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min-youngis · 4 years

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Leave The Bourbon On The Shelf

gif not mine (i can't look away, though)

leave the bourbon on the shelf / and i'll drink it by myself / and i love you endlessly / darling don't you see / i'm not satisfied - Leave The Bourbon On The Shelf, The Killers

~ Pairing : Park Jimin x Reader

~ Genre : Fluff, Humour

~ Rating : PG-13 (¿)

~ Summary/Excerpt : You may not have the real thing for the next few months, but as you take in the way his neck moves with every sip, the crinkle of his eyes as he laughs at something you say, the angle at which the dim, yellow hotel room night light falls on his face and the languid, relaxed stoop of his shoulders as they occasionally shake with giggles, you think you’ll do just fine with this temporary, pixelated substitute.

Established Relationship

~ Word Count : 2,243

~ Warnings : swearing, alcohol, one mention of s*x

~ A/N : 'a writer's greatest resource is wikihow' - me, 2020. jimin has a very pretty neck and eyes and hair and hands and face and laugh and smile and personality.

i'd love to hear feedback! spread the love!

masterlist in my description.

~~~

You unlock the front door and step into the musty house, slipping off your sandals in the foyer. Consulting the list on your phone, you make your way to the living room, at the corner of which there’s a large, deeply thrumming fish tank.

Feed Nemo and Dory.

Snorting softly, you look at the two Koi fish, swimming around in the water, that look nothing like their namesakes. With an amused shake of your head, you dutifully pick up the aquarium fish feed bottle that’s stood next to the lit up tank and undo the lid, shaking it over the water so the flakes fall in, bidding the fish to rush towards the food.

Satisfied, you move on to item number two on the list.

Clean sides of tank with algae pad. Remember to turn off the filter.

You look up, wondering where on earth the algae pad could be and if this is a good enough reason to call him. Giving a cursory glance around the room, just so you can feel like you’ve searched at least a little bit, your stomach gives a sad little flop as you notice it sitting right there on the shelf next to the tank.

Shaking off the irrational disappointment, you turn off the filter, strongly reminded of an afternoon the previous week, when he had wagged a finger in your face, pinning you to the couch with his stern gaze, explaining his fish tank cleaning instructions for the third time before he finally sent the house sitting list to you. You don’t remember much of the lecture, but you do remember the way his freshly dyed pink hair had lain on his forehead and the way his bracelets had jingled a little bit every time he wildly demonstrated his technique.

You’ve always had a short attention span, so it really is his fault for drawing out the explanation for as long as he did and spending ten minutes talking about how you should open the front door, despite the fact that you’ve done it countless times before.

Slipping on the rubber gloves that are next to the pad, you gently scrub the sides of the tank, trying to emulate the method that you’d seen him use. You ignore the weird, squelchy feeling as water slips into your glove, and once you see an actual difference in the glass, you pull your hand out, making sure to switch the filter on again.

Item number three.

Tell them they look pretty today.

You look doubtfully at the fish swimming around, done with their food and looking stupidly blank. Small? Yes. Fast when they want to be? Probably. But pretty? Decidedly not.

Feeling incredibly foolish, you bend down to fish eye level and mutter, “You both look very...orange today.”

Determining that this is good enough for Jimin and his excessively demanding Koi, you proceed to the next point.

Make sure they’re happy before moving on to next point.

Oh, for fuck's sake. Feeling increasingly frustrated, you bend back down, making eye contact with one dumbly floating fish. You don’t know what to expect, how to determine a fish's happiness.

“Here, fishy fishy fishy,” you mumble in a faux, high pitched voice, sounding shockingly like Jimin when he whines for something. Vaguely, you think of the energy meter on top of the puffles in Club Penguin, and wonder whether the Kois’ would increase, if they had one.

The fish you’re looking at gives no acknowledgement, simply turning away and swimming in the opposite direction in the spacious tank. Figuring that you’ll have better luck with the other one (Nemo? Dory? How on earth does he tell the difference?), you look at it, only for your heart to veritably stop beating for a second as you take in its stationary, close eyed form.

With your pulse in your ears, you gingerly let your finger dip into the tank, moving to tap the body. “Oh, don’t be dead, don’t be dead. I promise, you look very pretty today, please don’t be dead, Jimin will kill me – Oh, hello.”

The moment your index finger touches its scales, its eyes shoot open and it darts away from you after casting what you’re sure is a glare in your direction. Feeling half rueful that you woke it up from a nap and half relieved that it’s at least moving, you wipe your finger on your jeans, deciding that Jimin will have to settle for Koi that are alive, if not particularly pleased.

You simply ignore the next point on the word document he had sent you (‘Are you absolutely sure they’re happy?’), and move on to Water the plants. Use the green can. Do not use the blue can. I will know if you do.

Not taking very kindly to his tone, you obstinately stalk over to the utility counter and purposefully pick up the blue can, pointedly ignoring the green one that’s sitting next to it.

“Fuck you,” you mutter, taking a quick video as you fill it with water from the kitchen tap before moving to the balcony and sending the file to Jimin before pouring the right amount of water into each of the five pots. This step also had long, winding instructions. You clearly remember him from a week ago, drawing you out into the balcony one night under the guise of ‘A date under the stars, Y/N, it'll be romantic!’ only to royally screw you over and start explaining how much water his mini lotuses and peace lilies required. It had almost made you revoke your offer to house sit when he was away.

Once you’ve finished, you move on to the next item, absentmindedly placing the empty can back up on the shelf and drying your hands on a kitchen towel.

Reassure them that they’re loved and that daddy will be back soon.

Unable to stop yourself, you laugh out loud into the empty house at the wording, knowing that Jimin must have had a field day while typing that. You make your way to the balcony double doors that you’ve already locked shut. Too lazy to unlock them, you press your nose to the glass and look straight at the plants as the afternoon sunlight falls on them, feeling like you’re about to give a sermon to a comatose audience of five.

“You’re all, uh, very loved and daddy will be back soon,” you say, giggling through your words.

Calming yourself, you move to the next point.

Read the whole list again, but this time replace ‘they’ with ‘you'

Confused, you scroll back up, letting your eyes roam over the words. The first two points don’t make a lot of sense but at the third, a small grin replaces your quizzical frown.

You look pretty today.

Make sure you’re happy before moving on to next point.

Are you absolutely sure you’re happy?

Your dopey smile gives way to a chortle at You’re loved and daddy will be back soon, and as if on cue, your phone begins to vibrate with a video call from Jimin.

You eagerly accept, still chuckling, and say to his grainy, tired but happy face without preamble, “In what universe are you my daddy?”

His grin grows and he lets out a little giggle. His eyes are twinkling with mirth as he replies, “So you went, then?”

“I’m here right now,” you say, moving your phone farther away so he can see that you’re standing in his living room in front of the television.

“Did you finish the list?” he asks, running a hand through his hair, and you greedily take in the way the strands fall back down gracefully. You can make out a headboard and hotel room wallpaper behind him, a weirdly mundane backdrop to his shining, post concert face, still alight with excitement and adrenaline.

“Almost. I’ve just finished the super romantic eighth point.”

