asked me to hug you, it felt weird, but I said sure. So I held out my arms and walked up, but then you backed away and said you didn’t think you were ready after all and I didn’t take it well.”

“It wasn’t your fault. I wanted to, too. I’ve just never been comfortable with others touching me, and even if it would have been okay, I was still a little hesitant and nervous.”

“It’s okay not to be ready. I should know better. I was just hoping that things would be different.”

“They might be, in time.”

“You know, it’s still hard. Because I want to be friends with you, I do, and I feel like I should be happy about that, but then I just think about when we talked right before we both left and it hurts. Like, I was so convinced that we had gotten closer and that you cared, and hearing you say that you didn’t, I wanted it not to be true. But you pushed harder, and I just thought ‘maybe you’re right.’ Now you’re saying ‘I don’t know’ and it’s like, nothing’s really changed, has it?”

“You’re wrong there. I’m sorry about what I said and how it affected you and it makes sense that it would hurt, but you’re wrong in that nothing has changed. Before, I was so sure it was a ‘no’ and now I’m not so sure, but I’m more optimistic, and even leaning toward the possibility that it’s a ‘yes’. It just feels messy and gray.”

“I think I can understand that. To be honest, it’s going to be awkward. Us, as friends.”

“We’re awkward people, so it’s to be expected.”

“But at the same time, you might not like who I am now.”

“Maybe. But I’d rather find that out for myself. It’s only been a couple of days.”

“You’re taking this rather well,” Demetria remarked.

“Not really. I’m just taking it.”

“Well, I’m just saying, I’m different than how I used to be.”

“I’ve changed as well, you know.”

“How?”

There are many obvious things you could say, so what is it you’ll say? I wondered. Remora lowered her head, and when she answered, it wasn’t an answer I would have expected. But then again, it wouldn’t have been her if she didn’t throw a few curveballs in between her signature style.

“If I was the old me, and I still had that job, and you were the target, then I wouldn’t hesitate to kill you.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Demetria spoke in what was like a half mix between a growl and a tease.

“You wouldn’t even see me coming.”

“I’d like to see you coming.”

...What?

“Well, maybe with how you are now, you would. But then, maybe with how I am now, I wouldn’t mind you seeing me coming.”

This is still about a hypothetical assassination, right?

“I suppose that’s how we’ve both changed, huh?”

“It’s not much, but it’s honest work.”

“So what are you thinking about now?” Demetria asked.

“How much I have to pee,” Remora answered. “That’s why I undid the barrier, so I could go to the bathroom, but then I saw you sitting there talking so I figured I’d hold it and sit too.”

“Oh my fuck. Just go to the bathroom.”

“But we’re in the middle of a conversation. It would be rude.”

“That doesn’t matter! We can continue when you get back!”

“But then you might lose your train of thought or I might not feel like talking anymore and just head to bed –”

This is ridiculous. I’m done eavesdropping. I should’ve just left my desk the moment they started talking. Why did they have to talk in the middle of the hallway, anyway?

I got up and headed out into the front of the diner. If those two had anything more to say, they could have at it. As for me, I went into the kitchen to check in on Tigershark.

“Hey, what’s going on?” I greeted after a knock with the back of my hand.

“I made cookie brownies!” She cheered, and I saw a large casserole dish filled with brownies.

“Oh, good. May I have one?” I asked.

“You may have two!”

She put two pieces on a saucer for me and had two on her saucer as well and she jumped down from the stool she stood on and we both walked out into the dining hall and sat at a booth together.

“Mm. Good job,” I complimented.

“Thanks. I was still hungry and sweets are sweet.”

“That they are. Just don’t have too many.”

“I won’t!” She scowled. “Maybe three. Or four. But that’s it.”

We both laughed together as we ate our brownies. Just a few minutes later, Sunny walked up. She looked (not) high, and her eyes were (not) bloodshot red. I suppose she might have moved the stash elsewhere and planned to smoke them some other time.

“Hey hun, you gotta come check this out!”

“What? I’m busy spending quality time with Tigershark,” I replied. And it’s quality time because I’m not hearing about bodily functions.

“I see that, but this is important!” She urged, and motioned us to come to the back with her. Tigershark and I hopped out from our seats and followed. When we reached the hallway, Sunny pointed and went, “aww” and Tigershark and I saw what the fuss was about: Remora and Demetria were asleep, leaned against the wall, and backs against each other.

“I guess that’s what happens when you hold it in for so long,” I remarked, then, realizing I had said that out loud, added, “emotionally, I mean.”

“Aww, so adorable,” Sunny continued fawning over the scene.

“How am I supposed to get to bed tonight? They’re blocking the way!” Tigershark complained.

“It’s okay, you can sleep with us tonight,” Sunny replied.

“Tigershark,” I turned to the child next to Sunny and I, “get the broom and dustpan. There’s something on the floor.”

“Don’t!” Sunny nudged me, “leave them be.”

