#it's bean jumping of a cliff | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

monsoon-of-art · 7 months

Text

Donut Hole - Chapter 17

Who Is She?

Oh, who is she? (Oh, who is she?)

A misty memory (A misty memory)

A haunting face (A haunting face)

Is she a lost embrace?

- Who Is She?, I Monster

[Very little Barry in this chapter, but things are very much happening…….]

[ao3 link]

The first words out of Adaman’s mouth upon seeing Barry plummet off a cliff face with his nightmare bird was ‘Melli, I am going to strangle you’.

But much to everyone’s surprise - either by a miracle of science, or a joke by Almighty Sinnoh themselves - Barry did not land on the rocks with a horrifying and disgusting splat.

He flew.

On the back of that horrible Honchkrow, no less.

And when Ingo’s Gliscor, Mai’s Crobat, and eventually Lord Braviary returned empty handed, it was obvious that Barry had done more than flown; he had escaped.

“That boy is slippier than an Eelektrik.” Ingo muttered.

Mai turned to him. “...what is an Eelektrik?”

And Ingo did not answer. He stared at her, then slowly turned to stare at the horizon without a word.

This terribly awkward moment was - thankfully - interrupted by Lord Braviary’s squawks and chirps. Sabi stroked his fur, nodding as he did so. “Uh huh. OK. OK. I’ll tell them- well not that part - Lord Braviary said he’s going to Jubilife!”

“D-Did he actually tell you that?” Iscan asked, and she only gave a playful smirk in reply.

Adaman tried to think of a plan B. He tried glancing at Irida to see what she was thinking, but he could tell that she too, was trying to think of what to do now.

They couldn’t not go after him. This kid was an absolute headache, but what if he fell off the bird? Lord Braviary and his entire lineage had been trained specifically to carry people…

“We…should at least follow him-”

“If he’s going to Jubilife, someone should try to get there before he can. To warn them.” Palina said, and with a swift motion, still making direct eye contact with Adaman, shoved Gaeric off the back of Arcanine. “I’ll take Iscan with me.”

She didn’t wait for either Leader to give her the OK before Iscan was placed onto the back of Lord Arcanine. The three of them were gone in a matter of moments, only leaving paw prints and a dust cloud behind.

Gaeric stood and dusted himself off. “I can’t believe you just let her do that to me.” He grumbled in Irida’s direction.

“I am not focusing on your petty squabbles.” was all Irida replied with. “I am sure Lord Ursaluna can squeeze you on.”

“But why would he go to Jubilife? From everything we know, he seems to hate the Galaxy Team Stationed there…” said Mai, thoughtfully stroking the fur of Lord Wyrdeer.

Melli rolled his eyes and tossed his hair. “Well he’s caused near insurmountable damage to our settlements, maybe Jubilife is next on his hitlist.”

It was clear from his tone that it was meant to be a joke. But his joke flew about as well as a geodude jumping off a cliff.

There was a pause.

In no time at all, the Diamond and Pearl Clan mounted their pokemon to give chase.

---

Lian grumbled under his breath as his Lord eagerly dove into the pile of beans. Irida had come earlier, insisting - demanding, practically - that he and Lord Kleavor stay within the Heartwood.

She gave several reasons. Ranging from ‘they wanted a warden to stay behind to watch over Jubilife and the surrounding area, along with Warden Arezu’, and ‘The mountains were already getting crowded with the others’, before eventually adding with reluctance, that ‘Lord Kleavor of the Heartwood may be a bit too slow for chasing’.

“Too slow…bah! My Lord, you are the fastest thing in this entire forest!” Lian said, chest puffed with pride.

(He couldn’t exactly say ‘the entire fieldlands’ without insulting lord Wyrdeer, but the forest was just as good.)

Lord Kleavor, to his credit, didn’t seem to mind much. He barely seemed to notice Lian’s ire, happily crunching on beans and bits of salt.

And oh, how badly Lian wanted to help. This…Berry fellow seemed like nothing but bad news. A wicked man who washed away the Diamond settlement in a mudslide, who set his home settlement ablaze, with a team of vicious, blood-thirsty pokemon under his command?

Lian huffed again, sitting down beside his noble. They were going to catch this guy and be the heroes, and Melli would absolutely rub it in his face, and maybe Sabi too-

There was a distant squawk, a flurry of flapping wings, and something heavy crashed into a tree nearby. The impact caused branches to break and tumble to the ground, before whatever fell into the tree fell out.

“What in the-!?” Both Lian and Kleavor snapped to attention, the boy quickly standing to assess the situation.

Before either of them could get close, an enormous honchkrow descended from the sky, placing itself between them and whatever was currently laying on the ground alongside a tangle of branches. It squawked and croaked incessantly, as if trying to scare them off. Did it accidentally drop its prey? Why wasn’t it just picking it back up?

“H-Hey! How dare you take that tone with Lord Kleavor!” Lian shouted at the bird.

The honchkrow turned and screeched loud enough for Lian to stumble back, nearly tripping over the tree roots surrounding them. His hat fluttered to the ground, but he dare not tear his eyes away from the dangerous pokemon in front of him.

The Noble title that the Lords and Ladys possessed was not only upheld by the clans, but by the pokemon they shared space with. It was generally understood that Noble pokemon were very powerful, and they shouldn’t be trifled with.

The audacity of this honchkrow was both out of the norm and offensive.

Lord Kleavor bellowed in reply, but the large bird refused to back down. And behind the bird, whatever fell began to stir.

A hand reached up to stroke the honchkrow’s feathers. “I-I just closed my eyes for a bit, bud…I must’ve drifted off. How did I end up on the ground?” the figure rasped, struggling to stand.

It was a teenager, barely a few years older than Lian, with blonde hair. But he looked terrible; even worse than when they found Ingo, something that Lian hadn’t thought possible.

The teenager approached him, a strange, eerie sort of pity in his eyes. “Oh…you're just a little kid…"

Despite himself, Lian couldn’t help but scoot away. “W-What do you want?”

“Where’s Jubilife?”

“Huh?”

Behind him, Lord Kleavor let out a low rumble in warning. The teenager stopped walking, slowly tilting his head. He opened his mouth to say something, but decided otherwise. “Where is Jubilife? I don't wanna hurt you."

Did he mean Jubilife village?

Lian pointed behind the teenager and off into the distance. “I-It’s past deetrack heights! Cross the river, t-then cross it again!”

“Thanks. You’re alright.” He turned to leave, but paused, giving Lian another pitiful look.

“...man. You look like you would’ve loved Minecraft.” he said, voice wistful. “I can’t believe Cyrus would deprive the world of something so pure…”

What?

But he didn’t explain any part of that baffling statement. He turned, hand on the large Honchkrow’s back, the teenager starting to limp in the vague direction that Lian had told him.

Lian sat there for a moment, still processing that strange encounter. But surprise - and the tiny bits of fear - gave way to defensive irritation. “Did you hear him, Lord Kleavor?! The nerve!”

Lord Kleavor chittered, trying to nudge the boy back into a standing position.

Several dots began to connect in Lian’s head. A strange man he’s never met before, who clearly looked out of place, with a powerful pokemon by his side-

“Wait - WAIT, WAS THAT HIM?!” He shouted, scrambling to grab onto Lord Kleavor’s neck. “We have to chase after him! My Lord, please, allow me to ride upon your back!”

Kleavor lowered his great head to allow the boy to clamber onto his back. While a bit awkward, Lian could wrap his arms around Lord Kleavor’s head and brace his legs on the rocky white formations where wings once grew; a kind of tepiggy back ride, although Lian would shudder to call it something so childish.

Lord Kleavor glanced back to make sure his Warden was situated before standing and entering a ready position. “Right! Let’s chase after him!”

---

The guards positioned at Jubilife’s gates barely had time to get out of the way before Lord Arcanine bowled through the doors like tissue paper.

The townsfolk screamed and fled, parents pulling children inside, others cowering in corners and behind buildings. The only one who didn’t flee was Arezu, who approached lord Arcanine and his riders with hesitance.

“I take it that the plan in the mountains didn’t work.” she said with a frown.

Iscan answered with a, “Well…no.”

“We need Dawn.” said Palina.

And lucky for them, Dawn was rushing out of the wallflower to see what the commotion was.

“Wow! I didn’t know you could ride on Lord Arcanine’s back!” she said as she approached.

“Only in emergencies.” Palina replied as she dismounted.

Her words sunk in quickly, and the young girl frowned. “Emergencies? What’s going on? I was on my way to help with Lord Electrode, if Melli is done stalling on making the balms-"

“There’s a…” Palina hesitated, glancing back at Iscan and Arezu. “...Situation that we’ve been trying to deal with, without getting Jubilife - and by extension you - involved.”

“But it didn’t work.” continued Iscan. “A-And we’d like to uh…’borrow’ you? For a minute?”

Rei finally caught up, glancing between Dawn and the wardens. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

Dawn glanced at him before returning to look at the Wardens and Lord Arcanine. “Uhm, I think the clans need our help-?”

Palina ‘erred’ and ‘ummed’, clearly wanting to say something but not wanting to be rude. “We…we really only need Dawn for this-”

And now the professor was jogging over to meet them, panting, hands on his knees. “T-The survey corps! At your service!” he said between huffs and puffs, “What…what is ever the matter? Is it a dangerous poke…pokemon?”

“N-No, no professor, we just need Dawn-”

“So it’s not a pokemon problem?” asked Rei.

“Well.” Iscan started to say. “I-It kinda is? But also not?”

Laventon crossed his arms over his chest. “If it’s not a problem with pokemon, then I am afraid we aren’t much help. Perhaps the security corps would be of better aid?”

“No, no, this is definitely a job for Dawn.” Palina replied, voice edging on frantic. “And time is of the essence, we really should be going, we can explain along the way-”

“CAN SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME WHAT IS GOING ON?!”

Everyone was surprised by Dawn’s explosive outburst, but the Wardens had been dancing around the issue long enough.

Palina sighed, kneeling down slightly to be on her level. “There’s…there’s a boy your age. A little taller than you. He has blonde, spiked hair, and a green scarf. He’s been all over Hisui, causing all sorts of trouble-”

“- and property damage.” Iscan quickly added.

“- and property damage, yes. But. But. He’s looking for someone, Dawn. And I think he’s looking for you.”

“He bit me.” Arezu said, glancing between them all.

“Bit you?! Property damage?! You want our Dawn to charge into battle to deal with this madman who’s looking for her?!” Barked Laventon. “I will not allow it!”

Palina stood. “It’s not some ‘madman’, it’s a boy her age that clearly knows her! This situation is admittedly strange and confusing, but the clans have done everything to try and help him with no success. And now, we’ve had to involve Dawn.”

Laventon turned to talk to Dawn directly. “My dear girl, you don’t have to-” But she was not there.

He and Rei glanced around. The Wardens looked around too.

Dawn had vanished.

Rei pointed to the front gates. “She just ran off! I saw a bit of her scarf before she crested the hill!”

Palina mounted on the back of Lord Arcanine once more. Iscan turned to Arezu. “Are you coming with?”

Arezu looked at the pair of them riding on the back of Lord Arcanine up and down. “...hmmmmmmm, pass. But do come back and tell me how it goes! I love a good story.”

Laventon was still deeply unsettled by this entire exchange. “I’ll warn you now, Kamado will not be happy with the clans keeping such a secret. If you had told us sooner, we could have helped.”

“Like I said, this whole thing is…strange. And it spiraled so fast.” said Palina. “When all is said and done, I truly believe this web will untangle, but we need to get there first. Let’s go after Dawn.”

Lord Arcanine barked, turning and running back the way he came, hot on Dawn’s heels.

“D-Do they expect me to run?” Laventon asked, giving Rei a pleading look.

Rei shrugged, but started to run after them. “I think so, professor! C’mon!”

“My boy, I am not that fast! Wait for me!”

[DAWN'S OUTTA HERE]

[Also I loved redrawing the Manga panel for Barry. its HIS turn to be weirdly scary!]

#pokemon legends arceus #pla #rival barry #donut hole #barry in Hisui

71 notes · View notes

eoieopda · 1 year

Note

Hello lovely lady :) I’m here to pretty please request a JK drabble because I miss him terribly and if you have the time because I very much am in love with your writing 🥹🥹 Tattoo artist JK who gets a crazy stupid adult crush on a customer who comes to him to do a very meaningful tattoo for her and they spend all night eating and talking afterwards and it’s all giggly and cute because he will find any reason to touch her 😭😭 and now I’m going to jump off a cliff bc I miss him so much LOL

sorry for the wait, sweet bean!

cw: mention of needles, general reference to trauma (not described); description of a bad tattoo i've seen in real life; reader gets one of my actual tattoos because fuck it, we ball.

Jeon Jungkook considered himself an artist. This wasn't based on his literal job title, but on the immeasurable time and effort he spent studying, practicing, and working as an apprentice. On the sheer number of oranges that went off to rot in dumpsters with shakily tattooed skin.

For years, he placed permanent art on the bodies of strangers for tips only — if clients bothered with the courtesy, that is. Little designs off the flash sheet, last-minute friendship tattoos for university students who'd fall out of touch upon graduating. It was grueling work, but it was worth it.

When he finished his apprenticeship and was promoted to resident artist, Jungkook figured that he'd spend his days seriously — on serious shit that took hours to design and even longer to translate onto a living, breathing, squirming canvas. That was the hope, anyway.

In reality, Jungkook had spent the entirety of his day doing unspeakably stupid shit. He'd just finished tattooing "Seoul" in hiragana for a tourist who didn't seem to know which side of the Strait he was on — and then you walked in.

You shouldn't have been the only person he'd seen all day that already had tattoos, but you were. You clearly knew how this was supposed to go; and Jungkook almost started floating when the crushing weight of his exasperation finally fell off his shoulders.

Finally.

He didn't mean to audibly sigh with relief when you stepped up to the counter. He did, though, and he was well past the point of giving a shit if that should have embarrassed him.

"Rough day?" You tilted your head to the side when you asked and you looked genuinely concerned, even with that tiny, sideways smile.

Jungkook was torn. Yours was a face worth staring at, but the gallery spreading over both of your exposed arms was one he wanted to get lost in. He knew more than anyone how fucking it weird it was when strangers gave themselves permission to run their hands over his skin — but he might finally understand the urge.

Swallowing down that intrusive desire, Jungkook gripped his Red Bull can even tighter in his left hand — twenty ounces, reserved exclusively for the most severe instances of brain rot — and balled his right hand into a fist. He rapped his knuckles against the countertop and shot you a grin, "Nah, it's golden."

Jungkook had been right about two things. The first was that you weren't a fainter, a flincher, or a cry-baby.

If he hadn't stolen so many glances at you throughout the session; and if your quiet laughter wasn't the pacemaker preventing his swooning heart from stopping; he might've thought that you were meditating. Sleeping, even, or hit with a freeze ray. You were still, entirely unfazed like you weren't being stabbed thousands of times per second with a bouquet of needles.

Jungkook was also dead-on that this day, despite its frustrating start, was golden. Better yet, it didn't end when your session did. When he'd blurted out an invitation to dinner, you said yes.

Sitting down across the table from him with your forearm dutifully covered in cling-wrap, you shot him an adorably sheepish smile. "Could you, um —?" You gestured to the perilla leaves on your plate with the chopsticks in your non-dominant hand. "I'm not as dexterous as I was two hours ago."

"I'm on it, boss."

He didn't have time to cringe over that statement or the wink that accompanied it because your knuckles brushed his when you slid your plate to him and — Are you a child? Why are you blushing? For fuck's sake, get a grip, Jeon.

You sipped your beer as you watched him; and it had Jungkook fumbling as if he was using chopsticks for the first time in his life and not the thousandth. Thankfully, instead of laughing at him, you asked, "So, what's the dumbest tattoo you've had to do for someone?"

"Cartoon corn-on-the-cob," Jungkook responded without hesitation. The memory was burned into his brain, a tattoo in its own right. "But that alone isn't the worst part, and neither is the fact that its face looked like it was moaning with a pat of butter sliding down its front."

You groaned, but you were grinning, "Jesus. Do I even want to know the worst part?"

"Butter me up, daddy."

Automatically, you raised your freshly-tattooed arm and slapped your hand over your mouth to keep your drink inside it. You winced at the sting on your skin and, no doubt, the burn in your chest as you coughed, "Come again?"

Jungkook slid your plate back over to you with pursed lips. Then, he took a deep breath. "That was the script they wanted to go with it," He sighed, "I spent a decade of my life on my craft and that is what I do with it."

"I'm sure the linework on the horny corn was beautiful, though." Your eyes sparkled when your tone softened. The sight of you stopped him from laughing at the words you chose.