“Are Nemo and Dory happy?” he asks, smugly grinning at your comment.

With a roll of your eyes, you reply, “Yes, yes, Nemo and Dory are very happy.”

“And my lotuses?”

“You haven’t named them?”

“I don’t want them to feel restricted in their growth.”

Scoffing, you answer again, “Your plants are also very happy. Very, uh, green and such.”

Satisfied, he leans back on the headboard, taking his phone along with him so you’re given a lovely view of the insides of his nostrils as he adjusts himself into a comfortable position.

“How was the show?” you ask once he’s stopped shuffling around and you’re looking at his much more pleasing visage.

“It was awesome! The new army bomb changes colours now, it looked beautiful in the dark.”

You hum in reply, feeling a warm glow as you watch him continue talking about the concert. Tour means distance but more importantly, tour means performing every night, meeting new fans, and travel and different food. And it’s always fun reuniting when he’s back. In the non biblical sense.

It doesn’t mean you don’t miss him, because it’s only been a week but you feel like it’s been months since you last held his positively tiny hand, but you’ve successfully talked yourself into being mature and rational about this.

“You should read the last few points on the list,” he says abruptly at the end of his rant.

Switching apps, you threateningly warn, “Jimin, I swear if it involves telling your dumb fish-"

“Don’t call Nemo and Dory dumb!”

“-that they look pretty one more time, I’m hanging up on you.”

“Just read it, will you?”

Open liquor cabinet

“Why, you’ve got a pet spider in there that needs some tender loving care?”

Snorting, he impatiently flaps an arm at you to get you going, and you get up from your comfortable position on the couch, muttering about being made to move.

Mostly empty, the shelf has an expensive looking bottle of whiskey sitting in the front with a post it stuck on top of the label that reads ‘FOR TOUR'.

“Did you forget to carry the bottle with you or something? Can you even get alcohol past customs, how does that work?”

At the end of your sentence, you look back at your phone screen only to see Jimin with a wide grin on his face, one hand proudly holding up his own, similar glass bottle by the neck.

“It’s for you! So we can drink together!”

Slightly disbelieving, with a raised eyebrow, you ask, “So your solution for a temporarily long distance relationship is...alcoholism?” There’s no real bite in your words, though. You can see the wisdom in the plan. Wisdom that has strong root in the fact that you would never be able to afford a bottle that fancy.

“Look, I might be here and you might be there-"

“No, really?”

“-but we can still drink together!” he continues, ignoring your snarky interruption.

“Why can’t we eat together? Or watch a movie together?”

Raising his eyebrow and giving you a long, dramatic sigh, he slowly brings his own bottle down. “Okay, if you don’t want to, I guess I could just drink this very pricey, very imported bottle all by myself.”

“How can something be very imported?”

“Listen, do you want to drink or not?” he impatiently bursts, sternly looking at you through the screen. The effect is a little muted, due to the fact that his video gets stuck at that exact instant, eyebrows scrunched and lips stuck in a petulant pout, but it serves its purpose as you rush to bring the bottle down from the shelf while rapidly saying, “Okay, okay, yes, I want to drink with you.”

With a momentary painful screech of static, Jimin’s face resumes movement, morphing into content self-satisfaction.

Setting the phone down, you twist open the crystal cap of the bottle, proceeding to pour it into a glass.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep? You seem pretty tired.”

He waves away your concern as he gets his own glass from the hotel room kitchenette. “We've got a free morning tomorrow, I can sleep in. You’ve got a ride back?”

“Oh, am I not taking this bottle home and drinking it there?” you tease.

“I want to spend some quality time with my plants, I miss them.”

Giggling, as you settle into your previous position on the couch, now cross legged with a glass full of whiskey in your hand, you reply, “I can call Hyejin, no problem.”

“Lovely,” he says with a grin as pleased as punch spreading across his face as he similarly sits down on an arm chair at the corner of his room. Behind him, you can make out the beige blinds that are so typical to the fancy hotels in which the company books them rooms. “Now, tell me, Y/N. How are your side hoes doing?”

“Peachy,” you reply, taking a sip of your drink as you indulgently watch Jimin do the same through his phone that’s perched on the coffee table in front of him.

You may not have the real thing for the next few months, but as you take in the way his neck moves with every sip, the crinkle of his eyes as he laughs at something you say, the angle at which the dim, yellow hotel room night light falls on his face and the languid, relaxed stoop of his shoulders as they occasionally shake with giggles, you think you’ll do just fine with this temporary, pixelated substitute.

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p0l-anka · 3 years

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22, 24, 40, 57 from the 65 questions you aren't used to? ☺️

22 - do you have a secret talent? If yes, what is it?

Goodness gracious. Im not sure HAHAHAHAHA. Um, I'm greenthumb, I can propagate, I can sprout them from seeds - anything about being greenthumb. I have maybe more than 2 dozens of plants here in my apartment

I can cook? Is that considered a talent? I dont use measurements. I eyeball everything. I also dont follow recipes. I will use whatever i have in my pantry. And my food will still come out good

24 - You can only have one kind of sandwich, every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your disposal

- Sourdough. I can eat it every day. I will eat it plain. I will dip it on olive oil. Yummm

40 - Sunrise or sunset

- Sunset. I also love taking photos of sunset, it washes the sky with more colors than sunrise. Im also not a morning person, so sunrise is uh huh

57 - What is the last thing you drew a picture of

I can't draw manually because of my right wrist permanent injury, the last thing i created in photoshop is a mix of red spider lily plant with manta ray and a whale. I cannot post it here cz Its scheduled to be tattooed on me :3

65 - Anything interesting you could think of

Im not an interesting person. Hm.. Im not sure, feel free to ask!

I love museums, i love installation art. I love tattoos. Im planning to get more. I love to drink, i have high tolerance. I dont like crowded places,so i dont use public transportation. Im claustrophobic, i used to be able to cannot ride elevators but there was a time that i dont have a choice but to ride one everyday, so i can tolerate elevators now, as long as i wont get stuck on it like technical issues. But small places, i still cannot.

#Thank you for asking dim!#Love lots #Dim #Apol #Apol answers asks #P0l_anka

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 5 years

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Baby You Were My Picket Fence [Chapter 3: Light My Fire]

You are a first grade teacher in sunny Los Angeles, California. Ben Hardy is the father of your most challenging student. Things quickly get complicated in this unconventional love story.

Song inspiration: Miss Missing You by Fall Out Boy.

Chapter warnings: Language.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing) HERE

Taglist: @blushingwueen @queen-turtle-boiii @everybodyplaythegame @onceuponadetectivedemigod @luvborhap @sincereleygmg @stormtrprinstilettos @loveandbeloved29 @ohtheseboysilove @jennyggggrrr @vanitysfairr @bramblesforbreakfast @radiob-l-a-hblah @xox-talia-xox @killer-queen-xo

You open the front door and there he is: black button-up shirt, navy jeans, chic but not overdressed. His hair is neatly gelled back from his forehead. In his arms are a lug wrench, a car jack, and a brand new tire wrapped in an oversized, floppy red bow like a Christmas present.

