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filthyjoetini · 3 months

Text

Stumblin' In

a/n: Well...it's been...a while. heh. Sorry. I've been going through a lot. On here (the accusations...) as well as in life. Latter keeps me busy to no end. It's exhausting...but I'm back. beta-reader, editor, partner in crime: @barfightzanddiscolightz

warnings: mentions of previous injury, rpf, fem!reader, cuteness overload

wordcount: 2.2k

part 1 - part 2 - part 4

Part 3

You let yourself fall face down on the sofa with a loud sigh. The last few days had been nothing short of exhausting. Your back and neck still hurt, and the concussion had caused some nightmarish migraines that had left you unable to work. So, you spent your days in your dark living room, accompanied by your two cats, Freya and Kiro. Freya, a chubby lady with a moustache who you had had to put on a diet, was sitting on the back of your sofa, silently judging you. Kiro, your long-haired void of a cat, sat next to you, purring in your ear.

When you had come home from the hospital almost a week ago, they had greeted you with loud, screaming meows as if they had been starving. Your dad had been looking after them, cuddling them and feeding them generously. You also knew that he had given each of them a little treat every time before he left. So much for starving. Total drama queens - Both of them. But that's just Freya and Kiro, you wouldn't trade them for any other cats in the world.

Today had been your first day back at work and you wished you hadn’t gone. Your migraines had stopped the day before, but your body was still killing you. Groaning, you pushed yourself up to sit properly on your sofa, your legs sprawled out on its long chaise longue. You took a blanket from the basket beside it and pulled it neatly over your legs. Kiro immediately took this as an invitation to plop down between your legs. You were about to open one of your newly ordered books when your phone buzzed. A new message.

Huffing annoyedly, you picked up your phone from where it lay beside you to check who had the audacity to disturb your precious reading time.

It was Joe. Forgotten were your pain and shitty mood.

He hadn't texted you in days and, not wanting to appear desperate, you hadn't texted him either. That's just the way you were, constantly thinking that you were annoying people with your presence.

Pushing the negative thoughts to the back of your mind and grinning to yourself, you quickly unlocked your phone and read his message.

Bambi on ice! How are you?

You rolled your eyes at his new name for you. You got it, you're a klutz.

Hello to you too, Joe... I'm fine. How are you?

I'm good. Very busy. That's why I haven't texted you the last few days. I'm sorry about that.

Oh... you don't have to apologise. It's fine.

No. I don't want you to get the wrong impression. I'm working abroad at the moment, and I only have internet when I'm back in my temporary home. And then I get flooded with messages and things to check as soon as my phone connects to the internet. I didn't mean to forget about you.

You read the last sentence he wrote not once, but twice... no screw it, five times. You'd be lying if you said it didn't affect you. The slight pink tint to your cheeks betrayed you and you were glad no one was around to point it out. You had to change the subject. This is too much lovey-dovey bullshit. You were not ready for this... yet.

How are you supposed to do your hacking without internet? Must be difficult.

Perfect.

All Joe did was send a series of eyeroll emojis that made you giggle.

It's a top-secret mission, you know. We're doing it the old-fashioned way. Infiltrate and then destroy. 😉

All right there, soldier. Top secret. Got it.

But I'll be back in four days!

Amazing! Quick in and out then?

Yeah...something like that. Hey... I was wondering if you were up for that date you owe me when I get back?

You stared at his question and the blush crept back into your cheeks. Here you were again. Back to the subject you had hoped to avoid, at least for a little while longer.

While you had agreed to go on a date with him, your motivation was more to please him and get off the hook so you could get inside your house. You were knackered and just wanted to rest. Days had passed, and you had been beating yourself up about agreeing. You weren't dating at the moment. You found contentment in the way your life was going. Nevertheless, you had promised him, and breaking a promise was not your style.

Swallowing hard, you let your fingers tap out your response.

Sure! Just let me know when and where and I'll be there 😊

Great! Can't wait!

Me either!

Listen, I gotta go now. Duty calls! Text soon?

Of course! Good luck with your mission.

Thanks! Bye, darling xx

Bye Joe xx

---

Fuck. You had an official date. With Joe. You needed to tell a certain someone.

"Brother in Christ. How are you?"

Of course, your best friend would pick up like that. You pushed yourself up a little, which made your legs move, much to Kiro's displeasure. The cat glared at you, and you quickly apologised with a kiss to his head.

"I'm fine...guess what!", you tried her, gnawing on your bottom lip.

"You finally managed to put your summer clothes in the basement?" she guessed.

"Well, yeah...but that's not what I wanted you to guess.", you snorted and then blurted it out: "I-have-a-date."

"What?"

"I HAVE A DATE!”, you repeated, almost shouting. Since your neighbours were all half deaf anyway, you didn't care that you had just raised your voice.

“Ouch, don’t yell at m- WAIT! You?! Have a date?!”, she sputtered.

"Yes!”, you replied in a breezy voice.

"With who?"

"Joe.", you replied so quietly that she almost didn't hear it, but her gasp gave her away.

"Joe. As in 'your knight in a beige cable-knit jumper'-Joe?"

"Yes!”, you squeaked out, earning a glare from both your cats.

"Holy shit, babes! This is like one of those romance films we sometimes watch on film night.”, she gushed, clearly very excited for you.

"Ugh, yeah. I know.”, you groaned. "I need your help. I don't have anything to wear!"

"Lies! Your wardrobe is bursting at the seams."

Which was true, but she didn't have to expose you like that.

"I know. Can you help me put together an outfit? I will repay you fabulously!"

"Ahhh... just deduct it from the mountain of drinks-debt I owe you. I'll be there in 20 minutes!"

"Wait! The date's not even se-", you started, but she had already hung up. Typical her.

18 minutes later your doorbell rang and there she stood in all her 'hair in a messy bun, oversized jumper, leggings with a questionable stain and the oldest trainers she could find' glory. Her face was sporting a huge grin.

"You look absolutely insane." you pointed out as soon as you opened the door, chuckling. She snorted and pushed past you, heading for your room. You quickly followed, knowing full well that without you, she'd start pulling out pieces of clothing from your closet and throwing them on your bed.

---

She had been rummaging through your wardrobe for almost two hours now and had mentioned that you had 'too many things' at least 20 times, accompanied by an eyeroll, whilst you made yourself comfortable on your bed. Your cats had decided to join you for a while, but the mess she was making was too much for them and they went back to the living room.

She was standing on one of the shelves in the closet, trying to get to the top shelf. It was the most hilarious thing you had ever seen, you had to snap a picture. Without thinking, you sent it to Joe.

Who’s that?

My best friend. She’s a madwoman.

I can see that, and I see how she’s your bestie. You both like to put yourselves in dangerous situations. I bet she’s pulled a Humpty Dumpty before as well.

You snorted at his text, earning a raised eyebrow from your friend who was still standing in your wardrobe. When she saw you were on your phone, she gasped and jumped out of the wardrobe. She quickly made her way over to you.

"Who are you texting?", she demanded, her eyes narrowing.

"Nobody."

"Bullshit.”, she claimed, holding out her hand to you. "Give me the phone."

"No.”, you giggled, trying to crawl away from her, but to no avail. She was very quick and snatched the phone out of your fingers. Her eyes went wide.

"BITCH! Stop sending pictures of me to your boyfriend!"

"He's not my boyfriend!", you argued, snorting and laughing at the face she was making.

"He better be after your date...", she muttered, tossing your phone back at you, which you almost caught with your face. "I've got your outfit."

With a huge grin, she walked back over to your wardrobe and picked up a few stray clothes. Then she laid them out orderly on your bed. It was perfect. Totally you. Totally the opposite of Joe. You'd stick out like a sore thumb.

“Thanks babe.”, you smiled, pushing yourself off the bed and engulfing her in a tight hug.

"Anytime, love.”, she grinned into your hair and returned your hug with an even tighter one.

"Coffee and biscuits?", you asked her as you pulled away and her face lit up all over again. She didn't even answer your question but ran off to the kitchen.

"You better have chocolate chip cookies!", you heard her yell, knowing she'd already opened your cupboard where you stored your sweets. When you heard her excited squeak, you knew she had found them. Shaking your head at her antics, you made your way to the kitchen to join her. You wouldn't trade her for anything in the world, either.

---

When your best friend left, it was already dark outside. You opted for a light dinner which consisted of a piece of sourdough bread, half a tomato, a handful of shredded cheddar cheese and three green olives. Everything was neatly arranged on the plate. Girl Dinner was served.

Walking over to the sofa to read for the second time that evening, you placed your plate on the small table in front of it, sat down and draped a blanket over yourself. Picking up the plate, you leaned back against the headrest and popped an olive into your mouth. Freya and Kiro soon joined you and tried to beg you for some of the sourdough. Kiro was particularly persistent, but so were you. When they finally realised you weren't going to give in, Kiro trotted off to sulk under one of your chairs and Freya retreated to her place on the headrest.

You were just about to open your book when your phone again alerted you to a new message. Thinking it was your best friend letting you know she had gotten home, you leaned forward to grab your phone. But it wasn't your best friend. Joe had texted you again.

Did you have dinner?

Uh... yeah. Why?

Oh, just checking. What are you doing?

I wanted to read, but a certain someone keeps interrupting.

Oh! My apologies. What are you reading?

This. *attachment*

Ooh. This looks interesting. What's it about?

Instead of telling him, you took a picture of the summary on the back.

It sounds very interesting. I'll stop bothering you now. Go read!

You're not bothering me, Joe.

Your last message stayed unread, and you frowned at your phone. After a couple of moments, you put your phone aside and finally started reading where you had left off.

---

You were about to take a sip of the tea you had made yourself an hour into reading when your phone beeped again. You wondered who it was. It certainly wasn't your best friend. She had let you know that she had arrived home shortly after Joe had dropped the conversation. You had a hunch, though.

Turning your phone around, you saw that Joe had sent you a picture. With a gentle tap to the screen, you enlarged the photo. It was a book, but not just any book. It was the same book you were reading. Smiling to yourself, you tapped on the picture again and added a heart reaction to it.

Then another message from Joe.

Now we can have our own little book club.

Those nine words instantly made your heart flutter.

Just the two of us?

Yep.

Count me in...

Brilliant! I was hoping you'd say yes. It'd be a shitty book club if I was on my own.

Yep. The discussions would be very one-sided.

And boring. OK, I'll let you read. I'm sure you're way ahead of me. I just got it and I gotta catch up so we can discuss it on our date.

I'd love that. Talk later?

Of course we will. Happy reading! Bye, darling xx

You too! Bye Joe xx

Grinning from ear to ear, you put your phone down and picked up your book up again. You’d never been happier that you had so mindlessly agreed to a date before.

---

Taglist:

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there's still some spots left on the taglist :)

#joe quinn #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fanfic #joseph quinn fanfiction #joe quinn fanfic #joe quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn x reader #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x fem!reader smut #joseph quinn x you #joe quinn x fem!reader smut #joe quinn x reader #joe quinn x you #rpf fic #rpf #rpf fanfiction #my loves

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darkscorpiox · 2 years

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Utena – Parallels and beyond them

As the series progress, we see that not only Utena’s and Anthy’s respective journeys share similarities, but with the former going through beyond the limits of Dios, she had helped the latter overcome the ones imposed by End of the World.

Once upon a time, years and years ago, there was a little princess, and she was very sad for her mother and father had died.”

“[Anthy] sacrificed herself to save her beloved prince even though she was the only one who truly loved him. And yet, the prince she loves is no longer the prince she knew. Not anymore… He is now End of the World…”

Both are little girls who had experienced a tragedy. The aftermath is glossed over with a fairytale-like narrative and the truth is so much alarmingly darker. Utena was not only grieving, but also losing the will to live and Anthy protected her brother from the expectations of entitled people (and said brother would later become one of them) at the cost of her personhood. Based on the imagery of coffins associated with them, I say both were at that point (symbolically/mentally) stuck between life and death.

Before the princess appeared a traveling prince riding upon a white horse.

“By all means, stay in this cozy coffin of yours and continue to play prince.”

Fairytales present the prince as the perfect man embodying everything a woman supposedly needs to be happy, but as the saying goes, nobody is perfect. Therefore, princes do not exist and will remain a fantasy. While dreaming/fantasizing is not bad, that must not blind us to reality or else we will not see that the Prince Charming riding his white steed is only a patronizing and entitled man-child playing prince on the horse of a carrousel. Utena came to Anthy by taking the most perilous path and with nothing but her determination and her love for Anthy instead of walking on the easy path or by riding a steed to make her journey less arduous.

He had a regal bearing and a kind smile.

“Himemiya…at last, we meet…”

The first time Dios appeared before Utena, he had light above him like a halo, giving the viewer(s) the impression of a heavenly entity here to save her which is reinforced with the fact it happened in a church. However, unlike in the fairytale prologue, he didn’t give Utena a kind smile; he only asked her what she was doing in her current position before turning his back to her and leaving. Maybe he knew she would follow him to where Anthy was, but he didn’t appear princely in doing so. Except, that’s the point, isn’t it? In the movie, the prince was the Devil turned into one by Anthy’s power. Dios was actually Akio’s persona. As a prince, Dios MUST have a regal bearing and a kind smile, and MUST present himself like that to EVERY girl in the world (like a Japanese idol). The Prince Charming is not real and no one can reach his level of perfection. By not acknowledging that fact, people’s expectations put immense pressure on boys and they grow to believe that they cannot show their imperfect selves to the world or if they give up, the bitterness of their failure turns them into Akio, men who compensate their inadequacy with superficially cool stuff (cars, stylish clothes) and by oppressing others. However, in doing so, they ruin their chances to form genuine connections with others which explains Dios’s inability to be close to any girl he had saved to the point of not remembering any of their names. The only one whose name he knew was Anthy and she was the only one who saw his true imperfect self. When Utena appeared before Anthy, she came with a light projected from above her too, but it did not give the impression of a higher power like how Dios’s did. Hers was smaller, but it still carried a feeling of hope and liberation. In addition, unlike Dios, Utena didn’t appear regal at all: her dueling uniform was in tatter, her fingers were bloodied and her face was red and sweaty from crying and exhaustion. However, her smile was kind and meant for ONLY Anthy. Utena did not care about how she looked like as long as Anthy got the help she needed and knew how much she loved her.

The prince wrapped the princess in a rose-scented embrace and gently wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Himemiya, give me your hand!”

A kiss from a prince seems to be romantic, but with the true context of Utena’s past, it appears less so. Utena’s tears hadn’t been from mourning for her parents, but from expressing compassion for Anthy who had to suffer for eternity. Faced with her tearfully begging to help Anthy, the Prince just wiped her tears and thanked her for her concern. In the end, he didn’t take away the cause of them and only gave her cold comfort. Tears are seen as a sign of weakness, but also of how humane one can be. After all, Utena’s tears are what reached the Anthy lying in her coffin. If Dios won’t give Anthy a hand, then Utena will do it (and literally at that)!

“Little one,” he said, “who bears up alone in such deep sorrow, never lose that strength or nobility even when you grow up.”

“No! Get out of here! The swords…!”

If we remember how Anthy got the title of witch, you’d see that it was because she had protected the one she cared most even if it meant braving the anger of the entire world; and she’d rather continue her eternal suffering than let Utena become another target of the swords as well. It shows that she possesses as much strength and nobility as Utena (only buried under layers and layers of trauma and bitterness). Both had carried a “deep sorrow” and had been thrown at so many hardships, but that is part of growing up and they had succeeded in overcoming them.

��We will meet again. This ring will lead you to me one day.” Perhaps the ring the prince gave her was an engagement ring.

“[…] I have to go now. [Utena] isn’t gone at all. She merely vanished from your world.”

Dios and Anthy are sure that a reunion will happen. What makes it interesting is the how. In old time, men gave engagement rings to women not as a romantic gesture, but as an indication that she was now PROPERTY of her fiancé (and isn’t it interesting that we can say the same for the other Duelists, especially the male ones?). As long as Utena wears that ring, she is his to do whatever he wanted. In other words, he had ensured that she would meet him again by physically bounding her to him. Meanwhile, Anthy had nothing but her belief in meeting Utena again, but like Dios said, she needed “a prince she can believe in” only the prince part was unnecessary. Anthy’s position in the first place had been because the prince role was killing her brother. One was dying of exhaustion and the other was the target of everyone’s hatred, both caused by an unjust oppressive system. When both sides are suffering from the latter, then shouldn’t the solution be to change it for something better? So Anthy didn’t need a prince, but someone who can inspire her to believe in the existence of a world beyond her coffin and to walk out of it.

(Do you notice that while the first promise of reunion was made by putting a ring, (a chain) on Utena, Anthy made hers by removing her glasses which symbolized the chain that bound her to Akio?)

[S]o impressed was she by him, the princess vowed to become a prince herself one day.

“I’ll become her prince and save her! […] I swear!”

“This time it’s my turn to go. No matter where you are, I swear I’ll find you. Wait for me, Utena.”

And finally, the mark left by that one meeting. Utena wanted to become a prince because Dios supposedly left an impression on her, but thanks to the MOST BEAUTIFUL plot twist in anime history, we find out that her reason was actually to save Anthy from her eternal torment. Dios did not give back her will to live; she chose of her own volition to leave her coffin in order to help a girl who was eternally suffering in hers. Of course she didn’t remember everything correctly years later and modeled herself after the princely ideal she thought Dios represented, but her subconscious, through the ring, reminded her of the promise she had made to Anthy. Utena turned the ring that symbolizes the patriarchal objectification of women into a mark of female solidarity. Without realizing it, she did more than becoming Anthy’s prince: she became her friend, her support system. And Anthy gradually allowed Utena to occupy a place in her heart. That fondness grew into love and that inspired her to leave Akio and his abusive ass. She also didn’t change her appearance to be like Utena (which had been based after the princely ideal so that would have been a vicious cycle).

They helped each other leave their respective coffins. Anthy may not know everything like Utena in the beginning, but as she progresses in her quest to find her beloved, she will discover the flawed, yet authentic world beyond the fabricated one of Akio/patriarchy.

(And fairytale!Utena is just watching Dios riding into the horizon while Anthy is walking forward to reunite with Utena.)

#revolutionary girl utena #shoujo kakumei utena #rgu #sku #utena #utena tenjou #anthy himemiya #anthy x utena #utena x anthy #akio ohtori #prince dios #revolutionary girl utena analysis #rgu analysis #revolutionary girl utena meta #rgu meta #parallels #prince charming #mine

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alexanderlightweight · 1 year

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I love your writing! ❤️

I was wavering between this continuation and another, but could you do one for when Alec resigns and/or retires because of Imogen declaring Jace as the HOTI?

Ah thank you so much!

I appreciate 💜

Here is more! I hope you enjoy

Magnus redesigns his lair the instant Alexander is deeply asleep.