He gestured down to the vintage floor lamp he'd etched in fine black ink on your forearm. "Looks better when the person I'm tattooing sits still," He smiled, "And you can correct me if I'm wrong, but I think you put thought into that, rather than thirst. Otherwise, I will have follow-up questions about whatever kink that might be."

Ugh, that giggle.

"Have you heard of ghost lights before?" You asked between bites of your kimchi.

When Jungkook shook his head, you cleared your throat to explain. "When you close up a theater after a show, you have to put a lamp on the stage. It's primarily a safety thing — keeps people from falling over set pieces or into the orchestra pit — but it helps out with ghosts, too."

Jungkook shifted in his chair and leaned in a little closer to more clearly hear what came next. He was riveted, and there was no hiding it.

"There are a couple of different superstitions about why it's done, but the one I grew up with was that it keeps ghosts from messing with your props and technical equipment while you're gone."

You quieted before you tacked on the amendment, corner of your mouth momentarily twitching up into a sad smile, "Figured this tattoo might help me ward off some of my own."

Your hand was close enough to his on the table that he could've pretended it was an accident. He didn't, though. The microscopic movement until his little finger touched yours was intentional; and he wanted you to know it.

Not daring to move that hand away, Jungkook grabbed his drink with the other and raised it. He waited for you to raise yours, too, before cheering, "To ghosts that mind their own fucking business!"

393 notes · View notes

stickywhiteash · 8 months

Text

Spilled the beans ||Kakashi x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol

Word count: (780)

Sitting at a bar, drinking with your comrades, you slam down a cup and demand another. It was supposed to be light hearted fun, a little get together, yet you’re spilling out all of your woes to Kurenai about a particular shinobi.

A few hours prior to going out with the gang, you had initially asked Kakashi if he wanted to check out the new sushi place down the street. The flat rejection of “I’m busy” and him continuing to fly off to the hokage’s office crushed your self confidence.

Here you are, brazenly drunk at an ungodly hour with Asuma, Kurenai, Genma and Anko. How long has it been since everyone first arrived? Who knows. Guy was also supposed to join in with the gang earlier but reported he was busy as well.

At some point you were singing with the crew, the next you were about to throw hands with some man who dared touch. Anko, off to the side, is egging you on to rearrange his face. The ones holding you back is Genma and Kurenai, deciding you’ve had far too much to drink and should probably head home.

It felt like the heavens above loved to tease your poor soul. Both Guy and Kakashi pulled up to the party. They would be fashionably late if it weren’t more than 3 hours after the appointed time. Something something, Guy challenged him and didn’t know if everyone would still be here.

“See, my eternal rival! They’re still here youthful and kicking it!”

“Glad you two could make it.”

“Ah, actually I was just stopping by.”

While you could over hear what people were saying, your mind was too fogged up to process what was going on. Instead, you were still telling Anko how you one hundred percent could have taken that creep.

“He…! Would have deserved it y’know! Ya can’t just yknow! Go around touchin’ people like that.”

“Mm.”

“See? See? He woulda haddit co—“

The next thing you knew, you were hoisted up by someone piggy back style. Before you could protest, the warmth of their body and scent of vanilla calms your alcohol induced rage. A round of farewells sends you and your escort off. Smile, wave, and nuzzle into whoever is taking you home.

“Mister escort? You are taking me home right?”

“Yes”

“Okay.. How do you know where I live?”

“That’s a secret”

A gasp, “YOU’RE NOT KIDNAPPING ME ARE YOU?”

“Ah, yes. All of your friends let you be whisked away by some stranger.”

Shaking your head, you mumble in disbelief, “I can’t believe them. They’ll pay for this.”

There’s a pause. Streetlights pass over head steadily. Cool air clings on to your face as he walks.

“Mister escort? Do you have anyone you love?”

Muscles tense underneath you. Sighing, you continue talking, the words still slurring.

“Hey. Promise me you won’t tell anyone?”

“Tell anyone what?”

“Oi! gotta promise first!!”

“Sure.”

“Piiiiiinky promise!”

One arm unlatches from the man’s neck and holds out the little digit.

“Okay, okay. Promise.”

The gesture is returned, linking the the two appendages.

“Do you know… hmnn uh Kakashi Hatake? Think everyone knows him. If you don’t you’re really living under a rock mister!”

Another sigh, another huff. You bury your face into the crook of this man’s neck, covered in fabric.

“I love him.. A lot. I don’t know if he loves me back but what I do know Is that I have to be the one who has to confess first. He would rather bury his emotions six feet under and then jump off a cliff than say anything. He’s— He’s lost so much; I don’t blame him. Even if.. And even if Kakashi doesn’t return my feelings, that’s okay. All I want is to see that man happy and at peace for once in his life. He might not believe it but he deserves to love and be loved.”

“… Why do you love someone like him?”

“Are you kidding? He puts his friends and comrades first over rules, over the mission. His loyalties lies in them. I feel like that’s hard to come by these days. Who wouldn’t want someone like that in their life?”

Your escort stops in front of your door, not saying a single word. Bending down, he lets you off his back.

“You promised not to tell anybody, okay? Especially not him! If I find out you told him.. I’ll hunt you down, Mister Escort,” you threaten, not bothering to look at his face. With poor coordination you struggle to unlock the door. The only thing you wanted right now was to get inside and fall asleep. Once it unlocks and the entrance to your apartment is open, you bid the man a thank you and farewell.

After the door shuts in his face, he whispers. The words are barely audible.

“I love you too.”

#kakashi hatake #naruto #kakashi x reader #0111.doc #x Reader #This took me a while to write #but it’s been repeating in my brain non stop now #IT AINT GOOD BUT HERE IT IS #confession

95 notes · View notes

possibilistfanfiction · 1 year

Note

This seems really indulgent and I know (and love!) footy au so no pressure at all but -- more butch Bea? Would make my day anytime, whatever you might have in mind! :) Thank you for your words

[i love indulgence, here's what was supposed to be one scene & ended up being 8.4k words about how remarkable it is to be butch :) for @unicyclehippo , also on ao3]

giving your body to ava is easy; giving your body to yourself is the hard part.

you’re supposed to protect her, you’re told: keeping her safe is the only thing that matters. you understand, as you tug a scratchy blanket up over her shoulders on a train to a little town nestled in the alps, that you are in charge of keeping ava safe because she’s the halo-bearer, because she’s the key to slaying demons and defeating adriel and heaven and hell and the earth between. you’re not supposed to keep her safe because she’s ava, but her breaths are warm against your neck, tucked in safely, her chin on your shoulder — you will keep her safe. it’s a vow you take with the gravitas you have your others, perhaps even more certain, sure, clear: you will keep ava safe.

you’ve felt the same impulse — not as strong, and not as sharp, but the same — toward a few people you’ve known. mackenzie, in third grade, after keith, a fourth grader, called her a bitch at recess, and it was easy, so easy, to let the anger well up in you and to, just like you’d been trained in aikido since you were five, punch him in the throat. you’d had to go to the principal’s office after a small riot had erupted, and you’d sat, sullen, while your principal told your mother and father what had happened. they asked you to apologize, and the words — rotten and wrong — got stuck in your throat. you were suspended for a week and your parents made you go to bed without dinner the entire time; your stomach ached to the point of physical pain and it was hard to think, but when you went back to school, mackenzie had smiled big and bright and had kissed your cheek and brought extra cookies to share at lunch, and it was so worth it.

you’d felt the same impulse in eighth grade, with marin, your best friend. she would come over after archery, and she said she didn’t mind that you were sweaty, even though you knew, objectively, it was gross. marin was always wearing a ripped denim jacket you were, silently, in love with, and her parents let her put purple streaks in her dark hair, and you couldn’t stop thinking about her mouth, even during algebra II, your favorite class. you learned to walk, on impulse, between her and the road whenever you were on the sidewalk; you held hands and felt proud: you were, in ways you had no idea how to name, hers. she pressed you up against the packages of mein and liangpi and cans of kidney beans in your pantry and kissed you, quietly and softly, one day. your first kiss, in the dark in the closet, and you had frozen stock still because — homosexuals are going to hell; that’s not love, that’s a sin, every sunday, and wednesdays during lent and vespers too, all the rosaries in the world won’t take away the way marin sighing into your mouth feels so perfect you want to die in it — it’s in your core, this want. so, of course, you kiss her back. you don’t know what you’re doing, have only watched movies where boys kiss girls or maybe you’d mostly skipped those parts; maybe in bend it like beckham you had paid attention to keira knightly’s short hair and her stomach and jesminder’s smile and the curve of her nose and found it more compelling than the men’s matches your dad takes you and your brother to see. your hands are shaking but you fist them in marin’s hair, coarse and curly and perfect, and you think you might explode when she rests her palm on your hip. it feels a little like jumping off a cliff.

and even your father walking in on you hadn’t stopped you from the want; your mother’s you’re disgusting; i’d rather you take your own life than be gay and the priest at their church telling you, quite clearly, that being a lesbian would result in eternal damnation. even that hadn’t been enough to stop the awful and bright desire to help krishna fix her shelf in her dorm in switzerland when you were sixteen, to accept her thanks in the form of laughter and sweet halwa. you are wrong, you know so, because your parents had seen you kissing a girl and you hadn’t wanted to repent; you had wanted to protect marin from speeding cars and hold her hand in the rain and fall asleep curled up next to her with a movie playing in the background, one where girls kiss and they don’t die afterward. it’s a suicide mission, maybe, the way krishna’s skirt rides up to her underwear while she sits on her bed and watches you level the shelf, her brown skin and the stretch marks you think are beautiful, that you think about kissing, all the time. you learn fencing and archery and you get multiple blackbelts in kendo; one of your sensei has a bright smile and short hair and the most precise hands. she’s beautiful in a way you don’t understand, not really, not yet: her hair is cropped short, and her jaw is square and compelling, and she speaks softly and kindly. when she corrects one of your stances you feel a race of electricity down your spine, the opposite of the stress you feel as your hips get bigger, as you go through the embarrassing ordeal of learning how to put a tampon in, as you have to go up a size with your sports bra. she teaches you to use a bo, and there are many things you can’t name: the power; the ache — you see a reflection that feels so much like a home to you that you are not supposed to want that you don’t know how to face it.

most of the girls in your school had gone to university; you had opened your letters from oxford; from tsinghua; from harvard; from the eth, with steady, sure hands, reading the acceptances calmly. it wasn’t hard, not this part: you braid your hair carefully each day and feel a little like throwing up every time you had to put your skirt on, the weekends and your aikido and judo classes and the standard, starchy, thick gi the most profound reprieve — you studied and you took your exams and it was easy, to become an asset, to become a weapon. you’re brilliant, all of the adults in your life tell you so. you stare at your ceiling and on the bad nights you can’t feel your hands. on the bad nights you want to touch yourself so badly you could scream, and you let your fingers wander down your stomach into the curls that have grown dark between your legs, and you think of stupid keira knightly’s hipbones and you feel the wetness there before you pull your hand away, every time. it’s wrong, to want like you do: to think of what a tweed jacket like your professors wear would look like, how your shoulders would be square and strong; every now and then, you stare at the scissors in your bathroom, for trims in the months between semester breaks when you can leave the grounds, and wonder what it would be like to just cut your hair short, how you might get in trouble but it also might be a relief. there is so much grace you can’t give to yourself yet.

of course, you’re not brave enough for any of it. you are brave, enough, however, to want to die: the ocs is bloody and brutal and a home unlike one you’ve ever known. it’s easier to push all of the sin down and fashion yourself useful, so useful if anyone, anyone at all, ever found out what you think about in the middle of the night, they would still have to value you: you have your arrows and your knives and your sisters and the most beautiful bo you had ever seen. you have your habit and your combat boots; you eat three exacting meals a day and you want and you want and you fucking want — but you tell ava about it, as clearly as you can, and she just loves you. you’re rude, for a second, but she sits patiently and doesn’t judge you for your tears or the curling desire in your chest, and then, what feels like a literal miracle, she tells you that you’re beautiful and you want to be called that, you want to be called handsome, you want her to laugh at your jokes and stare too long at your freckles. you want to love her, and you do: you want ava, who is so pretty and kind, despite it all, to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you will be there for her. so you bandage the cut along your cheekbone in the train car and don’t think of the acceptance letters you had calmly thrown in your trashcan, or the thick watch the woman in front of you was wearing, her sleeves rolled up her forearms, or the way ava is warm and soft and you will gone on as many suicide missions as it took to protect her. to protect her, not the halo, not the church: ava.

she stirs eventually and smiles up at you, groggy and grateful and trusting, like she knows you won’t let anything bad happen to her; it’s easy to let her touch you, to let her lean on you, to let her use you for anything she needs. your heart swells as she burrows deeper into your side.

the first time you really allow yourself to think of it, this monstrous, lovely ache inside of you, is when lena, a shopkeeper in switzerland with a neat fade, a perfect quiff combed neatly on top, streaked with grey, and an impeccable linen suit, hands you a pair of pants. ava is in the dressing room trying on a pile of tiny clothes — which you do your absolute best not to think about — and the soft material and exact stitching: neat pleats that will accommodate the small flare of your hips; a straight leg that will sit at your ankle. lena smiles and offers you a few button downs, oversized and collarless, tailored perfectly, and she doesn’t know you’re a nun but you take them all and tell yourself that they’re suitable for you because they’re modest, because they won’t draw attention — not the way ava’s brightly patterned button down she ties into a crop top will, not the way ava will, just inherently, with her perfect smile and elegant brow. you’re drawn to earth tones, to subtle patterns, to thick cotton that drapes without sitting against your chest too snugly. ava loves your clothes, apparently, which is mostly expected because ava loves everything and, you’re certain of it, ava loves you. not as a sister warrior, not as a nun, but as beatrice, which is perhaps the scariest thing of them all.

one day, while ava is working and you have unadulterated and unmonitored time to yourself, you let your feet carry you to lena’s shop. ava has been reading you poems at night, and she’s been steadily collecting a few vinyl to play on the phonograph, even though it’s prone to skipping. it’s a life, gentle and slow, even with your training and the looming threat of an apocalypse of literally biblical proportions, and you have no idea how to reconcile who you have always tried to be with who you are, and what you want.

the first night you had been in switzerland, in your tiny apartment with dust and lumpy furniture and ava’s desperately excited energy, you had sat on the couch quietly as she puttered around and then finally settled in bed. you had lied back on the couch, and she had huffed and then sat up: ‘bea, what are you doing?’ she had asked.

you hadn’t been able to find the words that you really meant so instead you’d told her, ‘i’m keeping watch,’ and you hadn’t had to look away from the water stain on the ceiling to know she was rolling her eyes. you had argued, a little, but the couch was genuinely so uncomfortable and you hadn’t slept in so long, you’d gotten up and shuffled to the unoccupied side of the bed. ‘are you sure this is okay?’ you’d asked, and she’d squinted.