“I think normal guys bring flowers,” you comment.

“I figured...since you’re automotively illiterate and all...you probably hadn’t gotten around to replacing the spare yet.” He shoots a glance at your Elantra, then announces victoriously: “I was right!”

“Mr. Hardy...Ben...I really can’t allow you to perform any more free labor.”

“Five minutes,” he calls over his shoulder as he trots to your car. He has trouble with one of the lug nuts, so it takes him six and a half.

“You can come inside,” you tell him once he’s finished. “I won’t be long, I just have to water my plants.”

Ben raises an eyebrow. It’s dark and rather undomesticated, yet endearing. “I feel like there must be better stalling tactics than that. If you’ve got cold feet, I can handle rejection.” But what he can’t do is disguise the way his shoulders slump, the way he bites the corner of his lower lip apprehensively.

“No, really, it’s totally stupid, but I’m really trying not to kill this batch and if I don’t water them now I’m going to be stressing about it until I get home, and I don’t want to be thinking about houseplants all night, I want to be thinking about...” You wave your hand towards Ben inarticulately. “You know. You.”

He smiles, showing his teeth, his eyes lit up like embers, flickering and radiant and warm. “Take your time, Martha Stewart.”

“My parents give me so much hell for this,” you call back to him as you flutter around the living room, standing on your tiptoes and reaching around furniture to water your peace lilies and spider plants and devil’s ivy and one wilting ponytail palm. “They’re farmers. They’re professional life-givers. I’m lucky if I can keep the cactuses alive.”

You hear Ben rambling around the kitchen. “I hope your nurturing skills are at least marginally better with first graders.”

You laugh, nodding even though he can’t see you. “I’m alright with those. I’m just more of a rock person than a plant person. Gems and minerals and volcanic glass...fossils and bones and teeth...that’s where the magic is for me.”

“I can see that. Dinosaurs are well-represented in your extensive fridge magnet collection.” There are clicks and scrapes as he rearranges them: prehistoric animals and tiny planets, peace signs and alphabet letters and cross-sections of agate. “These are so cool!” he exclaims.

You bustle back into the kitchen, place your watering can in the sink, and wipe your hands with a dishtowel patterned with cartoon brontosauruses. “Ready?” Your eyes flick to the refrigerator. He’s organized your magnets into a giant smiley face. It’s ridiculous, it’s juvenile; but you feel this liberatingly simple joy flooding through you like early autumn air. And the way Ben’s grinning at you—a little mischievous, a little proud—reminds you so much of Eli that your breath catches in your throat. You have no idea who Eli’s mother was, but her genetics were omnipotent; it’s almost impossible to find any of Ben in him at all. But every once in a while there’s an unconscious gesture, an off-kilter smile, and suddenly you can see the common threads that wove them into being like spiders’ webs.

“Ready,” Ben agrees.

You smooth your dress as you slip into the passenger’s seat of his Lexus, placing your purse between your feet, checking your hair and makeup in the sun visor mirror. Ben glances over at you as he shifts the car into reverse and roars out of your driveway. Your hands aren’t shaking, your heartbeat is hushed, there’s no hot rushing blood in your cheeks or ears; this shocks you. It’s eerie how inexplicably at ease you are.

“Find something good,” he says, pointing to the radio.

You seize the dial. “Uh oh. My first test?”

He smiles, his eyes on the road now. “Choose something lame and I abandon you at the nearest sketchy-looking gas station.”

You flip through stations until you find Somebody To Love. “I work hard, every day of my life, I work ‘til I ache in my bones...” “Okay, how I’d do?”

Ben steals a suspicious peek over at you. “Are you fucking with me?”

“What?” you ask, bewildered. “No, why?”

He shakes his head. “Never mind. You definitely pass. You’re a Queen person?”

“Oh yeah, absolutely, I adore Queen. Most classic rock, actually.”

“So have you, uh...” He touches his chin thoughtfully, what you’re quickly realizing is a little nervous tic. It’s cute as hell. Goddammit, daddy demon, stop being so fucking perfect. “Did you ever see Bohemian Rhapsody?” But something gives you the impression he already knows you haven’t.

“Not yet,” you confess.

“Not interested?”

“It’s not that, I just...” You hesitate, trying to put it into words. “I know it did well and all. But I guess I’m skeptical of anyone trying to play Freddie Mercury. He was a legend, he was one of a kind. So are the rest of them. Those are massive shoes to fill. It seems like setting the actors up to pale in comparison.”

“I’ve heard it was pretty good,” Ben presses, almost teases.

“Yeah, maybe...”

“And Rami won the Oscar. So his portrayal must have been satisfactory.”

“Okay, oh my god, I’ll see it, are you happy now? Were you on the marketing team or what?”

You’re only half-serious, but Ben chuckles evasively. “So you like old rocks and old music,” he pivots. “But not old not-boyfriends. Except Jeff Goldblum.”

“This is news to me. I sincerely thought you were sixty.”

He laughs, a full gutsy laugh this time, a laugh that says he’s caught-off guard and thrilled about it. “That’s okay. I’m into old stuff too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Old music, classic rock, just like you. But old books too.”

“Gatsby?”

His eyebrows leap up; you’re watching his face as streetlamps illuminate the car in reiterating flashes like a spinning pulsar. God, he’s beautiful. “How’d you guess that?”

“Eli’s middle name is Fitzgerald. That’s not a common one.”

“Ah,” Ben says, and his full lips turn up at the edges into a smile, proudly, fondly.

“I really like it.” That’s the truth; Eli’s a handful and that’s a titanic understatement—though he has been better the last few days, the only blip on the upward trend being his attempt to convince Brayden to eat a live cricket by paying him in Oreos—but his name is classic and elegant and a few literary references here and there never hurt anyone.

“Yeah, that was me,” Ben reveals. “His mother insisted on choosing his first name, I think she heard Eli somewhere and just liked the sound of it. But she let me pick the middle name. And The Great Gatsby was always my favorite book...and The Beautiful and the Damned, and This Side of Paradise?! Freaking incredible. In my humble opinion F. Scott Fitzgerald is a certifiable genius. So...Eli Fitzgerald.” There’s a color in his voice you can’t quite read: the golden yellow of reminiscence, the murky blue of loss, the grey nothingness of depression, the bloody maroon of deep pain or resentment. Who was she, Ben? How did she hurt you? And could I ever fill those hollow places you’re carrying around like pocket change?

He asks how Eli is doing in class, and you tell him; you ask about his favorite classic rock bands, and he answers: Boston and AC/DC and The Stones and Queen. His Lexus cruises by your go-to dinner spots—the affordable chains like Noodles and Co. and Panera and Chipotle—then past the mid-level raw vegan and farm-to-table joints, and finally into the neighborhood reserved for fine dining establishments with three-figure price tags and reservations booked up months in advance.

“Uh...” you begin. “I don’t think we’re going to get a spot at a place down here.”

“Think again.” He parallel parks with absurd ease in front of an Italian-Japanese fusion restaurant called Nejire. There’s a line of people in suits and evening gowns waiting at the door. You feel like a minnow in a shark tank.

“Ben...”

