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ashfountainfanfics · 5 years

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Eddie is released before Richie wakes up. The cop that took over in the morning didn’t say anything about Eddie and Richie sharing a bed for the night but Eddie could tell it made him uncomfortable. He looked a bit younger than Eddie and acted like discharging him was some awkward task to deal with. He never even looked Eddie in the eye.

This town doesn’t really change, does it? Eddie thinks as he starts the long walk back to the small inn he and the other Losers have taken temporary residence in.

Eddie was shocked that Richie didn’t even so much as stir when he left. He’s an incredibly heavy sleeper but he also cuddles like a fucking octopus. Eddie had to untangle a mess of long arms and legs to free himself. Richie’s entire body had been grappled onto every part of Eddie. For a minute Eddie thought he might need the jaws of life to get out.

The morning weather is cold but Derry always feels cold. Unless you happened to catch it in the full swing of summer, Derry is essentially an icebox disguised as a small town. Eddie zips up his hoodie and shoves his hands in his pockets.

‘You’ll catch a cold, Eddie! You need a sweater and some thick socks!’

The echo of his mother’s voice makes his stomach surge. Eddie knows damn well that a chill breeze cannot possibly give him a cold but he can’t help the anxiety that rises from the thought. She used to say other nonsensical shit too like a cold can kill a man if you don’t treat it right away or that being too close to the microwave would give a person cancer.

It didn’t stop at radiation and weather either. Mrs. Kapsbrack had fully decieved her son into a number of lies about sex too. Masturbation makes you blind, having sex can kill you, touch it too much and it’ll fall off; Sonia Kapsbrack had the entire discography of abstinence only rhetoric on loop.

Eddie knows logically that none of these things are true but he knows it now. For two solid decades of his life he had believed his mother. He thought her word was gospel. Even in his twenties, it took time to come around to the truth because, what if the world was wrong and Sonia was right? Could he risk that?

Eddie spitefully unzips his jacket.

By the time Eddie was in his mid thirties he knew better but the paranoia lingers even today. In the time he’d been married to Myra he can count on one hand the amount of times they’ve had sex. Really it comes down to a once a year event and one Eddie never looks forward to. Bless Myra, she really tried sometimes but for the rare occasions of fancy home cooked meals and lingerie Eddie ended up losing his appetite and turning off all the lights. Myra got ten minutes of action annually while Eddie never managed to get off. Myra never was happy with that but Eddie wonders if she’d been happy with anything in their marriage.

Eddie shrugs out of the jacket and doesn’t look back as it slides off into the street.

Eddie might have had options. He may have had several people interested in him at any given moment but he was raised with blinders on and marriage ensured those blinders stayed. Eddie realizes that he never had the awareness, let alone the confidence to pursue anyone except Myra. His mother had led him into near celibacy through his hypochondriac training. If she hadn’t died would Myra have ever been a thing? Or would he still be a virgin even now?

Maybe Eddie could like Richie. Maybe men weren’t off the menu for Eddie Kapsbrack but how is he to know that when even the default of heterosexuality was taught as a dirty and unfortunate? And poor Myra, poor fucking Myra. Eddie’s going to leave her and because of his dead mother who shouldn’t have had anything to do with his marriage but Sonia Kapsbrack is the catalyst for all of it. Everything Eddie is, everything he never chose to become, is because of her.

Eddie takes off his shirt and drops it as he starts running in the cold morning air. The breeze smothers his chest, perks his nipples and sends shivers down his spine. The cold hurts a little but tells him he’s alive.

A memory of his last visit to a therapist surfaces as catches himself on the kissing bridge. He takes a few deep breaths and remembers. It was grief therapy which he was sure made his mother turn in his grave but Myra had suggested it. Sonia may have hated therapists and shrinks but Myra swore by them.

After a single session, the therapist calmly asked if Eddie had ever heard about the term ‘emotional incest.’ After a quick explanation, Eddie chose never to return to therapy ever again. Eddie is horrified and enraged as he stands on the bridge now and lets out a primal scream because Sonia Kapsbrack really did it. She committed emotional incest and Eddie feels the violation of it rack over his body.

‘Eddie, you can’t go out.’

‘Eddie, girls like that carry diseases.’

‘Eddie, don’t get too close, he might have AIDS.’

‘Eddie, you’ll never leave mommy right? You wouldn’t want me to die alone.’