“Tigershark,” I continued, “I give you full permission to draw on their faces with a sharpie.’

in response, Tigershark grinned and ran off to go find one. While she was gone, I turned to Sunny.

“So, shall we head off to dreamland as well?” I offered.

“Oh yes. Two tickets, please,” she replied and yawned for added measure. We locked arms with each other and strolled up the stairs. I’d like to say that in the coming days, the dynamic between everyone improved greatly, but the truth is, it was more like slow and drunken baby steps.

#writing #stories #remoras full #settling down after a long battle #drama #comedy #slice of life #this took so long #high

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mikamink · 3 years

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What are your pokemon headcanons for some of the characters teams lol

I've figured out some fitting pokemon for most characters but I like to try to find a neat theme and setup to go with the choices. I don't have all of them set in stone but I'll share the choices I'm the happy with atm.

Some of the descriptions will be a bit long. Characters included are Rasiel, Fran, Belphegor, Chrome, Ryohei, and Bianchi. (With very slight mention of Haru and Kyoko)

Rasiel- I’ll just get him out of the way first. Due to his status and traumatic childhood Rasiel’s preference in pokemon revolves around high class ghost types. Vain status symbols and testaments to his ability to overcome death. His team is comprised of pokemon like Cofagrigus, Chandelure, and (Authentic)Polteageist. His most notable pokemon is Cofagrigus.

Not long after the “incident” that left him terribly injured and ill, employees around the castle noticed the presence of a distressed yamask pacing the outskirts of the castle grounds. Some noted the unsettling resemblance between the young prince and the mask the pokemon carried. At some point during his recovery, the Yamask found it’s way into the castle and rushed straight to Siel. It’s presence didn’t scare the prince, it was oddly comforting and the stray pokemon offered him some small bit of company while he remained isolated.

The consensus between his caretakers was that the Yamask had mistakenly taken the likeness of the prince during the moments he was buried after his brush with death. Rasiel miraculously surviving and Yamask retaining his likeness made the pokemon confused and curiously drawn to him. And it wasn’t just Yamask. Rasiel’s near death experience and the recent flood of negative energy throughout the castle grounds turned it into a beacon for ghost type pokemon. Overtime Rasiel developed a fascination with death and the afterlife and became as drawn to ghost types as they were to him. Not once did he have to go out of his way to catch his own pokemon, all of his partners eagerly sought out their new prince of their own accord.

Rasiel’s main partner Cofagrigus is a very unsettling and dangerous pokemon and most are surprised by how docile it is in his presence. Not only is his connection to Cofagrigus deeply personal, his family is wealthy enough to satiate it’s appetite for gold and his status as future king makes him a perfect match for that particular pokemon based on it’s history. -“There are many depictions of Cofagrigus decorating ancient tombs. They're symbols of the wealth that kings of bygone eras had.”

Fran- Fran has a very notable lack of motivation when it comes to most things, being a trainer included. He doesn’t really have a preference and his team is made up of pokemon he obtained through odd circumstances. Notable pokemon in Frans possession are Espurr, Zorua, Mimikyu, Appletun, and Hatterene.

A tiny apple-less applin became infatuated with Fran’s hat and was determined to make it it’s new home. Though Fran tried many times to shoo the pokemon away or lock it out of his house, it always found its way to him again. Eventually he grew tired of constantly dealing with it and just let it take up residence in his hat. It’s delighted little eyes always poking out of the top. Fran eventually evolved it not long after he acquired a new hat.

Though I don’t have an idea for how he acquired Mimikyu and I do have the hc that Fran is for some unknown reason is the only known person capable of looking under Mimikyu’s disguise without it having any negative affect on him. Not even Belphegor or Mukuro are willing to personally test their luck in that regard.

Hatterene are scary and near impossible for the average person to approach without provoking. However Fran’s monotonous disposition and overall lack of outward emotion made him unintentionally cross paths with one. Though he had no desire to catch or battle it he noticed it had intently started following him. It had never encountered a human that didn’t instantly agitate it and that made it curious.(She also just liked his big silly hat) He didn’t particularly like the idea of having such an aggressive and volatile pokemon in his possession but he also didn’t want it following him through places filled with people that could potentially provoke it, not that he was concerned it might attack other people, he just didn't want it to attack him. So he made a compromise to take it with him while in the safety of a ball, and it surprisingly obliged.

There is ONE perk though. Hatterene HATES Belphegor. He’s loud and hostile and his vibes are terrible. He is everything Hatterenes hate in a human. If Fran tries to use Hatterene in battle while Bel is nearby it will turn it’s focus straight to him. Sometimes Fran does it on purpose because honestly Bel deserves it majority of the time. Her Fairy typing also directly counters Bel’s favored dark type.