‘why wouldn’t it be?’

you had frowned and bitten your bottom lip and stumbled through, ‘because i — i’ve told you, i —‘

ava had rolled her eyes. ‘i don’t care what your sexuality is, beatrice. what i do care about is you sleeping; you’re dead on your feet.’ she had paused and waited for you to situate yourself under the covers, stiffly on your back, and she had huffed a breath and then — slowly, and you were not the only one who understood the overstep of nonconsensual touch, the pain and fury — settled her head just under your chin, resting on your chest. ‘i trust you to keep me safe.’

looking back, maybe that was it, maybe that was the moment you understood: one day, you want to wear a suit to a nice dinner; you want loose, perfectly tailored pants and expensive, thick cotton and for women and femme people — someone like ava; ava herself, you allow yourself — to think that you are attractive, that you’re sexy, that you would do anything to make sure they’re cared for. that you delight in it.

lena is a miracle herself, you think: she understands who you are, or, at least, who you want to be, buried underneath the rubble of a thousand explosions you’d set off along your spine and within your ribcage. she hands you a beautiful suit, and she lets you try it on; some days, you have tea with her wife and practice your arabic and you blush at aleyna’s gravely voice and the way she talks about her favorite art. you are overcome, when you see yourself in the mirror; your soul, eternal longevity be damned, leaps: there you are. you do up an elegant pair of cufflinks and look at a reflection you have always wanted to know.

there you are.

ava’s freedom is enviable: she wears clothes she loves and excitedly lets you cut her hair to her chin, because she wants to and because she thinks it’s fun and it’ll look so cute, bea, and she smiles afterward, laughs at herself, delighted, in the mirror. you let her think she’s convinced you of something really exciting and serious when you agree to get highlights; mostly, it makes her happy, and it’s not exactly what you want, but it’s something. ava flirts with boys, and ava flirts with girls, and she leans forward against the bar and winks at you when you drag your eyes away from her chest. some days, you think you might strike up the nerve to ask her, late at night, after you’d heard her touching herself in the shower, stifling little moans: what does it feel like to want with abandon? what is it like?

but you don’t: you dance with her, your head hazy, and you leave a letter — too sentimental, too telling, but a breath — for lena and her wife before you flee. you fight your way through all of madrid and an awful, nightmare of a vision of her with the fog, and then you hold her in your arms, once, after she dies again, after she falls and her body explodes inside its skin — literally. you pray and pray and pray — to her, not a single thought spared for god, and you would give up everything in your life: your vows, your worth, everything, for her to be alive. and she is, eventually, and you help her out of your clothes and it’s a kind of honor in this too: she trusts you not to hurt her, never to hurt her. she trusts you, in the shower, while you’re in an undershirt and boxers and you clean the blood from her ears, to be gentle to her, and to keep her safe.

you have your habit and your robes and your weapons; with each passing day, you become more and more terrified that ava is going to die. you love her; you want, in some way, to spend your life with her, whatever that might mean. but where does it all lead for you if she does die? you clutch your rosary in your hand and feel a very particular horror: who are you, if not for ava’s love? where, now, would all that want go?

ava kisses you. it’s your second kiss; you’re the second person she’s kissed, you know as much, but it doesn’t matter: you’ve held her before. you know this, as surely as you know anything. she has been many people, in some way or another, and maybe you have to. there’s so much of your life that has never been yours but the decision to follow her lips as she draws back and bring your hand to her jaw rests in your hands, as steady as they are when you have your bo, and far gentler.

ava kisses you, as she decides to die. you hold her as her body — this beautiful, small, miracle of a body that you love, that you love — fails her, with a particular finality as it glows blue and crumples. you know, when you send her through the portal, that you are going to have to leave this life you have forced down your throat and driven into the marrow of your bones like rods in the center. i love you, you tell her. you hope she knows.

no one cares, you realize, if you try on a pair of men’s jeans at a thrift store in berlin. in fact, robbie compliments them casually; you’re not sure if they know how much it means, but they have a lump of skirts in their arms and a neatly trimmed beard and glamorous blue eyeliner today, so you think they probably do. you pull the pants on in the dressing room: they’re light washed, and loose; they fall just at the bottom of your ankles, and you cuff them twice and pull on the sturdy blundstones you’ve worn all over the world at this point. you can see yourself in them in the winter, a big, elegant peacoat and a scarf pulled around your neck, and soft and warm; you can see yourself in them in the summer, rolled up with sandals and an oversized t-shirt. it’s different, than the time you’d tried on a suit — more casual, more variable — but the recognition is there all the same.

‘did you like them?’ robbie asks, meeting you at the front with a few skirts and a crop top that pangs in your chest because robbie will look great in it; because ava would love it.

‘i loved them,’ you say, and a knot releases somewhere in your chest.

you end up in los angeles — one tattoo on the top of your wrist and a surfing lesson booked — mostly because it’s the city of angels, which feels a little inevitable, and also mostly because it’s so far from anything you’ve ever known. you keep to yourself at first, mostly, but then you make casual conversation with a few of the surfers out near your airbnb every morning, and they love your accent and give you pointers on how to pop up on your increasingly smaller board and invite you to an arooj aftab show at the broad. it aches, to live this life without ava, even though it’s what she wanted for you, what she asked of you.

you drive along the hellish freeway to make it on time, and you let your friends buy you a drink at the outdoor bar, a little paper wristband signaling you’re over 21 after you’d shown your ID at the entrance; you had agonized over what to wear and settled on your favorite pair of pants, one that you’ve had since switzerland, a wide-legged pair in a deep navy that lena had tailored to fit your waist properly, and a linen collarless button down in a seafoam so pale it’s almost white, the sleeves cuffed up to your elbows, a pair of airforce 1s which your friend had promised you are, without fail, cool. you feel nervous but then your friends seriously look through some art pieces in the museum before the show, and one of them has on a pair of leather chaps, and no one cares at all. you’ve pulled your hair up into a careful, smooth bun for as long as you can remember, and at the show you close your eyes and let your heart hurt: you miss ava. you miss the love of your life, and you miss your faith, and you miss something you’ve wanted your entire life: to be seen as who you are. to be brave enough.

there’s lilting smoke and bright lights diluted by it, everything striking in urdu; you can’t translate each word, of course not, but you do understand: there are so many ways to pray. there are so many gods to pray to.

your friend drops you off at your apartment later that night; you stand in the kitchen in your black sports bra and the simplest pair of black cotton underwear you could find, and let your hair out of its bun. your skin is clean and clear and you have more freckles now than you have your entire life. your hair has gotten long, and every few days someone decides to tell you it’s beautiful. it is, you guess, even though, sometimes, it doesn’t feel like yours. you’d watched paris is burning a few weeks ago, alone at night when it was dark and the only noise you could hear was the gentle brush of the waves outside, after you’d poured yourself one of your favorite ipas and made popcorn, after you’d liet yourself eat a piece of pizza even though you hadn’t gone on a run earlier. you don’t feel like yourself, not all the way: you don’t always want to look at your hips and your chest and when your hair tickles along the middle of your back you have to close your eyes and breathe through it; you love the muscles that have grown sharper and bigger along your arms and the ink in your skin and the way your thighs cut strong and taper down to your knees, the color of your eyes at sunset. you are becoming; it hurts.

you watch the holiness in the ballrooms and you know: people have been far, far braver than you. loving ava — loving yourself — is not a kind of death sentence; it’s a kind of life.

camila facetimes you in the mid-morning, after you’ve just finished sparring. you’re in a sports bra, the weather too hazy and hot to wear your entire gi on the full walk home. camila grins when she sees your bare shoulders.

‘picking up the ladies, bea?’

you’ve never definitively said anything, but you kissed ava and then renounced your vows and, honestly, you think everyone probably knew the entire time anyway — it’s not as scary as you thought it would be: camila’s eyes are bright and clear and she’s just calling to say hi. there’s no condemnation; there’s no judgement, only your friend, your sister.

‘no, no,’ you say, and camila pouts, which makes you laugh. ‘it’s just hot.’

‘probably because you’re shirtless on the streets of los angeles.’

‘it’s a two block walk home from my dojo, camila.’

‘you’re not a nun anymore,’ she says. ‘let me have a little fun with it, at least.’

you’re quiet, just a beat too long.

‘how are you doing?’ she asks, resolute and gentle like always.

it goes without saying: you miss ava so much it feels like you’ve broken your wrists; you are in love with the world. ‘i’m — i’m figuring it out.’

it’s a more hopeful answer than camila was expecting, clearly, because she perks up and smiles.

‘well,’ she says, ‘it looks good on you.’

one night you think of the curve of ava’s rib. the twelfth, exactly, the way it wrapped slightly in her back, near her spine, a flutter away. you think of the way her shirt rode up in the middle of the night, how she rolled over onto her stomach and you saw the dimples above the waistband of her shorts, the curve of her ass, the nape of her neck, the delicate press of her wrists. it felt wrong, to look like that, your eyes red with sleep — but she was there, and she was so, so beautiful.

one night you can’t sleep and you close your eyes and think about the way ava’s lips had felt against yours. you try not to concentrate on any of the bad, just for now, just for a breath, just for this sliver of moonlight and the quiet seep of your desire onto your fingers when you press between your legs.

you wonder, absently, if hell will open up and swallow you whole. you rub circles around your clit and try, so hard, to listen to your body, to trust it like you had only learned how to do in a fight, like you had only allowed yourself in moments of pain and danger. but you’re safe, in this big bed by the ocean, and you think of ava’s twelfth rib and heaven and you come silently, pleasure drenching down your spine as you allow it to curve into the light.

you give your body to yourself, just for a few minutes, and it feels like heaven. you lie back against your pillow and blink open your eyes and laugh.

ava has been back for less than twelve hours before she flits through your closet. you’ve picked up pieces here and there, mostly earth tones, mostly loose and comfortable fabrics; you have a few hoodies, which seem to really delight her, and a tweed jacket you haven’t fully worked up the courage to wear with some slacks yet, although they’re both there, and ready, and available.

‘this is so gay,’ she says fondly, meaning, you presume, your entire wardrobe, and it’s so, so stupid for you to feel panicked, because you are gay and you want, so badly, to love being gay, because you love ava, more than heaven and earth, and she came back for you. but still, you can’t erase so many years of hating a fundamental part of who you are; ava frowns and walks up to you slowly. ’bea.’

‘it’s fine.’

‘i’m sorry.’ she takes both of your hands in hers and runs her thumb along the back gently. ‘i don’t — this is all still kind of new to you, i guess.’

it’s gentle, and forgiving, and opens up so much space for you. you had wanted, so, so many times, to change into who you are, brimming under the surface, and you’d only started to feel brave enough when you’d seen her genuine smile at your new slacks in switzerland. you suppose, really, it’s not that much different now. ‘i, uh, i see a therapist.’

‘oh?’ she doesn’t back away, only squeezes your hands. ‘that’s awesome. do you like them?’

‘i do.’

she just stands and waits and you are thankful for her, again and again; you have missed her so, so much.

‘i started — because i was grieving,’ you say, quietly and in the direction of a row of sneakers on the floor. ‘i went because i was hurting, and i didn’t know what to do with it.’ you had started going because, one night, you had gotten roaringly drunk at a little bar in echo park and felt like you wanted to walk into fucking traffic on the 405 when a girl with ava’s lotion passed by you, but that’s a detail you can mention another time, or never.

‘i’m sorry, bea.’

‘no.’ you touch her face gently, rest your hand on her collarbone. ‘not your fault. but what i mean is that — i started going because i missed you, and i didn’t know who i was, really. i left the church, and i fell in love with you, and, like, how do i become who i really am as a lesbian ex-nun whose — uh, person, is, well, missing, for an undetermined amount of time.’

‘therapy does seem like a good start with that,’ she says sagely. ‘also, person?’

‘we hadn’t discussed what we were to each other, before the portal, so.’ you shrug. ‘i know you’re my partner. but you are also my person.’

‘love that,’ she says, and smiles, ‘and love you. and other than how incredible i am, what have you learned about yourself?’

you lead her to a drawer in your closet, and you open it and take out a chest binder, black and unassuming, one you haven’t worn yet but had bought one morning online, after you’d had a wonderful surf session and you had wondered, just enough, how it might feel. ‘i don’t know,’ you say. ‘i don’t — i’m figuring it out.’ ava is still and patient beside you; you have a holy war coming, one neither of you is sure to survive, and it all seems to matter a little less in the face of it. or, maybe, it matters more. ‘is that okay?’

‘fuck yeah,’ ava says. ‘you’re so hot, like, god, even hotter than i remember? what a fucking gift! and, yeah, i mean, you’re however you feel, regardless of me. i know i’m like really awesome, but i’m just a person. kind of. for these purposes, i’m just a girl. mostly.’ she laughs at herself. ‘anyway, try it on! if you want. i love you, and i want to see.’

for your entire life you’ll hold it in your heartspace: i love you, and i want to see. just like that, just like a commandment — true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, praiseworthy. ‘okay.’

‘sweet,’ ava says, ‘i’ll be waiting out here, whenever you’re ready.’

you step into the binder and pull it on like you’d watched a few tutorials of, and you don’t think it’s something you want all of the time, but your heart pounds and your palms sweat and then your entire body settles when you situate the straps on your shoulders and turn in the mirror, see your chest mostly flat. again, it’s like seeing yourself for the very first time: there you are.

you wipe a few tears from your cheeks and let out a big breath and then slip a t-shirt over your head, pad out to where ava is very obviously vibrating with excitement and not at all reading the book on her lap, opened to a random page.

she groans and leans back dramatically. ‘even hotter, wow.’

‘yeah?’

‘yes!’ she narrows her eyes. ‘but, from what i think your therapist is getting at: how does it make you feel? even if i wasn’t here to tell you how hot you are, which i always will be now, obviously. but even if i wasn’t, what are you feeling?’

unbound, you remember, unburdened. ‘happy,’ you say, and she stands and runs her hands up and down your sides, over your flat chest, and kisses you. ‘i feel so happy.’

ava is overjoyed when one of your friends in madrid invites you to a drag show. technically, you’re both supposed to be Very Seriously Working, because there really is an imminent number of battles looming over the horizon, but you rent a little flat a few blocks from headquarters and sometimes try your best to take ava on dates. obviously, she enjoys doing everything in her power to loudly woo you: she buys flowers from a vendor on the corner and dramatically gives them to you; she brings home books you might like, in all kinds of languages; she tells everyone at the ocs how your lesbian love was what was strong enough to bring her back from the other realm. it’s all a little ridiculous, but she always has been, and it’s intoxicating to be the sole focus of her joy sometimes.

ava whistles and you roll your eyes when you slip a warm oversized cream color wool sweater over your binder, careful not to mess up your meticulous bun, and let it sit loose and elegant over a pair of navy slacks and slip on a pair of brown loafers. ava is in a dress and a blazer and she’s done eyeliner and lipstick and she’s so, so fucking beautiful. you’d put a little mascara and chapstick on and a little thrill goes through you: ava wants to be on your arm tonight; she wants to sit next to you and whisper joyously in your ear and kiss you and come home with you — ava looks like that and ava is yours.

there are three queens performing that night, two songs each, ava informs you, when you meet up with your friends. it’s loud and bright and one of the queens — ava’s favorite, if her screaming next to you has any indication — does ‘pure/honey’ from renaissance, which, in ava’s words, brings the house down.

‘gender fuckery is heaven, baby,’ the queen says after, to absolutely raucous cheers from the crowd. ava looks at you with a raised brow but her grin is so big you can’t do anything but kiss her: the swell in your chest is good, you decide, like a perfect set by the pier just after sunrise, wave after wave breaking in a way your body knows exactly what to do with, exactly how to ride safely into shore. you wipe a few tears but you let ava drag you to your feet and you sing along, on your own accord, when they play whitney houston.

‘what’s one thing — especially something that you’ve maybe felt scared of, or that you’re not sure you’ll like — that you associate with queerness that you’ve always wanted to try?’

and, like, therapy is hard, okay? it’s hard when ava is so overjoyed and so fearless about her own sexuality, and about loving you without any hesitation; of course, you both have trauma, but ava has never, in her entire life, tried to deny herself want or pleasure or expression.

and it’s hard because, god, there are so many things on that list. some of them you’ve done: buying men’s pants (that fit you like a dream, thank you very much); dancing with ava and finally kissing her after a few shots; going to a lesbian bar; going to a drag show. you want to get more tattoos — some that mean important things, and maybe some that don’t, that you just like — and you want to smoke weed the way ava does with your friends sometimes, laughing slow and soft and curling up in your lap. you want to kiss ava in front of a van gogh without checking around you first; you want to pull her chair out at dinner; you want to laugh when your friends say that’s gay — with lots of love — after one of them says something sweet about their partner. you want ava to steal your clothes. you want to go to pride. you want, very badly, to find a church that doesn’t make you feel like dying.

‘it doesn’t have to be serious,’ your therapist says, coaxing you along just a little. ‘it doesn’t have to be huge or life-changing. just something you might try, whatever comes to mind.’

‘a haircut.’ it sort of comes out of your mouth without permission, but maybe that was the point; you’re still figuring out want and desire and giving in to them without anxiety.

your therapist smiles, and it feels good, warm, to know that you’ve told the truth, that she seems to understand. ‘why does that scare you?’

you look down at your hands and will yourself not to fidget; your therapist notices and hands you a stim toy, admittedly your favorite one.

‘well, first, what if i hate it?’

‘haircuts are, fortunately, relatively temporary. what would you do if you did hate it?’

‘grow it out again, i guess.’ you think of ava’s collection of hats and beanies. ‘a cap, maybe?’

‘logical. what else scares you?’

‘what if ava hates it?’

‘well, from everything i know of ava, i doubt she would hate anything you decide could bring you joy. and she seems very into you.’

it gets you to smile: ava makes that known often, and to everyone she wants, it’s true.

‘when ava tries something, like a haircut or color, or a more masculine or feminine outfit, how do you feel?’

‘i love her, obviously. in any form; she’s beautiful and she’s my partner.’

your therapist smiles. ‘exactly. and, beyond that, i know we’ve been talking about this, but your sexuality and your relationship to it, and your joy in it, lies far outside of your partner. you were a lesbian before you met ava, and you will be, no matter what your relationship with her is, unless you decide you feel something different. your queerness and place in it isn’t just about sex, or your partner. it’s about who you are, fundamentally, and how you want to be seen for it.’

you nod, take a deep breath. ‘yes. i guess, well, when i was younger, 12 or 13, maybe, i wanted to cut my hair short. i was in so many martial arts and archery classes; i ran and swam all the time, so it seemed easier. it also seemed … cool? like, i thought it might feel… that it might feel good, or right. i didn’t know why.’