He comes around to your side of the car, opens the door, and holds out his hand. “You trust me?”

Do I? You take his hand in yours like a life raft. “Don’t let me down, Mr. Hardy.”

Unpredictably, fantastically, he brings your knuckles to his lips. “You got it.”

He spirits you inside, past the line of waiting customers, past the hostess and waitresses; they glimpse up and nod at Ben as he draws you through the main dining room and back to a VIP table in a dimly-lit, quiet corner of the restaurant. Oh, you realize with awe and trepidation. He’s an important guy.

You take your seat and open a menu as waitresses array full glasses of water and wine across the table. There’s nothing under fifty dollars. You flip to the salad page, searching desperately.

“What are you doing?” Ben asks gently.

“Um, nothing, just browsing...”

“You’re not paying for any of this,” he says point-blankly.

“That’s not very feminist of you,” you quip, but on the inside you’re sinking. This is too much, this is way too much. I can’t let him do this for me.

“I’ll explain later. Trust me, we’re good. Order something expensive or I’ll do it for you.”

“I’m a teacher, Ben. My idea of luxury is Olive Garden.”

He grins at you boldly, almost roguishly. “Oh we are going to have so much fun together, Miss Y/L/N.”

Orders are placed, wine is sipped, appetizers are ferried to the table. As you nibble on ahi tuna tartare and caprese sushi, you find yourself lost in how Ben motions wildly with his hands as he tells stories, how his large emerald-or-jade-or-malachite eyes gleam when he’s animated, how his voice is so rich and deep and yet mild, how it suddenly feels like you’ve known him your entire life. Oh no. Oh no, I like this guy a LOT.

Ben abruptly stops eating and cracks his knuckles. “So there’s something I need to tell you. Since we’re...” Air quotes. “Not dating.”

Oh fuck. He’s married or something. “Okay. I’m listening.”

“It’s about my job.”

Whew. “Ah yes, your elusive profession. You can tell me the truth if you’re a dogwalker or a circus clown or something. It’s always nice to out-earn someone. Actually, dogwalkers in L.A. probably make more than me...”

“I’m an actor.”

“Oh,” you reply cautiously. “Like, for tv shows or independent films?”

“No,” he says, amused. “For major films.”

I knew he was too fucking gorgeous to be a normal person. What am I doing here? “Like what?”

“Well, recently, Bohemian Rhapsody.”

You choke on the white wine you’re drinking and cough and gasp into your cloth napkin.

“You okay?” Ben asks. “Don’t die. You can’t die yet. You haven’t tried their tempura crème brûlée.”

“You...” You cough once more. “You were in the movie that made $900 million dollars...?”

He grins toothily. “So you were keeping up with it!”

“It was hard to miss that tidbit. It was all over the news. BoRhap won the Golden Globe.” Your head is spinning. “You’re an actor,” you repeat.

“I played Roger Taylor.” The brilliant, obscenely good-looking drummer, the man who wrote Radio Ga Ga and These Are The Days Of Our Lives and A Kind Of Magic.

“Oh my god, Ben!”

“I mean, I’ve been in other things too—”

“Ben!”

“Look, relax, we’re cool. I’m not telling you this to freak you out, I’m just explaining that you don’t have to worry about dropping a few hundred bucks at dinner. You have a right to know who I am if we’re going to be...involved. And there’s something else.” He wrings his hands. “I have to be...discrete about my personal life. Try to stay under the radar.” But now that effortless comfort is strained somehow, weighted, ominous; Ben averts his eyes. There’s a presence in the room like a storm cloud, trapped pulsing lightening igniting the opacity from within.

“Sure,” you say, thinking that a life in the spotlight can’t always be easy. “Lowkey. I got it.”

“Awesome.” He’s relieved.

“I have to keep it on the down-low too. I’m a pretty important person myself. A bunch of six-year-olds would lose their minds if they knew about my extracurricular activities. They would color such scandalous pictures in art class. Premarital dinner dates, maybe even handholding. Yikes.”

That makes Ben chuckle; the shadow is nearly lifted. “Keep drinking, Miss Y/L/N. I’m loving this.”

And it should feel weird or frightening or wrong that he’s using the word love this soon, this casually; but it doesn’t at all. It feels anything but wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~

Your feet are on your kitchen floor, your palms empty. Ben’s fidgeting around, his hands in and out of his jean pockets; it seems like he’s trying to say goodbye, but maybe he’s not.

“So...” he ventures.

You wonder if he’ll touch you, if he’ll kiss you. You try to catch his eyes, but they’re everywhere except meeting yours. “Hold that thought.”

You dash down the hall to your bathroom to smooth your hair, touch up your makeup, swish some Listerine. On the way back to the kitchen, you stop in the living room to check on your plants. If it’s possible, they look a little perkier than they did when you left a few hours ago. You run your fingertips over the broad leaves of your peace lilies, smiling faintly to yourself. “Maybe we’re going to make it after all,” you whisper.

You hear the distinct clicking sound of iPhone texting. “Oh shit,” Ben mutters from the kitchen. “I’m sorry, I gotta go, Y/N, okay? I gotta run. But I’ll call you. I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay, just a sec...” But by the time you rush into the kitchen to say goodbye, Ben is gone, the screen door swinging forlornly. Puzzled, you lock the door behind him as headlights flare to life in the driveway and swiftly retreat into the night. Then you turn around.

Your fridge magnets are rearranged again, this time in the shape of a heart.

#ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy fic #borhap fic #borhap #baby you were my picket fence #bywmpf

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lyllyan-weiss · 5 years

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LONG Character Survey: Lyllyan Weiss

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Lyllyan Aster Weiss

NICKNAME: Lyl, Lily, Lil' Lily.

AGE: 21

BIRTHDAY: 11th Sun of the 6th Astral Moon (November 10th)

ETHNIC GROUP: Auri|Xaela (In Eorzea)/ Human (Out of World)

NATIONALITY: Eorzean (In Eorzea)/American (Out of World)

LANGUAGES: Eorzean, Draconic, basically anything due to the echo.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: She is Bi. Swings both ways. She loves all.

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Biromantic

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Depending on the different routes on the story, she will be either single or taken.

CLASS: Jack-of-all-trades

•Knows everything and knows how to play everything.

• Favors caster classes above everything else.

HOMETOWN / AREA: N/A

CURRENT HOMETOWN / AREA: Shirogane is where her apartment is, but she sees Ishgard as her home that she spends her time in, and then the Crystarium had became home to her as well.

PROFESSION: Scion, Adventurer, Full time hero in both her world and Eorzea. In her world she is a waitress and an artist/animator.

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: Right now it is Brown with Light brown Highlights

EYES: Purple (Right), Green (Left)

NOSE: Small and Sharp

LIPS: Small and full

COMPLEXION: Pale but fair.

BLEMISHES: None.

SCARS: In Eorzea, her scars are battle scars that is more aligned on her back. They do not show up when she is in her world.

TATOOS: The Scion Tatoo on the part where the neck and back meet.

HEIGHT: 5'0

WEIGHT: 130lb (Eorzea)/ 150lb (Her World)

BUILD: Short, Thin and fit.