First, he changes all the wards to no longer allow nephilim blooded individuals the privelege of allowing them to find his home. Which means that he’ll have to ensure Alexander is kept safely inside the wards unless portaled out, or provided with a pass to the wards.

The latter which Magnus will have to be convinced to give him, since Magnus doesn’t trust the rest of the New York Institute or the Clave to actually leave Alexander be.

First, Magnus relocates to the heart of Brooklyn rather than on the outskirts closet to Manhattan. There is no longer a need to be easily reaches and found by Alexander, and so Magnus takes his lair back to a giant, empty but well maintained apartment building that has been waiting for him to return.

Magnus creates a foyer and a waiting hall and takes the first part of the floor below what will be his and Alexander’s home and the roof and turns it into a maze of rooms. Magnus will no longer let anyone into the inner sanctum of his home beyond Cat and Ragnor.

The waiting hall won’t be used often, but it will be used and that is enough for Magnus to create it. Many of his clients meet at Pandemonium but with the shadowworld in turmoil, it will be better for them to come to Magnus. The wards ensure that he can portal any client into the foyer and the wards will keep them there, ensuring there are no nasty surprises. Any nephilim who attempt to thwart Magnus’ previous goodwill will find a nasty surprise if they hitch a ride on a portal for someone else.

Magnus hums in pleasure as he adds a little drink cart and some obscure texts that he knows will interest at least half of his clietnelle and then he ensures that no one will be able to sense or know that Alexander resides with Magnus.

It’s a mutual benefit.

Magnus doesn’t need his clients concerned and wary because a nephilim is nearby and Magnus doesn’t need to be concerned about Alexander's safety if he can’t be accessed.

As much as this is for his clients, this is also for Magnus and Alexander.

Magnus wants his boy to be safe from the reminders of the war he’s leaving behind. Because it’s possibly the bravest thing someone has ever done, just because they loved Magnus that amount.

The wards Magnus levies are to protect the integrity of his position and the secrecy of their identities.

Because Magnus’ power comes from not just his magic but his identity, how he’s known to his people and how he’s trusted because of how he’s known.

However, it’s not the only reason that Magnus is finally separating his work life from his personal life.

His identity as the High Warlock of Brooklyn will no longer be so intrinsically tied

It is also to protect the sanctity of Magnus’ lair, the home he’s building with Alexander. The intimacy of a relationship that Magnus has longed for and finally found to be so much better than his darkest hopes.

So Magnus will not let either identity interact here, where they must be separate.

Let the world see Alexander with him at Pandemonium, when they are both prepared for the roles they must now play.

But here, Alexander will never have to play a role other than the ones he wishes to.

So Magnus will ensure that both worlds are kept separate, here in the heart of his domain.

—

“So, what are the plans for today?” Magnus asks, reaching over to kiss Alexander’s brow and sighing in contentment when Alexander’s sleepily nuzzles up against Magnus’ jaw.

“I’m a retired nephilim commander.” Alexander sleepily rasps and he sounds petulant and exhausted, “you said I could just stay in your bed all day long if I ever left the Institute. What happened to that?”

Magnus freezes and swallows, because he did say that and a small part of him had even meant it. He just has tried not to think about it, because Alexander has always been very clearly focused on his goal of leadership.

Which, has just conveniently imploded.

“Well,” Magnus murmurs, voice low and dark as he pets over Alexander’s shoulder. “I did say something like that, didn’t I darling? Is that what I should do then? Keep you here? In my home? In my bed? Make sure the clave can’t ever find you again? After all, it’s not as if they deserve to have you back.”

Alexander smiles up at him, delight on his face because he will always be surprised by such sincere praise. But Magnus just wonders at how Alexander doesn’t even seem to care that Magnus is sincerely making plans now to keep his boy close and pampered and out of the war.

Because if Alexander isn’t on the side of the clave — if Magnus can keep him out of politics and fighting beyond self-protection and defense of Magnus himself — then Magnus can keep Alexander without a single worry of being distracted from protecting his own people. Magnus no longer has to worry about what will happen if they end up on opposite sides of this war.

“M’kay.” Alexander tells him, “sounds nice.” And then, Magnus’ sweet, precious boy falls back asleep, like he hasn’t just given Magnus a gift of a lifetime.

Magnus watches his sleeping form and marvels at the trust he’s being shown, the adoration he’s being given and Magnus vows to never let it go.

#writing wednesdays #writing wednesday #lumine writes #magnus bane #alec lightwood #malec #shadowhunters #shadowhunters au

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ran-orimoto · 4 months

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[ Incredible how I will always forget to keep up with my crossposting (?) on Ao3 and Tumblr. I promise you I love you all and you are important to me. It’s just my brain wandering and jumping from a distraction to the following one and so forth. You’re not the problem.

By the way, this is the first one-shot of the year, so I welcomed your request with open arms, fighting against my cringe feelings. I love my Junzumi fankids, they are so important to me and they are *cough* my precious grandchildren. So, like other people say, I should snap out of my silly obsessions and write about them as well, without fear, embarassment.

Now that I have said this uselss stuff, let’s dive into things that matter. Junzumi are in their early fourties here and it’s an Izumi-centered one-shot, set years and years after she manages to open her restaurant in Milan, her Brezzo Petalo. She has received a great news but one that also will place her in front of a hard decision, especially now that her life has completely changed and her dreams have as well in their nature.

To a year full of Junzumi! ]

• Il vento fa solo pisolini •

“È tardi, Tesoro.”

She turned to the pink trail of perfume, to the cloudy halo veiling a pair of brown eyes trying finding her in that colourful mist. She felt so alienated from the whole world at a touch impregnated with a sense of urgence. It came from upwards and gave a delicate yet firm shove on her shoulders, so she could part from a chilly iron bar she had been holding onto for almost half an hour.

Nevertheless, she found it so hard to detach herself from there, her eyes from the bustling sight of people going back and forth and blending in a mosaic of different dialects. She was so annoyed by them, but she wanted to stay there, wait for them to go away one after the other and clear out the panorama stretching outside. A view made of nothingness and everything at the same time. Kilometers of heath and that was it.

But…

But it was Fiumicino, part of Roma, part of her.

“ Izumi…Faremo arrabbiare Papà , se non ci sbrighiamo. Forza.”

The red-haired woman reached out again, this time piercing the smoky candy floss hovering in the air, swabs floating around mother and daughter and being noticed only by the latter. Due to the fact Izumi was feeling so ensnared by the sight of those slowly ascending to the celing, -hopefully, the child considered, to the sky too,- her dangling hand allowed itself to be caught more easily than it had the rest of that whole morning. It was no wonder the woman couldn’t help releasing an exhausted sigh when the success of her attempts finally arrived so unexpectedly.

Behind her hasty march, Izumi deeply sighed as well, which made her grow disgruntled and, most of all, extremely puzzled about the behaviour of her body. She could remember she had stayed up all night because she had had trouble falling asleep, as thrilled and restless as she was. She had also chosen her outfit after having almost thrown her entire wardrobe out of the boxes the clothes had been put in, - obviously driving her mother crazy and making her loudly yell despite the presence of the movers-. After all, not every girl on Earth, at the age of ten, has got the chance to start a new exciting life abroad, in the country they were born in but one they could barely recall: picking a special outfit was a must in that occasion and her choice had fallen on one giving her the appearance of the main heroine from a novel who is ready to set on a grand adventure, -large sun hat with a huge ribbon resembling the ears of a cat from a frontal perspective included-.

New house, new neighbourhood, new city, new breathtaking experiences, new classmates and friends: what else could she have ever asked to elicit the fluttering of her heart? To push her to run to the gate, so fast she imagined her feet leaving the ground, her trolley, her mother, her father in the horizon waiting for them with a shaking of his head, in contrast to his amused grin.

Maybe I don’t want to go, She gasped, but not because of that usual pressure of emptiness that will dominate your stomach whenever a plane takes off. It was because of a certain realization, of the fact it had just dawned on her she had already read that story way too many times.

And only during the first one she had happened to be an enthusiastic and, most of all, oblivious ten-year-old.

XXX

The day before she had received the best news of her life and yet…And yet there was she, sitting at the kitchen table, pensive, waiting for Junpei to come from their youngest’s bedroom.

It was early afternoon, the kids and him had just finished having lunch and she had just returned from the restaurant in a noisy hurry, right at the same time he was putting the children to sleep for their sacred nap hour.

“Give me five minutes,” He had winked at her on the stairs, his thumb on display with confidence, as if she had joined him backstage to plant a good luck kiss on his cheek.

Maybe she should have wished him buona fortuna for real, judging from those five minutes that became ten and then fifteen. Still, as strangled by her deep sighs as she was, she wasn’t paying that much attention to the speed of the running clock hanging on the wall. It was spinning continuously just like those nagging thoughts of hers that had been marching in her mind since that morning, since the first second her eyes had opened and met the ceiling.

“Uh, today has been hard, but there is nothing, I say nothing, a wizard can’t do!”

Junpei finally barged downstairs with his rumbling enthusiasm and a silly twirling dance.

She was already expecting him to approach her and pull her on her feet, but that correct prediction didn’t help her keep herself from striking a forced and fake smile at him. While he was holding a hand of hers and rocking it, pronouncing a bizarre formula he was clearly inventing on the spot, she couldn’t help feeling annoyed, even disgruntled.

Therefore, eventually, at the sight of a little pin shaped as a graceful lillac star appearing on her palm from nowhere, she could only stare at it with a grimace, an imaginary, too sweet smell dominating her nostrils.

“I-I…” Junpei blinked, but didn’t show any sign of disappointment, somehow. He mostly looked surprised about her behaviour, which still made her chest drown in a lake of guilt as that obviously wasn’t the right reaction to a present. “Have you talked to that dandy dude?”

“Yes, I have,” She nodded, averting her gaze. Her fingers flew onto her forehead, pressing themselves against its shifting skin. Of course, when someone has got a fantastic announcement to make, they won’t frown and feel so emaciated, but Izumi was, especially now that she was standing in front of pots of honey and their shiny glass. “He gave me some papers to sign.“

“But this is the best day ever, Cara !” She had also foreseen the way his arms would extend forward to encircle her waist and lift her. As soon as she felt his big hug warmly conveying his excitement from her back to her whole body, she began wishing his clumsy movements could throw her out of the window, into the misty sky, far from her problems, from the upsetting emotions she was going to pour on that dear person of her life.

But she had to tell him and she was sure he would understand. He would, like always, because he was aware in her life she was the only one who knew what was the best choice for her. He would often give her precious advices, but he had never demanded her to follow them, take them in consideration, and she appreciated that so much.

“Maybe it would have been, if I had signed them.”

But the fact was that in that matter she wasn’t only making personal decisions.

“Oh.”

Agreeing to inherit a restaurant in Japan, take her, no, their Brezzo Petalo to a completely different world would have consequences involving their whole family, which she couldn’t allow to happen.

Junpei gently accompanied her to the floor again, his mouth opened and his brown irises pulsing with perplexity.

“I thought over his offer and I think it’s better if things stay the way they are.”

“Even if we are talking about your dream?”

“Even if…” At the sound of his blunt question, she struggled to find the right words to use and preferred to sit again. She was glad Junpei did the same, placing himself at the opposite end of the table, eye to eye with her and her vacillating…Lie.

The kitchen was an important place to her, to them. It was the area of the house they had painted of that soft violet she loved; that corner they had firstly shared in two, successively in five, -six if they didn’t want to ignore their cat-, that niche that had been trusted with their recollections made of laughters and tears. If she turned, she would find herself chuckling at all the drawings the children had hanged on the fridge, the sign of green Kou had permanently engraved near to the dishwasher, the pink butterfly sticker Ran had attached onto a chair, the train toy Toto had begged Junpei to put on the kitchen hood like an ordinary knick-knack.

If she was going to go through that conversation, there wouldn’t be any other room in which that was supposed to happen.

“Izumi, are you really sure this is what you want?” She hadn’t realized her orbs had really escaped onto each of those details of her beloved surroundings, led by petals of a fragrant breeze. She did only when the beats of her heart found an echo in his serious yet tender voice. “If it is, I will be fine with that, of course, but it’s just that…It’s just that you have wanted this for years, since we were in university. This is your chance to do that: to spread the colours and joy of your food with your own wind. Do you remember? You chose to call the restaurant Brezzo Petalo in honour of Fairymon.”

“I do, but I’ve realized I can do that by staying here, meeting tourists, attending to events abroad when I’m invited to them. It’s enough, it really is.”

Her tone had become way too loud for a house hosting three dormant children, so she regained her composure, also exploiting that mute moment to give some pats on her blonde bob, some caresses down her locks: it seemed the whirlwind infuriating in her bosom had managed to disastrously mess up her hair.

“I see…I guess I can say the wind has settled, can I?” Junpei absently commented while contemplating her waving gestures with affectionate enchantment. She had no doubts on Earth only her husband could relax in awe, in the middle of such a big chaos developing before his spheres.

“ Mamma !”

The only being that could quickly distract him from her gorgeous figure couldn’t be anyone else but a smaller, -more capricious, vainer, much more pigheaded-, version of her.

“Mimì-Chan, you told me you would sleep if I told you that story!” Now Izumi was the one growing agape after having assisted to that astounding scene: was he really scolding her over a skipped nap? This was so new to her and she found it hard not to smirk, amused.

“You didn’t tell me how it ends, though,” The kid started swinging back and forth, her arms partly hidden behind her fucsia overall, her green eyes almost seeming to be enlarging to look more innocent than a deer’s. “I can’t fall asleep without knowing how a story ends, Papà. You are unfair.”

“Ehh, in truth I would get so frustrated as well…” He nodded, bringing his index on his lips and looking up, before finding a solution with a cheerful and large grin. “I will reveal you that tonight, then!”

Izumi raised an eyebrow at him, at how fast he could change his mind after having been manipulated by their naughty gremlin. Why do I keep on fooling myself…, She shook her head in an attack of fond exasperation, their chattering continuing in the background.

“Su , Ran. What is it? You arrived here and called for me, not for Papà.”

“Oh,right,” She froze with her arms raised in the man’s direction, making his blissed expression fall when she suddenly ignored his splayed ones. “I want to wash my hair, so I was looking for the hairdryer. Where is it?”

“You aren’t allowed to use the hairdryer. And your hair is fine: you washed it yesterday. Of course it is!”

“It’s not true,” She pouted, crossing her arms with indignation and searching for a support in Junpei. “My hair looks like the fur on the head of the baby camel from the zoo, isn’t it true, Papà? All sloppy and ruffled.”

“Wh-What? Why would I say something so despicable about your beautiful hair?”

“Because she’s right.”

Junpei jumped on his chair and almost fell off it: a stout boy, who was sporting a nest of dark blonde strands and orbs matching his in colour and liveliness, had attempted to whisper in his ear, but had failed because of his hiccuping laughters.

“Why are you two not tired today? Not enough school?” The man muttered, feeling like a poor, unfortunate soul having been just caught by the storm. Both Izumi and him were in desperate need for an umbrella!

Actually, the kids jumped in another bursting argument, even worse, more tumultuous than the one they had had the evening before. Junpei and Izumi had no sibilings, so they weren’t used to those dynamics at all. With nostalgia, Junpei often liked comparing the bickerings between Kou and Ran with the ones that would happen between Izumi and Takuya in the past, with the difference that the Izumi from the new generation was younger and shorter than its Takuya. Nevertheless, the fights still felt so similar to him and to Izumi too, though she would get a bit embarassed about admitting it.

“Instead, your hair will soon receive visits from birds!”

“I love birds, so I wouldn’t care! Try again!”

“Well…A-A whole tree will grow on your head and you will become more stupid than you are now. Pirla !”

“Now, you two…” Izumi stood up and dragged Ran away from her brother. Her puffy cheeks had been washed by a visible red, the shade of those who were aware they had already been cornered at the beginning of a fight.

“ Basta , Koujirou e Miranda, ” Junpei reticently completed her warning and the kids fell tacit at once. Because when the thunder roared, it meant it was better to find a good shelter below which to hide and from which to look at the wuthering sky.

In silence.

Absolute silence.

At least, until that minute of initial scare passed and some brave traveller dared to challenge the might of unbridled natural forces, maybe to check if it was still raining.

“It’s late!” Thus, Ran melted the stillness with a scowling glance she gave at the clock. “It’s late! I have to go to my lesson!”

“What are you talking about ?” Izumi gave a playful slap on the girl’s tense shoulders, helping them sag along with the general mood of the room. “It’s still half past two, mia Fatina stupidina.”

“But I want to wash my hair and it always takes a lot! I don’t want to arrive at lesson late!”

Izumi plunged her chin in that meadow of sunrays, losing herself in the scenario of the ever flowing time. She was so endeared by Ran’s passion for ballet, by her excitement she would show them whenever she had lesson after school. That had been going on since she was three and Junpei had given her an illustrated book of the Nutcracker as a present. Four years that felt like an eternity to their spirits, as if their Ran was already a little star of the stage in her adorable tutu.

There was no way…There was no way…

“Listen,” She felt the impelling need to speak to clear her hoarse throat. “I promise I will make your hair look splendid in your chignon, if you try sleeping a bit. We won’t need to wash it.”

“Really?” Ran started marching on the spot. “And how will you do that?”

“What questions! Of course , with a pinch of magic!”

Despite her jovial answer, the girl seemed less convinced than before, so hesitant and suspicious.

“But you aren’t Papà.”

“I lent Mamma a bit of magic dust long time ago!” Junpei intruded in the conversation with an improvised melody.

“What?!” Kou pulled his tongue out and put his hands on his hips, pouring every single drop of his skepticism on his father. “If you can really use magic, give some to me too!”

“Maybe we will talk about it, when your grades at maths improve.”

The kid threw his tongue out of his mouth again, in utter disgust this time.

“I will need to find Doraemon or something similar to become good at that. And I will also ask him to show me your high grades from when you were my age”.

Junpei’s pallor got fortunately shadowed by Izumi delicately pushing Ran ,and now Kou too, in the direction of the living room. She didn’t seem too shocked when she found their youngest, Tomoki, sitting on the stairs with a bored fashion, ears of wheat lazily dozing against the wood railing. Who would manage to sleep with that ruckus coming from downstairs?

“You three. In your beds. Now,” She clapped her hands making the trio grumble, displeased.

“If Mamma wants me to take a nap, I will,” Resigned, Kou shrugged while suffocating a huff: he wanted to look like a well-mannered kid in front of her, after having disappointed her with his insults and teasing. “Mamma always says I will score more goals if I have my daily nap. No matter I’m nine and I’m a man now.”

Like that, after a fleeting hug, he brought himself on the stairs, followed by the little Tomoki who could only yawn and rub his drowsy emeralds. All of a sudden, though, Kou stopped, and looked back at his sister who didn’t seem that willing to leave yet.