Belphegor- Gonna be honest, I’ve tried to put a lot of thought into Bel for this AU but he is incredibly difficult to work with. It’s hard for me to assign him pokemon because I just can’t seem to find any that are good enough to fit his vibes. Or in his case bad enough. The main thing I decided for him was that he would have a focus on dark types and two of his pokemon would be a shiny Absol and the exception to his preference, Gengar. Alolan Persian, Deino, Weavile, and Skuntank are pretty solid contenders but i’m not 100% on all of them yet. Tho I do like the idea of both of the twins having meowth, Bel ending up with alolan persian and Rasiel ending up with Kantonian Persian.

Absol’s are considered bad omens, bringers of disaster and death, and that is exactly what comes to those whose paths are crossed by this crimson visage. It’s presence is a warning that it’s master is near. Bel has had this fearsome partner since he was a child, it’s first appearance before him marking the “death” of his brother. Since then Bel has been a beacon for disaster, anywhere he goes he happily brings death with him, and that is why Absol is never far from his side. Always there to be a warning, or a threat, to those who venture too close or are unfortunate enough to have Bel’s sights set on them.

The exception to his preference in dark types is Gengar. He liked it’s vibe and got it as a direct response to Fran’s Hatterene being a constant pain. Though head-to-head it does come down more to skill than typing since both have disadvantage and weakness against the other. Generally they tend to be pretty even in power.(when you don’t consider the fact that Fran doesn’t really put much effort into battles.)

Chrome- Chrome isn’t one for battle when it comes to pokemon and doesn’t really have a preference. For Chrome her pokemon are therapeutic and a source of comfort in her day to day. Her pokemon are Musharna, Sylveon, Togetic, Shiny Audino, Kirlia, and Gothorita. Pokemon that specialize in soothing the fears and anxiety of their trainers, and bringing them happiness. Her very first partner was a Munna.

It isn’t uncommon for doctors to use pokemon as assistants for a variety of medical treatments. Though they were not exclusive to that ward, munna were often found in the pediatric ward at night. They provided assurance and comfort to recovering children, soothing their dreams and eating away the nightmares. Though there was little hope she would survive, Chrome had one assigned to her bedside. A small comfort during what would likely be her last few nights. Her moments of consciousness were short and scarce, so her dreams were all she had left.

Up until Mukuro’s odd intervention, Munna remained snug by her side. It would sometimes visit her in her dreams, providing some company within her peaceful, yet lonely world. After all what company could she dream of if everyone had abandoned her? When she awakened and had miraculously stabilized due to Mukuro’s aid she just so happened to take the Munna with her on her way out of the hospital.

Ryohei- While not one I tend to think too much on and I dont have a full party thought out for him, I recently decided I like the idea of him having Mega-Lopunny. I know that seems like an odd choice, because it is, everyone thinks it's an odd pokemon for him to have, including himself, but under no circumstances would he ever consider removing it from his team because it was a gift.

When his little sister Kyoko became a trainer the first thing she did was try to find a pokemon she could give to her big brother as a gift, as a way of showing him she was capable of catching pokemon on her own and to thank him for helping her get to that point. At the time Buneary felt like a good fit in her eyes because it was cute and its ears seemed to pack the kinda punch Ryohei liked his pokemon to have.

Ryohei was overjoyed by the gift and didnt question in the slightest why she would give him a normal type when he specialized in fighting types, he was just proud of his sister. His synergy with Lopunny is surprisingly solid as it makes for a good pseudo fighting type, and in it's mega form it not only becomes a proper fighting type it also gains the ability to PUNCH GHOSTS which is cool as hell!

Once Kyoko is a little older she feels kind of embarrassed about her choice given Ryoheis type preference but he insists Lopunny is amazing and gladly shows off it's power to anyone when given the chance, making sure everyone knows it's because of his little sister he has such a powerful partner. This does not help ease her embarrassment. Ryohei eventually returned the favor by gifting her a stufful. Something that suited her that was cute and strong, and also because Haru had one and he knew how much Kyoko loved it.

Bianchi- Instead of going full poison types like I originally planned to, I started liking the idea of her having food themed pokemon that are just kinda wrong. She's the only char I have considered taking some liberties with the canon designs and typing of her pokemon. At the moment I hc her having Alcremie, Vanilluxe, and Tsareena. All "shiny" though people are sure Bianchi's pokemon were not always those sickly off-colors. Their designs would be more warped/melted with tsareena being an exception as she seemed to have a better response to it's trainer-inflicted poison typing. (A G-maxed Alcremie in her possession would be a horrific sight)

Bianchi herself isn't doing this intentionally to her pokemon and also doesn't seem to notice their differences. Her love for her pokemon and the care she provides for them are genuine, they just somehow always end up “wrong”. Their sickly appearances haven't hindered their ability to function in battle and they actually seem to be unusually stronger than their average counterparts.

#khr #katekyo hitman reborn #belphegor #rasiel #chrome dokuro #ryohei sasagawa #bianchi #pokemon #mika speaks #I tried to be as brief as possible with them but eh #these are just rough outlines anyway #sorry this took awhile to answer #i scare myself into not posting things :'v #long post

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vcg73 · 4 years

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Free Kurt - Past Kurt

I wrote one extra story for the Free Kurt, anti-proposal challenge, but it’s a little different. 😊

~*~*~*~*~

“What are you wearing?”