And he had done just that. He stayed with her the entirety that their lives intersected. He even held her hand and watched cancer thin her down to skin and bones until there was nothing left. He never had a choice.

‘Eddie, you have to wear socks even inside. You could get sick.’

Eddie steps out of his shoes and pulls his socks off. He throws them into the barrens with as much force as he can muster. The asphalt under his feet is rough and unforgiving. He smiles and it’s manic and he keeps running.

---

Ben is waking up alone but he remembers not going to bed alone. Very clearly, he recalls Beverly and her soft mouth and her smooth curves. He took her in like she was sacred because to him she always had been. Last night had been spiritual experience because for so long Bev had only been a memory folded in a wallet. In a single night she went from paper to full flesh.

Keeping that yearbook page in his wallet had been like carrying around a religious artifact. So often it boosted the faith he needed to have in himself. It told him with little hearts and an old signature that he was worth looking at, worth helping, worth talking to. It had torn him apart to have thrown it in the fire but he’d burn a million memories if meant holding her.

As quickly as he had bedded her she’s gone though. Ben can still smell her soap on the sheets. It’s not the first time Ben’s woken up to an empty bed. It’s not as if he’s been celibate for the last twenty seven years. But he wasn’t very good at giving reasons for women to stay. It’s like they already knew his heart was somewhere else. Ben should be okay waking up to this familiar scene except...

“...Beverly?” he calls out softly, hoping that maybe she’s just in the bathroom.

There’s no response.

Ben gets himself showered and dressed. He can’t help but wonder if he’d done something wrong. Was having sex going too fast? It’s not like he declared his undying love for her but he supposes that he didn’t really need to. No one keeps a signature in their wallet for almost three decades because they’re just buddies.

Ben walks up to Bev’s door and hears her pacing and yelling. It’s a one sided conversation so Ben presumes she must be on the phone. Through the thin walls he can make out a few phrases and keywords. The words ‘divorce’ and ‘lawyer’ come up quite a bit. Against Ben’s better judgement, he presses his ear to the door to better listen in.

“You can have the business, you can keep the money but you can’t have me. Fuck you.”

Ben startles as it sounds like Bev has thrown her phone against the wall. Ben regrets invading her privacy but feels compelled to comfort her. It sounds like her husband is a real asshole and that the divorce is going to be messy. Ben isn’t sure what words to offer her.

Ben is about to knock on her door but then gets an idea. He makes a beeline to his room and rips a blank page out of the guestbook. He argues with himself the whole journey back to Bev’s door. He insists to himself that this is childish and unnecessary. She’ll think it’s stupid. It won’t help. Ben still sits down though and scribbles out a message.

You okay? - Ben

He gives the door a soft knock and slides the page underneath. A few minutes pass. It feels like the longest two minutes of Ben’s life and his insecurity bombards him. Of course this wouldn’t work. It’s dumb and foolish and Ben should know better. He’s a grown man after all.

The paper returns from under the frame.

No. - Bev

It’s an odd approach but at least it begets an honest answer. Ben uses the door as a writing surface. It’s shocking to think this method is even going anywhere but Ben figures it’s best to continue. At least Bev’s talking. He has a feeling that if he’d gone with the first choice and simply knocked that he wouldn’t have gotten far.

Is there anything I can do for you? Do you want to talk?

He stops signing it at this point. It’s not as if the whole gang is sitting in the hallway passing notes to Bev. This time it takes a lot longer for her to reply. Ben takes in the moulding on the door frame as he waits. Despite many of his designs taking a modern approach he really likes looking at the old stuff. He wonders briefly how he might create designs with modern benefits but a nostalgic look. The note slide out slowly this time.

I’m sorry I left.

Ben appreciates the sentiment but he has a thousand questions to ask about it. If Bev is sorry then why did she do it? Did something happen? Did Ben mess up? Did he hurt her or make her feel unsafe? All of this takes a backseat to the present situation though.

You have a lot on your mind. I want to help. Can I come in?

Ben stands to his feet as he hears the latch on the other side coming undone. Beverly is red faced but composed. She’s in a bathrobe and slippers. By the door he sees the tennis shoes he’d picked up for her yesterday after she��d thrown all her clothes from earlier in the day away. He knows she’s only using them out of necessity but he likes to think that maybe she likes them. He chose a pair that was black and burgundy. He remembered that Bev liked burgundy.