“ Scusa, Ran ,” He said, scratching his strands because of a spike of abashment that made him rapidly flee, not caring about checking what the girl’s response had been or hearing his mother commending him.

“Ran, you promised…” Swiftly, Izumi’s focus took a nosedive on the remaining child.

“Will you really comb my hair and make me look splendid with magic?” Ran pressed, still not completely persuaded about what the woman had told her in the kitchen.

“If you go napping, the magic will work even better,” She snapped her fingers, wishing she could be as skilled as Junpei in that field of jokes and play pretend.

That was the reason why she was glad he decided to collaborate with her once more that day…By adding a theatrical aura to her speech.

“I’ll give her even more of that dust, if you are not convinced. Here, look,” She didn’t immediately recognize the identity of what he had found in some cupboard, but whatever it was, it ended up on her face and made her sneeze.

“ Davvero ! I will really look like a fairy princess today, then!” Ran squealed while hopping on the carpet, the motley butterflies printed on her overall seeming to be fluttering in harmony with her heart. “La Maestra Chiaki will be so impressed! Sogni d’oro, Mamma e Papà”.

And up she went, at a faster speed than her brothers, reaching her bedroom in less than a minute.

“She won’t close her eyes even for a second, I assure you,” Junpei commented, standing still in front of the stairs as if he was expecting the petite blonde to show up again, sooner than soon.

“ Really, Junpei? Saffron powder?” Izumi spat those minuscule granules that had attached themselves to her palate and glared at him, even when he promptly provided her with a handkerchief he took out from one of his many pockets.

“Oh c’mon, now you should have understood kids don’t need to see you flying like Peter Pan to believe you can take a stroll on stars at nights. You will see your chignon will turn a little camel into a little swan. Trust me.”

He had never lost that eccentric way to babble about such weird suff. Indeed, it had been worsening day after day, since that far past moment he volunteered to help her at the restaurant in his own style . Apparently, playing the role of a temporary waiter had never been that satisfying to him, so he decided to become the entertainer of the Brezzo Petalo; the saviour of the bored kids huffing at the tables ; the funny, friendly, always grinning man in a big apron, who would come up with something different everytime he was in Milan and could give a hand to the chef.

She had eventually got his same disease by dint of peeking out from the counter and watching his magical shows, listening to his whimsical tales about men turning stars on thanks to special, suspended light switches; curious cats studying from musical sheets below sparkling nights…

“So, have you found this pin on the Moon?” She hadn’t forgot about his present. She had just let it rest in a warm place on her chest, where it had been patiently waiting for her genuine appreciation.

“On Venus, in truth!” He exclaimed while straightening his back, as if he could give more emphasis to that answer by acting like some comical, plastered toy soldier. Until his well-know awkwardness got the best of his intents, at least. “Which is…Which happened to be…A shop forgotten by the world behind the Duomo. I’ve also bought one for Ran. It looks like a butterfly and I think I will give it to her as a lucky charm.”

“You can’t really resist the temptation to spoil her everytime you go out, hm?”

“I…I…I know what it means to stand on a stage, tremble in front of your audience. I want her to go there without too much anxiety, have something to look at that can make her feel only excitement and determination.”

Without adding anything for that instant, she grabbed his hand and beckoned him to join her on the sofa. She was aware he had noticed hers was sweaty and slightly unstable, but she couldn’t find a single puff of air around her that could allow her to speak. She had inhaled and was keeping them all inside her shaken spirit, allowing them to pinch her vocal chords like if they were harp strings. There was nothing else but a melody in there; an ambiguous one wanting to tell too many different stories at the same time and being unable to do so for a while. It needed the right notes. She needed the right words.

“I think the wind settled when we decided to have three kids,” She started, after an undefined interval spent looking at each other with a mix emotions. He was a bit confused yet he was prepared to discover what the missing puzzle pieces were. From experience, he had learnt Izumi liked opening up gradually, step by step, like shy gusts occasionally sneaking among the leaves of a tree, singing a very slow lullaby to the man having a snooze below it. Unlike when it came to him, she didn’t need a person by her side, a stubborn one extrapolating confessions from her throat. She only needed someone who was patient enough to wait for her to make up her mind, sit next to them and release whatever she wanted to get free of. Out of blue. “I can’t. We can’t, Junpei. They have got a life here, things and people they are affectionate to. Kou has got his football practice, Toto that trains museum he loves going to so much, Ran…”

“Ballet.”

“Not only that!” He risked to fall backwards because of the impetus laced with her desire to correct him. She wished that energy could have soaked her facial traits as well but, on the other hand, her eyebrows unfortunately started twitching, her lips searched for an intimate contact between their two sides, her orbs filled with a sea of contrasting emotions. “She has got La Scala and she has been working so hard to enter the academy. What kind of mother would I be if I clipped her wings like that?”

“Izumi…”

“When I lived in Roma, I used to go to rhythmic gymnastics lessons.”

“This is a news to me,” He encouraged her to continue like that, attempting to keep himself from slipping closer and hugging her, as she took the lid off the sealed jar.

“Well, it never bothered me. It never did until I got a daughter holding onto a precious dream. Mine wasn’t a dream, but I would have fun in there. In all modesty, I was also pretty talented.”

“This, instead, doesn’t surprise me in the least,” It was becoming even harder to restrain himself from cradling her in his embrace, but he endured because she wasn’t quite done yet. She would have slapped him with her usual “ Flatterer ”, if that hadn’t been the case.

“I don’t want Ran to give up on ballet because of me.”

“She wouldn’t, Izumi. If you decided to sign those papers, we would look for a good school for her in Japan. The best one. Japanese ballet dancers exist: Chiaki is an example, isn’t she?”

He gasped when her following question broke in a row of segments. Izumi abruptly lowered her head and the wavering fist on her thigh clenched the pin he had given her.

“And what if…What if…I signed them…? What if…They couldn’t make new friends in Japan or, even worse, got isolated by everyone? Just like…”

She might be tripping on the last shred of her externation, but he was certain it wasn’t necessary for him to press her to go on. She didn’t have to force herself to take herself there , either. It was enough.

The brief rest of his spheres and the sigh generated by who knew what kind of vision represented the ending of his enormous feat.

“We will be fine. They will, and do you know why? Because if you hadn’t moved back to Japan, I would have never met a blonde girl wandering in a station all alone, driving me crazy and making me want to follow her in a dangerous place of fantasy. If it is what is supposed to happen, us returning there so you can achieve a life dream, I feel…No, I know they would find something special there too, just like it happened to us. Trus-“

She abandoned herself in his chest without complaints, her arms stretching as far as they could go to cover his large frame with her whole thankfulness. He pressed her heart against his so vehemently she grew convinced she could transfuse the dream, the nightmare of what felt like hundred nights in some ventricle of its’.

And maybe she really managed to do that, judging from how tighter the hug suddenly got; from how his rotund cheek squished against her boiling ear and wet her ear like a solitary drop of rain.

“I honestly thought it had already done when you married me.”

“What?”

“The wind settling. Hadn’t it already done that when you married me?”

“It absolutely hadn’t,” At first she reluctantly stirred, but as soon as she met his lucid honey, she found the warmth she didn’t want to leave back. Indeed, it was an even more powerful one, engulfing her like the duvet of a bed. “ Because I desperately wanted to divorce you on our honeymoon, when you ate all the chocolate you found in the hotel. A whole plate of chocolate in a day!”

“They just were seven and were so small. It’s not that serious. The bread I ate on the plane made me gag. I needed something tasty in my mouth and I didn’t want to wait any longer”.

“Okay, fine, I won’t carry around this grudge any more, then,” Winking, her eye itched because of a salty feeling lying on its base. “ I will forgive you after years.”

“G-Grazie, Cara”.

“Prego, Caro.”

They blinked at each other. One, two times. The amount of rain still sleeping in the clouds above them finally woke up and began falling on lovely slopes.

Starete bene, The yawning wind in her spirit reassured her, before opening its wings and taking off.

The wind never settles. It just takes naps.

XXX

Italian notes~

• È tardi, Tesoro: It’s late, Dear

• Fiumicino is Roma’s airport but it’s also the name of this big suburb of its’.

• Izumi…Faremo arrabbiare Papà , se non ci sbrighiamo. Forza : Izumi, we will make Dad angry if we don’t hurry. C’mon.

• Buona fortuna: Good luck.

• Basta: enough

• Mia fatina stupidina: My little silly fairy (affectionate XD)

• Scusa: Sorry

• Maestra is our Miss/Sensei XD

• Sogni d’oro is used when we want to wish someone a good sleep. Literally it is “Golden slumbers (?)”

• Starete bene: You will be fine

#junzumi #junpei shibayama #izumi orimoto #digimon frontier #izumi #junpei #kou #ran #toto #I guess this is rapsodia yeah #so #rapsodia on the frontier #and yeah chiaki princess mentions because she’s in Rapsodia ofc #Junzumi getting kids that are a disaster of nature #I REALLY love them don’t I #and it’s nothing #zura writes

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greatbritishsimchallenge · 6 months

Text

Cassian pushed open the door to the bedroom to see Regina with a man he didn't recognise.

As soon as he entered, the man leapt back.

"Get back into bed," Regina barked to the man, ignoring Cassian. The man looked from Cassian to Regina nervously. "I said get back into bed!" she shouted again.

The man hesitated once more before complying with Regina's command.

Cassian watched as Regina deliberately pushed the man flat on his back and straddled him, as if she wanted Cassian to be in no doubt whose decision this all was. It was then that he realised Flori was telling the truth.

"You're back so soon!" said Flori cheerfully. "I wasn't sure whether you'd kill the bloke who was shagging her or attempt to join them. From what I've heard about you, the latter felt like the more likely possibility to be honest."

Cassian paced the room angrily, "She wanted me to see that. It was part of her plan."

"Yes - goodness I really must start keeping some treats on me. You've earned at least three biscuits by now."

"And then what?"

"Well, while you were seeing that, I would have laced your wine with poison. In your anger, you would have gone to your study to get drunk and downed the whole bottle. Boom, you're dead. Not exactly a complicated plan, but she isn't exactly a complicated woman. She wanted to piss you off and kill you - simple, really." Flori's voice was more dreamy and distant now and she kept staring out of the window as if distracted by something, or perhaps as if she could no longer really be bothered with their conversation.

Cassian shook his head, "How am I to stay married to someone who attempted to have me murdered?"

"There's no 'attempt' about it, my dear," Flori replied wistfully. "If you reject my deal tonight, I will simply follow my deal with her. You'll spend the rest of your life having a servant test every drink and every meal for poison before you eat it - and even then, I'll still manage to get you."

Cassian put his head into his hands, "So, it is my life or my daughter's? That's my options?"

"Don't be so dramatic - no-one is killing your daughter," Flori's voice was sounding even more tired now. Cassian surveyed her worriedly, trying to comprehend what her sudden change in mood meant. "Give her to me and I will make her an immortal princess of a realm far more powerful than any she could marry into. Plus, you get to be saved from assassination, single again and marry whomever you please. Hate to toot my own horn, but I think I'm offering a pretty good deal here."

Cassian paced some more and kept turning to look at Flori. She looked exhausted, as if she could fall to sleep standing where she was. Cassian felt like his time to make a decision was fast running out.

"Alright. You can take Charlotte. But don't kill Regina yet. I'm going to leave for the New World tomorrow. Make sure I'm far enough into my journey that no-one can blame me."

Flori smiled with a deep sense of peace and satisfaction, "Done."

"And don't poison her," Cassian added. "It is too quick. Make her sick. Something slow, and painful. Make the bitch suffer."

At this, Flori suddenly gained back her energy and laughed uproariously, "Oh, what I would give for my mother to know how fucked up her family has become."

Start (Iron Age) | Start (Roman Britain) | Start (Anglo Saxon) | Start (Medieval) | Start (Tudor)

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#great british sim challenge #sims 4 history challenge

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mariacallous · 2 months

Text

I have a feeling of déjà vu. Just like in February 2022, as columns of troops approached my city of Kyiv, I have a feeling of impending apocalypse. Back then, my worry was the Russians. I was thinking of my inevitable death, of soldiers laying their hands on me, torturing me just because I am Ukrainian.

This time, the sinking feeling comes from the West. Our allies, who promised to support us as long as it takes, have other problems to deal with. As Vladimir Putin’s Russia bulks up with weapons from North Korea and Iran, our partners have to restock their armies, help Israel and the Palestinians, and — most of all — struggle for power at home. In Ukraine, we’re left with a sense of rising insecurity, division and worries we might soon be left on our own.

Two years ago, when I said I was Ukrainian, people cheered for my nation. Today, they go silent and look at me as if I’m terminally ill. I can see that they’re sorry for me. They don’t know what to say.

Ukrainians in 2024

If you are tired of this war, imagine how exhausted Ukrainians must be. In a poll carried out at the beginning of the year by the research agency Info Sapiens, 35 percent of Ukrainians said they felt happy, while 58 percent reported being unhappy. In 2022, just 19 percent of us were unhappy.

Another poll, by the Democratic Initiatives Fund think tank, found that some 60 percent of Ukrainians still look with hope to the future. But anxiety is rising. Ukrainians still largely believe in each other, in their army and in its ability to eventually repel a Russian attack. However, fewer think the country will regain the territories Russia has occupied since 2022.

“Ukrainians are losing faith, probably due to the long duration of the war, problems with the supply of weapons, conflicts between the government and the army, corruption scandals, etc.,” said Inna Volosevych, deputy director of Info Sapiens. “However, the majority is still against agreeing to any of Putin’s demands.”

The growing pressure is widening the country’s divisions. Tensions are rising between different groups of Ukrainians: those who serve in the army, those who stayed but do not fight, those who left Ukraine, escaping from war.

“I think the biggest divisions are between those who are absorbed in the war — the mobilized and their families, people who lost their loved ones, residents of frontline territories — and those Ukrainians who are still trying to live a normal life,” Volosevych said.

It’s the latter, she added, who were most likely to describe themselves as happy.

“Paradoxically, Ukrainian refugees abroad reported psychological problems almost twice as often as people in Ukraine, and most often they reported a sense of guilt, apparently towards those who stayed,” she added.

Those who left

More than 6.3 million Ukrainians have left the country since the start of the full-scale invasion, according to the United Nations. Taisiia Semenova, a 27-year-old digital marketing specialist from Ukraine now lives in Portugal. She left Ukraine on February 26, two days after the start of the war.

These days she feels she has to be careful with her words. “People may be triggered by my experience in Portugal now, and I do not want to devalue the experiences of Ukrainians who stayed at home and are experiencing constant attacks,” she said. “People might say, ‘It’s easy to say something under the palm trees,’ so I often choose not to share at all.”

She found it painful when President Volodymyr Zelenskyy used his New Year’s address to urge Ukrainians abroad to return — to decide whether they are refugees or citizens.

“It is becoming more and more difficult to communicate,” said Semenova. “Earlier, my friends and I could spend hours discussing plans for self-development and how we will spend the next year: We will look cool, earn more and have better relationships.” Now when she speaks to people back home, their only goals are “to survive and not go cuckoo.”

“My conversations about plans for the future would hardly find listeners,” Semenova said.

Those who stayed

As a Ukrainian who stayed, I understand her predicament. It was my choice to stay, as I felt my country would fall if all of us left. Most of us, a nation of 30 million, stayed home and joined the fight for our country’s existence. We all paid dearly.

It’s been two years since Putin’s full-scale invasion — two years in which I haven’t been able to plan anything without worrying about a possible missile strike or air raid. In May 2023, we in Kyiv slept only for a week as Russia barraged us with missiles almost every night, trying to test the newly arrived Patriot air defense system.

Every time I turn on the light or hot water in my apartment, I feel blessed and guilty at the same time. Last winter we survived in the darkness and cold of blackouts, as the Kremlin wanted to freeze us into surrendering.

This winter we do have electricity and hot water, but it sometimes seems luxury I don’t deserve. Ukrainians in frontline cities have forgotten about normal sleep, hot water and electricity. Every morning someone loses their home or life. Hope is still there, but slowly falling, like grain from a wheat storage destroyed by a Russian drone.

Life has become a never-ending Groundhog Day of Russian shelling, working, paying taxes, donating and fighting. We are trying hard to stay resilient and keep our sense of humor.

“Being a Ukrainian in 2024 is when you think about what you are wearing,” said Mila Yaroslavska, a volunteer of the “I will be your back” charity foundation. “If a missile strikes and you are pulled out from under the rubble, dead or not, your photos will be all over the internet.”

“As a woman you want the last pictures of your life to be beautiful,” she said. “So, every night I think through my pajamas. They have to be cute but also warm enough to save you from frostbite in winter when you will lie under the rubble if you are lucky enough to survive and wait for rescuers to dig you out.”

Those who lost everything

Then there are those for whom the war has already taken so much. Serhii Zeinalov, a Ukrainian independent filmmaker, now lives in Kyiv. But all his dreams are about the warm sands and sea of the Kherson region where he comes from. His native town Oleshky has been occupied by Russian forces.

“My collection of books and records, my film archive, is in someone else’s hands,” Zeinalov said. “I cannot go to my father’s grave. My favorite places of strength — happy places where I could return if something was not going according to plan — simply do not exist, they are destroyed.”

Zeinalov left Oleshky a week before the full-scale invasion. His mother and brother later managed to escape and join him in Kyiv. His grandparents spent 533 days under occupation, leaving their home after it was almost destroyed by flooding after Russian forces blew the Kakhovka dam in the summer of 2023.

“For almost 40 days, my relatives sat on the second floor of our house blocked by water. They shared one can of food per day for two, a dog and a cat,” Zeinalov said. “The murky water swallowed our lives and belongings, along with family treasures.”

Like many residents of territories near or behind the front lines, Zeinalov is pessimistic about an all-out victory over Russia. But he still thinks it’s worth fighting. “The more successful and effective the Ukrainian army will be, the more arguments we will have during negotiations.”

In 2022, Ukrainians united in one giant fist of a nation. In the first two months, with almost no assistance, we showed we were ready to fight the second-largest army on earth.

Amazed by our bravery, the world responded with military and financial aid that helped us take back some 50 percent of the territory Russians had taken in their offensive. Inflows of assistance, the overwhelming support of the free world and — most of all — our unity made us think we could win. Today, that’s getting harder to believe.

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ila-appreciationweek · 1 year

Text

The Thing With Feathers

We are posting this on behalf of JCR/Departer on the ILW discord, who does not have a tumblr but who has been participating in ILAW. Art by @oh-so-youre-a-nerd.

Pairings: Connor x MC Word Count: 9499 Premise: The battle is won and the Power contained. What comes next? Takes place during and after Ch. 23 of ILW.

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -

And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -

And on the strangest Sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me.