Kurt jumped at the sound of a young and judgmental voice speaking directly in his ear.

He was standing on a wide marble step within the hallowed halls of Dalton Academy, surrounded by dozens of friends, acquaintances, and strangers from the assorted western Ohio high schools that Blaine had brought here today to witness his proposal. A proposal that was currently proceeding from the step below his own, and which Kurt was feeling increasingly pressured to accept in spite of his own very real misgivings.

And while it was a very distracting scene, he had not noticed anyone sneaking up behind him. He turned his head slightly, attempting to pay attention to Blaine’s words while simultaneously taking a quick peripheral peek over his right shoulder.

Kurt nearly jumped out of his skin when the voice spoke again, this time right next to him on the left. “Wait, are we getting proposed to?”

Whipping his head to the left, Kurt frowned. Who was that? He didn’t see anyone.

Blaine faltered a little, apparently noticing his distraction. “Kurt?” he mumbled, hazel eyes darting about as his intended frowned and looked everywhere but at him. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t you hear that?” he asked.

“I’m very good looking in the future!” the voice observed, sounding pleased. “Tall too! But that suit has got to go. Peacock blue brocade can be beautiful if used sparingly. Maybe a vest or a jacket against an all black suit. Though on second thought that might make it look like you were about to deal roulette in Vegas. But an entire suit? And with a violet silk shirt to contrast? I know this is just a dream, otherwise I wouldn’t be watching myself, but what has happened to my fashion sense since I got old?”

The young voice was so utterly horrified that Kurt almost laughed in spite of the bizarre circumstance. For he recognized the speaker now. What was even stranger, he remembered now with a startling burst of clarity, that he had had this very dream when he was about 14 years old. Himself standing in what he had thought was a fairy tale palace, watching himself be proposed to by Prince Charming.

Had it not been a dream? For he did recall suddenly that it had occurred following a whack to the head brought about after one of the goon squad, who had already started targeting him in middle school, had aimed badly when shoving Kurt into a locker. Kurt had told his dad that he’d been hit with a dodge ball during P.E. His dad had skeptically bought it, not able to prove otherwise, but Kurt had been given a few days off of school that week, and he remembered being watched like a hawk the whole time.

He also remembered having a lot of strange half-remembered dreams that he had written off to concussion.

A little shiver went down his spine. Surely it was not possible that he had done some kind of astral time travel thing. Wasn’t that just a little too sci-fi for the real world?

And yet, he could not deny the voice that was apparently only in his own ears at this moment. For nobody else was reacting as if they heard a young teenager passing judgment on this whole affair.

“Actually, forget our fashion taste. What the hell is he wearing?”

Kurt bit down a smirk. He had forgotten how dramatically fond of italics he had been as a kid. But he focused, really focused for the first time, on that hideous banana yellow creation that Blaine had chosen, and had to give his alter ego a point on it. No doubt Blaine had wanted something that would force every eye onto him. It wasn’t like he had ever been able to stand not having 100% of the attention in any room turned his way.

Blinking, Kurt wondered where that harsh thought had come from. Sure, it was true, but shouldn’t his thoughts be focused toward how romantic this all was? Apparently listening to the point of view of his less inhibited younger self was sparking a little rebellion inside of him.

“He’s handsome, our boyfriend,” the young voice observed in a clinical tone that made his older self want to laugh. He remembered using it when deciding between two equally perfect outfits, trying to decide which would have more of a ‘wow’ factor. “But his fashion taste is terrible and I don’t like the hair. That slicked back Elvis retro thing is so 1995. It also makes him look like he’s pushing 30. Wait. Is he older than us? How old are we? Are we 30?”

That age must seem ancient to a boy of 14, Kurt supposed. His conscience prickled at the remembrance of his own life plan having been to find someone and become husbands or domestic partners, depending on what the law dictated so far in the future, with him by 30. Before that, he had always expected to live a life of fashionable single fabulosity, with boyfriends by the dozen, while he conquered the career of his choice. It had not been until high school, developing his first bad crush on Finn Hudson, being swamped with insistent hormones, and being constantly surrounded by relationships, that he had started longing for a commitment. Not because he knew what to do with one then, but because he had hated being the only person who did not even have the prospect of a real relationship.

He knew better than that now. So why was he still so determined to do something he knew in his gut that he was not ready for? Even if their ‘teenage dream’ had been perfect, was he really willing to enter into a lifelong commitment before he even hit 20?

Apparently unaware of his thoughts, the voice of his young observer continued with relentless interest. “Oh, my god. Is that Rachel? Tell me you are not thinking of letting Rachel Berry be your attendant. She’s the most obnoxious girl in school! And she’s dressed better than you! Maybe this is actually a nightmare. Oh, hey, there’s Dad. Hi, Dad!”