FEATURES: None really.

ALLERGIES: Rolanberries in Eorzea, Strawberries in her world.

USUAL HAIRSTYLE: Long hair with a half braid in the back in Eorzea. In her world she has short hair that stops in the middle of her neck.

USUAL FACE LOOK: Warm color Eye shadow applied lightly to the eyes and a very nude color for lipstick in Eorzea. In her world, she hardly puts make up on, but usually has dark circles due to being tired all the time.

USUAL CLOTHING: Depending on her mood, she'll go very modest, or wearing a bikini with thigh boots. In her world, she is always modest with usually a t-shirt and sweats.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEARS: Bugs (Mainly Arachnids, spiders are the worst.) Antilions that hide in the sands. Losing her love ones. Becoming Sin Eater. Being alone. Falling.

ASPIRATIONS: Explore all of the worlds she could go to, but also to make animations that can change the world.

POSITIVE TRAITS: Stubborn, happy go lucky, Compassionate, tries to take care of everyone, protective, loving, friendly, trusting.

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Stubborn enough to push past her limits, usually getting her hurt. She so selfless that she tends to forget about taking care of herself. She can be too trusting of others that she often gets hurt in the end. She usually bottles her problems with the worry of being a burden to others. Very emotional driven (Just ask Ser Zephirin).

ZODIAC: Scorpio.

TEMPERAMENT: Artistic and Motherly

SOUL TYPE(S): The Priest, The Artisan, The Server.

ANIMALS: Cat

VICE HABIT(S): From the definition that I read, her faults are that she feels like anything bad that happens to her or her friends are her fault, and that she sometimes Envy others. But her hobbies that she enjoys are reading, triple triad, drawing, and writing.

FAITH: The Twelve. Even in her world she believes in the Twelve.

GHOSTS?: Definitely

AFTERLIFE?: I hope there is one.

REINCARNATION?: Well so far that we know, reincarnation is a thing, right?

ALIENS?: I doubt the world was made for one type of civilization, plus multiple worlds. Yes.

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: Uh...Alphinaud does politics for me.

ECONOMIC PREFERENCE: Just trying to survive, man. Stable, I guess.

SOCIO POLITICAL POSITION: Uh... Alphinaud???

EDUCATION LEVEL: Lyllyan herself has had up to some college in her own world. In Eorzea, she has an understanding of Aether and well has learned all the classes, so being able to pick up something new, she can learn fairly quick.

FAMILY.

FATHER: Captain Carebear (Mykel Weiss)

MOTHER: She doesn't have the ability to go to Eorzea so her name is Lynn Weiss.

Siblings: Lucas Weiss(Rafien Dalarain(Deactivated)), Nathaniel Weiss(Random Guy (deactivated)), Olivia Weiss (Never been to Eorzea).

EXTENDED FAMILY: Grandmother(Nana)(Deceased), Granfather(Poppy), Fortemps Family (Rest in Peace Haucherfaunt).

NAME MEANING(S): Lyllyan is based off of the Lily flower. Aster is based off of the Aster flower, and then Weiss is a name given to those with white hair or pale complexion.

HISTORICAL CONNECTION: Um...Ascian? Amourotine?

FAVORITES.

BOOK: If its Manga, It's Rurouni Kenshin. Books would be the 'Septimus Heap' series by Angie Sage.

MOVIE/PLAY: Movie would be 'Wizard of Oz'. Favorite Play would be 'Hamilton'.

5 SONGS:

•'Seasonal Feathers' by Len and Rin Kagamine

•'Drakkar' by Distrion and Electro-Light

•'Light it Up' by Robin Hustin and TobiMorrow (feat. Jex)

•'Stitches' by Shawn Mendes

•'Perfect' by Ed Sheeran

DEITY: Thaliak

HOLIDAY: Valentione

MONTH: November/ 6th Astral Moon

SEASON: Spring

PLACE: Rak'Tika Greatwoods

WEATHER: Rain

SOUND: Ocean waves.

SCENT(S): Cherry Blossom, sweet.

TASTE(S): Favorite food is Bacon so....also likes sweet things.

FEEL(S): Fuzzy blankets, warm cloth, soft.

ANIMALS: She loves all animals! If she had to narrow it down, it would be Cats, Pandas, and Chocobos. Does Pokemon count?

NUMBER: 8 but screw Construct 8

COLORS: Purple, light green, light blue.

EXTRA.

TALENTS: Drawing.

BAD AT: Math. She used to bring her homework to Eorzea to have Alphinaud and Urianger help her.

TURN ONS: Oooo. Funny, kind, calm, generous, but also romantic.

TURN OFFS: Selfish, rude ass hoe, and killing my friends.

HOBBIES: Singing, Drawing, Reading, Exploring, Triple Triad.

TROPES: Mother Hen.

AESTHETIC TAGS: Chocolate and Caramel. Honey. Lavender and Leaves. I think that's how this works???

FC INFO.

MAIN FC(S): Scions of the Dawn. It consist of Dad and myself.

ALT FC(S): None.

OLDER FC(S): We did have an FC on Gilgamesh called Lionheart with the Tag FF8. It was one that we had started the game when we got out of beta, but moved to different server/data center.

YOUNGER FC(S): *Confused Au Ra noises*

VOICE CLAIM(S): ??????

GENDERBENT FC(S): *Even more confused Au Ra noises*

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1: IF YOU COULD WRITE YOUR CHARACTER YOUR WAY IN THEIR OWN MOVIE, WHAT WOULD IT BE CALLED, WHAT STYLE WOULD IT BE FILMED IN, AND WHAT WOULD IT BE ABOUT?

•So, I'm already making a comic that I want to make as an animation for the story of FFXIV with my character and her friends. This character was specifically built for FFXIV, but it has a twist. Kinda like a Sword Art Online ordeal, but instead of Millions of people playing are stuck in the world, it's just like 100, but they aren't stuck, in fact they are just chosen to go between their world and Eorzea. If they die, they don't actually die, but respawn, even in their own world, but they feel how they die and the only way for them to die in any shape or form is by natural cause like old age or sickness. This would be a 2D animation in the anime style and be a multi episode series with multiple seasons. I even though about branching out to go certain routes so that Lyllyan can end up with all my favorite characters. I would call it Final Fantasy XIV: A World Reborn.

Q2: WHAT WOULD THEIR SOUNDTRACK/SCORE SOUND LIKE?

•With it being a Final Fantasy story, it would have Final Fantasy Music.

Q3: WHY DID YOU START WRITING THIS CHARACTER?

•Lyllyan Weiss was made to represent me and she still does, but also inspires me to be more like my courageous heroic self. Because of this, I have been able to do things like crossing a bridge that's in bad shape to get to the other side without the fear of falling, just to get back to my mom who went to the other side on a trip we had.

Q4: WHAT FIRST ATTRACTED YOU TO THIS CHARACTER?

•She is literally me.

Q5: DESCRIBE THE BIGGEST THING YOU DISLIKE ABOUT YOUR MUSE.