- Emily Dickinson, “‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers”

- I -

The partially cured horrors with more on the loose. A failed blood moon ritual. Everest Snow merging with his human self. Lincoln McQuoid’s watch retrieved from the lake below, restoring him to life after a gruesome death. Learning the unfiltered truth about Matthias, his grisly demise, and how he became the new anchor. Discovering the full history behind Westchester’s problems and the source of the Power. Realizing that the Power was merely contained, and that Matthias-as-anchor would eventually need replacing.

None of this compared to what Demelza was asked to do in the aftermath.

Demelza received a phone call from Jocelyn’s parents the day after the carnival, asking for her help in sorting through Jocelyn’s belongings and moving everything out of her apartment after the funeral.

“Why me?” Demelza asked, still reeling from learning who was on the other line.

“We didn’t really know our daughter,” Jocelyn’s mother – Susan – admitted. “Jocelyn was never home growing up. She had been spending most of her time with you and your group of friends over the past couple of months… at least that’s what we saw whenever she updated her Pictagram.”

“I’ll do it,” Demelza said. “I’ll come over and help you and the rest of your family.” She pretended not to hear the heartbreaking sob that had escaped Susan’s lips before hanging up the phone.

Demelza’s eyes fell upon the beleaguered group, exhausted from the day’s events. Harper’s blond hair was pulled into a knot at the back of his head, and he kept his broken leg elevated on a folding chair Demelza found in the closet. He and Parker held hands at the kitchen table, and Danni, Imogene, and Tom sat with them. They each nursed a large, steaming mug of coffee. Elliot sat next to Harper with a cup of hot chocolate. Noah lay on the couch in a deep sleep recovering from using the Power earlier in the cave. Demelza and Connor’s patchwork quilt covered him, and he held Kenna, his stuffed animal moose, in the crook of his left arm. Lincoln stood over the couch and kept a protective eye on Noah while Connor sat in front of the fireplace, enraptured by the flames therein. Connor’s flaxen hair was wet and his skin dewy from a hot shower. He was wrapped in a fleece blanket the color of the sea, and bandages covered his forehead and arms from the cuts and scrapes he sustained while in the cave. He turned and gave Demelza a soft smile, and she was grateful to have him back.

Amalia sat in the chair next adjacent to the couch with her head in her hands. Her body and mind were exhausted, yet she could not sleep. Abel and Everest stood together in the corner. Abel rubbed circles on Everest’s back as his long, brown curls shielded his tear-streaked face.

Everest had emerged from the cave with Abel, Amalia, and Lincoln, with the latter’s watch hidden beneath his tightened grasp. Lincoln had stood next to Everest, his eyes haunted and bearing a new knowledge that was still too old yet impossible to name.

“The watch would only let me save one person!” Everest had cried. “I brought back Lincoln, but I couldn’t save Jocelyn!” He looked at the group and said, “I would’ve brought her back too if I could. I’m sorry.”

Everest’s face had crumpled as he slouched over and sobbed. His loud guttural cries had hit the air like lightning in reverse. Abel had put his arms around Everest and kissed the side of his head as a means of comfort.

“Don’t blame yourself, Everest,” Abel had said, his voice low, serious, and gentle all at the same time. “You’ve been our rock through this whole ordeal and have looked out for everyone else’s safety over your own. You did everything you could. You stopped the Blood Moon Ritual and put an end to Matthias’ evil deeds. You healed Connor. You saved Lincoln. You protected Noah and kept him from becoming the next anchor.” Abel had cupped Everest’s face in his hands with tenderness and said, “You can rest now.”

“I’m sorry, Demelza,” Everest had choked out. He removed his glasses and wiped his eyes before putting them back on again. “I can’t stay here. I must move on, and I hate that me doing that means you can’t. I know how much you and Connor wanted to leave Westchester after all this.”

“It’s okay, Everest,” Demelza had responded truthfully. She put a comforting hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I knew that I wouldn’t be able to leave when you told me Matthias became the new anchor. The problem’s taken care of for the next two hundred fifty years due to Matthias reaching that age here on earth.” She smiled despite everything. “That gives me and the rest of the Power Keepers time to come up with a contingency plan when that time comes, but we’re hoping it won’t. We’ll keep building our tribe and doing our research, and figure out a way to heal the Power without hurting anyone or needing another anchor again. Besides, Westchester needs a constant to see them through everything, and who can do that better than me?”

“Thank you for understanding.”

Demelza cleared her throat and brought herself back to the present. “That was Jocelyn’s mom on the phone. Her funeral is set for the end of this week. She wants me to help her go through Jocelyn’s things afterwards.”

Connor stood from his spot by the fire and let his blanket fall to the ground. He strode over to Demelza and wrapped his arms around her. He smelled of peppermint soap, pine, and campfire from sitting by the hearth. “Do you need my help?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “This is something I have to do on my own.”

- II -

Jocelyn’s funeral fell on a frigid, albeit sunny day with a cloudless blue sky. Susan, Jocelyn’s father Henry, younger sister Jasmine, and grandfather George greeted visitors at the funeral home, where Jocelyn’s service was just one of several that took place there over the past few days. A magnificent arrangement of hydrangeas, irises, lilacs, and orchids in various shades of purple covered the closed casket. Jocelyn’s former and current students shuffled in, each of them placing a handwritten card and colorful origami animal in amongst the flowers. Fellow teachers and the principal at the middle school she had worked at came, as did her track and field coach and professors at Westchester Community College. Her teammates, former high school cross country coach, and extended family were all in attendance.

Demelza even saw Cody’s mother present. She looked like her late son, but had a pinched, hollow face lined face like an old, well-used map folded several times over. Prominent crow’s feet sat on the edges of her eyes and her mouth was turned downwards, and Demelza knew it had not moved from that position in the past four years. She hugged Susan the moment she came in and the two women remained in an embrace for several long moments before the service started.

Britney slipped in moments before with shorter hair and the edges of her face sharper than they had ever been. She kept her arms folded and her gaze downward, knowing she was out of place here. Even though Britney and Jocelyn were close in middle school and high school, Jocelyn died as a stranger to her.

Demelza felt fidgety and on edge throughout the memorial. Connor kept his arm around her, serving as a calming force to her nerves. Harper, Parker, Elliot, Danni, and Imogene never had the opportunity to know Jocelyn well but came and showed their support. Tom sat with Noah, Sunny, Luis, and the rest of the witches, their expressions serious and eyes wondering what might have been. Lincoln kept his head down, suppressing his remorse and survivor’s guilt. Amalia’s dark eyes shone with unshed tears whilst Abel and Everest let theirs flow freely. Everest turned into Abel and brought him close, his shoulders heaving as he sobbed into Abel’s chest. Demelza turned away from the sight and knew Everest could not stay in Westchester, nor could she ask it of him.

She squirmed in her seat throughout the rest of the funeral. Connor put his hand on her knee as Jocelyn’s family, her old coaches, coworkers, and former students spoke about her. Demelza felt as though she was hearing about a person she didn’t truly know. She let her eyes wander during the picture slideshow Jocelyn’s sister compiled because she knew she wouldn’t recognize the person onscreen.

- III -

Everyone had kept to themselves after the funeral. Connor went to the shed to do some metal and woodworking. Noah went back into the woods, desiring to hear, commune, and find solace there again. Abel and Lincoln returned to their respective apartments for the last time, packing up their belongings and confirming the release from their contracts. Amalia got her car washed and vacuumed, and Everest deep cleaned the room he and Amalia had shared. Harper, Parker, Elliot, Danni, Imogene, and Tom had returned to Pine Springs.

Demelza thought about this as she left the café where she had helped see Abel and Everest off. Amalia and Lincoln were leaving the next day, and they didn’t plan on returning, save for the memorial Demelza had scheduled two months from now. She wanted the opportunity for herself and her friends to honor Jocelyn and everyone else lost to the Power in their own way. She got into her car, drove to Jocelyn’s old apartment complex, and mused on the walls being built amidst a tragic loss. Jocelyn had done the same after losing Cody.

Demelza knew it was up to her to keep those walls down and be the unifying force of the group – the constant – they all needed. She parked her car in the small, dingy parking lot and headed toward Jocelyn’s apartment, where the front door hung ajar. Several large garbage bags filled to the brims and knotted tightly sat outside, waiting to be taken down to the dumpster. Demelza tried not to think about all the trash inside as she stepped into the place where Jocelyn had once lived and breathed.

Henry and George cleaned the small kitchen and arranged for movers to take the old furniture and decorations to Goodwill. Meanwhile, Jasmine packed up the non-perishable food items for the local food bank and put the linens in another box. She took those boxes down to her car while Susan went through Jocelyn’s clothes. She placed each item into a “donate” or “toss” pile, but folded Jocelyn’s favorite denim jacket gently and set it aside. Demelza disinfected and cleaned the bathroom after Susan and Jasmine finished removing everything inside, then moved onto dusting, sweeping, and cleaning the sitting room.

After the movers left with the furniture and decorations, Susan and Henry brought out three boxes from her old room. Demelza gulped as George and Jasmine joined them, knowing what was ahead.

Jasmine opened the first box and pulled out a red, white, and blue plaid hybrid sweatshirt. Demelza recognized it immediately, as it had once belonged to Cody. She turned away from Jocelyn’s family and placed a hand over her mouth to keep herself from gagging. The coat still smelled like him: of Abercrombie and Fitch Oud Amour cologne, Axe antiperspirant spray, and salty sweat.

“Sorry,” Demelza coughed. “Just something I wasn’t expecting.”

“I never liked Cody,” Jasmine commented. “He was a jerk and yet Jocelyn always chose him over me.” She threw the sweatshirt on the ground in disgust.

Susan folded the sweatshirt with a frown and placed it next to Jocelyn’s denim jacket. “I wish we did more, Henry. We should’ve kept a better eye on her.”

“You didn’t know,” Demelza said. “Jocelyn was a private person. You can’t beat yourselves up over this.” She held Susan’s gaze and said, “Jocelyn was trying. She wanted to be better… but you could’ve – should’ve – loved for her who she was instead of who you wanted her to be.”

Henry turned away; he looked shameful.

“I’m sorry,” Demelza told them. Again. “I should’ve done more too.”

She spent the rest of the day helping Jocelyn’s family sort through the rest of her personal items contained in the boxes. Photographs of Jocelyn with Britney and Cody. Cross country and track team pictures. Numerous commemorative plaques, medals, and trophies from athletic competitions. Cross country and track shirts signed by her coaches and teammates. Brittle and dried flower corsages from school dances she attended with Cody that perfumed the air around them. Numerous scrapbooks Susan put together with painstaking effort documenting Jocelyn’s life. Mixed CDs with playlists Britney and Cody had curated just for her. Written notes Jocelyn had shared with Cody. A single polaroid of Jocelyn and Cody cheek-to-cheek with too wide grins and squinty eyes.

Demelza paused as she picked up an old, used copy of The Giver from inside the last box. She opened the book and gasped at the written inscription therein:

Dear Jocelyn,

Don’t lose hope. You’re getting there. You’re doing better than you think. Nothing is ever truly broken or lost unless you make it so. You can be and make the change you wish to see.

One day you’ll look back and realize how far you’ve come. I’m proud of you already.

Your friend,

-Everest

Demelza swallowed the lump that formed in her throat and wiped the tears from her eyes. Everest saw the best in Jocelyn despite knowing her past. He forgave her even after learning that she had tracked him and fed that information to Matthias. He reconciled the person Jocelyn used to be with the person she was becoming or at least wanted to be. He hated himself for not being able to save Jocelyn even though he couldn’t.

Demelza noticed a piece of paper peeking out about a hundred pages in. She opened the book to that spot and came across Jocelyn’s untidy scrawl written with a purple pen on a lined piece of paper ripped from a miniature notebook. Ink stains and smudges covered the edges but could not mask what Jocelyn had written down:

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -

And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -

And on the strangest Sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me.

By: Emily Dickinson

Demelza sniffed and read the poem again.

Hope.

It was a fragile thing, light and breakable like the gossamer wings of a bird in flight. It could slip away in the night without you having ever known it was there in the first place.

Yet hope remained constant and reserved a place for itself in your soul once you kept it; always singing, withstanding the storms of life, keeping you warm in the coldest chills, remaining calm upon the unsteady seas, and never asking for anything in return.

Jocelyn had hope despite herself. Hope for her future happiness. Hope in her apologies. Hope in her newfound friendships. Hope for the chance to move forward. Hope for a world where the Power would never hurt anyone again.

This part of Jocelyn remained tethered to the earth in a way no one else could see but that would live on past the rest of them.

Henry noticed Demelza looking at the paper upon which Jocelyn had written the poem and the book from whence it came. “Do you want to take those things with you? Something of Jocelyn’s for you to keep?”

“Yes,” Demelza answered. “Thank you.”

Demelza decided she would send Everest’s book back to him. She had seen him reading it in the cabin during their downtime. Everest had said The Giver was his favorite book and that his father had often read it to him.

Demelza stood from her place on the floor and hugged each member of Jocelyn’s family before leaving the apartment for good. Demelza hauled all the trash bags to the dumpster so they wouldn’t need to. Then, she folded the piece of paper - evidence of a life once lived - and placed it inside her wallet so she would always carry Jocelyn’s memory and hope for a better world with her wherever she went.

- IV -

Connor had presented Demelza with a custom-made engagement ring after the memorial she hosted just for their core group. Demelza had accepted and smiled upon seeing it placed on her left ring finger, knowing that Connor knew her innermost parts. He knew the sinews that bound her flesh and bones together, the blood that flowed freely through her veins. He knew her fierce and mighty heart, determined soul, and how hard she fought for the people she loved.

Demelza reflected on this as she lay on the warm sands of Moorea, Tahiti four months later. She and Connor flew around the world for a much-needed, month-long respite after they caught the last horror and administered the half-baked cure Harper and Sunny had provided. It gave the victims their minds and sanity back, but left them with ashen skin, vampiric teeth, and claws sharper than that of any animal. Doctors from the best hospitals still worked with them on the aftereffects while scientists had attributed the cause to acid rain. Demelza was grateful for Connor and his true and unconditional love for her, how he had told her that they did all they could, and to put aside the what if’s and that what might have been of the situation.

She grabbed a handful of the pale gold, soft silt of sand, let it run through her fingers, and remembered the memorial hosted in her parents’ backyard. She had provided the champagne and firewood while Lincoln took time away from sorting Matthias’ affairs and giving away his millions of dollars to join them. Amalia took another road trip back to Westchester from Portland before beginning her final year at the University of Oregon. Harper, Parker, Danni, Imogene, Tom, Elliot, and his boyfriend Robbie had made the drive down from Pine Springs. Noah had grilled chicken and hamburgers for the main course and brought homemade side dishes and desserts, having rediscovered his passion for culinary arts. Demelza had known Abel and Everest wouldn’t be in attendance and understood why. She had received a note from Everest after mailing his book back to him, letting her know that he and Abel had settled in northern California and were happy with their new lives.

Demelza continued running her fingers through the sand as she watched the ocean waves break onto the shore. The surf went forward and backward like clockwork, keeping time with the rhythm of nature. The Westchester woods had gotten their groove back, but Demelza knew nature would eventually run its course and that Matthias-as-anchor would eventually need replacing to keep things in harmony. But Demelza knew she wouldn’t be alone in that task or in finding a way to heal the Power without sacrificing an innocent life.

“Hey, you,” Connor whispered in her ear. He sat down next to her, kissed her freckled shoulder and pulled her close. He fixed his grey eyes on the sea and looked calm and relaxed for the first time in years. His eyes were clear and radiant, posture no longer slouched with carrying burdens and sorrows others could not see, and his skin emitted an effervescent glow from his time spent in the Tahitian sunshine. Connor’s hair lightened from his time outside and he had gotten a much-needed trim right before they left on their vacation. His hair was still long but looked much healthier than it had before.

“Hey yourself,” Demelza said. She cupped Connor’s face in her hands and kissed him hard. He tasted like mango, coconut, and chocolate. “How was your walk?”

“It would’ve been better if you came too,” Connor answered. He stretched his long legs out in front of him, kissed Demelza’s temple, and ran his gentle hand through her hair. “We should get married when we get back. It’s time to move forward.”

Demelza nodded. “You’re right.” She leaned into Connor’s chest, and he wrapped his arms around her again. “I’m grateful we don’t have to deal with the Power by ourselves anymore. We can finally start our lives – and throw the best party of the century while doing it. We’ll have it in our backyard. Sunny, Luis, and the witches can help us decorate. Noah and his friends at culinary school can help us with the menu and taste testing. He’s only in his first semester and is itching for a project already. We’ll invite our friends, keep things small and intimate.”

“What about your parents?”

Demelza knew on a certain level she couldn’t shut her parents out of her wedding. They were the only blood family she had left, the distance having only grown wider with age. Their siblings and parents – both sets of Demelza’s grandparents – were long dead. Demelza’s mother and father had given her life just as the sun had started setting on theirs. They had started making more of an effort after what happened at the homecoming dance those years ago. But they were strangers, nonetheless.

“They can come,” she said. “They can be the family ghosts like they’ve always been.” She looked up at Connor and asked, “What about your dad?”

“I haven’t heard from him since he filed for divorce from my mom,” he said. “My dad didn’t even call after she died. He wouldn’t have cared if something had happened to me. Why would I want him to come?”

“We’re two peas in a pod,” Demelza said. “No extended family whatsoever.” She didn’t possess the heart to add that Connor didn't have any blood relatives left either. That would always hang in the air between them like smoke after a fire. Connor’s dead family – both literally and figuratively – would always linger, having seeped into every crevice imaginable even though the flames were long put out.

She trailed a finger down Connor’s taut stomach, making patterns on his six-pack and twirling the line of blond hair stretching down his stomach. “It’s partly why I want to make babies with you – lots of them.”

Connor grinned and flipped Demelza over onto her side. He undid her black bikini top, sticky from the summer heat and tossed it aside before Demelza grabbed his hand and guided it downward between her thighs. His grin grew wicked, and he said, “Let's have some fun first.”

- V -

The wedding occurred three months later beneath a wooden stick arch interwoven with freesias, garden roses, larkspur, peonies, wildflowers, and angel feather grass in every color imaginable. It stood in front of the pine trees in their backyard, and beneath the yellow, orange, pink, and purple hues of the sunset. Multicolored paper lanterns floated midair above the semicircle of gold chairs facing the archway. The air smelled of honeysuckle, rosemary, and sage.

Demelza faced Connor, their smiles wide and close to bursting. Demelza donned pearl earrings with a flower crown and lace veil that fell straight past her shoulders and nearly touched the train of her vintage wedding dress. Connor wore a new suit and black bow tie that fit him perfectly with a boutonnière that matched the flowers in Demelza’s hair and the bouquet she held in her manicured hands.