Kurt looked at his father, looking slightly confused a few steps below where he stood just behind Will Schuester. Burt looked around surreptitiously, as if he had heard the call, but knew it was not possible for it to be there.

“If he’s here at our proposal then he knows about us!” invisible Kurt said happily. “Did we come out to him, and he’s happy for us?”

The sound of a dreamy sigh made Kurt’s eyes unexpectedly prickle with tears. How well he remembered that feeling. That co-mingling of fear, dread, and hope that had gripped him every time he had considered biting the bullet, and telling his father that he was gay. Of course he would have thought he was dreaming all this, seeing his father in his every day attire in a place like this, while they were both surrounded by the glitter and formality of dozens of smiling peers. Friends were another thing that young Kurt had never been sure he would actually experience in real life.

“If this is a dream, does that mean Mom is here too?” the invisible speaker asked, this note of longing in his young voice going straight to Kurt’s heart. He had heard that question deep inside himself for so many years. The small childish part of him that had never entirely accepted that someone as wonderful, fun-loving, and tenderly understanding as his beautiful mother could just be snuffed out of his world after only eight short years.

“No,” he said softly. He knew suddenly that if his mother had been here, she never would have approved of this. She had held the safety and happiness of her only child as a sacred trust from the day he was born until her very last day on Earth. He had always been able to talk to her about anything, and this would have been no different. Mom never would have allowed him to compromise his heart and his future for a dream that he already knew did not live up to reality. “I’m sorry.”

He had been speaking to past-Kurt and to his mother, but when he said the words, it caused Blaine to stop mid-sentence with a look of shock. “What do you mean, no.”

Kurt blinked. Suddenly he knew that while he had not meant those words for Blaine, a part of him had actually wanted to say them out loud ever since he walked in the building.

“Kurt, what are you doing?” Blaine said, his voice more annoyed now as Kurt brushed past him to walk down a few steps, looking around at the crowd and realizing for the first time how few of these people he actually knew. “You’re embarrassing me! I don’t what you’re looking for, but it doesn’t matter. Can we just get on with this thing?”

Kurt turned to look at him, frowning at the irritated question.

“This thing?” he repeated, eyes narrowing. “You mean the thing where I’m missing my flight home so my ex-boyfriend who’s still in high school can ask me to agree to spend the rest of my life with him, even though we’ve only been casually back together as a couple for a couple of days? The thing where we’re both supposed to agree to love and be faithful to one another forever? That thing?”

Apparently he had not entirely lost his love of italics after all. His tone was biting, the reminder of his own youthful hopes and expectations making him feel angry and betrayed all over again.

Instead of understanding, Blaine actually rolled his eyes. “Not that again. I told you, I thought we were over when that happened! And didn’t I promise I would never ever do it again? Isn’t that enough? Why can’t you just get over it? It’s not like it meant anything, Kurt.”

That injured way he said Kurt’s voice, the way that usually deflated whatever outrage Kurt felt and caused him to guiltily give in, enraged him this time.

“No, Blaine. I can’t just get over it. Because we weren’t anywhere near over when it happened, and you know it. It’s called a long distance relationship, and what you did was horrible. Our being boyfriends meant everything to me. The fact that you could throw what we had away on a stranger after just a few weeks apart, because I couldn’t devote all of my attention to you while I was starting a new life in a different state? That meant something to me. It meant that I couldn’t trust you anymore. I don’t trust you, and I can’t forget that happened, so I guess I was wrong about being able to forgive it too. I’m sorry, but I can’t do this. I don’t want to spend my whole life with a guy that I don’t believe will keep a vow to honor and cherish me.”

Blaine sputtered. “But, but I . . . what about all this?” He gestured frantically around them as if he could not conceive of such a scene not magically wiping away whatever doubts Kurt had.

“This is all very beautiful,” Kurt said, glancing around at the streamers, balloons, and startled faces that filled the room, “but it’s only a child’s dream. The real world isn’t a pretty song and a lot of smiling faces. It’s hard work, and compromise, and shared joys, and making sacrifices for each other’s happiness. That’s what a real commitment means, Blaine. It means being there for the people you love even when conditions are not ideal. Even when they’re so bad that you don’t know what to say or how to move forward, but you keep trying because you love them too much to ever want to cause that person pain. It means being your best self and making good times for the two of you even when the worst things are happening.”

“I don’t understand,” he admitted, flopping his hands helplessly. “Where is all this coming from?”

Kurt looked at his dad, who was dashing away tears from eyes that carried mingled pride, regret, and new understanding.

“I was reminded on the way here about how much my mom and dad loved each other, and how deeply committed they were to each other. Even when my mom was dying, they never stopped trying to make each other smile. They never would have cheated on each other, or tried to pressure each other into making a decision that they knew was wrong. And when it was just Dad and me, he did the same for me. He wanted me to always know that I had a safe space with him, a home where I could be myself and try to block out all the pain of the outside world. And I did the same for him, even when I was a little clumsy about trying to protect him.”