•Just like me, she is stubborn and hard working, but there are times she pushes herself way too much. She hesitates to ask for help, not because she doesn't trust the people around her, but more of trying to not burden them. Others wish she would open up to them and also rest when she can. Raha has to literally force her to rest, and she nearly gets herself killed against the first battle with Rahjit because she kept getting back up to fight even when the others beg her to stop.

Q6: WHAT DO YOU HAVE IN COMMON WITH YOUR MUSE?

•Almost everything. Major thing is that she doesn't look like me, but also I know when to quit.

Q7: HOW DOES YOUR MUSE FEEL ABOUT YOU?

• I feel like if Lyllyan and I were to meet in person, we'd get along just fine. We would play video games all day long if we could.

Q8: WHAT CHARACTERS DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE INTERESTING INTERACTIONS WITH?

•OH BOI HERE WE GOOO

- Leveilleur Twins: Alphinaud and Alisaie are very close to Lyllyan. Alphinaud used to pull Lyllyan out of class to have her hurry up and go through the story, now its chill and play ace attorney. Alphinaud, depending on what route is taken, is definitely in love with Lyllyan and is constantly teased about it by everyone. Alisaie is like a sister to Lyllyan. They have had many nights where the pulled 24 hours playing Sims. Alisaie is who Lyllyan tries to protect the most between the two. She's also the reason why Lyllyan is now Bi. Lyllyan absolutely adores her and if the route is taken, they end up being the cutest couple.

-Leon D'hart: An Alt character that I made that depending on the story and route, he is also Lyllyan's Lover. He is a character made by Square Enix to be the Warrior of Light replacement if Lyllyan did not succeed in preventing herself becoming a light warden. His story with her is a bunch of trial and tribulations, but in the end they do end up married.

-G'raha Tia/Crystal Exarch: The main story Lyllyan's Lover. Great friend to start out and tears were shed when he sealed himself into the tower. He really kept Lyllyan guessing when he was Exarch. When Emet-Selch kidnapped him, Lyllyan was hellbent on getting him back. Now she visits him at the first everyday bring stuff from Eorzea for him, and even occasionally stuff from her world. He is her world as she is to him.

-The Scions: Thancred and Lyllyan are like Big brother, Little sister. He protects her, and scolds her as such. They may act like they hate each other, but the moment either gets hurt, the other is at their sides. Though rumor has it that Thancred had feelings for Lyllyan. Y'shtola is close to Lyllyan, but is usually not around often. Shtola usually is often around to keep an eye on Lyllyan's aether since her amount is quite high compared to the others and her fellow Warriors of Light. Urianger is someone who used to hardly talk to Lyllyan, but started opening up more after the years. He had watched her grow from 15 moons to now 21 as the others, but they seem to be more special to him. Lyllyan swore to protect him if anything ever happened especially after he asked her her thoughts on his new attire. Tataru is a precious angel and if anyone was to hurt her, Lyllyan would kill everyone and then herself. Ryne, even though she is not a scion, she is a scion. Ryne worries about Lyllyan, but is often in awe of her. Lyllyan and Thancred adopted her, and she's ended up calling Lyllyan mom on many occasions.

-Ser Aymeric: Depending on the route, he would be Lyllyan's Lover and he tries to protect her when he can, be it politics or in war. He has a dream to journey with her, and though he can't do so with Lylyan Weiss the Au Ra, there is nothing saying he can't make a character and become a Warrior of Light himself and travel with Sakura Yue(Lyllyan's Alt).

-Zenos Yae Galvus: So this guy commits Seppuku and then shows up at Lyllyan's job as her new Bartender. They end up becoming friends through the job, and the fact that Zenos is bored out of his mind that he can't go kill people,but finding out later that he is back makes Square Enix themselves worried about this guy.

-Estinien: Lyllyan had adopted him as her Edgy Son. He hates it. He reminds her that he is older than him, and she retorts about beating him as a Lalafel. He usually starts brooding after that on a high building that usually takes Alphinaud and Ser Aymeric to get him down.

•I'm only stopping this cause there are so many more characters!!!

Q9:WHAT GIVES YOU INSPIRATION TO WRITE YOUR MUSE?

•Music and Playing Final Fantasy. Mainly XIV, but others do count too, but also reading all the other fanfiction and comics about final fantasy XIV.

Q10: HOW LONG DID THIS TAKE YOU TO COMPLETE?

About...4 hours? Maybe more? My hands definitely hurt from all the typing! XD

============

Tagged by @amandafullmetal

Tagging @ladyramora @ranier-layarte @scholarlostintime @fabledtactician

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astarkey · 5 years

Text

I’ve been tagged by @chasemisprintedlies Thank you, sweetie!! 😊💖

1. What is your middle name? Marie

2. How old are you? 26

3. When is your birthday? May 9th

4. What is your zodiac sign? Taurus

5. What is your favorite color? Purple

6. What’s your lucky number? 9

7. Do you have any pets? Yes. A Yorkie named Cinnamon (though we’ve normally called her Cinni for a long time now haha) 😊

8. Where are you from? Virginia

9. How tall are you? 5′6″

10. What shoe size are you? 8.5 I think?

11. How many pairs of shoes do you own? Probably 7?

12. What was your last dream about? I can’t remember.

13. What talents do you have? I can draw.

14. Are you psychic in any way? Umm... maybe? I think so.

15. Favorite song? I have too many favorites, so I’ll pick one: Ana’s Song (Open Fire) by Silverchair

16. Favorite movie? Liar Liar

17. Who would be your ideal partner? Someone that I can trust, who’s honest, funny, charming, and respects me as a person and respects my boundaries.

18. Do you want children? Yeah

19. Do you want a church wedding? Yeah, sure.

20. Are you religious? Yeah, I’m Christian (but not thoose Christians)

21. Have you ever been to the hospital? Yes

22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law? No

23. Have you ever met any celebrities? Unfortunately, no...

24. Baths or showers? Showers

25. What color socks are you wearing? None, I’m not wearing any socks.

26. Have you ever been famous? No

27. Would you like to be a big celebrity? Umm, part of me would like to be, but really, I don’t. I don’t want that celebrity life lol.

28. What type of music do you like? All kinds, it just depends if it fits with my preference of music.

29. Have you ever been skinny dipping? No

30. How many pillows do you sleep with? 2

31. What position do you usually sleep in? Whichever way I feel comfortable, but I usually end up sleeping on my side.

32. How big is your house? I moved into a small apartment.

33. What do you typically have for breakfast? Eggs and bacon.

34. Have you ever shot a gun? No

35. Have you ever tried archery? Yeah, I enjoyed it.

36. Favorite clean word? Is “poop” considered a clean word? lol

37. Favorite swear word? Fuck

38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep? Probably over 60 hours.

39. Do you have any scars? Plenty

40. Have you ever had a secret admirer? Pretty sure, yeah.

41. Are you a good liar? I’m pretty good at it.

42. Are you a good judge of character? Yep

43. Can you do any other accents other than your own? Yeah, but they’re not very good haha.

44. Do you have a strong accent? I mean I don’t think so, but from someone else’s point of view, they might think I have.