They went without bridesmaids and groomsmen due to the small, intimate nature of their wedding. Demelza’s parents sat in the center of the semicircle, and it pained her to see how old they really were. Noah came with his girlfriend Chelsea Vincenzo, a fellow culinary student from a large Italian American family that owned a pizza parlor in the next town over and had embraced him as a second son. Harper sat with Parker, Elliot, and Robbie; both couples were stronger than ever. Danni had her camera in tow and sat between Imogene and Tom. Amalia and Lincoln were there, each talking turns along with Abel in calming Everest and pulling him from the ledge. Abel had told them that they would stay for the wedding and reception but had a quick turnaround time; Demelza and Connor understood and were grateful Abel and Everest had made the sacrifice to come. Sunny and Luis stood under the archway with them as co-officiators, and the rest of the Westchester witches came and mingled with Connor’s high school friends.

A golden chair sat empty amidst the wedding guests, the very spot where Jocelyn should’ve been – alive and celebrating with them. Demelza knew the chair was also for Stacy and Mayor Green, evidence of a family forever fractured by death. She thought of Andy, Ava, Dan, Jane, Lily, and Lucas, and how their lives were cut short, their potential never realized.

Connor noticed Demelza staring at the vacant chair and squeezed her hands. “I miss them too,” he said. “But they’re here in spirit. They want us to be happy.”

“I know.”

The ceremony went smoothly. Sunny and Luis pronounced Connor and Demelza as husband and wife whilst the sunset faded into the blue-black sky above. Sunny and Luis waved their hands, sending the paper lanterns up into the air, where they burst and trailed flecks of gold and miniature translucent baubles filled with light. The full moon became visible amidst a vast display of stars and the constellations, which were visible for all to see and gave off a glowing, radiant light.

Everyone congregated to the other side of the manicured lawn, where they sat united at a long table with Queen Anne’s lace running down the center with fairy lights illuminating from the mason jars placed alongside the sprays of floral arrangements like Demelza’s bouquet. They feasted on a menu Demelza and Connor had curated with the help of Noah, Chelsea, and their classmates at culinary school: bruschetta; garlic knots; Caprese and Italian chopped salads; roasted vegetables; spinach ravioli; vegetarian lasagna; margherita, pepperoni, and prosciutto pizzas. The red wine and assorted Italian cream sodas flowed whilst a folk band played instrumental versions of Demelza and Connor’s favorite songs in the background. The chocolate wedding cake came out along with various gelato flavors, bombolini, cannoli, and cups of cappuccinos, espressos, and lattes.

The conversation never stalled and soon everyone left the table to dance. The tempo picked up the pace in time to everyone’s movements and vibrant conversation; even Demelza’s mother and father loosened up.

Demelza and Connor took turns dancing with each other, Demelza’s parents, and their friends, getting caught up on how they were. They learned of Harper’s time in medical school and him pursuing neonatology along with Parker heading a Big Brother/Big Sister program in Pine Springs; Elliot and Robbie researching colleges and apartments together; Imogene’s time in veterinary school and her volunteer work rescuing and rehoming abused animals; Tom’s graduate studies in robotics; Danni’s journalistic work being picked up by national news wires; Amalia’s law school applications and studying for the LSAT; Abel’s acceptance of a large monetary grant giving him the opportunity to explore archaeological sites in Central and South America; Everest’s time in college, following in his father’s footsteps pursuing pediatric medicine, and the help he received from Harper regarding prerequisites and the application process for medical school; and how Lincoln embraced more artistic mediums and began taking on clients.

Demelza stepped away and approached Noah, who stood off to the side with a glass of water. He smiled as Chelsea led Luis, Sunny, Elliot, Robbie, Danni, Amalia, Abel, Everest, Connor, and his high school friends in dancing the tarantella.

“Needed a break, Marshall? I did.”

“Me too,” Noah said. “Planning and successfully carrying out a reception menu is a lot of work.” He took a sip of water and grinned even wider. His honey brown eyes were glassy, with everything he felt brimming the surface, but he was present, nonetheless. “I still tire easily. But at least I can sleep this off before working the dinner shift tomorrow.”

“You were fantastic, Noah,” Demelza told him. She threw her arm around his shoulders and said, “You’ll be in demand for all sorts of events at this rate.” She watched as Chelsea continued dancing with the other guests, her long black curls bouncing with every twirl. “You work in the kitchen at the restaurant Chelsea’s family owns?”

Noah nodded. “I don’t need to. The money from the settlement the city gave me will cover me for the rest of my life. Who knew coming back from the dead, having a kidnapping cover story, a selfish mom, a dad who decided to show up out of nowhere, and the coroner botching everything for not confirming my identity with DNA four years ago could be so beneficial, right? But I like having something to do when I’m not at school. Sometimes Chelsea’s dad lets me get creative with the menu.”

Demelza noticed Noah mentioning his parents. She knew his mother had played the victim and would never acknowledge how much she had hurt her son. He had severed ties with her after realizing that she would never change. But his father had left shortly after Jane died those years ago and was never heard from again.

Until now.

"Your dad contacted you?" Demelza said. "How did that turn out?"

“He lives in Spokane and wants to reconnect, but I don't know if I want to. My dad wasn't there for me back then, so what right does he have to be in my life now?" Noah said. "I think he only got in contact with me for damage control and to make himself look good. He has another family, Demelza. Where would I fit into that?"

"You never know," Demelza responded. "I'm sure your dad has his reasons for leaving and not being around all these years. Maybe he didn't have a choice."

"It's possible," Noah said. "It wouldn't surprise me if my mom forced him to stay away after the divorce. She is the most toxic person I've ever met in my life - and that's saying a lot. It's a huge part of why I cut her off. Chelsea's parents treat me better than she ever did."

Demelza’s eyes fell on Chelsea sharing a joke with Imogene and Tom, her olive skin shining, and burgundy lips parted in a smile revealing two perfect rows of straight white teeth. "Do you think she’s the one?”

“I do,” Noah said. “I know it’s still early stages, but we’ve talked about getting married and having a family together. We’ll date longer, get through school, and get Baby Jane’s established first, though.” He paused for a moment. Tears fell from his sad eyes as his bottom lip quivered. “I wish Jane could’ve met Chelsea. She would’ve loved her.”

“Jane would be so proud of you, Noah. She wouldn’t want you to be sad. She wouldn’t want you staying stuck in the past.” Demelza hugged Noah and told him, “Keep living your best life, Marshall. You’re one of the lucky ones.”

- VI -

The dancing went past midnight. The band packed up their instruments while everyone saw Demelza and Connor off in his Camaro decorated with Just Married! bunting, balloons, flower streamers, and tin cans secured to the back. The moon was still out and the constellations still shone brightly above them.

Demelza reached for Connor’s hand in the center and interlaced her fingers with his. He smiled and squeezed her hand while he drove, the tin cans clanging against the road beneath them.

“I love you,” Connor told her. “Everything we’ve been through brought us here. It was all worth it.”

“I love you too,” Demelza replied. She kissed Connor’s hand and said, “I know you wanted to leave Westchester after everything. I feel stupid asking you this, but you’re okay with staying here?”

Connor ran his thumb over Demelza’s fingers, his hand staying clasped in hers. “You’re not stupid, Demelza. You’re the best person I know. A stupid, selfish person would’ve seen someone else’s distress and ignored it. You saw a need and answered the call. We have a home and a life in Westchester, and people helping us out with the Power. We’ll get there - and all the while, you’ll be the glue holding everyone together.”

Demelza and Connor reached a stop sign. He gave her hand another squeeze and said, “Whenever you find yourself needing a break from being the constant, come to me and I’ll take it on for a while. We have Noah, Sunny, Luis, the witches, and our friends in Pine Springs helping us too. We’re not alone in this. We’re not responsible for the world’s problems. Our children won’t be, either.”

“You always know what to tell me,” she said, thinking of the past four years they spent together: when their eyes locked on the same windy road for the first time in years; his concern upon seeing her covered in bruises and teaching her self-defense; when Connor sacrificed his own plans to help her, Stacy, and their friends after learning about the Power; the way he always put her needs ahead of his; the moments he put his life on the line for her. “You keep your word. You’re not just talk.”

“I hope not!” Connor laughed. He winked at Demelza playfully and said, “I like to think I keep my word both in and outside the bedroom.”

“Oh, stop!” Demelza exclaimed. “I know you do; and we have two weeks on the Amalfi Coast for you to have your way with me.”

They reached their destination for the next two days: a ritzy hotel with a view of the lake and mountains where they would rest before flying to Amalfi, Italy for their honeymoon. The concierge checked them in and had a valet bring their luggage to their suite. Two bottles of chilled rosé in an ice bucket with accompanying champagne glasses, a large pot of hot chamomile tea on a warmer with cream, sugar, and two teacups, a tray of various finger sandwiches, a charcuterie board, and a platter of chocolate covered strawberries with a large bouquet of yellow roses on the entry room table greeted them as they walked in.

Demelza looked at everything therein and said, “I’m stuffed. Who on earth thinks we still have room in our stomachs for all this?”

Connor held up an envelope with their names on it. “I think we both know the answer to that question.”

He opened the envelope, took out a vintage greeting card decorated with artwork of a bride and groom riding off in an old school Rolls Royce, and read:

Dear Connor and Demelza,

Congratulations on the wedding! We figured you’d enjoy these post-coital snacks.

Noah and Everest wanted to bake you a “Congrats on the wedding sex!” cake, but we (Abel and Amalia - the greatest people you’ll ever know) put our feet down. You’re welcome for us insisting on something classy. That, and we know more than enough about what you do behind closed doors.

Enjoy your honeymoon and please don’t scar the other guests the way you did us.

Love,

-Amalia, Abel, Everest, and Noah

Demelza and Connor looked at each other before falling over on top of each other in a fit of laughter.

“Oh God,” Demelza said. She pinched the bridge of her nose and lay her head atop Connor’s chest. “You don’t think Noah picked up on anything or saw us going at it when he was a ghost, do you?”

“He hasn’t said anything about it,” Connor said. “Maybe he’s blocked out the memory.” He ran a finger across Demelza’s cheekbone. “You’re beautiful.”

“You’re handsome.” Demelza reached up with her hand and began undoing Connor’s bow tie and unbuttoning his shirt. She had a lot of practice. “You want to take this to the bedroom?”

Connor nodded, grabbed her hand, and pulled her up along with him. He held her in his arms and carried her bridal style into the bedroom, where they looked forward to the rest of their lives and the future awaiting them on the horizon.

- VII -

“This was not how I imagined us spending our first wedding anniversary,” Demelza grunted. She arched her back and groaned as hot sweat seeped into her hair and hospital gown, and accumulated at her forehead before falling down her face, neck, and the rest of her body.

“You're doing great, sweetheart,” Connor soothed. He held a bowl of cold water and dipped a washcloth inside before using it to wipe Demelza’s face and neck clean. He set the bowl and washcloth down on the end table, grabbed her hand in his, and placed his other hand softly on her head. "You got this. The doctor said it won't be long now."

"That - was - forever - ago," Demelza panted. A rough contraction rippled through her body, and she cried out in pain as Connor squeezed her hand and held her close.

“Breathe through it, sweetheart,” he encouraged her. “You can do it.” He hit the call button as his eyes locked with Demelza’s, both of them realizing that their lives would soon change forever.

The pregnancy hadn’t shocked Connor and Demelza, but they weren’t expecting it either. Children were always in the cards and Demelza and Connor had an active sex life, but she was always consistent and up to date with her birth control. She had also just resumed college and wanted to wait a few years. Demelza had never considered that she was pregnant until she and Connor attended the All Hallows Eve party hosted by Sunny, Luis, and the rest of the Westchester witches. Sunny didn’t greet her and Connor as “the lovers” or “the soulmates” as they usually did, but rather as “the family.”

Demelza had made an appointment the next day and Connor came with her. He told her she could terminate if she wanted and that they could wait longer before having children. Demelza had considered it, but her gaze locked on the ultrasound screen and she saw a miniature Connor with his floppy halcyon hair and her brown eyes running happily through a meadow on a cloudless day. She couldn’t let the image in her mind go or do away with what the two of them had made together after seeing that.

Demelza’s mother and father were thrilled at the news. She had mixed feelings about it. The knowledge that they would be better grandparents to her child than they were as parents to her felt like an unhealed wound. But Demelza knew she couldn’t deprive her child the experience of knowing his grandparents; nor could she ignore their endeavors to be better and the improvements they had made, especially when Connor didn’t have any family left.

Amalia, Abel, Everest, and Lincoln weren’t surprised when Connor and Demelza had told them she was pregnant during their monthly FaceTime chat.

“The two of you were always going at it in the cabin,” Amalia had reasoned. “I can never look at or into kitchen pantries the same way again.”

“You were always so loud,” Everest had said. “I had to listen to the Relaxing Whale Sounds album on Spotify with the volume on full blast just to block you out and get myself to sleep at night.” This earned him laughter from the group and a hard, albeit affectionate slap on the shoulder from Abel.

Demelza and Connor had blushed as Abel said, “Now he can’t sleep without listening to it for at least an hour beforehand.” He grinned widely and added, “We’re excited for you! I’ll send you all the parenting books I have and help get the little one’s library started.”

Lincoln had chuckled and said, “You both were always so obvious. You’ll be amazing parents, though. I’ll block off a few days to get the nursery painted and add on any artistic touches you want.”

Noah and Chelsea, Harper and Parker, Elliot and Robbie, Danni, Imogene, and Tom had responded with enthusiasm. They got together with Sunny, Luis, the witches, Demelza’s parents, and Connor’s high school friends and threw a lakeside baby shower for her and Connor a month before her due date. Noah and Chelsea had planned the menu again with fresh fruit cups, Greek salad, saffron rice, fresh hummus and bean dips with homemade pita bread, Mediterranean chicken kabobs, falafel pitas, baklava, lemon cake, and non-caffeinated sweet iced tea.

Amalia and Lincoln also celebrated with them. He had flown in from Las Vegas on the same day she drove down from Portland on her way to California before starting law school at Stanford University. She had sorted through all the gifts, clothes, and supplies Demelza and Connor had received, and organized the parenting guides, children’s books, and presents Abel and Everest sent over. Abel was busy preparing for his first big archaeological dig in the Patagonian region and Everest was occupied with summer classes, but they had sent their love. Lincoln had painted the nursery, and helped Connor and Noah with moving and arranging the baby furniture Connor had built.

Everything was ready yet Demelza felt far away from it all. The doctor and three nurses came in and began preparing for the delivery, and she found herself wanting to turn back time.

“Connor, I’m scared,” she admitted amidst the flurry of nurses getting her into position. “This happened so fast. What if I’m bad at this parenting thing? What if I end up hurting him?”

“Demelza, look at me,” Connor told her. He pressed his forehead to hers and said, “You’re an amazing mom and you'll keep getting better with time. You being worried about messing things up when our son isn’t even here yet shows how much you love him already.” He kissed her on both cheeks, laced his fingers with hers, and said, “I’m right here with you. I’m not going anywhere.”

The doctor looked up from the foot of the bed and said, “Someone’s ready to make his debut. We can have him out with five pushes if you’ll bear down in three, two, one…”

Demelza pushed, and felt her hand tighten in Connor’s grasp. She accidentally bit her tongue and tasted blood while the coppery scent wafted past her nostrils and made her feel lightheaded. Connor squeezed her hand harder, which brought her back into focus.

Demelza pushed a second time and sensed more people entering the room; but when she looked, it was just Connor, the doctor, and nurses until a familiar voice like honey on the rock pierced the air.

“This kid is going to be so lucky growing up knowing from the beginning that it’s okay to be different; and with you taking him to see Sunny, Luis, and the rest of the witch coven all the time.”

Ava. She smiled and had a casual, edgy elegance about her even in death that Demelza could never hope to achieve in life. She said, “Have Luis teach the kid how to make fire with his fingertips. That’ll come in handy when he gets older.”

“That is completely irresponsible, Ava.”

Lucas. He gave Ava a long, serious look like a professor reprimanding an irresponsible student before turning to Demelza. Ava rolled her eyes but grinned at him and Demelza before taking off. Lucas relaxed his stare as a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth and traveled upward before meeting his eyes.

“Demelza, please teach your child the proper fire safety protocols and how to use a fire extinguisher,” he advised. “The last thing Westchester needs after the past few years are roaring fires everywhere. Really though, your child is so lucky to have you as his mother.”

Dan came into view next. His countenance was a light upon Demelza and she felt his grin illuminate the space around her. “Your son is already loved by so many people he has yet to meet. I know you won’t let him forget that.”

“Of course she won’t.”

Andy. He stood tall and was at peace with himself. “Demelza, you’re going to love and accept your child for who they are, just like you did with me.”

“And me.”

Lily. She looked calm and content with herself and her surroundings and possessed a security about herself she never had before. “You always looked out for me and anyone who needed it. You still do. I know your son will follow in your footsteps and do the same.”

Demelza pushed for the third time and locked eyes with Stacy. She was radiant and full of confidence. “Keep going! You’re almost there!” she exclaimed. “I’ll always be looking after my nephew even when you can’t see me. Make sure he knows how much his Aunt Stacy loves him, okay?”

Demelza nodded as the doctor said, “I see the baby’s head.” She looked up, turned her attention towards Connor, and added, “He takes after his dad with all that blond hair.”

Connor let a joyous laugh escape from his lips and looked at Demelza with tears brimming the surface of his eyelashes. “Did you hear that, sweetheart? Our son has the same hair as me!”

“I knew he would,” Demelza wheezed. She leaned back and recentered her focus as Connor released his grip on her and wiped the sweat off her face and neck again. He kissed her forehead and gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze before taking hold of her hand once more.

The doctor looked at Demelza and said, “We should be able to have him out with two more pushes. Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Demelza leaned into herself, and felt her body contort into something she didn’t know as she pushed for the fourth time. “I'm tired,” she whispered to herself. "I don't think I can do this anymore.”

“Yes, you can.”

Jane.

Demelza still never fully captured what Jane had looked and sounded like in the void, or fully grasped who she would’ve been, had she not died. Yet Jane stood next to her with a commanding presence, unwavering gaze, long auburn waves, and the same pale brown eyes as her twin brother that she knew so well.

“Keep your eye on the horizon,” Jane said. “Just like you did when you looked inside yourself and saved Noah. Just like you will when your son grows up and needs help navigating the path ahead.” She paused, as though listening for something at the door. “I need to go. You have one more visitor.”

“Wait! Please don’t leave!” Demelza whimpered. “I just got you back.” She felt Jane’s presence diminish as her body took control of each extremity and bent them into something unrecognizable. She sensed someone new standing next to her and moaned. “Please… help me… whoever you are.”

A familiar, deadpan voice surrounded her. “You know, whenever I found myself feeling tired during cross country or track practice, my coach would always tell me to push through it; just like you’re doing now.”