‘why didn’t you cut your hair then?’

‘my mother, when i asked, she said that it would make people think i’m … that i’m a dyke.’ you pause, let the hurt well up in you and breathe it out. ‘she used that word, and it scared me.’

‘what does that word make you feel now?’

‘i… i love it? it still feels a little scary, maybe, but — i already know people look at me and don’t think i’m straight, even when i’m not with ava. that used to be terrifying, because what if someone was unkind or even dangerous? but that … it hasn’t happened, and, if it did, i could handle it. i know i could.’

‘so what would a haircut change, then?’

‘if i — ‘ you imagine it, then, you let yourself: how the collar of your favorite turtleneck sweater might look, how easy it would be to take care of after surfing, how you could put on mascara and linen and your favorite sunglasses and hold ava’s hand, just like always. ‘people would see me and know i’m a lesbian, i think. it’s… a choice, for me at least, to look queer. and a haircut is one i can’t immediately change, like clothes. and we’re going to see my old friends soon, and i don’t know what they’d think, and — ‘

‘your friends have been accepting of you, and of ava, and of you and ava together, right?’

‘yes, of course. but it would just be — i couldn’t hide. everyone would know; everyone would be able to see, all the time. ava isn’t read as queer all the time; i can pass as straight. but if i couldn’t — ‘

when you don’t continue, your therapist gently says, ‘you would be seen. which is scary, and i hear what you’re saying, absolutely. but, beatrice, you would be seen for who you are, without apology.’

‘that’s true.’

‘i have one more question.’

‘okay.’

‘what would happen if you loved it?’

‘how are you doing?’ your stylist, xavi — one of your favorite people on the planet, one of your best friends who has been offering to give you a haircut you actually want for two years now — calmly combs out your long hair after she’d washed it.

‘i think i might throw up.’

it makes her laugh, which is maybe a little mean but also why you’re so fond of her; she had been one of the students in your adult beginners aikido class and, while she hadn’t shown any talent or much interest, she had made you smile all the time and invited you and ava to dinner with her and her wife as soon as she found out you mentioned ava, and you had been friends ever since. most days, you just put your hair into a neat bun. ava likes to play with it down, especially when you’re sleeping in, but when you told her you wanted to cut it she had kissed you square on the mouth. ‘i love you, and i want to see,’ she’d told you again, and played with the engagement ring around your finger. ’even if it looks terrible — which isn’t possible, because it’s you — there’s no way i’m ever asking you to take this off. ever, ever, ever, bea. okay?’

xavi pats your shoulder; she had excitedly fit you in this morning after you’d texted her after therapy yesterday with pictures of a short, neat mid-fade to the skin, sitting in your car before you even drove home, afraid you’d lose your nerve if you didn’t. ‘we can just do a trim, or start with a little off, and you can decide how you’re feeling from there.’

it’s so patient and so kind. ‘no, no. i — i’m sure. i’m just scared.’ it’s ridiculous, really, you think: you’ve been shot and stabbed and blown up multiple times; you have killed more people than you can count; you have almost died, so, so many times. but this, this is living, true to who you are. ‘i — this is what i want. i know this is what i want.’

‘okay then,’ xavi says, and collects your hair, smooth and long, into a ponytail at the base of your skull. ‘ready?’

‘as i’ll ever be.’

it’s fast and unceremonious, just a few sips as you close your eyes, but then you feel hair tickle your cheeks and you open your eyes and xavi hands you your long ponytail with a grin.

‘oh my god.’

‘okay,’ she says, ‘we can stop here? i can definitely make this work.’

‘no, no,’ you say, ‘it’s good.’ you laugh. ‘i feel good.’

‘you want to keep going?’

‘yeah,’ you say, let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, settled in a way, already, that you never have been before in your entire life. ‘let’s do it.’

‘amazing,’ xavi says. ‘this is going to look so good.’

and, really, it does: xavi turns the clippers on and you let go of the swoop in your stomach, your clammy palms, the too-fast thud of your heart, and just let yourself become. xavi explains what she’s doing each step, and she talks about the kittens she’s fostering, and asks you about your new aikido class, and it’s easy.

she finishes; she places a hot towel on your neck and makes sure your hairline is clean in the back and then shows you how to put a little pomade in the top, an inch and a half long, textured and dark. she takes the cape off and you stand, look at yourself in the mirror: your favorite crewneck, and a pair of pants ava had surprised you with from artists and fleas, the thin chain with a tiny cross you don’t take off sitting just below your collarbone. ‘i love it, xavi,’ you say, your hands are shaking but when you bring them up to your hair there’s a clarity in your chest that’s never been there before: unbound, unburdened, you remember, and also: i felt finally myself.

you’re in and out of it after surgery; you know your injuries as ava told you and then the surgeon explained more completely. mostly, you’re just relieved you’re alive, because the moment before you hit the wall you were sure you weren’t going to be. you’d asked mary a few hours ago, while ava was in the bathroom, to convince ava to take a walk and then eat an actual meal, not just pick at food while she sits by your bedside. it works: mary bullies ava into it, but sometimes, even now, that’s just what you have to do.

you fall asleep again; you’ve been walking more the past day, up and around with a walker a few times a day. between that and the pain medicine you’re still on, and the residuals from anesthesia, it’s impossible to not nap fairly often. when you wake up, lilith is kicked back in the chair by one side of your bed, her feet, boots still on, resting by your side on the blanket. mother superion sits next to her, doing a crossword in the daily paper. the sight makes you laugh a little, and you’re pleased that you’re a little less sore.

they both notice you’re awake; mother superion puts down her crossword but lilith doesn’t move an inch. you’re thankful your surgeon had let you sit on the shower seat and let ava wash your hair earlier this morning, careful to not press hard against the bruise on the back of your skull or get any water on your incisions — you feel slightly less gross and definitely more awake than you had before.

she looks at you and you feel anxious, all of a sudden: lilith appraises you, and then slouches even further into your seat. ‘gay,’ she decides on, and then, ‘aerodynamic.’

you look to mother superion for a moment, whose mouth twitches in a smile. ‘we didn’t have much chance to talk before the battle,’ she says, ‘but what lilith means is that your hair suits you.’

your brain is still sluggish, but — ’because i’m… gay and aerodynamic?’

lilith, miraculously, laughs. ‘well, sure, but it looks good.’ she shrugs. ‘you look like yourself.’

mother superion nods. ‘it’s good to see you becoming who you are.’

you’re definitely still loopy, overly emotional, but you might tear up from that even if you weren’t. still, lilith rolls her eyes. ‘oh, come on, beatrice.’

‘sorry,’ you sniffle, then rub your eyes.

you hear ava’s, ‘you made her cry? i was only gone for like, half an hour? what the fuck?’

‘i said something nice,’ lilith defends, getting to her feet.

‘sure you did,’ ava says. ‘i can still take you in a fight. i’ll do it, swear to god.’

‘you definitely cannot take me in a fight, ava.’

ava stands, indignant, although it’s made less effective by the comfortable hoodie a little crooked on her shoulders and mary’s a whole head taller than her. the halo flares a little but quiets when you reach out a hand in her direction.

‘oh, for fuck’s sake,’ lilith says, and then in a flash she’s gone. mother superion squeezes your hand before she heads out with a nod and another soft smile, and mary follows.

ava sits on the side of your bed. ‘was lilith an asshole? i swear if she made you feel bad about anything i will kill her.’

‘she was actually, in her own way, kind. and mother superion was too. i’m just more emotional than usual because of the meds.’

‘you’re sure?’

you tug ava down a little and she messes with your hair with a soft smile, then kisses your forehead. ‘very chivalrous of you, to offer to defend my honor, though.’

she laughs. ‘i don’t want to fight lilith again, ever, in any realm, in any way.’ she presses her mouth to yours. ‘but, for you, bea, i would do anything.’

‘you look — ‘ you let your brother fumble over his words for a moment and then laugh, spare him any more worry.

‘hot is fine.’

he rolls his eyes. ‘you look incredible, bea.’ the suit lena had made you — navy, and light, a slim tuxedo pant, a single button jacket and a perfect, crisp white t-shirt tucked in neatly, sitting beneath — fits exactly how you want it. your hair has grown out, and it parts in the middle now, and flops — as ava loves to say — just above your eyes; the sides and back are still buzzed short, and it makes you smile, even now — your ‘prince charming era’ according to ava. xavi had done your makeup: tinted moisturizer and a little bit of mascara.

‘i do look incredible, huh?’

he smiles. ‘yeah. you really do.’ he lint rolls your shoulders for the final time, more out of nerves than there having ever been lint in the first place. ‘well, let’s do this then. let’s go get you married.’

he walks you down the aisle and then you wait in front of the altar you had made, barefoot on the beach, and when ava rounds the corner and then smiles at you, you know you’ve given her a gift too: i want to see. i love you, and i want to see.

‘thank god i married you,’ ava says, tracing a line down your spine and then along the linework tattoo on your ribcage.

‘mmmm,’ you say, ‘i agree. but why, specifically.’

she bends down to laugh into your shoulder before kissing down your spine. ‘it’s fucking insane that you get hotter like, literally every day.’

you laugh too. ‘thank you, my wife.’

she squeezes your hips. ‘wow. my wife.’

you turn over beneath her and pull her down slowly to kiss you. the snow is falling outside but the fireplace at your room in a resort in the alps is beautiful, and everything is warm. you feel the halo hum beneath her hands and it’s easy, it’s so easy, to let ava roll her hips against yours and press you down into the mattress; it’s easy to put on boxers — black calvins, tight against your thighs — after you shower and stand in the mirror. your hands are calm, and it’s so easy, when you really look, to see who you are in your body. to belong only to yourself: there you are.

#wn #warrior nun fic #avatrice #avatrice fic #butch!beatrice #an ode to her bc i love her & i love being butch #if this isn't ur vibe... pls just move along thank u #ava’s favorite way of affirming bea is just being horny. a queen #this entire thing exists bc i had the first line & then lilith saying ‘gay. aerodynamic’ & i had to get from one to the other lmao

249 notes · View notes

squippy360 · 2 years

Text

Steve Rogers x Merman!reader

Cw:(fluff, angst to fluff, merman listener)

Steve huffs and runs his hands through his hair. He paces around his room in the huge beach house they had bought for this mission. (and much needed vacations.) The memory from his last mission kept replaying in his head. He just couldn't seem to sit still as the same memory of his failed mission kept replaying in his head.

He quickly shoved off his suit and quickly put on some comfy walking clothes. He made his way down the stairs quickly. He grabbed his shoulder bag and packed some snacks into it before storming outside. He walked down their private walkway and down by the sea. He took a deep breath, smelling that deep ocean breeze and trying to calm his racing thoughts.

He walked a long way from the house to the side of a cliff where some big smooth rocks were. He had a secret cave over here that he would go to when he was overwhelmed. He approached the rocks and hopped over some boulders. He got closer to the cave but stopped when he heard a voice.

"Tá bean a'msa in Árainn Mhór agua bean rule in inis Bearachain, act no ghrása Máire Mhór, 's í an began is fear ar fad acu~" You sang softly, you shiny (f/c) tail softly splashing the water.

"Is óró Mháire Mhór, is -a Mháire Mhór, an dtiocfaidh tú? Muna dtiocfaidh tú mar a gheall tú, go mbáitear insan gcladach thú." Steve was absolutely stunned at how beautiful you are. Your long silky (h/c) hair and your soft (s/c) skin. you could sing. He didn't even know who or what you were but he wanted to get closer. "H-Hello…?" He called out.

He gasped when you were getting ready to jump back into the water. "Wait! Please I-I didn't mean to scare you! Please don't leave yet!" He called out to you. You froze and stared at him. "W-What do you want?" You asked, suspicious of him.

"I…want someone to talk to…" He said, slowly getting to his knees to show that he won't hurt him. You stayed silent and scooted over so you gave him a bit of space to sit next to you. He slowly made his way next to you. He looked down a bit at your body with adorable eyes. "My name is Steve." Steve said to you, . "My name is M/n." You said calmly.

"Y-You're…really pretty up close…" Steve said and stared back at the water with a smile. You blushed a bit and looked away. "Thanks…" You whispered. "Are you into boys?" You asked. He froze for a while. "Um…yes." He said, tense. You smiled a bit. "Same here. I'm so glad there are still accepting people." You said and looked back at the pool.

"Do you think you could…finish your song?" Steve asked you. You hummed and nodded. "Is grá mo chroí, no stóirín, is tú nach ndearfadh tada liom…is tú a chuirfeadh na fataí móra ar dtaisc ar liec an teallaigh dho" You were a bit embarrassed while you sang. You've never had an audience before.

"Is óró Mháire Mhór, is -a Mháire Mhór, an dtiocfaidh tú? Muna dtiocfaidh tú mar a gheall tú, go mbáitear insan gcladach thú..." Steve pulled out a notebook and turned to you. He started sketching and didn't look back up until he noticed you stop singing. "Huh?" He questioned and looked up at you. You stared at his drawing, a simple drawing of the pool that was in front of both of you.

"What are you doing?" You asked. He flinched a bit, taking a second to decide if he should hide it or show it. "Uh…it's my drawing…I like to sketch things I like or think about." Steve said shyly.

You stared at it with amazement. "That is some talent." You mumbled. "I usually collect shiny things and store them in my secret spot. It's something I enjoy." You said, gesturing to the pool in front of both of you.

"Where do you live?" Steve asked, looking at some of the jewelry at the bottom. "I swim from here to there. I don't like being close to humans because I've seen the way they trash my home." You huffed.

"Oh…I'm so sorry." Steve said sympathetically. It's fine. There are some protected places that I like to hang out at." You said with a smile. "So…where do you live?" You asked him, curious about the dry world.

"I am currently living in a house just along the beach. I also live in a tower in New York." He said and flipped the page to a drawing of the tower. You stared at it with amazement. "W-Wow. It must be really big…" You said. He agreed. "Yeah…it definitely is. I'm still not used to this new era…" He said, looking down at the paper.

"What do you mean?" You asked, tilting your head. Steve let out a small sigh. "I'm…100 years old. I was in the military and they made me into what I am today. I was frozen for 70 years and then I was shoved out into this new era." He said.

"So you like me then…" M/n whispered. "Hm? What do you mean?" He asked. "Well…being underwater for so long, I lost track of how much time had passed since I've had human contact…" You said.

"How long ago was it?" Steve asked, gently setting his pencil down. "I don't know. But the humans I was friends with protected me. They said I had a 'bounty' on my head." You said and gestures weirdly to your head. He giggled.

Hours had passed with you two talking about your hobbies and things you liked. He shared the snacks in his bag with you and braided your hair. He laughed at how you reacted. Soon, it was night and he had to go home.

"Can we meet again tomorrow?" He asked, all of his stuff packed back into his bag. He looked back over when he hadn't gotten a reply.

"I can't. If I return back to my home, I can't come back." You said, tears welling in your eyes. His eyes widened a bit. He thought for a moment before gently picking you up bridal style.

You gasp and your hands immediately wrap around his neck for support. "W-What are you doing? Put me down." You asked, stuttering from the sudden attack.

"Will you come home with me? I promise I'll take care of you." He said, puppy eyes looking into yours. "B-But what about water? I'll dry up if I'm not in water." You reasoned. "I'll put you in my room. I have an indoor pool you can use. Don't worry." He smiled.

He quickly walked back to the house. You stared at it in amazement. You've never seen a modern land house before. He quickly took you inside after making sure no one was looking or around the area. He dashed to his room and slammed the door closed.

He went over to his pool and gently set you in. You twirled in the water, your tail flicking some water up into the air. He giggled and lied on his tummy hear the edge of the pool. His head was supported by his arms as he stared at your beautiful form.

"I've heard only the richest can afford a house." You said, peeking your head out the water. Steve hummed and flipped his hand back and forth. "Yeah my friend bought this house for us." He said. "But now, almost everyone can buy a house." Steve said with a yawn.

You smiled and got closer to him, staring up at him with your (e/c) irisis. You splashed a bit of water on him and he jolted. "Hey…" He huffed. "You should take that as a sign to go to bed. You seem tired." You said to him.

He got up and yawned again, raising his arms to stretch his body. "Your right. "Good night, M/n." He mumbled sleepily to you. "Good night, Steve." You said and pushed yourself away from the edge, swimming back under the water to sleep.

He quickly got into soft pajamas and hopped into bed. He hugged the blankets close to him and fell asleep.