Burt nodded, his smile wry as he was clearly remembering some of of the awkward, uncomfortable, but always deeply loving moments they had shared together

“I want that again,” Kurt said, turning back to his would-be fiance. “It’s been a long time since I had a place where I know I can always be myself without having to hide half of the things that make me who I am. A place where I can feel safe because I always know that I’m loved and respected. A home where I can be with someone wants to make sure that I’m happy, just because knowing that makes him happy. Because I deserve that, Blaine. And because I’ll do the same for the man that I’ll agree to spent my life with one day.”

“And I’m not that man?” he asked, sounding genuinely sad.

Kurt looked at him, smiled, and gently kissed his cheek. “No. I hope you will be that man for somebody one day, but we both know deep down that it can’t be me. Our relationship started right here in this hallway three years ago. It’s appropriate that it ends in the same place. Good luck, Blaine.”

They looked into each other’s eyes for a moment, Blaine reading the truth in Kurt’s steady gaze. “I’ll miss you. I’ll always love you, Kurt.”

“Goodbye. Dad, I’ll meet you out at the car.”

Holding his head high, Kurt walked down the steps and past the shocked crowd of onlookers.

“Thanks, Kurt,” he whispered, no longer able to sense his younger self, who had probably awakened from his dream at the same time his present self had ended the swirling nightmare of his unwanted proposal.

Pushing past the great double doors of Dalton Academy, Kurt smiled and stepped out into the sunlight, leaving the past behind him.

THE END

#Free Kurt #elledelajoie #Anti Klaine proposal challenge

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wychive · 4 years

Text

𝙨𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖 𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 ─ 𝙠. 𝙮𝙨.

pairing(s) // yeosang x fem!reader

genre(s) // fluff, a little angst, royal!au, childhood!au

word count // 2.9k

author's note // this is my debut story on tumblr so it might not be up to standard but nonetheless i hope you all like it <3 this if for @noya-sannnn whom i love so much. p. s. listen to calming guitar melodies while reading this!

The night was cold but the fireplace was warm enough for the both of you. You and Yeosang sat in front of the crackling fire, playing around with the toys you bought together that cold afternoon.

“I’ll save you princess!”

“Oh yay! Captain Bright is-”

Yeosang groaned and rolled his eyes at you, putting down his toy hero. “It’s Captain Light, Y/N. How many times have I told you?”

“It’s the same thing, like potato potato,” You crossed your arms and placed it against your chest, huffing out. “Whatever..”

It was the first night of December. Yeosang’s mother and yours were in the kitchen preparing the presents. You could hear them struggling with some of the gift wrap and almost took the chance to see what your presents were but then a little speck of white caught your eye from outside the window.

The six-year-old you together with the superhero, ran to the window as the first snow of the season fell. Your dark spheres became stars, looking in awe at the pretty snowflakes. In the distance, you could see the spectacular castle as snow covered its tall towers. You frowned, turning away from the sight. Yeosang noticed your moody attitude and proceeded with a sigh.

“Hey, Y/N..” He stood in front of you and tilted his head to the side. “What’s wrong?”

“I want to know how it feels like to be an actual princess,” You prance around the living room, as if you were in one of those barbie movies. “To wear dresses, to have a big ballroom, and to meet cool princes,” You stopped and sighed. You proceeded to sit on one of the velvet sofas, dangling your feet.

Yeosang shook his head and sat beside you. “You don’t need those things to live, though,” he says, swinging his legs back and forth. “You have me and your parents, aren’t you happy with us-”

You cut him off. “Yea but still.. Yeosang, don’t you want to know how it feels like to live the life of a prince?” The boy thought about the idea for a short while and nodded to himself thinking about the fancy meals and the amount of toys he’d have if he was a young royal.

The boy leaped from the couch and went to the middle of the room. He extended his hand towards you, signaling for you to grab it. “Wanna see what my parents taught me? It’s a dance, but more fancy than what we usually do”

You exhaled the cold air and smiled before going up to him. “Show me, kind sir.”

“Um- but before we dance, we have to do this,” he blushed a light pink tint and proceeded to bow in front of you, pretending to take off a hat. “May I have this dance, m’lady?”

You tried so hard not to laugh at the sight but then answered with a giggly yes. He could see you almost bursting out one of the biggest laughs ever and playfully slapped the side of your shoulder.

“Okay, first we put our hands on each other’s shoulders,” He placed his hands on your shoulders, as you did the same. An awkward silence filled the air but that didn’t bother the both of you.

“Now, we just swing side to side,” He moved, swaying both of you together. You let out a little giggle.

“This is ridiculous! Did your parents make up this dance?”

“They said this is what they do at the festivals up there in the castle so..”