Demelza blinked and found herself facing Jocelyn. Her left eye was restored, and her face no longer bore the deep, dark gashes from Power-controlled monsters. Jocelyn looked older and more mature, like she had fully grown into her facial features. She wore her long brown hair pulled back with a tortoise shell clip, which emphasized her angular bone structure and the distinctive contours of her face. Demelza never realized how striking Jocelyn truly was; then again, she had never bothered to look, let alone see.

“You’ve been hearing that a lot though,” Jocelyn said. “You’re probably sick of it. My coach would also tell me to pick my knees up so I could run faster and get to the finish line quicker; but I don’t think you can do that right now.” She gave Demelza a sharp look and said, “I don’t know what you’re freaking out about. Nobody’s ever really ready to become a parent, you know? Those parenting books from Indiana Jones can only help so much. It’s all about what you do or don’t do, and honestly? You and Breakfast Club already love the hell out of your kid. Everyone’s just frothing at the mouth to make you both Parents of the Year.”

“Gee, thanks,” Demelza grumbled sarcastically. “What’s your point?”

Jocelyn stared at her and said, “Just do it! Like the Nike commercials! They told me to buy their running shoes, so I did.”

“Oh, Jocelyn.”

“You know what I mean!” she snapped. “When it’s your kid, you just have to dive right in and accept the good, bad, and ugly of everything! It’s not about making yourself look good to other people or molding your kid in your image, it’s about letting him be his own person and loving him regardless!”

She hesitated for a moment and added, “I think you and Connor will be good parents, Demelza. I know you’ll both love your kid no matter what… you won’t force him to be someone he’s not… the way my parents did to me. But I’m grateful you helped them get closure. Thanks for doing that.”

“You’re welcome, Joss.” Demelza coughed and felt an intense pain course through her. She knew it was time for that fifth and final push.

Jocelyn noticed the change in Demelza and said, “I’ll help see you through this last stretch. Do what the doctor tells you.”

She nodded and pushed at the doctor’s instruction. She felt Jocelyn leave just as her son slid through one limb at a time and finally entered the world.

“He’s here!” the doctor said, exhilarated. She held him up for Demelza and Connor to see. “The time of birth is 3:49 in the afternoon!”

Connor threw his arms around Demelza as their son cried in the background, making his presence known. “You did it, sweetheart! You were wonderful!” He kissed Demelza, set her gently back against the bed, and tucked her hair back. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Demelza said, placing a hand on Connor’s cheek. “I couldn’t have done this without you.” Her eyes found the station in the back, where two of the nurses cleaned the baby, took his measurements, and checked his vitals. She saw his head full of blond hair and noticed he had long arms and legs, big feet, and large hands for a newborn. “Go check on him,” she told Connor.

Connor nodded and gave her another kiss before taking off. She lay still and took deep breaths in through her nose and out through mouth as the doctor cleaned her up. The third nurse switched out her pillow, lowered the front of her hospital gown, and wiped her hair and skin down with fresh water before cleaning the foot of the bed.

Demelza watched while Connor cut the umbilical cord with jittery hands. His eyes were luminous and smile so wide she thought his face would split in half. Then the nurses wrapped the baby in a soft blue blanket and placed him in Connor’s arms. His expression changed to one of awe and reverence as he held his son for the first time.

Demelza knew Connor became a new person at that moment. A whole new level of healing was underway. The cracks engraved deep inside Connor would never disappear or restore what was lost. But the baby filled those crevices with gold and brought back a sense of peace Connor had spent years yearning for.

Demelza’s eyes met Connor’s as he walked over and placed the baby directly on her chest. His skin met hers as she put her hands on his back, inhaling his sweet newborn scent. She felt the gold flow through her veins and noticed how weightless her son felt upon her.

“Hi,” Demelza said. “I’m your mom. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

He made eye contact with Demelza and yawned before burrowing into her. He fell asleep with one hand resting on her shoulder and the other one next to her collarbone.

Connor wrapped his arms around both her and their son. He kissed her on the side of her head and said, “The nurses told me our son will be big and tall when he grows up. I can’t wrap my brain around that. It was the strangest thing. I held him and felt as though I was holding a bag of feathers.”

Demelza thought of the poem Jocelyn had written down on notebook paper and once used as a bookmark. It still sat in Demelza’s wallet and the memory of finding it felt as though it had happened a lifetime ago.

Now it manifested in the part of her soul that lived and breathed outside her body and kept her warm all the same.

Hope.

- VIII -

Demelza and Connor found themselves in their own hospital room a few hours later. She felt refreshed from showering and wore a long and loose nursing top, a pair of Connor’s well-worn plaid pajama pants, and fuzzy red socks. She held their son and laid against Connor on the hospital bed with the clean, crisp sheets, comforter, and pillows he insisted on bringing from home. Connor had also showered and changed into sweatpants, an old Portland Trail Blazers shirt, and socks that matched Demelza’s. He reached over and stroked their son’s forehead, nose, and both cheeks with a gentle finger before letting him take hold of it in his newborn grasp.

“He has your eyes,” Connor said. “It’s hard to tell right now, but I can’t wait to see you in them when he’s older.”

“He looks like you,” Demelza said. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.” She smiled at the baby and said, “We love you, little guy. We’re so excited to be your mom and dad.”

“The little guy needs a name. We can’t keep calling him that for the rest of his life and the hospital won’t discharge us until we fill out the birth certificate.”

Demelza nodded and thought of the world her son was just born into. It contained pockets of natural beauty, histories older than time itself, hidden discoveries, and untold stories. Yet the world had withstood endless abuse, witnessed countless evils, and wasn’t immune from corruption or those who would use the gifts bestowed upon them to hurt others.

Her son didn’t come into a world where he would have to worry about the Power hurting those he loved the way she and Connor once did.

Rather, he came into one that possessed a fragile, delicate hope, yet offered a new way forward whilst still carrying the wisdom of the past.

Demelza thought of those who had passed on, and how they returned to lift her up and provide her with the strength she needed to deliver him.

She knew what the perfect name would be.

“How about Atlas?” Demelza suggested. “It’s a book of maps that holds the past, present, the way ahead, and hope for the future.” Her gaze turned from her son, to Connor, and back again. “Atlas Connor Green. His middle name will be for you.”

Connor smiled before releasing his finger from Atlas’ grip and retrieving his phone from the end table. He spent a few minutes scrolling and turned the screen towards her. He had pulled up a baby names website that listed the meaning and origin of their son’s new name: bearer of the heavens, from Greek mythology.

“It’s perfect,” Connor said. He set his phone down and ran a soft hand through Atlas’ hair. A far off, wistful look came over his face. “Atlas came into this world with heaven at his back. They were all there - my sister, Jocelyn, everyone we’ve lost - they all came together to bring him here to us.”

“I know,” Demelza said. “I’ll never forget them; and we’ll make sure Atlas knows them too.”

Connor bent down and kissed Atlas atop his head before resting his lips on Demelza’s. “Happy anniversary sweetheart,” he told her. “I have so many reasons why I’ll never forget this day.”

“Happy anniversary, love,” Demelza replied. She smiled down upon their new son.

“Happy birthday, Atlas. Welcome to the world, to this place with feathers.”

#ilaw #connor x mc #ilitw #it lives in the woods #connor green #it lives within #ilw

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stillresolved · 2 months

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“you’re allowed to need help sometimes.” - Wenzhe @ Lam 👀 (btw if this doesn't make sense, that would be in character for Wenzhe as well FKDLGJF)

@mythvoiced / more random dialogue prompts.

HE USED TO PRIDE HIMSELF on just that– being self-sufficient to the point that if he, of all the students in class, were asking for assistance, then the assignment at hand must truly be difficult. This mindset could easily be applied to other parts of his life.

Why else would it sting still, needing Wenzhe’s help in this mess. Lamon huffs and rolls his eyes. “You think I don’t know that?” His right arm hangs limply like a rag doll. This time, the collateral in this sudden malfunctioning is a beaker with active yeast. Not exactly the kind of mess that they can leave lying around for an hour or two.

He squats down next to Wenzhe, who for all the energy the latter wastes like cars on exhaust fumes (in chemistry terms Lamon would liken him more to electrons repeatedly colliding and clashing off of one another), has taken to diligently sweeping the glass up into the dustpan. “You just wanted another reason to bug me, didn’t you? The janitor would’ve done it just fine. It’s his job.”

But at this point, they both know it wouldn’t have sat well with Lamon to leave it to the janitor. As the one who made said mess, it would only be fair that he cleans it up, wouldn’t it?

He has a feeling Wenzhe would probably have felt the same way, were he in Lamon’s shoes.

It’s funny, the way disability makes so called self-sufficiency seem like a pipe dream. What used to an aspect he lived and breathed in a mantra, is now a finish line that eludes him more often than not. These days, that feels more like an inconvenience than a dent on his pride.

A very annoying inconvenience, considering the kind of help it seems to summon these days.

( But then again, isn’t PRIDE considered a sin too? )

“That’s enough,” Lamon says finally though. With his good arm, he lifts the dust pan, careful not to let the glass shard slip off the edge. The stench lingers as he gives Wenzhe a look– for all the cheeriness the other exudes, Lamon has a suspicion they’re probably not that much better at accepting assistance. It takes one to know one.

That, and anyone who gives advice usually struggles to follow said wisdom.

“What? It’s like you said, there’s nothing wrong with needing help.” Which means not letting Wenzhe do all the work. “It just means this is a two-person job then.”

#( answered. )#answered ( lamon. )#mythvoiced #mythvoiced ( wenzhe. )#resurgam ( lamon. )#( verse: cull the shame. )#annnnnd here i am for u lenlen <3 #ooof i hope this works??#it might be a bit of jump in logic of lam #seeing that maybe wenzhe isn't great at accepting help either.... just based on this interaction #i guess i would just think lam has seen wenzhe in previous interactions...so maybe that's where the assumption comes from #but if you'd like me to change anything here lmk <3 #CAN'T WAIT TO SEE THESE TWO MORE IN ACTION THO :DDDD

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fairycosmos · 1 year

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I never understood why some people find it so hard to take a shower when they’re depressed. I know it’s completely valid I just can’t understand what that must feel like. Cause I’ve always seen showers as a cleansing ritual, like I’d rather do it five times a day than the other way around. The more depressed I get the more I clean myself and my environment. I think it’s the shame that forces me to compensate for my “dirty“ mind (as in ugly thoughts, sadness and anger not sexual stuff) Weird how people can be and act so different while going through similar situations

i think for me it comes from a joint place of not caring and literally not having the mental energy to expend on looking after myself in even the most basic ways. the former because while depressed i generally don't care if i am dirty, hungry, uncomfortable etc, i don't even really care whether or not i'm alive even though that sounds soooo dramatic. i do feel shame about it like you said, so i totally get what you mean, but it doesn't drive me toward action much. it just keeps me locked in place, which feeds into the cycle of not taking care of myself bc i feel bad and then feeling bad bc i'm not taking care of myself. and the latter because all of my strength is generally just going into staying awake and making it through the day at the even the most simplistic level, so things like showering and socializing kinda fall by the wayside. i've heard often that depression/mental illness manifests the way you've described for a lot of people though, i think it just depends on what you're experiencing specifically + the type of person you are and how those two aspects of your life interact. sounds like you're trying to make up for how you feel internally by hyper-focusing on how you feel externally. i'm sorry you have to deal with it, it must be its own brand of exhausting and miserable. why do our brains insist on hating us LMFAO! sending you a big hug. x

#anon

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forwritingisdreaming · 2 years

Text

When I started writing this story, I knew where it would go, but I didn’t anticipate the response I received. Thank you so much. Truly. Very cliché, but I cannot come up with anything more profound at the moment because it’s true. Here is the last bit. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

(Continued from here.)

The celebration lost its appeal a long time ago, and no one would miss them for the remainder of the evening, which worked splendidly in their favor. Hence, they set out in the direction of the Garden Bar in their anticipation of the unknown. It did not take them long to reach their destination, and as soon as they arrived, Halit hurried inside. A few minutes later, a couple of his men came out running as if they were on a mission. Shortly after they had come back, Halit reappeared at the doorstep. They exchanged a few words, and Halit walked over to the coach without delaying the matter any further. While their journey should be relatively quick, he said, it might take a while to locate the property: he learned that its state had deteriorated considerably over the course of the past years.

By and large, the road to Banalegorts’ residence did not remember the last time it welcomed travelers. Overgrown and abandoned, it gave a preview of what was about to reveal itself right around the bend. As much as the moonlight allowed them to see, the house reflected its owner’s demise: its cracked walls struggling to hold the weight of a lopsided roof, boarded windows, a nonexistent front door, and green ivy that wished to become the house’s veins, suffocating it and claiming it. A few wooden planks—some broken, some whole—rested on the ground, and the asymmetry all around embodied a life gone dreadfully wrong. Once lively, now the house breathed with exhaustion.

“I am coming with you,” Ezrawarned him before Halit could say anything. The destruction, both nature-dictated and people-inflicted, washed over Ezra like a wave, and this was the first time she shuddered at the thought of actually finding the Gateway of Truth. She immediately had to remind herself that this was no moment to waver, and seeing Halit’s hand extended to her, she accepted his help in stepping over a beat-up threshold into a room covered in thick layers of dust, with dead leaves that must have been blown in and a couple chipped pieces of furniture: madness incarnate.

“This house is full of sorrow,” Ezra gently remarked, and Halit agreed, placing a lantern flashlight on what used to be the floor to aid their search. Together they walked around the living room, afraid of touching anything that remained in a state of catastrophic balance. There was hardly a place for anybody to hide a stack of papers, so they began to consider their assumptions false. Having to bend down once again in order to avoid the sagging roof, Ezra stepped out outside to scout out the area. The night whistled its own melody with chirps and swooshes, and Ezra took a few steps away from the house to try to see what lay beyond. In a minute or so, she called out to Halit to join her. With the flashlight in hand, he swiftly reached her, and she pointed out something in the distance: a shed.

Freeing themselves from spider webs, they discovered what must have been Banalegorts’ shop a few decades ago: a forgotten lathe, a rusty anvil, a forge, and a number of tools and screws scattered on the floor. Rotten ceiling beams. Determined to guess where Banalegorts could have possibly hidden his treasure, Ezra tripped and barely saved herself from hitting the small table by the window. Everything of value had either been destroyed or taken out, and only Banalegorts would know if the most precious thing was still here. Under the guidance of their flashlight, they inspected every small nook to no avail. The search was metamorphosing into a giant waste of time, and the latter was running out. They gave the inside one last look, and when they turned around to head toward the door, the light glided over something that caught Ezra’s attention.

“Halit,” she whispered as if entranced, “Halit, it’s there. It has to be. His eyes followed her hand, and his gaze caught a brick sticking out next to the door, the one that caused Ezra to trip when they first stepped in. Relentlessly pushing it from side to side, they managed to get it out to find a folded piece of paper underneath it. Before they could see its contents, a faint sound made all Halit’s senses acute, as if someone just stepped on a branch. He quickly stood up, somewhat startling Ezra.

“Someone must be here. Not a coachman. We need to go.” Putting the paper in his pocket, Halit helped her up, and neither of them looked back when leaving Banalegorts’ tormented dwelling behind. The road to the city tickled them with excitement of their discovery, rendering them invincible and convincing them that anything could be achieved. Flying up the stairs of the Pera Palace, the treasure hunters reached room #411. Out of breath and with adrenaline running high, they unfolded the piece of paper that had been worn out by time and had been made exceptionally delicate. Next, the confusion came: smudged ink, faded traces of a valuable content, and a minute to reflect.

“This right here is the elevator? The staircase? A room?” Ezra turned the piece of paper in her hands. “Perhaps upside down… and a couple words… I cannot read it…”

“I don’t think this is the main staircase,” Halit muttered, glancing over the scribbles. “I believe this is the one for the staff. And if that is true, then it leads to the underground storage areas. This is incredible.”

“This is it, Halit! It makes sense!” She exclaimed. “I just know it! We found it! I’m going there tonight. There is no reason to wait. This very moment. I cannot believe it!”

“Since you cannot stay, would you consider me accompanying you?” Halit asked point-blank. He let in a short pause in their conversation to ensure he was not speaking in a rush, and when he spoke, there was no trace of indecisiveness, “Do I belong with you in your future?”

“I don’t wish for your life to take the wrong turn,” she said, gathering all her courage.

“I have already made certain arrangements to make sure that my responsibilities will not be affected,” his voice had so much certainty that it was difficult to resist. Ezra began to feel her conviction wavering. Halit continued, “I will go with you wherever you go. You are my anchor. The place doesn’t matter.” “What if that’s not where you’re supposed to be?” She made the last call for reason.

“I’m supposed to be with you. If you let me.” Halit declared and waited for her to figure out her own heart.

“Alright.” Saying that, she knew she would not turn back on her word.

This was the moment when the world stood still. The kind of moment about which poets sing their odes. The desire to hold someone you were afraid of never seeing again. The person who understands you and loves you, and longs for you, and holding them does not seem enough: you wish to melt into them, hoping that would allow you to keep them with you for a bit longer. Kisses, embraces, and plenty of proof that love is a stubborn thing. Also, a wonderfully exciting one. As they lay in bed, they talked about their next step. If mystery had clarity, that would be the future.

“Where is my key?” Ezra asked, talking to herself and turning to a nightstand on her left when their conversation came to a natural stop. She jumped out of bed, dressing up as fast as she could manage. “My purse, uhm, a velvet pouch I had it in my hand when we left Banalegorts’. Oh God, I must have dropped it somehow. I couldn’t have left it on the seat, could I? This is not good. I cannot leave without it. I have to get it back! There is still time, I gotta go. I must have dropped it on the stairs while running. How could I have not noticed?”

“Where are you going?” Halit got up, grabbing his clothes to accompany her.

“Wait for me, alright?” She place a kiss on his lips. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Just wait for me.”

“At least tell me your name,” he begged, and she was the only person in the world whom he would even think of begging. Halit watched her hesitate for a brief moment.

“Ezra,” she said and left the room, giving him a smile full of encouragement.

Ezra. Her name alone appeared to be enough to make him happy. He reached out for his key, twirling it while thinking about what would come next and the life they would build. Halit could not help but beam with delight. Imagining their future, he drifted into the world of dreams for just a second, and when he opened his eyes, he instantly knew he was somewhere else.

Alone.

~Thank you for reading~

#midnight at the pera palace #fan fiction #halit #ezra #writing

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ainyan · 1 year

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WIP - Making Waves (Excerpt)

She stood atop the earthworks gazing down at the scene below. Everywhere defenders and attackers were scattered, many of the former guarding the latter as the Scions and healers directed porxie after porxie in an effort to undo the tempering that had sent the Garleans mindlessly forward in a fight they could not win. Leaning against the wooden scaffolding, she absently skimmed her thumb along the edge of her chakrams, gathering her breath, gathering her thoughts.