(Timeskip to next day)

Steve groaned when he woke up. He usually got up in the early morning when no one else was awake. It was 4:am when he hopped up and went to use the bathroom. After he finished, he took a shower and got into some workout clothes.

He smiled and stared down at M/n in the pool. His hair had come undone and the rubber band that was holding it was sitting on the edge. His hair blocked his face and made a big cloud of (h/c) hair cover your head.

Steve giggled a bit and went over to his workout area. He got a tablet that Tony gave him as a gag gift since he knew Steve didn't know how to use it. Luckily, Sam decided to be nice and show him. He put on a '40s songs' playlist and began his workout.

Around 7 A.M., you woke up and peeked your head out the water to find Steve. You blushed a bit when you saw him put the weights back and look over at you. "Good morning, M/n." He said with a smile. You nodded shyly. "Morning…" You hummed. You weren't really a morning person (i mean really, who is) so you just swam back to the bottom of the pool and stared up at him.

He took off his shirt and dangled his feet off the edge. You swam up to him and touched his knee. "Your warm." You stated. He hopped into the pool, his hair sticking to his face when the water made contact. You smiled and swam around him. "It looked really fluffy before." You said. He smiled and started taking laps back and forth.

You thought he was playing a game and joined him, obviously beating him since you were a literal 'fish' but he still tried his best.

Near 8 o'clock, he stopped and just rested for a bit he sat on the edge when he felt his arms cramp up a bit. You swam near him, talking about your home land. Just a ship that had crashed and you made it your home.

"Do you want to watch a movie?" He asked and got up to his fridge, getting a bottle of water and pulling out an uncrustables box (I like mini sandwiches.) He got out a Capri-Sun for you as well. He dug through his cabinet and pulled out a can of tuna and opened it. He put it in a small bowl so you didn't hurt yourself in the sharp metal.

"A…what?" You asked. "Its like an act that humans do for entertainment. It's supposed to tell a story." He said and got out a remote, flicking the TV on. You stared up at it. It was so bright and colorful and…shiny. "Its so pretty…" You sighed and stared at it while he scrolled through some channels. He laughed at your comment. "There are plenty of them nowadays." He said and sat down on the ledge, facing the TV.

"What kind of movie do you want to watch. Horror, drama, comedy, or maybe a series?" He suggested. You pointed at the one at the bottom. "Luca?" He asked. You nodded silently and took the juice pouch he offered you.

You both silently watched it together, snacking on sandwiches and tuna, sipping on drinks quietly. As soon as the movie ended, you began to ramble about how relatible it was.

"Its so sad that we hybrid can't enjoy life with so many humans killing us off!" You sobbed. Steve awkwardly ran his fingers through your hair. "Um…I hope you know that your safe with me." He said. You looked up at him with a small smile. "I…Thank you Steve." You whispered.

You two watched bad movies all day, crying from laughter at some of the horrible acting in these movies and overall having a good time. But there was a commotion outside of the room in the living room where everyone was.

"Where is Steve? He hasn't come down all day." Bucky asked, currently in a tournament with Sam and Clint. "He's up in his room, probably trying to figure out how the remotes work." Tony laughed.

They shrugged their shoulders and continued on with their day.

(Looooooong timeskip)

A full week has passed since Steve took you in his room and he just couldn't get a enough of you. You two would have intimate moments such as swimming in each others arms, staring into each others eyes, and holding hands. You loved the shock that went through your body when his warm body touched your cold one.

You would cry in his arms sometimes because his touch made you feel like a human, warm and soft. You fell in love with him even more.

You where currently in the pool, you and Steve were facing the ceiling and you were lazily swimming around. Your arms wrapped around his waist as his relaxed body was on top of you. You could hear his heartbeat, slow and calm. It lulled you and you were almost on the verge of sleep yourself.

"Would you be mad if…I told you I love you…" I mumbled to him. He stayed quiet for a bit. You could hear a spike in his heart rate. "No. I think I would love you even more~" He sighed out. You went to the edge and put him on it. He smiled down at you. You got on the ledge next to him and smiled dreamily when he put his warm hand on my cheek.

Our faces slowly started coming closer. "Please Steve, I love you so much." I whispered to him. Our lips collided together softly and our hands intertwined. I felt that same shock but it was bigger this time. It went through my heart to my head. I loved every single moment I had with this human and I cant wait for more memories to come, now that were together.

We gasped and turned to the sound of the door opening. All of the houses members filed inside and stared at us. Tony, Thor, Natasha, Clint, Vision, Stephen, Sam, Bucky, and Peter all came inside the room.

"Yo! Steve! You good- Woah! I didn't know you were getting it on!" Sam teased, wiggling his eyebrows. Bucky blushed in embarassment at his boyfriend's silly joke. He tugged Sam along as he still yelled at Steve down the hall.

"Wow. Capsicle can pull some…fish?" Tony asked and looked at your tail. "Why is he kissing a boy?" "Thats gross." "Wasn't homosexuality banned in the 40s." You heard whispers in the crowd. Steve hid his embarrassed face in your neck.

"I mean it's not the norm but as long as you're happy, that's all that matters." Thor said with a smile. "Can you please leave? I'm in the middle of something important." Steve asked, his face a deep shade of red that could rival Tony's suit.

They all filed out and we were alone again. I stared down in anger and sadness. Steve noticed and tilted my face up at him. "Oh darling…I'm so sorry you had to hear that nonsense. They're just jealous because I have such a pretty boy. Don't listen to them-" I cut him off with a kiss. His eyes widened and his hands came up to my hips.

We pulled away and he stared at me in shock. "I want to show them…how much of a good couple we can be…" You said to him and kissed him again. We went back in the pool and cuddled again, swimming around.

_____________

Next up: Stephen Grant x Male Reader x Marc Spector

#avengers x male reader #marvel x male reader #marvel #x male reader #marvel fic #male reader #captain america #captain america x male reader #steve rogers x male reader #steve rogers fluff

467 notes · View notes

chezzkidsarchive · 14 days

Text

One thing I want from horror media is a character or concept that isn't scary or looks intimidating intentionally.

I think some good aspects to use in horror around childhood is the uncanny valley. Skinamarink had something going on that hits well, along with the original Child's Play film.

Call me a little fucking hater for saying this but I think right now in most fucking media the 1980s is way too overutilized and just milks all of the cool things about it. It's gone. It's done.

Stranger Things and It 2017 was good but we as a society need to move away from the 80's as a time period.

Nobody ever fucking talks about how genuinely terrifying the 1990s were looking back on them to a point where it's almost funny.

There is so much untapped potential in the idea of the monster under the bed, or playground rumors outside of video games, like Mexican Jumping Beans actually being alive or the kid on Double Dare who broke their arm open during filming and you could see the bone.

Early internet was a nightmare with viruses, screamers and the anonymity of things like AOL. The amount of Weird Food that existed like Taco Bell Lunchables, that could easily be a modern Soylent Green or the toy fads.

The 1990's has a concerning amount of toys that could burn you, scalp you and pluck your eyes out. The Snacktime Cabbage Patch Doll gave hundreds of kids nightmares, people temporarily thought Tamagotchis were beeping messages in morse code, Skydancers would regularly throw themselves into fires and off cliffs.

I think it would be unbelievably fucked up to do a sequel to The Stuff but with Flarp or some shit from Halloween 3 but with a Viewfinder that stabs your eyes in or something.

There is so much inherent danger to the 1990s that people do not ever talk about and I really wish they would.

People back then were so fucking paranoid and then 9/11 kicked it completely off the ramp and made it a million times worse. Most of English-speaking countries were dead set convinced that Furbies could record conversations and give it to the USSR or something.

Everyone was completely pissing their pants over the idea of subliminal messaging, and completely terrified of things like the paid phone services like Freddy Freaker.

Max Headroom is right there. If done correctly someone could make a mascot similar to what happened with Bartmania and start a borderline cult with the idea of tie-in merchandise.

Don't forget about the fact that for almost a good 2 years McDonald's was routinely giving away cups with uranium in them, or the Burger King pokeballs that suffocated several people.

Even just branching outside the US, there's good ideas for horror. Mr. Blobby had a mascot costume that horrified people, the weird universal hate about how unnerving the Teletubbies were. Literally any scary Thomas the Tank Engine compilation has dozens of ideas.

Angela Anaconda is one thing that is still a childhood media trauma staple, The Ring, Delicatessen, there's so many good inspirations without dipping into the mundane.

Legends of the Hidden Temple was a death trap waiting to happen. One thing that used to freak out my friend's mother, who was a middle school teacher when they had free time in school and the kids asked to watch TV was the idea of one of the kids suffocating in the slime at almost any Nickelodeon game show because it was very, very thick and expanded fast.

There's also another classic horror trope anyone could use an abuse where a corrupted director becomes obsessed with one of his child stars who loses their shit and eventually kills him or something because of a lack of identity post cancelation and no way to see themselves outside of their role, the idea of someone like the little girl from The Land Before Time surviving her attacker and waiting to kill them because child stardom is a genuine curse is Fun.

There was always the weird dream like feeling of waking up at 3:00 in the morning and seeing the George Lopez show playing, or staying home sick and seeing reruns of telenovelas or talk shows that are vague memories in the back of your mind.

Staying up late with a friend to watch Adult Swim and getting scared by the bumpers, there is so, so, so much.

Please utilize other time periods. There is better horror sooner in the past.

#chezz says #horror #analog horror #horror movie #horror fan #90's kid

7 notes · View notes

maegicks · 1 month

Text

Bellamy volturi AU -

bellamy struggles with edward leaving him. he's withdrawing both from the compulsion that edward had him under constantly and the idea that he would be immortal. that all of the things that he disliked about himself would one day be wiped away. he struggles through a significant depression, eased only by the assistance of jacob black. he does become a bit of an adrenaline junky, the only difference here being is that alice does not see him jump from the cliff. probably because he does it so frequently with jacob that it does not show up on her radar.

he goes on to graduate high school and enroll himself in the local community college. he works a full time job and saves every spare penny that he can. he makes no move to leave charlie's house until he graduates from college. this is when he has a rather impulsive idea. he remembers edward telling him about the vampire royalty, and… well.

he does not tell charlie in person that he is leaving. he should have, and will regret it for the rest of his eternity. instead, he leaves him a note because he's too much of a coward to face him. he never does say goodbye to his mother. mostly because he didn't want to hurt her, and he might still turn back up empty handed.

it takes him weeks, once he gets to volterra, to find any sign of the vampires that live there. actually, he's on his last bit of funds when he finally sees heidi leading one of her tours. he recognizes her for what she is immediately, and slips in with the other humans. if heidi noticed him joining the bunch, she doesn't say anything.

he barely escapes getting eaten by calling the king's out by name. aro (unless i'm writing w/ an aro and they have a problem w this ? it's all subject to plotting ! ) is just curious enough to stop him from being eaten. he is very much so covered in blood by the time everyone else is done eating, and it does make him a little queasy but he makes it through !!

he explains his story to the kings. initially trying to omit the names of the cullen's, so that they wouldn't be in trouble. but. he's eventually forced to spill the Beans. ( depending on who i'm writing it w/ it would be cool to explore the cullen's getting fucked up bc they left a human aware of vampirism???) he makes only one request of them - that they turn him.

anyway, i can't decide if they turn bellamy immediately or if they let him live his life in volterra for a little while under the watchful eye of the kings. it could go either way. maybe this is plot dependant?

he does remain with the volturi, though, both because he's grateful to them for the life they give him and also because he's a little scared to leave. (it also would help if he had something keeping him there … wink wink … plot dynamics w me??)

anyway there u go the bare bones of a verse ! hit the heart and i'll come plot w/ you in it !

#( ⁶⁶⁶ ) bellamy swan. ⇀ verse drop.#this got kinda long but it's also very important to me #his volturi au is my favorite i love writing him in it #i also wouldn't mind editing it depending on who i'm writing w ofc just plot w me ! !!! !! ! !

6 notes · View notes

writingoddess1125 · 2 years

Text

1999 Kurt Wagner x Reader Pt. 4

The silence that was in that livingroom was practically unbarable to say the least. A awkward and uncomfortable feeling of both guilt and unspoken anger seemed to lay over everyone like a blanket. (Y/N) still only in her bathrobe bringing out a few cups of coffee for everyone seated in her livingroom and took a seat as well on her recliner taking a Sip of her Coffee. Kurt was the first to try and speak up, Taking a shaky breath as he touched the wrist watch that had been gifted to him to hide his natural appearance while out in the world. “(Y/N) im-” “Shut up- I dont want to hear it” (Y/N) said in a harsh tone as she sipped her coffee, Kurt wincing at her words as he sunk into the couch more.

“(Y/N) I know this may be an uncomfortable situation, However we want to help and apologize for our Actions and Inactions. It was well assumed you didnt want to be found and without assistance me nor Jean would have been able to find you” Xavier said, Sighing as he wanted to attempt to smooth things over at least a little. Jean nodded as well but she clearly didnt want to meet (Y/N)’s eyes in this.

“Professor, No offense but id have rather jump off a cliff to speak with anyone from that school again- Even if you did nothing it doesnt change the way i feel about the people who did- who you have dragged to my livingroom”

Both Jean and Kurt winced at this. Logan sighing in his seat as he sat up, clearing having enough of the awkwardness of the situation.

“Fine, You dont gotta talk to these two. But i wanna talk about this-”

Logan pulled up Leon backpack and Skateboard from Milo that had been tucked to the side. (Y/N) face turning into one of anger real quick as she shot up from her seat “Where did you get those” She growled out as Logan knew what the anger of a protective mother looked like and handed over the items. “Well i saw two clones of Elf here yesterday trying to steal my bike and then Teleport away” Logan said. The room growing painfully quiet at this as (Y/N) seemed to slowly sit back down like she was frozen, Not looking at any of them.

“Let me get dressed and we will talk more...”

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

Josh’s House

“You two are dead meat” The twins heard for the tenth time that day as they glared at their friend seated on a bean bag with his hand deep in a bag of Cheetos, Josh was not only the twins best friend but the only other mutant the boys knew. Having the ability to heal those he touches which was what led to the trio meeting after Leon sliced open his ankle in 2nd grade. The rest being history

Leon seated on the Josh’s bed wacked the teen with his tail which resulted in the blonde boy to choke on his Cheetos and throw the remote to the TV at Milo in return which was easily dodged. Milo seated on the floor against Josh’s beanbag as he ignored the two boys. Staring at his hand as he was flicking his skin back and forth from its natural blue color to the false skin he wore during the day, watching as the scales flicked back and forth. “Are we monsters?” He finally mumbled to himself.

Josh turned his head to face Milo on the floor next to him, Pausing for a moment before tossing the half empty bag of chips to the other blue boy as Josh nudged Milo. “Nah man, We arent monsters... I think we are bad ass and hell, Ive been hearing about how there are more and more people like us coming out every day. Besides, We are too hot to be Monsters!” Milo smiled at this as he looked up at Josh who smiled down at his, a bit of a purple color coming to his cheeks “Yeah, I guess” Milo said with a shy voice as he blushed and Josh laughed at his embarrassment.

“GAAAYYYYY” Leon yelled out with a mouthful of Cheetos as he pointed at the two jokingly. Josh jumping up and going to punch his friend with a laugh as the two started to play fight “Nasty Ass!”, Milo staying seated and watched them with a sad frown on his face.

There was then a knock on the door as Ms. Nancy stepped into the bedroom, Smiling at the trio sweetly. “Hey Boys, (Y/N) just called and wants you to head back to the house. The twins nodded at this and stood up as Josh followed suit “Ill head out with them Mom” Josh chimed as Nancy nodded and left for the boys to get ready.

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

(Y/N) House

“Gunter Glieben Glauten Globen”

The boys sang as they rode down the street. Milo on the back of Josh’s Bike as the three boys sang along with Josh’s Portable Stereo in his backpack.

“Give it to me baby uh huh uh huh” “Give it to me baby uh huh uh huh” “Give it to me baby uh huh uh huh”

“And all the girlies say I'm pretty fly for a white guy"

The trio essentually screamed along to as they felt themselves. Milo even turning up the stereo more as the world around them faded and they could on ly think of the stupid fun they where experiencing.

“Uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco, cinco, seís”

Leon laughed as he got off his board and rushed towards the door. Usually His mom was asleep in her room which ment free access to snacks and the Livingroom to themselves. “I call dibs on the Doritos!” Milo yelled as he jumped from Josh’s bike and went to charge at his brother who was trying to rush in the house first. “Bite My Ass Milo!” He yelled as he slammed open the door ready to close it on his twin but froze. Seeing a group full of adults staring at him and his mother frowning deeply at him. Leon tried to give a smile at his mother but the door swung open fully smacking him in the back as Josh rushed in with Milo. The two boys giggling at seeing the other teen on the floor but that quickly stopped at seeing the adults too.