45. What is your favorite accent? I like British accents.

46. What is your personality type? Very chill and reserved. Shy at first, but once people get to know me and I’m comfortable around them, I can be very funny and social (but I can barely hold a conversation lol)

47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing? Honestly, I don’t know. Probably my mom’s old leather jacket she had since the 90′s and she gave it to me.

48. Can you curl your tongue? Yeah, I think so.

49. Are you an innie or an outie? Innie

50. Left or right-handed? Right

51. Are you scared of spiders? I hate them, I’m sorry.

52. Favorite food? Mac and Cheese.

53. Favorite foreign food? I don’t know.

54. Are you a clean or messy person? Clean

55. Most used phrase? “But, yeah,” or “I’m sorry.”

56. Most used word? Like

57. How long does it take for you to get ready? Usually 10-15 minutes.

58. Do you have much of an ego? No

59. Do you suck or bite lollipops? Suck, but when it gets smaller, I bite them.

60. Do you talk to yourself? All the time.

61. Do you sing to yourself? Yes

62. Are you a good singer? Yeah, I think I can carry a tune.

63. Biggest Fear? Umm... going on an airplane. The end of the world while I’m still alive.

64. Are you a gossip? Uh, not really.

65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen? Thirteen

66. Do you like long or short hair? Both, but I love my long hair.

67. Can you name all 50 states of America? Yeah

68. Favorite school subject? History

69. Extrovert or Introvert? Introvert

70. Have you ever been scuba diving? No

71. What makes you nervous? Screwing up on something.

72. Are you scared of the dark? Not really.

73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes? Sometimes

74. Are you ticklish? Yeah

75. Have you ever started a rumor? I think probably once in elementary school by accident.

76. Have you ever been in a position of authority? Yeah

77. Have you ever drank underage? No

78. Have you ever done drugs? No

79. Who was your first real crush? I used to have a huge crush on Ricky Martin when I was 6.

80. How many piercings do you have? 4 (mostly on my ears)

81. Can you roll your R’s? Yeah, but I’m not so great at it.

82. How fast can you type? Pretty fast

83. How fast can you run? ... I can run pretty fast, but it won’t last long. But given a certain situation, I’d be speeding away.

84. What color is your hair? Dark brown

85. What color is your eyes? Brown

86. What are you allergic to? Pollen.

87. Do you keep a journal? No, even though I should.

88. What do your parents do? My dad works for a guard rail/fencing company while my mom works at a clinic.

89. Do you like your age? I mean nothing about me has changed since I was 16, so I guess so.

90. What makes you angry? Rude and inconsiderate people. Being ignored or forgotten about.

91. Do you like your own name? Not really, but it’s who I am. Like if I was given a choice to change my name, I wouldn’t ‘cause none of those names would do me justice lol. My name fits my personality lol.

92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they? I mostly have girl names, so here’s my list: Aaliyah, Lily, Cosima, Angelina, Sabrina, Jasmine, and Kate.

93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child? I want both.

94. What are your strengths? I’m a really tough shell to crack.

95. What are your weaknesses? It’s hard for me to say “no” during uncomfortable situations ‘cause I’m a people pleaser 😑 (I do say “no” though, it’s just the guilt that I feel right after.)

96. How did you get your name? My dad gave me my first name, I don’t know if the spelling of it came from my dad or from my mom.

97. Were your ancestors royalty? I don’t know, I heard my great great grandma or my great grandma on my dad’s side was rich, but idk.

98. Do you have any scars? Yeah

99. Color of your bedspread? Black

100. Color of your room? White

I’m tagging anyone who wants to do this (Really, I mean it. If you wanna do this, you can take it from me!) 😊

Thanks again for tagging me!!! 💕

#chasemisprintedlies #personal

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takerfoxx · 5 years

Text

RD Walpurgis Nights 7: Part 4

Ophelia sucked in sharply through her teeth. “Okay, um. Well, that’s really good advice and all, but I’m guessing things didn’t turn out well.”

“No,” Homulilly said, shaking her head. “It was a disaster.”

…

Three days ago…

“I’m so glad you decided to come,” Gretchen said happily as she and Homulilly walked hand-in-hand through the FIB’s schoolhouse. “You’ll love it, I promise!”

Homulilly smiled reassuringly, but she was gnawing the insides of her cheeks.

It was early evening, and they had just gotten out from dinner. Normally this would be when the two of them would return to their dorm to work on homework, relax, read, watch holovids, or just goof off, but Gretchen still had a few more meetings to attend with the planning committee for the festival, and Homulilly would be damned if she spent another night alone, much less leave Gretchen alone around Mitty without supervision.

Surprisingly, the committee had no issue with letting Homulilly tag along. She had expected Mitty at least to raise some kind of protest, but she apparently had been fine with it.

Maybe she had other things to worry about. Maybe she liked the competition. Or maybe…

Homulilly’s smile began to get a little strained.

…maybe she didn’t see Homulilly as competition at all. And why would she? She was gorgeous, while all Homulilly could manage was…cute. Maybe this was intentional. Maybe she wanted to steal Homulilly’s girl right in front of her.

Well, Homulilly for one was not going to taking that lying down. She was wearing a silky black dress that came down to just before her knees, and black stockings that extended just above them, leaving a few centimeters of skin in between. Every knot and tangle had been combed out of her hair and it now practically shined, every petal on her spider-lily was perfectly curled, and she had had one of the caretakers help her a few touches of makeup.

Gretchen, it should be noted, had just been confused when she saw how much Homulilly had made herself up, and was just wearing a frilly pink blouse, a white hooded jacket, and shorts. Still, she had been very complimentary regardless.

The planning committee had their meetings in the big auditorium where the FIB put on plays, rallies, and other school events. Homulilly imagined several professional looking people sitting politely in the first few rows, facing the stage, where the president was standing at the podium giving a presentation, probably one with holographic flowcharts or something.

As they neared the auditorium, Homulilly reflexively headed for the big double-door, but Gretchen passed right past them to head for the smaller side-door instead, the one near the stage that let staff get in and out without disrupting whatever was going on.

Homulilly got another surprise when they entered the room. Given that class sizes depended on girls dying and randomly ending up in Freehaven, it was only about twice the size of one of the classrooms. Still, it was one of the larger rooms in the FIB, and Homulilly had expected to see the members of the planning committee filling the seats, dutifully listening as the president addressed them from the stage.

Instead, the stage was empty, almost all the chairs were folded up and stacked along the walls, and only four girls were hanging out near the back. There was a plastic table set up with a variety of snacks and a keg of punch set up, and a few chairs were set up in a disorganized ring. Only one of the girls was actually sitting normally, while another had her chair backwards and was leaning over its back while the third was lounging her legs across three chairs while the fourth was at the table helping herself to the snacks.

Mitty was nowhere to be seen.

Homulilly hesitated. Her earlier conviction that she was headed to war and confidence to win suddenly started to dry up, and she felt very overdressed. The committee was a third of the size she was expecting, and like Gretchen, everyone else wore comfortable clothes and was chatting casually.