“You’re really nice,” Bev says quietly.

“I don’t try to be,” Ben shrugs and tell himself not to move in and hold her, “I’m just me”

“I know. That’s what I love about you.”

Ben smiles at the word ‘love’. He can’t help it. Bev smiles back and Ben falls in love with her all over again. She’s so much more than beautiful. She’s strong and kind and smart. Ben always secretly regarded her as the real leader of the group. He loves Bill and, yes, they often all followed him but secretly Ben followed Beverly. He’d follow her anywhere if she only asked.

“Ben,” her smile falters, “I’m going through something right now. It’s not easy and I’m trying to figure out who I am. You’re very sweet but I-”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Ben interrupts, already sensing where she’s going.

Ben understands that Bev’s life is complicated right now. He gets that maybe last night had some bad timing. He wants to say this but doesn’t. Something about the look in Bev’s eyes tells him that he doesn’t need to.

“All of this is on your terms,” he continues, “All I’m asking you is please, please, don’t shut me out.”

Bev wraps herself around Ben in a genuine embrace. She doesn’t cry but he can feel the emotions coming off of her in waves. Anger, fear, even sadness sheds from her as he holds her. He absorbs those feelings, welcomes them even, because it doesn’t hurt. Ben’s nose rests on her fiery colored hair as he processes those emotions for her,

“I got you,” he whispers into her hair, “You’re not alone, Bev.”

---

Richie is a free man.

Roger barely needed to work much lawyer magic and like a trooper he rolled right into the station the second he got into town. Grand total it took about an hour for Roger to convince Detective Lopez to let Richie go.

“How’d you get her to listen? I mean I’ve played some tough crowds but this chick was like a concrete wall,” Richie questions his lawyer.

Roger is exhausted and doesn’t answer right away. He seems half asleep at the wheel and it occurs to Richie how much his team cares about him. Even with the decent dollar signs attached to Richie, it’s worth noting that Roger drove through the night just for him. But then Richie’s had the same team since the beginning and they’ve known him since he was an eighteen year old little snot doing standup at open mic.

“It was easy,” Roger answers with a yawn, “I didn’t bullshit her. Made sure she knew it was a waste of resources to go after you.”

Richie definitely senses the emphasis of the word ‘bullshit’ aimed at him. He lets it slide though because he’s so deeply relieved not to be going to court or to jail for that matter. Richie knows damn well that he wouldn’t last a single night in the big house. He’d absolutely piss off the wrong person and either end up dead or somebody’s bitch. Richie doesn’t ever care to find out which.

“You’ll love the bed and breakfast we’re at,” Richie says as he looks out the window of Roger’s car, “and by love I mean hate. It looks like someone’s great aunt threw up upholstery. But it’s a place to sleep right? And once you’re rested you’ll come bail out ol’ Billy boy this afternoon.”

“Yeah, Richie, about that…”

“What?”

Roger looks incredibly guilty as he follows the GPS’s last instruction. He parks on the street and shuts the car off. Richie doesn’t like where this is going.

“Look, kid,” Roger sighs, “I meant it when I said I’d come back for your friend this afternoon but it’s not to get him out. I’m going back to talk out his story and see if I can prove him innocent.”

Richie feels bile rising up his throat. He can’t stand his stomach and the way it refuses to sit with anything terrible. Roger is equal parts apologetic and resigned. His bald head has the smallest bit of sweat on it, his mustache obscures any expression in his lip but his eyes say it all.

“You lied to me,” Richie is furious nonetheless.

“No. No, I never said I was coming back for anything specific. I said I was coming back for him I never said why.”

“Oh fuck you, Roger! A lie by omission is still a lie, you prick!”

“Hey! I got you out didn’t I?” Roger gets defensive now, “And I am going back for the other guy! I don’t have to do that, Richie, but I am. For you.”

Richie absorbs this in and pulls back his anger. Roger pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket and wipes the sweat from his forehead. Richie has no reason to doubt the man but air between them still asks for further explanation.

“Detective Lopez doesn’t have much choice except to arrest Bill and send him to court,” Roger explains, “A kid died, Richie. The pressure from his parents alone is enough to force her hand let alone the rest of the community. Who ever heard of a small town brushing off a dead child?”

“You don’t know Derry,” Richie replies sarcastically.