“Uhhh- H-Hey Miss (Y/N)-” “Josh- Go home. Now” She said sharply and the other teen did a fast u-turn leaving the twins on their own. It didnt take long for the twin teens to see the rough looking guy on the couch who they had messed with his bike and the color draining on their faces.

Awkward Silence... Milo and Leon stared at their mother who was staring hard at them. Milo glancing between their Mom and the seated strangers who where all staring at them with what could only be described as shock. After a few more moments of this shock, the guy in the wheelchair spoke first, Smiling as he turned his chair to fully face the teens. “Hello, You must be Milo and Leon. Ive head many things about you two from your mother. My name is Professor Charles Xavier, Im actually a old teacher of your Mothers” He said kindly as he smiled at the two. “U-Um.. Hey” Milo mumbled softly as he shifted awkwardly, Leon giving a head nod in greeting. Leon turned his head to look at the other adults- Some weird guy in a wheelchair, a fairly hot red head, that scary biker dude and then some dorky looking teacher guy who was staring at him hard.

“I heard what happened yesterday” The Professor said to the twins. Smiling at them with a knowing look, Leon posture seemed to magically straighten and Milo glanced at his brother before- “BAMF” “BAMF” Both twins fled.

Tag list-

@alexloveskili @hahaspoilerhaha. @coliflowerplants. @nixonvandelheim @trinswhimsys. @soft-witchy.

#kurt wagner #xmen imagine #kurt wagner x reader #kurt wagner x #xmen x reader #quicksilver #x reader #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel x reader

209 notes · View notes

engie-ivy · 2 years

Text

(@wolfstarmicrofic I'm sorry, I got carried away, and my 'microfic' became 1436 words😅 but I'm kind of loving this one, with little shit Regulus and flirtatious Remus, so I'm not really that sorry...)

30th: Camper

Regulus did not sign up for this. So he signs that floppy-haired guy with those scars up for it instead. Surely, Sirius won't mind.

Not the Camping Type

“Excuse me.”

Remus turns around from the basin in which he’s been washing his mug to find a young boy standing in front of him. With his neatly combed dark hair, too fancy trousers, and clean-pressed button-down shirt, he does not look like he belongs on a campsite. “Eh, hello?”

“You must do me a favour,” the boy says, and his tone of voice in combination with the haughty expression on his face, make it clear that he isn’t asking for a favour, he’s demanding one.

“Are you lost?” Remus asks.

“If only,” the boy says. “No, I’m actually a fellow camper with a tent not far away from yours. You see, my idiotic brother decided we needed some ‘brotherly bonding time’, and apparently, he has been submerging himself in fiction too much, as he was convinced that the best way for two brothers to bond, is by going on a camping trip together.” The boy shakes his head like he still can’t quite believe it.

“That’s... nice,” Remus says, unsure of where this story is going.

“Nice?” The boy looks at him incredulously. “No, it’s not nice. We are not the ‘sleeping on an air mattress on the ground in a bug-infested tent’-type of people. We are the ‘luxurious resort with a private bathroom for everyone and fresh towels twice a day’-type of people. I honestly thought my brother would come to his senses after one evening of coughing from the unhealthy smoke of a campfire and having all your clothing and hair smell, but alas, I now fear he’s too far gone. This morning, he was talking about swimming in an unsanitized lake, or making a canoe trip.” The boy shudders.

“Canoe trips are amazing, actually,” Remus says.

“If I want to go on a boat, I’ll rent a yacht, complete with someone to sail it for me, thank you very much. Now, since my brother is a lost cause, and I simply won’t survive another night of ‘is it a stain or is it a spider’, I’m left with no other choice than to save myself. Luckily, some of my friends are staying in quite a nice resort nor far from here.”

“You’re going to ditch your brother to take off to some fancy resort?!”

“Exactly!” The boy clasps his hands together. “And here I was, fearing you wouldn’t understand.”

Remus gapes at him. “You can’t do that! You cannot just leave him here on his own!”

“There is actually a way I can escape from this misery without having to feel guilty about leaving my brother behind,” the boy says. “We’ve been seeing you and your little group around- that chubby boy who’s always eating cheese, that bossy red-head with that guy with the hair that looks like something exploded on his head who always has this weird grin in his face-”

“Yes, my friends,” Remus says through gritted teeth.

“Yes! You look like the kind of people who would make me want to jump off of a cliff within five minutes, so, I’d reckon you’d get along splendidly with my brother! Since you already have that in common.”

“No,” Remus says, getting a sense of where this is going.

“You can take my brother under your wing, invite him to your campfire, cook baked beans together over a burner, plod through the mud on your way to the shower, or whatever it is you people consider to be fun, and I can go to the resort and do not have to feel guilty about it!”

“Yes, you do!”

The boy rolls his eyes. “Alright then. Imagine me sitting by the pool at the resort, sipping a cocktail, while being absolutely wrecked with guilt, if it makes you feel any better.”

“No, it doesn’t!” Remus says, but then he shakes his head. “Why do I even care? I don’t know you or your brother!”

“Yet.”

Remus glares at the boy. “I’m not going to let myself be forced to hang out with your brother just so you can ease your conscience about taking off to some fancy resort!”

“It’ll be a win-win situation for everyone.” The boy doesn’t even appear to be listening, and Remus has the distinct impression he’s not used to anyone ever telling him no.

“I just told you, I’m not going to-”

“I’m sure you’ll all get along just fine.”

“I don’t care, I don’t want to-”

“You can thank me later,” the boy says, waving his hand. “Now, you’ll have to excuse me. I have to pack my things and call Evan before Sirius gets back from his shower. I’m glad we could come to an agreement.”

“We didn’t...!” Remus tries one more time, but the boy is already walking away, looking more elegant than anyone on a muddy campsite has any right to look.

“No, Lily, none of that!”

“I wasn’t saying anything!”

“I know that look!” Remus says, glaring at her.

Lily sighs. “I just feel bad for him! It’s kind of sweet, you know? Taking his brother on a camping trip to bond.”

“It was a brave attempt,” Remus says. “And a failed attempt, and not our problem.”

“Oh, come on, Remus! What does it matter if we invite him over?”

Remus scoffs. “I won’t let myself be bullied into being stuck with some rich guy with no friends of his own!”

“But Remus,” Lily argues. “If we can help make him feel better by something so simple as spending some time with him?”

“We came here to spend time with our friends, not look after random strangers.”

Lily shrugs. “We could do both.”

“And what if he’s horrible?” Remus counters. “What if he’s some spoiled brat constantly complaining about everything while eating all my marshmallows?”

“He doesn’t have to be all that bad.”

“Excuse me,” a voice suddenly says behind them.

Lily and Remus turn around and Remus’ mind goes completely blank for a moment. Standing before them, is the most gorgeous guy Remus has ever seen. His long, dark hair, slightly damp like he just got out of the shower, is hanging loose over his broad shoulders and muscular chest. Remus has never really understood what people mean when they say ‘stormy eyes’, but seeing this guy’s eyes, he suddenly gets it, and he also gets that stormy eyes are indeed very sexy.

What does slightly worry him is that the guy is carrying a large bag of marshmallows and some bars of chocolate and is not wearing a shirt, as both these things seem to indicate that Remus is dreaming, with how well they fit into his fantasies.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the guy says in a smooth voice with a slightly posh accent. “But it seems like my little brother has decided to cut our camping trip short, so I suppose I’m packing up as well. However, I bought all these ingredients for making Smores. It seems a waste to throw them away, so perhaps you would like them?”

“Oh,” Lily says, already reaching out to. “Thank you, that would be-”

Remus finally gets to his senses. Well, enough to react, at least. “Don’t be silly!” He practically shoves Lily aside. “No need for you to leave just because your little brother left! Why don’t you join us instead?”

“Really?” The guy’s face lights up. “I mean, if you’re sure? I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“You won’t be imposing at all!” Remus exclaims. “As I was just telling Lily, the more the merrier!” He ignores Lily’s snort.

“Well, in that case, don’t mind if I do!”

Remus gives the guy his best smile, the one where he slightly tilts his head down and looks up through his lashes, somewhere in between shy and teasing, and he hopes the flush that spreads across the guy’s face isn’t from the sun. “I don’t mind at all.”

“That’s...” The guy swallows. “That’s awfully kind of you.”

“That’s just our Remus,” Lily states dryly. “Nothing if not open and inviting, always willing to help a stranger in need.”

Remus gives her a deadly glare before turning his attention back to the guy. “So, where are you camped?”

“Not far from you actually! I, eh...” He awkwardly runs a hand through his hair. “I’ve been seeing you around, actually. Hoping I’d get the chance to talk to you.”

“Really?” Remus beams at him. “Well, in that case, it’s about time we get to know each other a bit better!” He steps forward and takes the guy’s arm as he starts walking them towards the tents, Lily rolling her eyes and following behind, amused, but not surprised.

#my tumblr writing #wolfstar microfic #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #regulus black #regulus black has had enough #flirtatious remus lupin

275 notes · View notes

justaferalcrow · 11 months

Text

Merlin (bbc) Characters As Things My Friends And I Have Said

Gwaine: I actually almost set something on fire this morning 😎 Percival: Something as in himself. Arthur: I think you just killed the rest of the braincells I had for today. Gwaine: You're only willing to jump off a cliff if you die in the process?? Elyan: Sure, it'll end before I know it. Gwaine: Change of plans, we're bungee jumping. You bring the cords I bring the snacks. Merlin: WHAT KIND OF SOCIOPATH JUST DRINKS BEAN SOUP??? Arthur: I need one of two things right now, eight hours of sleep or an ungodly amount of caffeine. Since the sleep isn’t going to happen, I better go search for some coffee. Gwaine: So now you're gonna kill me for the aesthetic? Leon: Bank tellers do voodoo? Percival: 'Cause who needs a spine, right? Gwaine: YEET THE CHILD Gwaine: I'd be willing to die if it meant someone would name a dog after me. Merlin: Steal the doggo. Arthur: How do you expect a horse to be a politician? Merlin: Idk what to eat. Gaius: I'd suggest food. Gwaine: Kill the Spanish with a sickle. Percival: The language, not the people, don't worry. We're not racist. Merlin: Coffee shouldn't be defiled by the evil that is milk and sugar. It should be pure. Stimulating. A slap in the face to wake you up. Bitter to sustain you. It shouldn't be a pleasure. It should be a privilege. Arthur: IT'S GARLANDS YOU ABSOLUTE BABBLING FOOL! Merlin: NO, IT'S BUNTING, EVERYONE SHOULD CALL THEM BUNTING! Gwaine: NO, IT'S FLAG THINGIES! Percival: GUYS, THEY'RE TRIANGLES! Gwaine: gasp You're right though. Merlin: Another one of my friends wants me to kidnap her, we have a whole trip planned. Gwen: Milk is an ingredient, not a beverage.

46 notes · View notes

waywardstation · 2 years

Text

Heart Full, Bowl Empty

Chapter 1

Winter is approaching Hisui, and everyone is prepared for the upcoming harsh months. That is, Akari thought so, until she attended one of the Pearl Clan’s communal dinners with Ingo.

It becomes increasingly clear to Akari that the clan is struggling to keep food on the table, and she might be part of the reason why.

MASSIVE FIC working off the concept this blog’s audience has been discussing for a while, how the Pearl clan might deal with food shortages in-game. Working with so many prompts on this one, I can’t list them all! Thank you to everyone who has contributed to this!

Or, read it here on AO3!

Enjoy!

————

“Ingo! I can’t reach these ones!”

Akari called back to the warden from her tricky position.

“Well, what are you trying to- Ah!” Ingo looked up from a bush he was currently plucking plump beans from, to see Akari had made her way fairly high up one of the highland’s steep, rocky inclines.

Currently holding onto a scraggly, twisted tree that was growing out of the side of the rocky wall, it was clear she was trying to reach the fruit that hung from the tangle of branches that stretched out over the ledge, but was too short to do so.

The situation was not particularly one of immediate danger, but the shock of such a sight still startled Ingo.

“Miss Akari!” Ingo called back, pocketing the beans and quickly making his way under the tree on the steep incline, to catch Akari should she fall. “How did you get up there?”

“With my hands and feet!” The girl replied, clearly not taking the situation as seriously as Ingo. She reached out again for one of the hanging razz berries, stretching her arm out. But it was more of a show for Ingo than an actual attempt, as she was nowhere close.

“See? I can’t reach them. Do you think you can get them?”

“Well-“ Ingo did his best to get his heart back down his throat, seeing how far Akari was leaning over the edge. She was putting a lot of faith into that thin, gnarled tree, and was not performing any safety checks at all!

And it might be strong enough to support her, but certainly not him - he knew better than to try at her appeal.

“…Perhaps, we can request Lady Sneasler to retrieve them when she arrives back!” Ingo offered after a moment. “She should be returning soon!”

A moment of hesitant silence.

“And please, step away from the ledge? You are…very close to the edge!”

“Alright!” Akari finally pulled back to the safety of the ledge, still holding onto the base of the tree. “But make sure she at least tries! Cliff berries are the best berries!”

Finally, Akari started making her way back down the incline, to Ingo’s relief.

“How so?” Ingo questioned, extending an arm out once she was within distance, to help her down the rest of the way.

“Because they always grow the biggest!” Akari replied, reaching to take Ingo’s outstretched arm. With his support, she jumped the rest of the way down, back onto solid ground besides him.

Ingo did not correct her. She was right that the berries grew the biggest on the cliffs, due to constant sunlight and little competition from other plants, but the tough rocky soil - absent of specific, much-needed nutrients - often left such berries with a more sour flavor, and a higher ratio of tougher, tasteless flesh than sweet juice. Which is why, besides the obvious dangers Akari just displayed, Ingo avoided them himself when he could.

But he didn’t think Akari had ever eaten any of these berries to know that for herself. And he was glad she didn’t have to.

In the stretch of land bridging the Coronet Highlands and the Alabaster Icelands, the grey weather was crisp enough for a light, quiet snowfall to start drifting. The snowflakes promptly melted as they touched the warmer ground, but clung a bit longer to the leaves of bushes and trees, as well as Ingo and Akari’s clothes.

With the sky a gradient of orange and purple, the setting sun was hidden behind the thick heavy clouds, softening the harsh light to a pleasant glow.

Such was expected in the winter months of Hisui, when the sun slept dormant beneath the mountain line for longer stretches, and the warmth was fleeting.

Akari, Ingo, and Lady Sneasler were currently gathering various foodstuffs for Pearl Clan, making their way closer to the Icelands as they went. It was initially just Ingo and Lady Sneasler, but Akari had come across the two of them gathering while doing fieldwork, and wanted to join in, thinking all of the gathering was for Lady Sneasler’s kits.

“The kits sure eat a lot!” Akari had commented, gazing at the mixed collection of beans, berries, and salt sitting in Lady Sneasler’s basket. That was a lot for nine little sneaslets!

“They do,” Ingo hadn’t disagreed with her when he dumped a handful of oran berries into the basket. “However, this is intended to arrive at another station, back at the Pearl Clan settlement.”

Suddenly, the contents of the basket had become very small, when Akari replaced nine little sneaslets with a settlement of thirty-some people in her mind.

But it was the result of hours of gathering, while also being mindful not to overtake. The mountainous terrain also provided for other wild Pokémon in the area, and taking too much would have a bad effect on the ecosystem.

Ingo had assured her they had more back at the settlement, but still…

Akari wasn’t able to help them somehow get around the latter problem, but she could help with the former! They just needed another gatherer to help speed up the process!

So, much against Ingo’s insistence she not deviate from her original tracks, Akari paused her fieldwork to help them, and had been doing so for the last few hours.

“Snea!”

Ingo and Akari glanced in the direction of the cry to see Lady Sneasler returning and announcing her arrival, a brown wicker basket on her back.

Smaller than her travel basket Akari was accustomed to riding in, this was one of pearl clan’s baskets meant for collecting - Lady Sneasler had refused to let her cherished ride basket carry dirty roots and sticky berries. Ingo was originally the one who was meant to carry this gathering basket, but just because his noble didn’t want her basket carrying messy cargo, didn’t mean she didn’t want to carry a basket at all - she quite liked being the designated carrier! (And it’s partly why she had retained a role as a ride Pokémon in the first place; she loved it.) Lady Sneasler had quickly urged the basket from Ingo, content to carry it herself.

The tall Pokémon approached the two and slipped the brown woven basket off to set it on the ground before them, opening up the lid to show she had since managed to gather more berries and beans, adding to the contents.