“Well, it’s still stupid,” You pouted jokingly. You both swayed to nothing but just the crackling fire and the voices of both of your mothers echoing from the kitchen. Suddenly, a light bulb appeared on the top of your head. You took control and spinned the heck out of you both, earning a little warm laugh from the boy in front of you. Getting more and more dizzy with every round, you stopped and collapsed to the ground, followed by the male which collapsed beside you.

Both of you continued laughing as if the only care in the world was if you got on the nice list for Christmas. Your soft smiles were illuminated by the fire that was starting to burn out.

“Y/N, promise me something..” He said, facing the ceiling with his hands on his stomach.

“Hm?”

“When we grow up, promise me we will do that again,” He said, followed by his classic warm smile.

“Princess Y/N,” your head perked up to see one of your royal maids calling out your name from the end of the hallway.

“Your dress is ready for the autumn festival!”

You groaned, not wanting to get out of your comfortable pajamas any sooner. This princess life was not what you had in mind. Now that you were eighteen, everything magical about being a princess faded away. The princes were not more than riches, the dresses so tight they didn't care about your respiratory tract and the dances to be filled with people that you didn't even know existed. Ten years ago, when your mother was revealed to be a distant relative to the royal family, they had asked her to take over the throne as they had no one left to count on. You ought to think that this was going to be just like Sofia The First. The hardest thing was to leave your life behind, including Yeosang. Seeing him act tough when you left made your heart flutter a little, of course, you didn’t - hadn’t - told him yet. Ever since you got here, every little thing that brings you joy would remind yourself of him. The same question would always repeat, “What was he doing now?”

With the help of your maid, you put your blue dress on that had streak marks of gold foil. It was a little tight around your waist, but you managed to get comfortable. Thank God, people don't use corsets anymore because that would've been such a nightmare. You really didn't like the fancy ballroom dances but admired the musical art behind it. Honestly, you would rather just stay in your room reading a good book instead of facing the thousands of fakes that were there to either take over your kingdom or ask for your hand in marriage.

Dusk arrived sooner than expected and the guests filled the castle ballroom in no time. At these events, you always stuck around with your parents. The awkwardness of being around people that want to kiss you was always a problem. You kept a smile on your face not caring if you were genuine about it or not. Your answers to the questions they asked would be answered with a “Dad, how about you answer first. I’m getting a little thirsty.” and followed by you excusing yourself to get some refreshments. This time you did it again and actually got some water as you felt a small headache was coming your way.

As you took a sip of your drink, a figure from the crowd stood out to you. The mystery person was wearing a classic white uniform suit jacket with gold and black lining and a buttoned up white shirt. The chest area of the suit was filled with medals, some of which of the highest levels of honor. One little accessory that stood out was the little pink butterfly on the collar of the shirt that reminded you of the one that you gave him when he was younger.

“Yeosang!” you called out, to see if it was actually him. If he was here after all those years of not being in touch with each other. The now grown male turned to your direction and flashed the same smile he did, all those years ago.

“Y/N!” He called your name. His voice, now mature and filled with nothing but sweet honey made your heart flip. He willingly ditched the conversation he just now had and opened his arms wide as you both ran towards each other, not wanting to stop any sooner. The crowd opened up into a big area as everyone saw you both heading towards the middle of the room. He caught you as soon as you were held by him and lifted you from the ground. He twirled you around with your hands on his shoulders as you both laughed together. Is this what complete bliss felt like?

He finally placed you back on the marble floor and gave you a proper hug. You heard people clapping but that didn’t matter to you. You just found your best friend. After so many years of living without him. Your tears almost puddled but you decided that the meet-up was too public for crying and you weren't that sensitive. You pulled away and looked at him, scanning his now tall figure.

He certainly had been working out and gotten slightly cuter. This was a whole different Yeosang. You looked back at him and he cocked his head to the side with the familiar ‘wtf-are-you-doing’ face. Nevermind, still the perfect him you knew of. You finally realised what you were doing and a blush blossomed onto your cheeks.

“Sorry-” you said, as your hand covered the bottom half of your face. Since when did you get so flustered around him?

“It’s okay, Y/N/N,” He chuckled softly and looked at how much you’ve grown. You went from the mud-covered fairy to the most beautiful princess ever. However, you blushed a little harder than before when he said your old nickname and took a deep breath to let out the icky feelings. Smiling softly at the male, you initiated an actual conversation.

“I didn’t know you were a knight-” you said, grabbing his medals and looking at them one by one. “How come you’ve never told me?” you crossed your arms with a pout, cheekily.

“Well, first of all, I wanted to make it a surprise. Second, I trained for three years and couldn’t contact you at all,” he stopped for a bit and looked at your face once again. “And lastly, when did you become this pretty?” he said, with a smirk on his face.

You let out a light laugh trying not to let out a big laugh in this type of crowd. “Oh, good one,” you said, wheezing and holding his shoulder before you realised that he meant the unusual compliment. “You- you’re not kidding?” you asked, with an ‘are-you-serious-rn’ face. He nodded.

“Since when did you become such a flirt?” you asked, with a worried look on your face.