“And thus another plan went up in smoke! I am beginning to see why Lord Zenos thinks so highly of you…”

Turning, she gazed up at Fandaniel where he floated above her, arms crossed and teeth bared in a grinning rictus, the cheerful expression by no means mirrored in his glare. She met his vexed eyes with equanimity, curling her fingers in a loose fist to keep herself from snatching at her weapons. He seemed to be waiting for a response, and when she offered none, his smile slipped. “Not that this changes anything, you understand. You have merely earned yourself a stay of execution.”

Still, she stared at him, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing how the battles had taxed and sickened her. He waited another beat, two, and his smile slipped further, sliding into a snarl. “My Lord Zenos might be a bit put out were I to damage his favorite playmate,” he said flatly, “but he has given no such thought to your friends.”

That sparked a reaction; she couldn’t help it, no matter how she tried to suppress it. She felt the rage rise, felt the glower in her gaze even as her fingers flexed open and closed once more around the grips of her chakrams. His grin was all teeth, sharp and nasty. “I had wondered if you had become as jaded as my lord. It is good to see that life yet remains within. It will please my lord all the more when he takes it.” Before she could say a thing; before she could so much as take a step, he disappeared in a flash of dark magic, leaving her alone upon the scaffold.

Alone, and cold with a chill that had nothing to do with the frigid night air. Her eyes scanned the battlefield, slowly at first, then with increasing panic until they fell upon a slim, silver-haired figure kneeling beside a fallen soldier, talking quietly to him while a chirurgeon bandaged up his leg. Her breath left her lungs on a rush and she gripped the rope rail until the wave of dizzy relief passed.

Once she’d found the gunbreaker, she searched for the rest of the Scions, each making use of their healing arts to try to bring relief to the wounded and save as many lives - enemy or friend - as they could. All except Estinien, who stood guard over the healthy captives as the conjurers of Gridania. “Damn him,” she said, pressing her fingertips to her heart.

As if he’d heard her speak, Thancred lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers across the distance. She saw him frown, then push himself up. She knew she should stop him, but she said nothing, did nothing as he crossed the battlefield in a ground-eating lope and began to scale the earthworks, ignoring the ramps in favor of the quicker - if more rigorous - climb.

As he hauled himself over the rope rail, she finally stepped back, her face a mask as she gazed up at him. “Are you alright?” the gunbreaker asked. Some hint of her mood must have come through, for though he stepped towards her, he didn’t reach forth to touch her. “Something happened.”

What could she say? “No, I’m just tired,” she replied, her voice thin and reedy as she fought back the unreasoning panic that Fandaniel’s words had sparked within. “It’s been a long day, and those were some rough fights.” Her smile was wan and frayed at the edges. “I’m surprised you’re not more tired yourself.”

The gunbreaker’s gaze was suspicious as he stared at her, and it took her fretting mind far too long to realize that admitting to exhaustion was wildly out of character for her. Obviously, Thancred felt so, too, but he merely shrugged. “I’m dead on my feet, but there’s still more to do. If everything is okay,” and this time when he stepped forward he reached out to touch her jaw, just a gentle brush of his fingers, “we should go down and help.”

When she said nothing, he frowned, his eyelids fluttering slightly, but he withdrew his hand and turned away. Before he could swing over the railing, however, she reached out and grabbed ahold of his coat. He paused, glancing over his shoulder, and she tugged him back.

Relief flickered briefly in his eyes and he bent at her urging to press a gentle kiss against her lips. “I hope you’ll talk to me soon,” he murmured, reaching up to skim his thumb along her jaw. This time when he moved to leave, she did not stop him.

Nor did she immediately follow. Raising her fingers to her lips, she closed her eyes and swallowed, trying not to see Fandaniel’s face, hear Fandaniel’s threat. And yet, his words still echoed in her ears, an incessant, discordant beat drowning out all else.

My Lord Zenos might be a bit put out were I to damage his favorite playmate, but he has given no such thought to your friends.

Gods. How much was bluster, and how much was threat? Would Fandaniel go for her through those she cared for - those who did not have her sheer power and apparent good fortune? He wasn’t the first villain to threaten to kill all she loved when she proved too much for them to handle, but he was the first that she suspected might actually target her friends in an effort to make her suffer.

And who better to target than the man who had tossed aside years - decades - of emotional conditioning to cleave openly to her and her alone? Their refusal to acknowledge a bond had not made it any less obvious when both he and she turned away any potential partners and had arrived at - and left from - all public appearances together.

Gods. What a fool she’d been, to dream of happiness when the world teetered on a knife’s edge. To imagine that she would ever be able to live as free as those she served; she sacrificed that they did not have to.

Including… affection.

Her fingers fisted around the ropes of the rail and she opened her eyes, gazing out over the battlefield. Taking one long, deep breath, she forced herself to release the rope, then began the long climb downwards, electing to take the ropes rather than leap over the side as she normally would have.

For once, she did not rush from place to place; she walked, slowly dragging her feet as she marched inexorably towards the inevitable.

~*~

It took him longer than she’d expected, but when the door cracked open and Thancred stepped in, she looked up from where she lay on her bed, tucked under her covers. “I’m sorry,” he said as he crossed the room. “Urianger and Y’shtola dragged me into a conversation about the aetherical interruptions we’ve been investigating.”

“You don’t answer to me, Thancred,” she said softly, watching him with a very careful lack of expression.

His citrine eyes glinted with irritation and he crossed and settled down on the side of the bed, reaching down to place a hand on her arm. “Don’t you do this to me, Kali,” he said, an edge to his voice.

Her eyes slid from his. “Do what?”

Fingers tightened around her arm, holding tight. “Don’t pull away from me.” His voice was tight. “I don’t deserve that.”

The hells of it was that he absolutely did not. He had done nothing more than be the best lover she’d ever had, a caring partner who had stood by her through thick and thin, a dedicated companion and a loving father. What he deserved was his happily ever after - especially after all of the sorrow and pain he’d suffered.

But she saw no choice. If Fandaniel saw him as a chink in her armor, he would strike. And in losing Thancred, she feared she'd lose a part of herself that could never be replaced. “I’m tired,” she replied distantly. “I just want to go to sleep.”

“Then move over,” he said quietly, reaching up to pull off his coat.

Her eyes flashed. “Alone, Thancred.”

His eyes flashed right back. “That’s not an option tonight, Kal’istae.”

“Damn it! I don’t want you here!” Her voice broke and she rolled away from him.

There was a weighted silence. “I’d believe you more if you weren’t halfway to tears.” He reached out, skimming his hand along her back. “Kali, my dear, please don’t shut me out.”

It was the please that broke her. Silently, she began to cry. As her shoulders began to shake, he quickly finished stripping off his cloak and armor, then slid down onto the bed with her, reaching around to gather her against him. She resisted, but he proved for once the stronger, and she finally gave up, letting him hold her while her silent sobs wracked her body.

And as shudders gave way to tension, and tension melted into the laxity of sleep, he continued to hold her, anxiety stealing any chance that he might join her in slumber. He did not know what had happened - or not happened - to cause this abrupt shift in personality, but he would be damned if she would shake him loose without telling him why.

He wouldn’t give up the best thing that ever happened to him without one hells of a fight.

#ffxiv #ffxiv fanfiction #wol x thancred #wolcred #kal'istae miurani #thancred waters #fandaniel #post-heavensward au

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dragondemoness · 2 years

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My Beloved - Tsumioda Oneshot (Mikan x Ibuki)

Description: Mikan catches the Despair Disease while taking care of her friend and crush, Ibuki. Then she realizes that the musician really was her true love.

Warning: This is INCREDIBLY long. Feel free to keep going if you're prepared lmao

It was supposed to be a normal day.

Just a normal day in the life of a killing game participant.

It was supposed to be the same as always; meet up at the restaurant, eat some food, try to drown out a certain banana-haired child's bullying, listen intently to a certain musician's nonsensical, yet adorable ramblings, and then leave and go about your day until Monokuma starts something.

Instead, Mikan walked in to find Nagito spouting nonsense, Akane bawling her eyes out, and Ibuki being unusually gullible and void of energy.

Wait, Ibuki too?!

Mikan immediately rushed to the musician's side.

"Ibuki! Wh-What happened to you?!"

"Not sure what you mean, Mikan! I'm feeling great!"

She wasn't even talking in the third person anymore. And her voice was completely monotone, and lacked her usual energy.

Mikan brought her hand to Ibuki's forehead and moved her bangs to touch the skin. The second she did, she immediately drew her hand away.

"Ah!"

Ibuki's temperature was higher than any temperature she had ever seen. It was beyond any normal fever.

"What's wrong?!" Hajime asked.

"I-buki's temperature... It's so much higher than any normal fever!"

Hajime approached Ibuki and moved to touch her forehead.

"Ibuki, watch out! Hajime's planning to kill you and eat you!"

"Oh, so I do have to beg for my life after all!"

"Nagito, shut up!" Hajime demanded angrily.

"Nagito, please s-stop spreading these lies!" Mikan pleaded, covering Ibuki's ears with her hands.

Hajime finally felt Ibuki's forehead, and just as Mikan said, it was incredibly hot. He did the same with Nagito and Akane, and surely enough, they were the same.

"Looks like Nagito and Akane are the same way. What is going on here?"

And just as he said that, Monokuma appeared. After a little tussle with Monomi, he explained that the three of them were infected with the Despair Disease, which was his next motive.

Mikan immediately began stressing out.

Not only were three of her classmates infected, but her crush as well. She knew that she would be tasked with caring for the three of them, and she was horrified.

Would she do a good enough job?

She shook her head to clear the thoughts. All she could do was her best. She wasn't the Ultimate Nurse for nothing, after all.

She jumped when she heard Nagito's body hit the ground.

Time to act now.

After heading to the hospital, Mikan gently placed Nagito, Ibuki and Akane on the chairs in the waiting room. The latter two had grown exhausted from walking and were close to passing out.

She carefully supported Nagito and Akane with her shoulders while Ibuki waited in the lobby. Then she returned a moment later, and hesitated when she reached Ibuki. With a blush on her face, she picked her up bridal style and brought her to a room.

"Hm, Mikan is being much more gentle with Ibuki," Sonia commented.

"Yeah, what's up with that?" Kazuichi wondered.

"Isn't it obvious?! Pig barf is clearly crushing on Ibuki!" Hiyoko shouted.

Then, Mikan returned to the waiting room, where Hajime and Fuyuhiko were talking. Hajime explained that everyone would be splitting into two groups, and that they would stay at the hospital.

They decided not to ask about Hiyoko's statement from earlier.

Hajime decided to rest in the on-call room, while Mikan went to check on the patients.

Mikan opened the door to Ibuki's room, where she was sitting in the bed in her hospital robe. Mikan entered and closed the door.

"H-Hi, Ibuki. It must feel great to lay down. Are you comfortable?"

The musician nodded her head with a smile.

"Yep, I'm all good!"

Mikan nodded with a small smile, though on the inside, she was feeling distraught. She missed hearing the normally energetic musician talk in the third person. She missed seeing her roam around the island with the energy of a young child. She missed hearing Ibuki greet her in the morning, with the same energetic tone she always had. Ibuki's hyperactivity may have been hard to keep up with, but it made her her. And Mikan missed it more than anything.

"Hey, are you alright?"

Mikan jumped, quickly snapping out of her thoughts at the sound of Ibuki's voice. She turned to the hospital bed to see Ibuki looking at her with a small, concerned frown.

Mikan nodded with a smile. "Don't worry, I-I'm completely fine!"

Ibuki nodded with a smile of her own. "Okay, that's good!"

Mikan let out a small giggle before walking over to a nearby shelf. "Try to relax while I g-get some m-medicine, okay?"

"Okie dokie!" Ibuki replied.

Mikan rummaged around, trying to find something to help with her fever. After a couple of seconds, she found what she was looking for and poured a glass of water before walking to Ibuki's bed and sitting on the end.

She set the glass down on the nightstand and held out the pills to Ibuki.

"Here, take these. They'll h-help with the fever."

"Okay!" Ibuki took the medicine without another word.

Mikan smiled. At least she would be easy to take care of.

After chugging down the water, Ibuki let out a huge yawn. "I'm... Starting to feel kinda sleepy."

Mikan hummed. "I would imagine. You should probably g-get some rest."

Ibuki nodded. "Okay! I will lie down and rest, as per the nurse's instructions!"

Ibuki fell backwards onto the pillows. Mikan giggled and placed her glass on the nightstand. When she looked back, Ibuki was sleeping soundly.

Mikan smiled at her before leaving the room.

Mikan jumped awake when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see Hajime standing in front of her. She had fallen asleep in the lobby after checking on the patients. After rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she looked out the window and saw that the sky was dark. She jumped up with a startled yelp. She didn't expect it to be so late.

"Hey, are you alright?" Hajime asked.

"Y-Yes, I'm fine. Just a little tired, I g-guess."

Hajime nodded in understanding.

"Yeah, I can see why. But the reason I woke you up is Nagito. Fuyuhiko told me that he wasn't breathing."

"Huh?! Okay, I'll b-be right there!"

Mikan jumped up from the chair, and followed Hajime to Nagito's room.

After checking on Nagito, and then Akane, Mikan opened Ibuki's door and poked her head in.

The musician was fast asleep.

Mikan blushed and smiled at her before finding another hospital room to rest in for the night.

She lay awake for several hours, stressed and scared. She was worried about her classmates. Worried about her patients.

Worried about Ibuki.

She fell asleep late, worried about the future.

----------------------------------------------------

Mikan woke up incredibly tired.

She had spent most of the night stressing about the situation, wondering if everything and everyone would be alright.

Of course, a doctor (or nurse's) work is never done, no matter how tired you are.

So Mikan dragged herself out of bed and left to go do her job.

After checking on the patients, Mikan went to the lobby to talk to Hajime and Fuyuhiko.

Kazuichi had created a device to communicate with everyone, which made things much easier.

Mikan reported Nagito's condition, and how the other patients were doing.

After that, Mikan left and continued to look after the patients.

After leaving the patients to let them rest, Mikan went to the on-call room to take a rest herself.

Mikan woke up again at dusk, ten minutes before the nighttime announcement would air.

After checking on Nagito and Akane, then checking in with the others, Mikan returned to Ibuki's room.

The musician was sitting up in her bed, and looked at Mikan with a smile.

"O-Oh! Looks like you're awake. H-How are you feeling?"

Ibuki shrugged. "About the same as yesterday."

Mikan nodded. "I-I see. I'm sorry you're not feeling well. But if you g-get some rest, you might feel better in the morning!"

"Okay! So I just have to go back to sleep and I'll feel better!"

"Y-Yes, hopefully..."

Mikan turned off the light and walked to the door. Before she opened the door to leave, she turned to face Ibuki with a worried look.

"Will you be o-okay?"

Ibuki nodded with a smile. "Don't worry! I'll be a-okay!"

Mikan smiled at her, and nodded. "Okay. B-Be sure to get lots of rest, okay?"

"Okie dokie! Good night!" Ibuki said before getting comfortable in her bed. "Good night..." Mikan glanced at her one final time before opening the door and leaving.

Mikan entered the hallway and closed the door, and stood there outside the room for a moment.

She felt as if she were frozen there, like she didn't want to leave Ibuki alone. As the Ultimate Nurse, she should have been equally worried about Nagito and Akane as well as Ibuki. But the situation had her absolutely horrified. Ibuki, her friend, her crush, was infected with Monokuma's horrible disease, and Mikan had no idea where things would go from there.

What if Ibuki got worse? What if Mikan couldn't treat this disease?

What if... Ibuki didn't make it?

The thought alone made her eyes fill up with tears. But she quickly blinked them away. There was no way she would let that happen. She would do whatever it took to make sure Ibuki would be alright.

She swore it.

----------------------------------------------------

Mikan woke up the next day feeling strange.

Her body felt unusually hot, and her head was pounding.

She sat up in a bed in the on-call room, rubbing her temples in an effort to calm the headache. Then she remembered what she was supposed to do.

Ibuki.

She needed to check on Ibuki.

The others could come later. First, she needed to check on her.

She quickly headed down the stairs and opened the door to Ibuki's room as silently as possible.

There she was, sleeping soundly.

Mikan smiled. She looked so peaceful, so adorable. Mikan couldn't help but stare for a moment.

Reluctantly, she turned away. She had other patients to care for, after all.

But she would be back soon.

After checking on Nagito and Akane, Mikan went right back to Ibuki. She wasn't sure what it was, but she wanted to be with Ibuki more than ever. Nagito's condition was much worse than hers, but she didn't care.

When she entered her room, Ibuki was awake, sitting up in her bed, staring out the window with a vacant expression. Mikan lightly knocked on the door to make her presence known.

Ibuki snapped her head to the door, and saw Mikan looking at her with a shy smile. Ibuki smiled back at her, though it wasn't the same as Mikan was used to.

"H-How are you feeling, Ibuki?" Mikan asked.

"I'm a-okay, Mikan!" Ibuki answered.

Mikan giggled. "That's good. H-Here, let me take your temperature real quick."

Mikan grabbed a thermometer off a nearby shelf, and brought it to Ibuki's mouth. Not needing to be told, she opened her mouth and let Mikan slip it under her tongue. They waited in awkward silence for a moment, until Ibuki started playing with her fingers while humming a tune.

Mikan smiled. It looked like a little bit of Ibuki's old self was starting to sneak back in. It was a major relief.

A few seconds later, the thermometer beeped and Mikan took the thermometer out. Ibuki's temperature decreased since the previous day, but it was still high.

"Well, good news! Your f-fever has gone down quite a bit since yesterday. B-But you still have to stay in bed for at least one more day..."

Ibuki nodded, though her expression drew sullen. "Well, if the nurse says so, I guess I gotta. But it's just so boring."

Mikan gave her a sympathetic look. Of course someone as energetic as Ibuki would get restless, even while under the Despair Disease. Without thinking, she reached forward and held the musician's hands in hers.

"I know you're t-tired of sitting still, Ibuki. It's probably not very f-fun at all. But in o-order to heal, you need to rest. But if it helps, I'll be right here by your s-side, and you'll get better in no time!"

Mikan assured her with a smile. Ibuki's eyes widened in shock, and her bright pink eyes stared into Mikan's gentle gray ones. But after a short moment, Ibuki blinked a couple times, and nodded with a smile.

"Okie dokie! I'll sit here and rest for as long as you need me to! Plus, it'd be much easier if I had a cute nurse by my side!"

Mikan swore she completely malfunctioned after hearing that.

After hearing that from Ibuki, she suddenly found herself a blushing, stuttering mess. More so than usual.