“Bravo!” Ingo congratulated his noble on her success, mentally counting what had been newly added as he gazed into the basket. “You’ve gathered a considerable amount! Well done!”

“Snnnrr,” Lady Sneasler pulled a rather bashful expression as she rubbed the back of her neck with a clawed arm, in regards to the compliment. She clearly enjoyed the positive attention, and always appreciated her warden’s encouragement with her efforts to help.

Akari and Ingo took the chance to empty their pockets into the basket, temporary storage spaces to hold beans and berries until Lady Sneasler returned.

“With our schedule, it appears we are running a little behind. This is the last stop for gathering.” Ingo commented as he gazed up at the sky, noting the creeping darkness slowly replacing the soft sunset reds and oranges. “We should proceed onwards to our next destination, to the settlement.”

Sneasler let out an agreeable chirp, going to pack the basket back up and set it back upon her shoulders.

“Wait!” Akari interjected, tugging on Ingo’s coat as she pointed up the rocky incline, back at the gnarled razz berry tree. “The cliff berries! Remember?”

“Oh! I apologize,” Ingo started, before turning back to his noble. “Lady Sneasler, I apologize, but before we depart, might I ask you to retrieve the berries up there on the cliffside?”

“Snea?”

The Pokémon pulled the faintest look of confusion. Her warden usually avoided picking those. He always said they were a bit tough and sour. Kids liked them even less than adults. And they were picking these for the clan, right?

But, she shrugged and set the basket back down on the ground, to instead start the task of scaling the cliff and retrieving the berries. With her sharp claws, sturdy enough to penetrate the rocky wall like hooks, she had a much easier time of going about it than Akari did.

“Is this enough?” Akari questioned Ingo, pulling his attention away from Lady Sneasler for a moment. He glanced over at Akari beside him, who had opened up the basket again to assess its contents. “I mean, for the whole Pearl Clan?”

“It is enough.” Ingo replied to her after the most subtle delay, plain and simple. The word meant something different to Ingo than it did Akari. “We have more stored at the settlement.”

“Snea!”

Lady Sneasler landed back on the ground quietly and skillfully, having effectively ended the short conversation. Having been careful to keep the branches in tact to ensure more would keep growing, the razz berries lay collected in her claws.

Lady Sneasler’s weaponized claws may have had the power to shred that gnarled tree to ribbons like parchment, (and she had used them with such power many times), but as a caring creature at heart, she took pride in how delicately she could use them as well, for things such as plucking fragile berries gently from their branches.

“Thank you for your assistance, Lady Sneasler,” Ingo thanked the Pokémon as she placed the berries on top of the collected pile in her basket, before closing it up and slipping her arms through the straps, hitching it up on her back.

Ingo pulled his signature pose, pointing in the direction of the Icelands, and the setting sun.

“Now, onwards to the Pearl Clan settlement, full speed ahead! We are running behind schedule, but can make up for some lost time if we move quickly.”

————

The sky was darkening considerably as the trio reached the edge of the Icelands, where the falling snowflakes started to build up on the ground, rather than disappear.

Ingo eyed the clouds, weighing whether or not they seemed too heavy. Currently, the snowfall was agreeable, but weather in the Icelands could turn on a dime…especially at this time of year, with many ocean storms reaching Hisui.

Ingo, with Lady Sneasler by his side, glanced back at Akari. She was a few steps behind the two, and could not keep up as well making her way through the slowly-deepening snow, being smaller with shorter legs than the warden and his noble.

On the edge of the Icelands, traversing the hills that surrounded the flat valley, the untouched snow was piled higher and packed more unpredictably. And with the way the snow was coming down, it would only get tougher.

“I do not mean to rush, Miss Akari,” Ingo paused for the girl to catch up, despite his wishes to hurry. “But we are still behind schedule.”

“Sorry!” Akari apologized as she kicked through the snow to catch up, which Ingo hadn't meant for her to do at all - she had nothing to be sorry for. “I just…wish I brought different shoes now-!”

Akari would have started ranting to Ingo about how she really wanted to talk to Cyllene about considering different shoes for their uniform, if she didn’t take note of how Ingo seemed to be in more of a hurry than usual. He was habitually one to keep on schedule, but he always took safety just as seriously; while he would attempt to hurry things along if behind, he would never usually rush things, like he was doing now.

Perhaps it was the heavy layers of overlapping clouds following behind them.

“Snnr,” Sneasler hummed as she kept in sync with her warden’s footsteps, hoisting the basket up higher on her back.

“Lady Sneasler would offer her assistance if we were using the correct basket, and if it was not already containing fragile cargo,” Ingo commented, glancing into the wicker basket on his noble’s back to view all of the contents. It was only just over halfway full, but a person definitely couldn’t fit in there even if it was empty.

“Snea!” The light-furred Pokémon followed up an apology, her feathered ear moving with the gentle wind.

It would not stay gentle for long.

“It’s ok!” Akari reassured the warden and his noble as they continued on their way again, towards the Pearl Clan settlement in the distance. “I can make it the rest of the way, we’re almost there!”

Across the grizzled pale stretch of snow and icy fields below, structures that peppered an inclined hill were visible in the distance, and wisps of smoke from various fires could be seen climbing into the dim, drab sky.

“If you have more back at the settlement, are you going to store all of this?” Akari asked after a stretch of quiet, pushing hard to keep up with Ingo and Lady Sneasler. Despite the cold, she was starting to sweat under her clothes with the strain.

“The gathered materials?” Ingo clarified, kicking through the snow as it deepened further, moving past ankle height and reaching miserably next towards knee-height. “Some of it, yes, but most of it is for our clan’s dinner tonight, which is why we should hurry; they are waiting at the station for us to arrive and deliver.”

“Oh!” Akari had the epiphany put together for her as she huffed warm breath out of her lungs, watching it hang in the air. “You all have dinner together?”

Akari wondered what that could possibly look like…she imagined Pearl Clan all sitting at a single dinner table, with Irida asking how everyone’s day was like a stereotypical mother, as the clan leader.

The amusing thought got a small laugh out of Akari, just quiet enough for Ingo not to hear.

She had to see this!

“Yes, community clan dinners are a regular on the schedule. It is meant as a time to socialize together in a communal setting under one roof, just as much as eat.” Ingo heaved a clouded breath of his own, slowing down momentarily as they reached the edge of the hills, the steep incline patchy with snow-layered trees all the way down. He seemed surprised to be at this hill, as if he was off course, and was hesitant to continue.

But it would be fine, as long as he guided her.

“Take care to keep by me, and do not get too close to the trees as we descend.” Ingo held his hand out for Akari to take, grounding a foot over the side of the slope.

Akari grasped Ingo’s hand as he led her down the snowbank. He took a few careful steps at a time, frequently stopping to let the disturbed snow settle so as not to cause the whole hill to slide in a big sheet of white, and take them with it. Akari did her best to copy him, moving when he moved, and stopping when he stopped.

Lady Sneasler followed behind, using her large snowshoe-like feet to skillfully displace her weight with the basket on her back across the loose snow. She easily could have surpassed Ingo and Akari down the hill, but she instead hung behind to make sure they would make it down alright, and perhaps snag one or both of them on a quick claw if they slipped.

“Steer a little to the left, away from the trees,” Ingo pulled Akari with him to move her to the other side of him, stepping to adjust their path around a patch of approaching trees, instead of going through it. “Lady Sneasler, follow my path exactly in the snow.”

“Snea,” the limber Pokémon adjusted her path to place her feet where Ingo’s shoes left tracks in the snow.

“What’s in the trees?” Akari asked the larger warden as she pulled close and wrapped an arm around his middle, grasping for more support than a held hand could give. She imagined a giant alpha Pokémon hiding amongst the tree line, just waiting to pounce on them.

“Traps,” Ingo marked her theory incorrect, pausing to let the displaced snow slide them further down carefully. “Pearl Clan leaves a multitude of traps in this area, in case something rolls down the hill, and tries to stop itself in the trees.”

Taking another glance at the trees and now knowing what to look for, Akari could see the telltale signs of various traps hidden amongst the foliage and twisted branches.

Thin, taunt strings stuck out of the ground around the bases of trees and continued up into the branches. Small, unidentifiable wooden structures could be seen, barely visible under a canopy of snow and leaves. Some even poked out lining the edge of the trees, camouflaged in the snow and waiting to snap up anything that even wandered near the foliage.

While Akari took in the fact that there was quite a concentrated amount of traps, Ingo noticed none of them had been set off, and nothing had been caught.

Ingo and Akari finally made it to the bottom of the hill and stumbled off of the incline, onto flatter, thinner snow. Lady Sneasler followed soon after, jumping onto the more stable ground and kicking off the clumps of snow that clung to her fur.

“I apologize for the rocky change of tracks, normally I do not go through there. But we must hurry; we have almost arrived at our destination,” Ingo huffed, readjusting his hat by the brim as he immediately trudged on, towards the settlement. “The most difficult part of the trip is now behind us.”

“Whew, good!” Akari tried to catch her breath as Lady Sneasler gently nudged her on; she had no idea she had to stiffen so many muscles while going down that hill, just to keep balance.

The sun had slipped below the mountain line as the trio finally reached the settlement, the waning glow of the day behind the hills being the only natural light left in the sky. The wind had picked up considerably, and the snowfall was starting to get bothersome, blowing into their eyes.

Ingo could sense an oncoming snowstorm.

“Miss Akari,” Ingo addressed the girl as they approached the worn stone bridge that led to the settlement, sniffing in the dropping temperature. “The weather is becoming unfavorable; I suggest you allow Lady Sneasler to take you back when she departs to rejoin her kits, after we deliver the supplies.”

“What?” Akari questioned, rubbing the snowfall from her face as she crossed the bridge with the Warden. She was looking forward to seeing how Pearl Clan did community dinners. Plus, she had grown hungry after helping Ingo gather over the last several hours; she would never ask herself, but she was hoping she could perhaps get an invitation to stay and have dinner with Ingo, instead of going back to Jubilife just to have another meal of potato mochi. She did not want to eat dinner alone, outside The Wallflower in the dark, empty Jubilife streets.

But Ingo was right, the heavy, imposing clouds did not look very friendly; they seemed to be having a harder and harder time letting the snow fall at a controlled rate. And she would not argue with Ingo on matters like this, when she knew he was right.

“…uh, yeah…ok.”

Ingo glanced back over his shoulder at Akari as he trudged up the settlement’s hill, hearing the disappointment in her voice. Being unaware of her desire to stay for dinner, he had no idea what that was about.

Akari knew this; he couldn’t read her silent thoughts of wanting to stay for dinner, but she couldn’t help but be disappointed that her hopes were snuffed out.

But perhaps if she couldn’t stay for dinner, she could at least see what the mess hall was like when she brought in the gathered supplies with Ingo.

Ingo finally reached the outskirts of the settlement, heading towards the center of the settlement as Lady Sneasler kept at his side, and Akari trailed closely behind. With no one around to greet them and wave to them, it seemed a bit eerie.

“Where is everyone?” Akari asked, coming up to Ingo’s side as she glanced at the barren settlement. Usually, kids were out and about, running around and playing, as adults conversed in groups or walked around, doing chores.

“Inside the hall already, I am assuming,” Ingo winced at the thought, the thin layers of snow crunching under his boots in quick steps. “We are very much behind schedule.”

The warden approached a rather large structure tucked into the middle of the settlement; it appeared to be similar to the tent-like houses that populated the area, but much bigger.

Was this the hall?

Akari had wondered what this building was for! It just made her all the more excited to see what it was like inside, and see what this ‘communal setting’ that Ingo talked so much about was like.

Were there big tables inside, covered with warm candlelights, and plates piled high with savory roasts and rich gravies? Main dishes and sides prepared with sweet berries and crisp vegetables? Hand-carved mugs filled to the brim with hot aspear cider? What were Pearl Clan’s desserts like?

The daydreams were making Akari’s mouth water, even though she told herself she wouldn’t be staying.

“Snea!” Lady Sneasler interjected with a sharp chirp, and Ingo and Akari both turned to see her slipping the wicker basket off to hand to her warden.

“Oh, of course,” Ingo took the basket, slipping it over his own back. The weight bent his knees somewhat under the new cargo, and he steadied himself as he adjusted to his new center of gravity.

Lady Sneasler clicked the claws on one of her paws together as she gestured to Akari with the other, offering it as a hand to take.

“Now, Lady Sneasler may not have her carriage with her, but I can assure you she is still capable of transporting you,” Ingo started, turning his head towards Akari to address her as he reached for the hall doors’ handles. “Several times, she has transported me without-“

“-wait,” Akari interrupted him, piecing things together as she started to shiver in the snow - standing still was cooling her down significantly. “Am I going back now?”

“Well…yes,” Ingo seemed a bit surprised at her realization, his reach for the doors going slack as he raised a brow at her. “The weather is turning unfavorable, and Lady Sneasler must return to her kits before the weather possibly keeps her from departing.”

“Snea!” Lady Sneasler added on a yowl of agreement, obviously wanting to hurry back to reunite with her kits. They were old enough to fend for themselves for stretches of time, but young enough to want (though Lady Sneasler would insist it’s also a ‘need’) their mothers’ comfort and protection in weather such as this.

Harsh storms often drove wild Pokémon to start snooping for shelter, like Lady Sneasler’s den.

Akari turned her head towards the doors of the hall, shut right in front of them, but inviting all the same.

Muffled (but animated) voices could be heard on the other side of those doors, a sliver of warm light shining through between them.

Just on the other side was a room full of people about to enjoy dinner together, having fun and socializing. And Akari was so close to seeing it!

She had accepted at this point that she wouldn’t be invited for dinner, and would have to go eat alone at The Wallflower. That, she would be ok with. But she at least wanted to see what Pearl Clan’s dinners were like! And she was freezing; a few minutes inside a nice warm building would feel amazing.

“Um, well, do you need help taking in the basket first?” Akari’s breath clouded before her in the cold, grasping at straws looking for a reason to go inside. “Or anything?”

“My cab is capable,” Ingo reassured her with his best version of a smile, tugging on the corners of his mouth as he reached for the door again. “Thank you, but you may return to your station now. You have been most helpful today! And Lady Sneasler, if you please make sure-“

“-Can I pop in really quick with you?” Akari pushed the big question out of desperation to not let this chance slip through her fingers. She came all this way; she just wanted to see the hall!

A second of silence hadn’t even passed, a caught-off-guard Ingo still processing what she even asked, but to Akari, it felt like five long seconds of judgement.

“…I mean, I just want to see inside! I’ll stick right by you! And, it’s really cold out here, just a few minutes inside would feel so nice! We go in, we drop off the supplies, we go out, I leave with Lady Sneasler while you have dinner! Quick, right?”

Ingo’s head tipped downward as he gazed at the snow, the brim of his cap partially obscuring his eyes. Anyone would have found that to be quite intimidating in appearance, but Akari knew him well enough to simply recognize it as a look of contemplation.

“In and out!” Akari nudged more. “It’ll only take a few minutes!”

Surely, the weather couldn’t worsen to the point of obstructing travel in just a few minutes.

“Ah, well-“ Ingo fumbled as he looked to the overcast clouds in the darkening sky, obviously trying to multitask by taking this possible new schedule into account, and calculating how long it could take. It was hard to do when his internal clock was already yelling at him that he was incredibly late with his delivery.

But under normal circumstances, this was quite a simple request! How could he not grant it, and turn her away after she helped assist him all day? She did so much without even being asked to - in fact, he insisted multiple times she didn’t have to, but she helped anyways. He would have much less cargo to bring back if it wasn’t for her.

And it wasn’t like she was asking to stay for dinner. Irida would be fine with just about anything as long as that wasn’t asked.

But Lady Sneasler was impatient to reunite with her kits, and for a very good reason-

Ingo did not have the time or capacity to properly consider this sudden new request, and trying to take everything into account seemed to have jammed the gears in his head. Seeing the spot Akari had put him in started to make her feel a little regretful of asking.

“I’m not…hmm, Lady Sneasler?” He looked to her for approval on her part.

Snea! The strained yowl was accompanied with a swatting gesture of claws at the door, impatiently answering her warden’s request for an opinion.

Make it quick, before anymore time is wasted thinking on it.

“Ah, thank you, my Lady!” Ingo huffed out a visible breath of gratitude, as if to expel his extra stress through it. “A train is not always able to wait for its passengers to board. If they are not respectful of the train’s schedule, passengers get left at the station…so we must hurry. In and out.”

“In and out!” Akari echoed, emphasizing she understood as excitement fluttered in her chest, her features visibly lighting up at the approval. She’d get to go in!