“Maybe you don’t. Maybe the Derry you grew up in and the Derry that exists now are different. Who am I to say? I don’t know and I don’t care much either. My condolences to the deceased and all but I’m certain your buddy didn’t do it. If he’s as good as you say he is I believe you and I’ll help him out.”

“I could hug you right now.”

“Oh, Jesus, spare me the theatrics, Richie.”

“Nope. We’re hugging. Come here.”

Roger makes a show of not reciprocating at first but then relents and pats Richie on the back. In many ways, Roger is like the lawyer uncle Richie never had. He sees him at holidays and when he’s in trouble. Really his whole team is like that, a family.

“I’m going to make a couple of calls before I head in,” Roger says before digging out his cell phone, “I remember a buddy of mine who used to teach had some super student from Maine. Henry Beaver or Reevers or something. Maybe he can give me an idea of what I’m working with in this state.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll go ahead and get you set up. Room’s on me.”

“You’re not deducting that from my pay.”

“Fuck you too, Roger.”

Richie leaves his lawyer to his calls. Luckily, the old lady who runs the place is available and manages to get a room together quickly. It’s the last one too. Richie is bouncing from nerves. He has confidence in Roger but he can’t help the nervousness bubbling up inside.

“His name is Roger Clemmings, just give him his key and let him up,” Richie explains, “he’s had a rough night.”

“Of course, dear,” the older woman answers.

Richie hears the front door opening behind him. He spins around, expecting Roger but instead finds Eddie half naked and shoeless. He’s shaking and completely out of breath.

“Eddie?” he rushes over to him out of concern and starts looking him over for injury, “Jesus Christ. What happened? Are you okay?”

“No. Yes. No. Yes and no.”

“Honey, do you need me to call the police?” the innkeeper asks, her hand already on the phone and ready to go.

“No. No. I’m fine. My whole world is falling apart but I’m fine.”

Richie takes off his coat and wraps it around Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie is having a full on mental breakdown and Richie is terrified. He tries to catch Eddie’s eyes with his own but they stare vacantly at nothing. Richie assures the woman behind the counter that he’ll see to Eddie.

Suddenly the door opens again. Roger is pulling in a suitcase and fumbling with a text message. He doesn’t see Richie and his shirtless friend but Richie panics. He grabs Eddie by the arm and pulls him into the nearest door. He crams into the tight space with him and shuts the door behind him all before Roger can see.

“Richie?” Eddie’s voice is close by in the dark.

Richie shushes him harshly. He listens as Roger chats up the older woman. She has the decency not to say anything about Richie’s sudden escape and Richie lets the momentary relief wash over him.

“Richie?” Eddie whispers this time.

“Yeah?”

“We’re in a closet.”

Richie would laugh if it wasn’t so painfully on the nose.

“Why are we in a closet?” Eddie expands.

“Oh, Eds, I wish I could answer that.”

The old woman and Roger are still talking. She’s chatting him up and Richie wants to take back every kind word he thought about her just seconds ago.

“Fuck,” Richie whisper screams, “what part about ‘just let him up’ doesn’t she understand?”

The closet Richie has trapped them in is housing a broom with dust pan and a handful of coats on one side. It smells a bit like mothballs and cinnamon. It’s not the worst place to inadvertently imprison oneself. Richie rests his forehead against the door and groans quietly.

“Richie?” Eddie asks again.

Richie turns toward his voice and instantly regrets his life choices. Because Eddie is so close. He’s too close. There’s maybe half an inch of distance between them. Richie’s insides split in two directions; wanting to get even closer and wanting to run away.

“...Eds” Richie answers finally.

Eddie puts his hands on Richie’s shoulder. Richie feels like that contact is going to cause him to pass out. Eddie’s fingers find the collar of Richie’s button up shirt and gently tug at him, collar and all, closer to Eddie.

“E- Eddie?” Richie’s old habits act up, “I know this is a romantic venue and all but-”

Richie doesn’t have time to diffuse the situation with humor because Eddie kisses him. He kisses him and-

This is fucking weird… Richie thinks.

Eddie’s lips are tightly lined. It feels almost like he’s grimacing. It’s as if he’s not committing to anything more than pressing his lips against Richie’s in the most non intimate way possible. Eddie stiffly ends the kiss and takes a half step back.

“Ah, okay,” Richie doesn’t know how to respond, “that, um, happened.”

“I didn’t feel anything…” Eddie says, sounding a thousand miles away.