On one hand, she had never expected to hear something like that from her crush. How could someone as wonderful as Ibuki even enjoy being around her?

But then, in that moment, it sounded like a very "Ibuki" thing to say, even though she was infected with such a serious disease.

Maybe she was trying to express how she truly felt, even though it was difficult given her condition?

As much as it felt selfish of Mikan to think that was true, she still wanted to believe it anyway.

After recovering, Mikan giggled awkwardly before playing with a strand of her hair, still blushing madly.

"Heh... Th-Thank you..."

That was all Mikan could say. And for the rest of the day, until nighttime, she stayed at the hospital, checking on Nagito and Akane, giving them any necessary medicine, and leaving to check on Ibuki.

Hajime came by to bring her food a couple of times, and he expressed concern over how much Mikan seemed to prioritize Ibuki over the others. Mikan simply brushed him off and said that she had everything under control, with no further explanation. Hajime didn't seem convinced, but Mikan's the Ultimate Nurse, she knew what she was doing.

Mikan went to sleep that night thinking of Ibuki. And throughout the night, she would smile and blush.

----------------------------------------------------

It was the fourth day at the hospital, and Mikan woke up feeling worse.

Her fever was intensely high, and her headache had evolved into a migraine.

At that point, Mikan was positive that she had caught the Despair Disease from one of the patients.

She almost didn't want to get up that morning. She almost wanted someone else to take over caring for the patients.

But then she remembered something. Something that completely dissolved those thoughts.

Ibuki.

Just thinking of the musician made her blush and smile. Her simple crush on her suddenly evolved into immense love in just three days.

And that's because, during the night, she had a realization.

Her feelings for the musician were more than just a simple crush.

They were feelings of warmth, of admiration, of love.

True, pure love.

She had been in love with Ibuki all along, and she didn't realize it.

And more than that...

Ibuki was her beloved.

Her one true love.

Someone Mikan would go to hell and back for.

Someone she would sacrifice anything for.

Someone she would die for.

Ibuki had been her beloved since Hope's Peak.

Mikan felt stupid for not realizing it sooner. She hated herself for forgetting about her beloved like that.

But she would make up for it soon enough.

Seeing as she had spent the most time taking care of Ibuki, she must've been the one she got the Despair Disease from. It must have been a sign that they were meant to be together.

And she refused to waste her time any longer.

The morning announcement hadn't even aired yet, but she was wide awake anyway.

With that thought in mind, Mikan threw the sheets off of her, and rushed out the door and down the stairs.

She quietly opened the door to Ibuki's room. There she was, fast asleep.

Mikan's mouth formed a grin upon seeing her beloved there.

She slowly approached the bed and pulled up a chair. After sitting down, she brought her hand to Ibuki's head and began to stroke her hair.

Mikan's eyes were fixed on Ibuki's sleeping face, and she didn't dare look away. It was the most peaceful thing she ever got to see. Seeing the normally energetic, happy-go-lucky musician quiet and relaxed felt so... serene.

Just looking at her made Mikan feel at ease.

Suddenly, she heard the hospital doors open, causing her to jump. It must have been Hajime coming to check on everything.

"Mikan, are you there?" He called out.

Mikan's free hand curled into a fist. How dare he interrupt her moment with her beloved?

Letting out a sigh of frustration, Mikan begrudgingly stood up. They would get worried if she didn't say anything. What a bother.

She took one look back at Ibuki and smiled. Before she left, she leaned down and kissed her forehead before heading towards the door.

"I'll be back, my beloved," she whispered.

After talking to Hajime, Mikan headed to the restaurant to get some food for everyone. She had asked them to help care for Nagito and Akane, as she was growing exhausted and needed some help.

She wasn't lying; she was exhausted. But only because she was tired of taking care of two patients she didn't even care about.

She wanted to give all of her attention to Ibuki. She only cared about Ibuki. Caring for the other two was just a waste of time.

Mikan felt horrible for thinking this, for a second. She was a nurse; she wasn't supposed to prioritize one patient over another. Over two patients, no less.

But Ibuki was her beloved. And she meant more to her than anyone.

And so, Mikan would spend as little time with the others as possible.

She returned to the hospital, and she dropped off food to Nagito and Akane, and then left without a word, earning confused and irritated looks from Hajime and Fuyuhiko.

After that, Mikan headed back to Ibuki's room with the remainder of the food in her hands, grinning as she did so. She tried not to walk too fast, but she couldn't help it.

She opened the door, and Ibuki was sitting up in her bed. After hearing the door open, she turned her head to Mikan and smiled at her.

Mikan stifled a giggle. She loved seeing her beloved's smile, especially when it was for her.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Mikan walked over to the bed and sat the tray down on the bed before sitting down. Before Ibuki could move, Mikan picked up a piece of toast and brought it to Ibuki's face.

"Let me feed you. Please?"

Ibuki's eyes widened out of shock at Mikan's sudden confidence. She didn't even stutter.

Ibuki snapped out of her daze and nodded without saying anything. Mikan grinned, and Ibuki bit into it. She kept taking bites until she was done. Mikan put the tray on the nightstand.

Ibuki leaned against the wall with a bored expression. Mikan immediately got an idea.

"Would you like it if I read to you?"

Ibuki's eyes widened. "Are you sure? You don't have to! I mean, you have other patients to care for..."

Mikan waved her off. "Nonsense. The other patients will be fine. I have assistance now, so I have all the time in the world!"

Ibuki was silent for a moment. Then she cleared her throat awkwardly.

"Well... In that case, if you want to read to me, who am I to stop you?"

Mikan let out an excited squeal. Mikan picked up a book from the shelf and sat in the chair by her bed and started to read. The book wasn't particularly exciting or enthralling, so Ibuki fell asleep fairly quickly.

Mikan put the book away and returned to her spot beside Ibuki's bed. She smiled and held her hand, gently rubbing it with her thumb.

She stayed in this moment until Hajime called for her again.

At dusk, Mikan returned to Ibuki's room.

Nagito and Akane were asleep and healing fast.

The patients would most likely be released from the hospital the next day.

Mikan wanted to spend one last night with her beloved.

She entered the room, gave Ibuki her medicine, and sat on the end of the bed and talked with her.

The nighttime announcement aired, and Hajime and Fuyuhiko returned to the first island.

Ibuki let out a yawn. "I'm feeling tired now."

Mikan giggled. "Of course you are. Would you mind if I laid down with you?"

Ibuki jumped, looking at the nurse in shock. "Are you sure? Isn't sleeping with a sick patient a bad idea?"

Mikan shook her head with a smile. "Like I said earlier, I'll be completely fine. Besides, I love being with you."

Ibuki gave her a confused look. "But... Why me? I'm nothing special. I'm just another one of your class-"

She cut herself off when Mikan cupped her face in her hands, fixing her with a stern, but loving look.

"Don't say that. You're special to me."

Ibuki was stunned into silence. She had no response. She was blushing madly and looked away. After a short moment, she calmed down and finally spoke.

"Well... If you insist, then go ahead."

Mikan smiled and turned off the light. Then she climbed into the bed beside the tired musician and gently wrapped her arms around her, one hand on the back of her head, the other pulling her body against hers.

Ibuki took a deep breath in, closed her eyes, and leaned into the nurse. She looked up and gave her a sleepy smile before loosely slinging her arm across Mikan's waist and snuggling into her chest. Mikan was sure her heart exploded from how adorable she was being.

And for a moment, a short, slight moment, she paused. She was sure she didn't deserve to see such an endearing sight. Someone like her didn't even deserve to be in Ibuki's presence. She shouldn't have had the privilege of caring for her.

And yet, she continued to run her fingers through Ibuki's dark hair with a smile. Even if she didn't deserve this, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that she got to share this moment with her beloved. Her one true love.

And when she looked down at the musician's peaceful, sleeping face, she paused. Her comforting movements coming to a halt and her eyes were fixed on Ibuki's face. Mikan stared at her in awe, as a realization dawned on her.

She was... perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Ibuki Mioda was completely, 100% perfect.

Mikan's heart grew warm and her eyes were pricked with tears.

She had never realized this before they were infected with the Despair Disease, when they were just two girls going about their lives during the killing game.

Sure, Mikan would steal glances at Ibuki from time to time, admiring how beautiful she was with a blush and a smile. Especially during the beach day Sonia planned, where she and the rest of the girls just relaxed and had fun together. When she saw Ibuki wearing her swimsuit, her fair skin gleaming under the sun, laughing and smiling joyfully, Mikan couldn't help but stare. She looked stunning.

But she had never been close to the girl like this. And in that moment, when she could see every detail on her beloved's face, she could see how truly perfect she was. She almost wanted to hate herself for never appreciating Ibuki's perfection before then.

But she could appreciate it now, as she raised her hand from Ibuki's waist and brought it to her face, gently cupping her cheek and rubbing her thumb over the skin, soft and gentle as can be. Mikan's smile returned to her face, and she couldn't resist lifting Ibuki's chin to land a kiss on her forehead.

Still keeping her smile, Mikan gently brought Ibuki's head to her chest, wrapping her other arm around her protectively. She let out a soft, quiet yawn, as she was growing sleepy herself.

Once again, those thoughts returned, telling her to leave. It would be awkward when someone walked in on them the next day. Besides, Ibuki would probably hate her for this in the morning.

Even so, Mikan didn't care.

She didn't pull away, even though her thoughts told her to. She didn't want to. Just this once, she wanted to be selfish. Even if it would be awkward, even if Ibuki would hate her in the morning, at least Mikan got to share this moment with her beloved. That was all that mattered to her.

Mikan laid a final kiss on Ibuki's head before resting her chin on her head, and then drifting off to sleep herself.

---------------------------------------------------

Day five of the Despair Disease shenanigans.

Nagito, Akane and Ibuki had been released from the hospital on the third island, having completely recovered from their respective diseases.

And now, everyone was back at the restaurant like always, and along with Nekomaru, they were all together for the first time in four days.

There had been no deaths, no incidents, and everything was back to normal.

Almost everything, at least.

Mikan sat by herself at a table near the window, feeling distraught.

Now that Ibuki was released from the hospital, she wouldn't get to care for her anymore.

She wouldn't get to be with her every day and night, which Mikan just couldn't stand.

She knew that she was infected with the Despair Disease, but to her, the title felt more like a misnomer.

What she was experiencing wasn't despairing at all, nor was it even a disease. All it did was help her find the truth she was missing all along.

If anything, she should be thanking Monokuma.

But it wasn't over yet.

Just because she knew what the missing piece of her was didn't mean she had it.

Her missing piece was her beloved, Ibuki.

She wouldn't feel whole until Ibuki was hers, and hers alone.

No matter what, she needed Ibuki.

She wanted to keep up the "no deaths" streak, but if anyone posed a threat to her and Ibuki's soon-to-be romance, she would eliminate them in a heartbeat.

Anything for her beloved.

She snapped out of her thoughts when she heard a knock on the table.

She looked up to see Hajime, looking at her with concern.

"Hey, Mikan, are you alright?"

She nodded with a small smile, trying not to look nervous. "Y-Yes, I'm completely fine!"

Hajime didn't look convinced, but he didn't pry.

"Well, the others already left, and you didn't seem to notice."

With a yelp, Mikan took a look around. Surely enough, the restaurant was empty and they were completely alone.

She felt frustrated for a second. Ibuki had already left, and she was too distracted to talk to her.

Oh well. She'll just go and find her.

Mikan stood up and gave Hajime a little smile before walking away. "Well, I'll b-be heading out now."

Hajime gave her a look of shock. "Now? But you didn't eat anything!"

Mikan shook her head, keeping the smile. "Don't worry, I'm n-not that hungry. I'm fine!"

Hajime was clearly concerned, but he just sighed, deciding not to push it.

"Alright, well, be sure to eat something later."

Mikan nodded. "Mhm! Will do!"

Before she left, she turned to ask one final question.

"H-Hey, Hajime, do you know where Ibuki went?"

Hajime turned his head to look at her.

"Hm? Uh, she's at the music venue, I think."

Mikan nodded at him, and gave him one more smile before she walked away.

Mikan made her way to the third island and stopped at the music venue. She opened the door, and surely enough, Ibuki was sitting on the stage, lightly plucking the strings of a guitar with a focused expression.

One look at the musician caused Mikan's face to grin and turn bright red.

Ibuki noticed her there, and waved at her with a smile.

"Hey, Mikan! Goooood nom-nom-nomming!"

Mikan's smile grew softer. Ibuki was back to her hyperactive, energetic self, and Mikan missed it more than anything.

It was great to have her beloved back.

She snapped out of her daze when Ibuki spoke again.

"Soooooo, what's the haps? You come to see Ibuki practice?"

Mikan giggled.

"I would love to see you perform, Ibuki. B-But actually, I had something I wanted to ask you."

Ibuki's expression changed to a curious one. "You do?"

Mikan nodded. Ibuki put her guitar down, giving Mikan her full attention.

"So, what'd you wanna ask Ibuki?"

Mikan fiddled with her fingers nervously.

"W-Well, Could you come take a walk with me? It might be nice for you t-to have a change of scenery after spending so much t-time in the hospital."

Ibuki nodded excitedly, and she hopped off the stage and strde over to Mikan.

"Okie dokie! Lead the way, Miki!"

Mikan blushed at the nickname. The two girls left the music venue together.

During their walk, Mikan asked Ibuki about what she was practicing, which caused her to excitedly ramble. Mikan smiled at this, thinking about how adorable it was.

The two girls kept walking until Mikan led them to the beach.

Mikan stared ahead absentmindedly, taking in the beautiful scenery. The bright sky, the sparkling blue ocean, the wind lightly blowing in her face.

It was the perfect place to confess.

Ibuki stopped rambling about her music, and did the same thing. She stared at the ocean with a relaxed expression, and for once, standing still and completely silent.

Mikan turned to her side to look at her. Ibuki's bangs were blowing out of her face, and her pink eyes seemed to be even brighter. She looked so focused on the world around her, just taking it all in and enjoying it.

Mikan had never seen her so relaxed when she was awake, and it was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen.

Mikan forced herself to look away, and she took a deep breath in.

It was time.

She cleared her throat and looked at the sand, her expression becoming serious. "Hey, I-Ibuki... The reason I asked you out here... I h-have something to t-tell you..."

Ibuki turned to her, with a curious expression.

"What is it?"

Mikan closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her thoughts. Then she turned her head to face Ibuki.

"W-Well... At the hospital, w-when I was t-taking care of you and the others, I c-caught the Despair Disease as well."

Ibuki's expression grew worried. "Oh no! That's not good! Do we need to-"

Mikan cut her off. "N-No, it's not a big deal or anything. It's just that... I remembered some things."

Ibuki tilted her head. "What kind of things?"

Mikan breathed in, and looked ahead.

"Our t-time at Hope's Peak Academy, the time we all spent together... You and I..."

Ibuki's eyes widened. "You remember all that?! Wait..." She paused. "'You and I?'"

Mikan nodded, and she turned to look at Ibuki.

"Yes. You and I... Were together. As a couple."

"Huh?!" Ibuki's face turned bright red, and she turned away and began fiddling with her fingers. "Really? We... Were?"

Mikan nodded. "Y-Yes. And... I've liked you since we ended up on this island, even before I remembered. You were always so k-kind, so friendly. You treated me better than anyone else in my life, which instantly drew me to you. B-But... I was always too shy t-to tell you... Until I caught that disease, and..."

Mikan turned her body to face Ibuki's, looking her in the eyes sincerely.

"I realized how much you really meant to me, Ibuki. I couldn't just say nothing anymore. I needed you."

Ibuki blinked, her eyes wide and still blushing. "You... Needed me?"

Mikan nodded. "Yes. In the hospital, it felt great to take care of you, to be alone with you. I loved being able to help you feel better. And... I don't want that to be over. I don't want us to be apart any longer! Which is why I brought you here to say..."

Mikan stepped forward and took Ibuki's hands in her own.

"I love you, Ibuki. I love you so much, more than I've ever loved anyone. I want to be there to listen to you, to tend to your wounds, mental or physical. Not as a nurse, not as your friend, but... as your partner. And with that being said..."

Mikan interlaced her fingers with Ibuki's, and gave her hands a gentle squeeze.

"Will you be my girlfriend?"

Ibuki was stunned completely silent. For once, she had no words. She never expected the nurse to like her back, but they were meant to be all along.

After a long moment, Ibuki gave Mikan a sheepish smile and gave her answer.

"Y-Yes... Ibuki will be your girlfriend, Miki."

Mikan's eyes were filled with happy tears, and with a bright blush and a joyful giggle, she tackled Ibuki in a hug, and the musician pulled her close, giggling as well.

The two girls embraced each other tightly, enjoying the moment together.

Then, Mikan pulled away, and looked at Ibuki with a blush.

"Ibuki... Can I kiss you?"

Ibuki's eyes widened and she started to blush again. She nodded, and before she could make a move, Mikan stepped forward and pulled the musician close with one arm and used the other to cup her cheek. Then, she leaned forward and connected their lips.

Ibuki stood there frozen for a moment, surprised at Mikan's sudden initiative. But a second later, she melted into it and wrapped her arms around the nurse.

They stayed like this for a little while, before they pulled away, taking a moment to catch their breath.

Mikan lovingly smiled at Ibuki and wrapped her arms around her neck. Ibuki returned the smile and placed her hands on Mikan's waist. They pressed their foreheads together and stared into each other's eyes with nothing but love.

The moment was interrupted by a sudden growling sound.

Startled, Mikan jumped back, then realized that the source of that sound was her own stomach.

Mikan giggled nervously. "S-Sorry about that. I didn't really eat this morning."

Ibuki chuckled. "Silly Miki. Hey, do you maybe wanna go to the restaurant together, as... Y'know... Our first date?"

Ibuki blushed and played with her fingers, her tone becoming unusually shy. Mikan smiled and took her hand.

"I would love that."

And together, the two girls began walking to the first island, hand in hand. Along the way, neither of them could stop smiling.

Especially Mikan. At first, she was sure that the Despair Disease would come between them, and ruin everything. But it turned out to be the thing that strengthened their relationship, which would soon get them together.

For once, Mikan felt grateful to Monokuma.

She was worried that she would have to eliminate someone, but she was able to be with her beloved with no problems.

She was glad. She would have hated to get blood on her hands for something that could have been avoided.

But it was, and she didn't have to think about it any longer.

Even when the Despair Disease came to pass, Ibuki would still be her beloved.

And that would never change.

Welp. My first Tsumioda fic, and it ain't gonna be the last!

Tumblr is lagging so bad lmao

Sorry if some parts are all over the place, I stayed up until four am working on this, for several days. Hopefully it still came out good tho

#danganronpa #danganronpa goodbye despair #mikan tsumiki x ibuki mioda #tsumioda #bandaid #mikan tsumiki #ibuki mioda

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