Snnnr, Lady Sneasler voiced her disapproving patience, urging the two to hurry as she took up a stance leaning against the side of the hall.

“Alright. Quickly now,” Ingo urged Akari over as he briefly braced himself against the hall’s doors, ready for whatever berating they would get. “We mustn’t take advantage of Lady Sneasler’s kindness.”

And with that, he pushed the doors open.

The change in temperature was immediate; the icy grip of the frozen Icelands quickly loosened as Akari stepped into the warm building, leaving a biting sensation on her frozen skin. The cozy, glowing interior was a welcome change in setting to the dark, muted blue outside, the candles inside providing a pleasant lighting. The large room, primarily utilized as a meeting hall, also doubled as a mess hall. Currently, tables had been pulled out to accommodate for the small group of thirty-something people already present. The chatter of clan members sitting at tables inside gave off a homey, tight-knit atmosphere.

It was very much like she imagined, save for the feasts piled high on the tables.

However, all of that paused momentarily when everyone went quiet, turning back to see Ingo and Akari standing in place in the doorway like stantler in headlights, just as frozen as the cold air they were letting blow in.

The whole thing only lasted a second, but weight of all the eyes suddenly on them was almost crushing. Everyone who had been wondering what was taking so long to prepare dinner, now immediately knew why.

“Close the doors!” Someone from the room yelled, which seemed to snap Ingo out of it. “You’re letting all the cold in!”

“Ah! Of course, of course!” Ingo fumbled as he hurried Akari inside, so he could shut the doors behind them and bar anymore cold from entering.

“Apologies for the delay, everyone!” he tipped his cap in a display of courtesy as he attempted to express regret further, but it didn’t seem very effective at all with the unresponsive audience. Ingo’s face tinted a shade of red, shrinking into the high collar of his coat as he led Akari over to another doorway with quick steps.

Ingo mostly wanted to get away from all of the judging eyes that were boring into the two of them, but he also could hear a quiet murmur from the back of the room.

Everyone saw that not only was he late with the ingredients for dinner, he had also brought Akari in with him. And while he intended to send her back with Lady Sneasler, none of them knew that, and he knew what the situation looked like.

He didn’t have to hear the hushed whispers to know people were wondering why she was here at dinner, but he didn’t want Akari to pick up on it and feel unwelcome. Gently, Ingo ushered her ahead of him with a firm arm, and directed her through the doorway.

Soon enough, the quiet chatter of the room gradually returned to its former volume as the trio slipped out of the mess hall.

“We are very, very behind schedule,” Ingo heaved out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, wiping at nervous sweat that had begun to accumulate under his cap. He didn’t pause to compose himself, instead heading forward and leading Akari through the room.

At first glance, it was apparent this room was a kitchen of sorts, where food was hurriedly being prepared.

The appetizing sights and the scents pointedly reminded Akari of how hungry she actually was, and again she wished she could stay for dinner. The rather large room, lined with shelves and tables, was stuffed with baskets and bowls containing supplies. Dried herbs and leaves decorated the walls from where they hung, and various cooking utensils littered the different tables.

Akari could see three clan members slicing up various vegetables on one side of the room, while another two went between tending to a rather large pot of…something…in the corner, and picking up the sliced vegetables to drop into it.

Yet another two clan members were busying themselves on something roasting over coals; she couldn’t see what it was, but she could smell that it was some sort of meat.

Various other clan members were moving about the kitchen, in search of something it seemed, and Akari found herself constantly ducking out of the way to avoid being hit by an armful of chopped vegetables, another clan member, or even the basket on Ingo’s back as he also moved to try and keep out of the way of others.

Off to the side, wooden plates were lined up on a table, looking severely lacking; on each one, Akari could only see what looked like a bread roll, and some red…jelly of sorts, accompanied by an empty carved bowl.

She hoped that was just what had been prepared already, and that everyone else was currently working on the missing portions of dinner. Because that was not very much on its own, nothing like the piled-high dinner plates she had imagined.

In the middle of all the movement of the busy kitchen was Irida, currently fretting with one of the only clan members not rushing around.

“Is there anything else?” The clan leader seemed visibly stressed, tapping her foot nervously while crossing her arms, as if holding herself.

“Nothing that we weren’t going to use for tomorrow,” the Pearl clan member seemed just as stressed as Irida, anxiously fumbling with a stack of wooden plates and bowls. “And we’ve already had to take a bit from that.”

“Well, then we’ll have to-“

“Lady Irida!” Ingo interrupted the conversation, guiding Akari with him around an unattended table full of herbs. He seemed a bit out of breath, pausing between words as the constant hurrying finally caught up with him. “We have arrived! I am…terribly sorry for the delay, but-!”

“Ingo!” Irida shouted at him above the kitchen bustle with a terrifying mix of relief and upset, completely forgetting about the clan member she had been talking to as she practically jumped to face him.

“Where have you been? We’ve been waiting! Everyone’s been waiting!” She vented the obvious to Ingo, in a more worried manner than angry. Despite his height over her, shes looked like she wanted to shake him, with how much she was gesturing at him with her hands. “Do you-?”

“It’s right here,” Ingo prematurely answered her question as he turned to the side to reveal the basket on his back, with Akari beside him. She gestured to the basket with her hands to emphasize, not sure what else to do on the spot.

“Miss Akari joined Lady Sneasler and I, and assisted with gathering. We have arrived behind schedule, which is not an excuse, but with with her assistance, we have also arrived with more than expected.” Ingo gripped the brim of his cap nervously, eager to please his clan leader after he disappointed her, and make it up to her, despite being her elder.

It seemed to work; the stress in Irida’s features lessened some at the sight, and her posture visibly relaxed, no longer as sharp and jagged with terrified indecisiveness.

“Well, you did deliver,” she closed her eyes and took a deep breath as if to reset herself. “thank you.”

Irida seemed much less rigid now, but she had not lost her steam over the situation at all. Not slowing down, she had barely gotten her words of thanks out, before she pointed at a pile of woven containers in the corner.

“There’s baskets over there, dump what you’ve got so we can begin sorting for storage and preparation,” Irida directed, hurrying over to check the pot as a clan member dumped a handful of sand radishes into it. “The soup should have been done by now!”

Akari would have cracked a joke about Irida acting like Adaman with how focused she was on the time, if she didn’t seem so stressed.

Several of the Pearl clan members who had previously been scouring the kitchen for more supplies jumped on the new task, and got the containers ready for Ingo to pour the contents of his basket into.

“Of course-“ Ingo’s initially-strong sentence wavered catching a glance at Irida’s passing glance towards him.

She wanted to talk to him. And due to the fact she was saying it with her eyes instead of her mouth, he knew that it was about a certain someone who he had brought in with him; a certain situation that had let some lingering stress cling to her.

“Ah, Miss Akari, may you assist?” Ingo slipped the basket halfway off of his back, pausing for Akari to take it.

“Yes!” Eager to help, Akari grasped the basket in her arms and heaved it over to spill the contents into the clan members’ waiting baskets.

“Is Akari…” Irida whispered inquisitively to Ingo, seeing her chance with Akari’s back turned. “…staying?”

Trying to prepare dinner by making ends meet had been stressful, but the sight of Akari in the kitchen, sticking around with Ingo worried her doubly.

Akari was a invaluable friend and helper to their clan in many ways, and Irida would always be grateful for what she has done for them, but at dinner, she was yet another mouth to feed.

“Do not worry,” the warden reassured his clan leader, leaning in to talk in a lower voice that was masked by the loud ambience of the kitchen. “She merely wanted to see the hall, and come in to warm up a bit. After she assisted all day, it seemed only right to grant her request. Lady Sneasler is stationed outside; as soon as we’re finished here, Miss Akari will depart with her.”

“Oh,” Irida’s shoulders loosened, and finally the rest of the lingering stress washed off of her frame. “Alright then. Thank you, Ingo.”

“Of course,” Ingo nodded his head, understanding in his eyes.

He turned back to see Akari gently coaxing out more of the basket’s contents into the containers, a little at a time as clan members sorted what they could out of it into more individual baskets. Berries into one basket, beans in another, apricorns being left where they were…

“Almost done, Miss Akari?” Ingo questioned, his more naturally loud voice returning with a hint of restlessness. “Lady Sneasler must leave soon.”

“Almost!” Akari answered, pulling the last of the fruits and beans from the back of the basket, spilling them into the waiting container. “There!”

She set the empty basket aside as she dusted her hands off, and returned to Ingo’s side as the clan members thanked her, before continuing their sorting.

“We must be going now; I will return shortly Lady Irida, after I escort Miss Akari outside to Lady Sneasler.” Ingo exchanged with Irida as he placed a hand on Akari’s shoulder.

Akari couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, seeing as it was time for her to go, and Irida had not extended an invitation to her to join.

“Thank you for helping us gather for tonight, Akari,” Irida put on a smile of gratitude for the girl as she interlocked her hands in a more formal pose. “Maybe another time, when we’re less behind schedule with things, we can invite you to join us for dinner!”

…Well, that was sort of an invitation, Akari supposed.

Ingo threw Irida a silent, quizzical look from behind Akari’s shoulder, but Irida brushed it off. It was a simple nicety that she could formally extend at any time she pleased. At any time she felt they could afford to follow through with it. She didn’t know when that would be, but that was the nice thing about vague offers.

“Oh…I’d really like that, thank you!” Akari made sure to push her gratitude as she turned to leave with Ingo. “Goodbye, Irida!”

And with that, Ingo ushered Akari out of the warm, delicious-smelling kitchen, back into the loud, open mess hall.

Now able to take in the social atmosphere of the room a bit more, Akari glanced at the various tables of the thirty-some gathered clan members.

She could see families - parents talking amongst themselves and attempting to calm their children as they played with each other.

Friend groups who were catching each other up on the kinds of days they had, laughing and joking, or playing table games to pass the time.

Elders conversing a bit more quietly about who-knows-what, composed and contained, yet informal and relaxed.

The wardens scattered around the number of tables, chatting with any group of clan members who sat around them.

Akari much rather would have liked to slow down to look for a table to sit at, subconsciously wishing she didn’t have to depart with Ingo’s noble.

Oh how she wished she could be a part of this!

“Let’s not keep Lady Sneasler waiting,” Ingo gently guided her past the tables, towards the doors. Akari very much didn’t want to leave the warm atmosphere; she wanted to stay and have dinner with Ingo and the rest of the clan! But Irida did not extend an offer like that in the kitchen, and it would be embarrassingly rude to barge in uninvited, she ultimately decided.

“Right,” Akari relented as she followed Ingo to the exit that would take her back out to the numbing, bleak Icelands.

She was already mentally going over Beni’s menu in her head, trying to decide how much mochi she would order back at the Wallflower.

“…Now, as I said before, Lady Sneasler does not need her basket to carry you. She is very gentle,” Ingo pushed through the doors, venturing back out into the cold snowstorm with Akari keeping close behind. “Many a time, she has carried me with her claws in a rather-“

Ingo’s words died down as he took notice of two things, one of which snatched his cap from off his head.

The snowstorm had gotten considerably worse. The snowfall had been dropping straight down when they entered the hall, as heavy as it was, was now coming down at a harsh steep angle. The dark blue-grey haze of the storm made it impossible to see much further than a few yards as the wind rushed between the trees and structures of the settlement, like a pack of wild hunting beasts.

“Oh! I got it!” Akari chased after Ingo’s cap the second the mischievous wind had attempted to run off with it, and she dusted the snow off as best she could before handing it back to him.

“Ah, thank you, Miss Akari,” Ingo, a bit shaken, took his tattered hat back and placed it back on his head, this time holding it down as he looked around for confirmation of the second thing he noticed.

His noble was no longer stationed by the doors.

“Where is Lady Sneasler?” Akari questioned out loud as she squinted through the snow.

Ingo eyed the snow around the halls’ entrance; while the snowstorm was making quick work of smoothing out any lingering evidence, Ingo could see something large had been shuffling about in a particular manner, before large dents in the snow disappeared into the snowstorm.

“It appears she could delay her departure no longer,” Ingo concluded with a deep frown, letting the wind tug on the flaps of his coat, in favor of holding his hat secure.

Ingo was not upset at his noble, of course; he was proud of Lady Sneasler for listening to her maternal instincts and leaving, in order to ensure she made it back to her kits in time, before she got stranded apart from them. It’s what he would have wanted her to do, and he was relieved she didn’t wait for them.

However, this now left him and Akari in quite the predicament.

Akari was silent, unsure what to say at Ingo’s statement as he appeared to start considering options. Without Lady Sneasler here, how could she get back home?

Admittedly, they were inside the hall for longer than a few minutes. They should have hurried more when dropping off the supplies-

-No. Akari should have just gone home with Lady Sneasler when Ingo originally asked, she realized with a sting of guilt.

But what could she do? Ingo had been right about earlier, how the weather would get worse; the snow was coming down harder and obscuring the air, making it impossible to see very far. Even if the Celestica flute could somehow be heard over the snowstorm, it was too difficult for even any Ride Pokémon to navigate the dangerous terrain of the Icelands, whether by hoof or wing.

But Akari would not let herself be a burden. As much as she wanted to stay, she knew it would not be well-received to do so now.

“…Well, I suppose I should start back, even if Lady Sneasler isn’t here,” Akari reached into her satchel for a pokeball, the words coming out slower and heavier than she would have liked. Maybe if she had Ember out with her to keep her warm, she would be fine. “I, um…”

“-Miss Akari, The tracks leading back home are clearly unfit for travel,” Ingo commented as he stepped beside her, holding a hand out to still her search through her satchel. “As it is important for me to observe the safety of passengers, I cannot in good conscience allow you to depart at this time.”

“But, what do I do?” Akari asked him, pushing her hair out of her face as the storm constantly tugged on it. “I don’t want to disturb…this,”

She gestured to the closed doors that led back to the warm, inviting atmosphere of the community dining hall.

They were stuck between a rock and a hard place, Ingo realized. Except the rock was a dangerous option Ingo wouldn’t let Akari consider, and the hard place was more a decision that would being quiet but palpable social backlash, probably on them both.

Ingo had made up his mind almost immediately that he would not allow Akari to go through this storm; he wouldn’t even attempt it himself if Lady Sneasler was with him. He was relieved she had left when she did.

So what could he do? He brought her here, and allowed her to stay long enough to miss Lady Sneasler’s departure.

He was responsible for her now.

The thought of taking her back to his home crossed his mind, but Ingo quickly realized he couldn’t possibly leave her there to wait for him while he ate in the mess hall; she had not had dinner yet. That would be cruel.

The other few options Ingo ran through his mind all seemed cruel in a similar sense, and therefore were obviously no longer options.

Well, all of them, except for one.

The “hard place” option.

Ingo shut his eyes in a slight grimace. Oh, Irida was going to throttle him.

“You…are welcome to take a detour, and join us for dinner, Miss Akari.”

Fiddling with the brim of his hat, Ingo made the hard decision to extend an offer that wasn’t exactly his to give. But observing the storm, he cemented the decision he just made was the right one.

What else could be done?

“…Really?” Akari broke off her hopeless search for Lady Sneasler in the snowfall, to snap back to Ingo. “Are you sure?”

Well, she had gotten the exact offer she had been hoping for the entire time she was here. But given the circumstances, Akari felt bittersweet about it, and the emphasis was not on the “sweet” part.

Who knew she would would feel so conflicted about receiving an offer she was hoping so badly to get a few minutes ago?

“Of course,” Ingo crunched through the snow back to the doors of the hall. “It would be reckless and irresponsible to pursue any other option.”

“Irida won’t mind?” Akari posed one final question that had started to eat at her, the wind tugging at her scarf while snowfall clung to her hair. “I mean, well, she said I could come back at another time.”

“She will understand once I explain the situation with Lady Sneasler’s early departure.” Ingo grasped the handles of the hall’s doors, ready to open them once again.

Ingo wasn’t so sure how understanding Irida would be in that moment, but it wasn’t like Akari had done any of this on purpose to make things harder.

After all, she didn’t know.

“Alright,” Ingo’s frown failed to match the warmth in his voice, but his soft eyes made up for that. “We should return to the station, it’s warm inside.”

And for the second time that night, the doors opened for all of Pearl clan to see Ingo ushering Akari back into the warm room with him.

But this time, she was staying.

> Chapter 2

#submas #ingo #warden ingo #pokemon akari #pla akari #pokémon irida #irida #pokémon legends arceus #Pokemon legends Arceus #legends Arceus #pokemon fanfiction #Pokémon fanfic #Pearl clan is STRUGGLING #food issues #this one’s a big one haha #this chapter should be alright #but be wary this fic will deal with food and hunger and probably mild starvation #waywardstationfanfic

218 notes · View notes