He shrugged and chuckled once again. “Don’t be alarmed though, I was just seeing if you would blush again”

“Well no- you flirting seems weird enough already. You flirting with me would be triple the weird. Therefore, no, I would not blush if you were to flirt with me,” you said sophisticatedly. There’s no way you would fall for this wimp.…. right?

Him flirting didn’t stop you both from talking to each other though. You both continued to talk and catch up with everything that happened in the past years. You were very interested in his adventures when he was a knight in training as equally as invested of he was in the stupid mistakes you’ve done during major public events. You decided to show him the castle gardens as they were the best shown at night with mini fairy lights wrapped around the bushes and in the middle of the garden was a circle of just grass that you could lay on that was surrounded by various types of flowers.

As you both got into the circle, the mini orchestra from the main ballroom was on their fifth song that night. You yawned as you were tired from the chit chat and the walking. You really needed some sleep after finishing that one book the night before.

“Hey, I think I should go- my parents are probably looking for me,” you said, not really wanting to leave.

“Not yet,” the handsome male said, extending his hand out to you. ‘This looked familiar’ you thought to yourself as a memory from the depths of your brain came to the surface. Ah, yes. The blurred music would make this hopefully not as awkward as before. “Did you save that dance for me after all this time, princess?”

“Yes, of course,” you said, baffled at the fact that he still remembers it as well.

“Let’s do it the right way this time. Shall we?” Yeosang chuckled before he bowing in front of you. “May I have this dance, Y/N?”

You smacked his head playfully and earned a slight yelp from him. He rubbed the place where you hit the poor fella and asked why.

“It’s Princess Y/N to you,” you said with a humph and placed your palm on top of his. “But yes, you may have this dance, Sir Yeosang.”

He flashed his warm sunny smile like he once did and pulled you in. You both looked into each other’s galaxy filled eyes and stayed in that position for a few seconds before actually moving. His other hand slipped down to your waist as yours held onto his shoulder. Both of you stayed silent during the dance as the atmosphere was already filled with beautiful gold coloured music notes and the faded sound of the crickets in the distance.

The memories of you both start to come back. The summers, autumns, winters, and springs you lived through. The secrets and laughs you shared. The fun play dates you spent together. You’re surprised at how much he matured but one thing you noticed that didn’t change was the smile that he always gave you. The sweet smile that looked like it was going to taste like cotton candy. The sweet smile that would always reassure you that it was going to be okay. The sweet smile that would make you feel as if you just witnessed the full bloom of the first flower in spring,

The music was about to end and you were feeling somber because of it but that didn’t stop you from slow dancing with the brave knight. A little towards the end, he pulled you in closer than ever before but stopped right before touching your lips. He could feel your breath as you did with his. You closed your eyes thinking he would actually do it but as soon as you leaned in, he pulled away. You opened your eyes to see that he bit his bottom lip and red tint spread across his face.

You blushed as well, this time harder than ever before. No boy has made you feel like this - even a prince - and somehow the boy who stood in front of you, the one who would always smother you in mud, the one that would steal your candy, the one that broke your favourite toy made you crazy out of your mind. After just one night with him?

Suddenly, he placed his right hand on your cheek and brushed his thumb over your soft skin. There it is again. That stupid smile. The one that started everything. He kissed your forehead softly before pulling you in for a tight hug that felt more different than the one in the ballroom. You hugged him back, wrapping your hands over his torso.

“I missed you,” he whispered into your ear. “so, so much.”

You wanted to stay in that moment forever. Him being close to you and his arms around you as if you were the most important thing to him. The fairy lights joined the bright stars, twinkling above you both as you shared the best hug. He finally pulled away after a few minutes that felt like nanoseconds to you. You bit your gums, wanting him to do that again. Wanting him to stay for a few more minutes if not hours. Wanting him to realise that you wanted to say something so vulnerable that you don’t just say to anyone else.

But alas, everything comes to an end.

You walked together to the entrance of the castle. Seeing the guests leave was always something so melancholy but now that your childhood best friend is leaving, it made you feel a slight something inside.

Deep inside, Yeosang didn’t want to leave either. He wanted you to tell him to stay. He wanted you to pull him back into the hugged you shared. He wanted you to hold you again and twirl you into the air. He wanted you to realise he still had those feelings for you. He wanted you to finally call him ‘yours’.

“I’ll see you soon?” he asked, in a soft voice.

“Yea, definitely,” you answered, trying not to spare another word.

“Well. Goodbye, princess,” he said. The male waved to you, as you did to him before getting into his car. A giddy smile appeared on his face as he thought of something that would tease you.

“Hey Y/N!” he called out, from the backseat of his car. You looked at him with a confused face from a distance.

“Je t'aime.”

With that his car exited the main gates and the thought of you filling his mind. He let out a little laugh, positive that you didn’t know what the phrase meant.

But you have learned about the foreign language over the years. Enough to know that it meant, “I love you.”

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