“Well maybe if you didn’t kiss like mashing two dolls together!” Richie cries in his own defense, “Jesus, who taught you to swap spit?”

“I kind of didn’t learn actually.”

Excuse me? Richie thinks as he thanks the dark for hiding his expression.

“I always thought kissing would get you herpes,” Eddie explains quietly, “and by the time I knew better it didn’t matter. I kissed my wife at our wedding but I don’t really. I don’t kiss often.”

This is absolutely horrifying information for someone like Richie who, on more than a few occasions, has referred to himself as a slut.

“Wait, you’re not a- are you a virgin, Eddie?”

“No, asshole!” Eddie says a bit too loudly.

Richie hushes him again. He brings an ear to the door of the closet and listens. He hears the old woman chuckling at something Roger said. He curses under breath. Richie is desperate to get out of this closet, out of this conversation. It’s so painfully awkward.

“Think about it, Richie,” Eddie brings the topic back up, “think about the kind of mom I had. She didn’t want me to roll around in grass what the fuck do you think she told me about taking a- a roll in the hay?”

“You did not just make a Young Frankenstein reference instead of saying the word ‘sex’,” Richie is at his wit’s end.

He might as well be a virgin, Richie thinks, I haven’t had virgin since I was a teenager.

“I’m pretty sure that that phrase is older than Young Frankenstein, just saying,” Eddie points out, “And if you’re going to make fun of me then you can cancel our date thing. Fuck it. Fuck you”

“No!” Richie whisper yells.

Even after being told point blank that there’s no chemistry and that Eddie has been about as intimate as an artificial insemination, Richie isn’t ready to give up. Sure, it’s a little daunting to be faced with Eddie’s circumstances but who cares? What Richie saw in the final showdown, how he felt when he thought he lost Eddie for good, that means something. Richie can feel that in his goddamn guts.

“You really, really, don’t really know how this works?”

“Fuck you, asshole.”

“I’m seriously asking, Eds.”

Eddie mumbles his answer but Richie can tell it’s a yes. Richie decides to get down from his slutty high horse and really think about Eddie’s position. Richie knows what it’s like to wake up to sexuality. He’d slept with mostly women in his lifetime and he found it passable. It was about as thrilling as jerking off into a sock albeit far more comfortable. But men were a different story.

Richie has slept with a man before and it threw his entire life out of whack. It was nearly a holy experience and it almost got him out of the closet. Almost. By then he already had an established career as a straight man though and the idea of losing his career wasn’t worth the risk. Not even his team knows about his true proclivities. Which now that Richie thinks about it is entirely the reason he and Eddie are in this closet right now.

Richie can see Eddie in the dark. He can make out those puppy dog eyes looking off to the side in embarrassment. He sees generalized textures in his silhouette and good God does he find him beautiful. He wants to reach his hands under the borrowed jacket hanging off Eddie’s torso and touch everything he can.

You’ll freak him out, Richie stops himself, he can’t even kiss right and you want to grope him. Fucking relax. Shit.

“So I’ll show you what I know,” Richie settles, “as long as you’re feeling it I’ll keep going and if you’re not it’s cool. I mean I’m an asshole but I’m not a total asshole.”

Richie can see Eddie thinking the offer over. Richie’s spare coat moves in the dark in what looks like a shrug.

“Okay. Sure. Fuck it. Why not?”

“Real romantic of you, Eddie spaghetti.”

“Wow. I haven’t heard you call me that since we were kids. Good to know all your material is stagnant.”

Richie chuckles because honestly? That was a solid comeback. Eddie smiles back and chuckles. They both stand there laughing quietly in the dark like kids. Richie isn’t thinking about the fact that they’re stuck in here anymore. He just realizes that he likes Eddie smiling as much as he likes him pouting and annoyed. The moment fizzles out and they’re just staring at each other for a solid minute.

Richie gives Eddie a quick peck on the lips because he can’t take it anymore. He has to give something to him, something better than that sad excuse of a kiss from earlier. Richie pulls back quickly, worried that he may have been too fast. He’s genuinely surprised to have Eddie mimic the maneuver.

Richie isn’t sure if it’s the close quarters of the smell of sweat coming off of Eddie that’s putting him on a high but he goes with it. He leans his body into Eddie’s. Eddie’s back gently hits the back wall but Richie takes care not to dominate the position. He kisses Eddie again, slowly and softly. Eddie repeats the gesture and this is what Richie had been picturing all this time.

Richie licks Eddie’s bottom lip, prompting him and Eddie takes to it like a natural. Eddie’s mouth is a little dry but that’s to be expected since he had physically exerted himself earlier. Richie doesn’t care. He lets his tongue wet Eddie’s and together their kiss moves into something makes the whole closet feel hot and heavy.

Eddie places his hands on Richie’s hips and the contact sends strong signals to his member. Eddie gives a cautious bite to Richie’s lower lip that comes off as seductive, coy even. Richie can’t tell if this is experimental or if Eddie’s really feeling it but right now he doesn’t care. It feels good. Eddie feels good and Richie’s been wanting this for a long time.

“I thought you didn’t know what you’re doing,” Richie swallows hard as they break their kiss.

“Don’t ruin it,” Eddie murmurs and kisses him again.

Light floods into the closet and the older woman squeaks at finding the two men in their compromising position.

“Christ!” Richie shouts and flings himself as far away from Eddie as physically possible.

“Oh! Oh my!” the woman continues to stammer, “No! It’s fine, boys! I’m- I’m hip! My nephew is a homosexual! He and his boyfriend are wonderful people!”

Eddie silently exits the closet and heads upstairs, leaving Richie to the awkwardness alone. Richie doesn’t see this silent escape until it’s too late.

“Well, we’re not exactly boyfriends-” Richie desperately tries to rouse some sort of explanation.

“It’s fine! Really! I prefer people do those sort of things in their rooms but you’re not the first couple I’ve stumbled on in there! No shame, sweetie! No shame!”

Richie seems to put his embarrassment aside as his ear picks up on that last fact.

“Really? Other people have done this?”

“Well,” she retracts a bit, “maybe not in the same manner as you. But I’ve found a couple or two after a stormy night entangled in there. Don’t feel bad.”

She may be the first person ever to directly tell Richie not to be ashamed of what he’s done with another man. Richie really looks at her for the first time; she’s upwards of sixty for sure and dressed like a Stevie Nicks impersonator. She’s not cookie cutter like so much of Derry was and still is. Richie berates himself for making fun of her interior decorating earlier.

“What’s your name again?” he asks her.

“Doris,” she answers slowly, “I’m pretty sure I said that when we met.”

“I had a lot on my mind then and I’m kind of an asshole.”

Doris nods in consideration which makes Richie laugh. He starts to head up the stairs.

“Well Doris, you’re getting an excellent Yelp review after all this.”

“Oh good,” Doris smiles.

Richie can barely contain himself at the top step as he hears Doris mutter to herself:

“The fuck is a yelp?”

#reddie #it chapter 3 ff #benverley #ich3-3 #btw #if I was casting actors for Doris and Roger?#Lily Tomlin would be doris #and Nick Sandow would be Roger

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sound-of-reverie · 7 years

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THE SOUND OF REVERIE.

Basics.

Full Name: Rosalie de Cristaux. Aliases: Rosie. Title: The Bridge Between Worlds, The Bridge, Gatekeeper, Lady. Birthday: 8th September. Race: Fae. Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual. Relationship Status: Dating Xemnas (Soulmate). Home World: Château de Cristaux. Other Residences: Twilight Town, The World That Never Was. Family: Baudouin de Cristaux (father), Giselle de Cristaux (mother).

OH, I INHALE YOU IN SMALL DOSES …

Physique.

Biological Age: 22. Eye Colour: Lilac. Hair Colour: Rose bloom pink. Height/Weight: 168 cm/64 kg. Build: Hourglass. Skin Tone: Relatively fair. Face Shape: Oval, chubby cheeks.

… AND ADORE YOU LIKE THE ROSES.

Personality.

Rosalie doesn’t see the world in black or white. Rather, she believes that things are always in the grey area, and that everything happens for a reason. She sees things in the point of view of others, particularly like how not everyone has the same definition of what’s right and wrong.

As the prime source of what keeps the Worlds connected, Rosalie knows and understands the weightage upon her shoulders, along with the responsibilities that she has to handle with the job.

Although Rosalie takes her role seriously, she isn’t completely serious, stiff, or uptight, but rather lighthearted and carefree for the most part. She is often seen as cheerful and upbeat, always seeing the positive side of things no matter how bleak a situation may be.

She is also quite intelligent, particularly in battle strategy and risk management, being able to assess situations on the spot.

Remarkably friendly (and occasionally quite a loud mouth), Rosalie adores befriending the new people she’s met in her journey, regardless their personality; Be they standoffish, brash, eccentric, rude — It doesn’t matter, she welcomes them all with open arms.

Despite all this, there is some sense of negativity to being as easygoing as Rosalie is, as often when things don’t go her way or the way she thought they may go, she has to handle the situation to the best of her abilities. This makes her a bit of a pushover, or someone that can easily be walked all over. In her own opinion, Rosalie sees herself as someone with remarkably low expectations, thus not setting herself up for disappointment as easily.

Rosalie has always been a curious lass, even when she was younger. Maybe even a bit too curious for her own good, always keen on learning and discovering new things, places, and meeting people.

Furthermore, Rosalie doesn’t bask in the light, nor does she fear the darkness. She is comfortably situated in the centre between the two and between Xemnas’ thighs.

Beneath everything else, Rosalie can be seen as a very selfish person. For an example, she knew of Xemnas’ overall plans but never told any of the other Organization members, nor did she warn Sora, or anyone else for that matter. While this proves how loyal she is to Xemnas, it also shows how much she prioritizes him. However, Rosalie is not blinded by love, and steps in or intervenes with his plans if they put her duty in jeopardy.

ROSALIE’S HOME WORLD: CHÂTEAU DE CRISTAUX.

The inhabitants of Château de Cristaux are Fae-like people whom were guided and influenced by the Crystals within the underground of her family’s castle. While the World itself is named after the Château, it spreads to forests, villages, and farms on the outskirts towards the mines. The World is made up of mostly pastel and pearlescent colours, particularly on pinks and purples.

Rosalie’s people all had magic coursing through their veins, mostly used for healing, sustenance, and agriculture while Rosalie herself became the sole source of keeping the wards surrounding the World up, thus making her its guardian by extension.

Since separation of the Worlds, Château de Cristaux has been forgotten through magic, and former rulers have isolated the World and treated it like a haven and sanctuary, sealing anyone from entering or leaving without permission from the appointed gatekeeper.

As mentioned prior, her people, and Rosalie herself, are Fae-like, especially in their culture: beliefs, rituals, and spiritual connections. They see their Crystals as sacred, believing their very livelihood and lifespan depends on them, and refer to themselves as the Crystalline, though the term is rarely used due to a lack of outsiders that visit. Another ‘tradition’ is that eventually, at a certain point in their life, a Crystal will tell them who their Soulmate is, and a mating bond will form. Soulates of the Crystalline can be anyone, and only properly form after they’ve met, but don’t necessarily develop in an instant. Commonly, it is other Crystalline; However, some unlucky souls find their Soulmate in residents of other Worlds, and due to the wards, never get to meet or be with them. Mating bonds needn’t always be acted on or accepted, and sometimes are ignored completely in the modern times, believed to be part of old traditions.

The Crystals and the existence of the Cristaux bloodline is the sole reason why there is neither an excess of light or darkness in the World.

Baudouin was the former Bridge Between Worlds and thus its former ‘ruler,’ however Rosalie is the current bearer of the title.

THE DARKNESS IS NOT TAKING PRISONERS TONIGHT, MY DEAR.

A little bud in bloom.

The only child of Baudouin and Giselle de Cristaux, Rosalie was the next one to take up the mantle and role of the Bridge Between Worlds. Thus, her childhood and upbringing involved a lot of preparations for when she was mature enough to handle her duties. She experienced all sorts of training, all to hone the abilities that eventually would aid her; Particularly opening pathways or gateways for those with the ability to travel through them.

Her Home World is a lavish, elegant, and beautiful place, with her and her family having lived in a castle-like estate. While having a princess-like upbringing, Rosalie always had the heart of an adventurer, longing to explore the other Worlds she was groomed to protect the balance of.

The relationship between herself and her parents wasn’t necessarily warm, but fine all the same. Which was all the more reason why leaving home was easier for an adolescent Rosalie. She had inherited the title and responsibility from her father, who was a stern, and dedicated to his work; Only weak, and putting in the presence of his wife. Her mother was just as stern as her father. Despite the femininity of her name, Giselle was harsh and ferocious woman, built like an Amazon and originally the personal guard to Baudouin. The two married after their mating bond finally clicked after years of romantic tension, and during a brief courtship.

Although she doesn’t show it much in the current day, Rosalie felt significantly burdened by her responsibilities when she was younger, always feeling a sense of weight on her shoulders. Despite having to grow up fast, Rosalie had a pleasant childhood, having enjoyed herself as well as having a good environment to be raised in.

When Rosalie eventually came of age and was prepared enough, she was sent off to maintain the connections between all the Worlds.

The Darkness is not taking any prisoners tonight, my dear.

In her adventures, Rosalie travelled from the dry savannahs of the Pride Lands, to the underwater world of Atlantica, the Land of Dragons, Wonderland, and so on.

Each World provided her with the thrill of adventuring and discovery of new places, history, people, and stories for her to remember in the days to come.

Yet no amount of training or preparation could have prepared her for the outbreak of the Heartless. However, some of the Worlds disappearing was what brought Rosalie out at her busiest. Restoring the invisible threads that connected one World to the other while the ‘chosen’ she kept hearing about battled the darkness and locked the Keyholes. Rosalie eventually managed to reconstruct all of the destroyed Worlds once Ansem was defeated by Sora, Donald, and Goofy, and through the situation, she discovered new insight on both darkness and light.

In this moment I let go, with you.

And despite all this, the one place which left the biggest impact on her was one which wasn’t originally on her 'list.’ Having — quite literally — stumbled into The World That Never Was. This was where Rosalie met Organization XIII’s leader, Xemnas, for the first time, but only for a brief, passing moment. As the World was a bit too much for her to handle due to its uniqueness (much alike the End of the World), she had to leave to attend to the other Worlds once the Nobodies had began to spring up.

Still, her wish to properly meet the mysterious, hooded figure came true when they ran into each other in Twilight Town.

Even though she was well-aware that Xemnas was a Nobody, Rosalie’s significant soft spot for him was not ignored in the least. The two of them, despite one being overemotional and the other having a severe lack of emotion, became a couple. A very odd pair; She was the somebody that gave her heart to nobody. While not entirely agreeing with his methods, and goals, Rosalie never intervened with his plans.

Rosalie was devastated at Xemnas’ supposed defeat at the hands of Sora and Riku, yet still didn’t blame them whatsoever. Everyone had a different definition of what was right and wrong. Yet, that didn’t make it hurt any less, of course.

But then for some reason, he came back, they were reunited. Young Xehanort and Xemnas explained it to her but honestly what the fuck even why did they bring time travel into this. “You have a giant fucking forehead,” Rosalie yells at Xehanort, and Xemnas drags her away before things get out of hand. they have hot sex or something i have to check my fanfiction

After they were reunited, Rosalie told Xemnas that he was her Soulmate.

BEAUTY, AND GRACE.

Paraphernalia.

Attire.

Rosalie wears a white tube top with a black under bust, and with a black pair of panties shorts that have a chain belt across to fasten her ruffled cape skirt. She wears a pair of ribboned pink heels, black thigh high socks, and pink fingerless gloves. Her wavy hair is kept up in a ponytail, held back with a black hairband.

There is honestly nothing functional or practical about her outfit, but honestly at least there aren’t like fifty thousand unnecessary zippers.

Like really, what the Hell is going on over there?

Weapon.

Rosalie wields a metallic pink whip sword, adorned with a rose keychain and motifs across it. The radius of her weapon is wide, and has the ability to inflict damage on both Heartless, and Nobodies, though Rosalie doesn't normally come to blows with the latter.

Her choice of weaponry also permits her to open, and even close pathways if necessary. Though not entirely the sole source of her powers, her whip sword lets her use these abilities without draining too much of her energy as it would if she went freehanded.

Additionally, her weapon lets her open doorways, and with Xemnas' teachings, she is also capable of opening Dark Corridors.

Rosalie has various whip swords, all with differing names, and having a rose keychain. Her known weapons are: Wicked Rose, Savage Thorns, Dragon Spine (Ultima).

Abilities.

Everything has rhythm.

Rosalie is a skilled gymnast, thus making her quite flexible and quick on the battlefield. Her attacks do not deal great deals of damage too often (unless used in repetitive succession, such as Rosea Arcanum), but are very quick and often stuns her foes.

Her battle style uses a mix of both swordsmanship (when her whip sword is not detached), and a dominatrix whip user.

#nevra*charbio

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