As Homulilly hung back, Gretchen bolted ahead toward the group. “Hey, guys!” she said cheerfully. “This is my girlfriend, Homulilly. She was getting bored without me and wanted to tag along!” She pointed to the girl sitting normally, who was Middle-Eastern, short of stature, and had her long, bright yellow hair tied back. “This is Yasmin Asfour, our president.”

“Hi,” Yasmin said with a shy wave.

Gretchen then turned to the girl reclining across three chairs, who was Caucasian, slightly overweight, and had short blue hair that looked like it curled naturally.

“That’s Patricia Sanders, the vice-president!”

“Hi,” said Patricia said.

“That’s Jada Avidan, the secretary,” Gretchen said, indicating the girl helping herself to snacks. An olive-skinned Jewish girl with wavy pink hair, Jada merely gave a quick half-salute over her shoulder and went back to what she was doing.

“And that’s Madeline, the treasurer,” Gretchen said as she pointed out the girl with the backwards chair. A black girl with bright red hair, she was a witch with arms and legs shaped like Corinthian columns. At her introduction, she just nodded and went back to talking to Vivian.

“Um, hello,” Homulilly said. “I, uh, hope I’m not intruding.” Then she remembered that she was supposed to look cool and confident and gave herself a mental kick.

“Where’s Mitty?” Gretchen asked as she grabbed a pair of chairs for her and Homulilly and sat down, her legs spreading in all directions.

Hopefully sick, Homulilly thought as she took her seat next to Gretchen. Or in jail. Or expelled. Or-

“Here,” said the familiar voice, dashing Homulilly’s hopes. It came from the far end of the room. There, a brown couch was facing the wall, with Mitty’s bright orange hair hanging out over one armrest and her bare feet dangling over the other. “Howdy.”

Then her feet disappeared, her knees appeared over the top of the cushions, and she kipped up, leaping fully off the couch to land on her feet on the floor. She was just wearing a pair of sweatpants and midriff exposing tee-shirt that bore the logo of some band that Homulilly had never heard of. Her hair was tied back in a messy ponytail and she wore no makeup.

“Okey-doke,” Mitty said as she picked up a folded chair and approached the small group. “Jalaga should be back in a bit, and we can get started. Hey, Homulilly. Glad you could make it.” Then she saw what Homulilly was wearing and her eyes went wide.

“Damn,” she said. She tossed the chair at the chair, giving it a weird twist of her wrist as she did. It somehow unfolded as it spun through the air and landed perfectly on all four legs, facing the rest of the group, letting her sit down. “Where’s the party? Can I come?”

Homulilly had no idea how to respond to that.

Right about then she heard the big double-doors opening behind them, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps. “Hey, Jalaga!” Jada called. “Right on time!”

That was when Madeline suddenly looked worried. She leaned over and said to Gretchen in a low voice, “Uh-oh. Hey, Gretchen? You warned your girlfriend about Jalaga, right?”

Gretchen’s eyes went wide.

Warn? Warn her about what? Homulilly instinctively turned in her chair to see what the problem was.

“Lilly-chan, wait,” Gretchen said grabbing her by the arm. “Maybe you shouldn’t-”

“Hey, everyone!” said a deep, booming voice, one that was definitely not human. “I got the rest of the flags, so we should be ready to-”

Homulilly finished turning fully in her seat. Then her face lost what little color it had and with a loud shriek she fell backward to the floor, nearly taking Gretchen with her.

Jalaga was a vaskergoros, all fur-covered muscle, sharp tusks, and four massive arms. Not a tall one, as such things were judged, but even at her three-and-a-half meters, she had to stoop to keep her head from scraping the ceiling.

That in itself would have been a surprise, but not a shock. Vaskergoros were not common in Freehaven, but Homulilly had seen enough of them to at least get sort of used to their size and fearsome appearances. However, this particular vaskergoros differed greatly from the ones she had seen in one significant regard: namely, she was a witch. A witch whose entire chest, shoulders, arms, and head were completely skeletal, and her living skull of a head levitated over the thick bones of her shoulders in a ball of green flame.

At Homulilly’s reaction, Jalaga froze in place and stared down at her. “Oh,” she said, her voice emanating as much from her fleshless chest as it did her mouth. “I…didn’t know we had someone new. Sorry for scaring you.”

Trembling like hairless rat freezing to death, Homulilly could do nothing but remain right where she was and gape up at the demonic visage staring down at her.

A very long silence passed, and then Jalaga said, “Oh. Hey! You got the same kind of arms I do! Neat.”

More silence. Someone coughed.

Jalaga glanced around and tried again. “So…do your elbow joints grind together whenever you try to reach around and scratch your back? Because mine do, and it is just the worst.”

Still no answer.

Jalaga slowly breathed out, no mean feat for someone who should not even be capable of the act. “So, is she going to be okay?” she asked the others as she pointed down at the cowering Homulilly. “Because this is getting really uncomfortable.”

…

Now…

“Ouch,” Ophelia said with a wince. “Ouch.

“Yeah,” Homulilly said with a sniff. Just reliving the memory was making her turn pink. “It was Dr. Antercateract all over again.”

“Dr…Oh, right. Oktavia’s tentacled friend. Um, would I be correct in assuming that this was one of those nights where literally everything that could go wrong did go wrong?”

Homulilly sighed. “Yeah,” she said. “Absolutely.”

…

Then…

Once everyone was finally all circled up, Yasmin cleared her throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “All right, all right, meet and greet’s over. Now, we need to-”

Homulilly, who had been itching for this moment, abruptly raised her hand.

“-and, ah, yes?”

Almost immediately Homulilly felt the urge to apologize for the interruption and say it was nothing, anything to get all the eyes now focused on her to turn anywhere else. Even the look that Gretchen was shooting her was more confused than supportive.

However, it was too late to back down now. “Hi. Um, sorry, I know I’m not really part of the committee, but…I did have some ideas I wanted to, you know, throw out there.”

Homulilly knew that the others probably wouldn’t be expecting her to contribute, but she wanted to at least justify her being there. Plus, given her recent gaff, she hoped that by offering up something they would be more quick to accept her.

However, it wasn’t interest in what she had to say that they were displaying, nor was it hostility for daring to speak up. Rather, they all just looked completely bewildered. Even Jalaga managed to convey an expression of total bemusement on her fleshless features.

Well, she had gone this far, and it was too late to pull out. Clearing her throat and hoping that her nervousness wasn’t showing in her voice, Homulilly pressed on. “I, uh, looked up the stuff you guys did the last few years, and noticed that there was, like, a dance theme going on, and, and how you’d do a dance from a different part of…” For a brief moment, Homulilly completely forgot the name of the planet they had lived on when they had all been alive, and nearly blanked out. “Er, th-the world of the living. So…I was thinking that you could…continue that, and this year you could…”

Madeline then cleared her throat, bringing Homulilly to a sudden stop. “Um, Homulilly? The festival is right around the corner. We’re pretty far past the brainstorming stage. In fact, most of our part’s already set up. We were just going to finish what we’ve got left and make sure everyone’s ready.” There was a pause, and then she added, “And this year’s theme is the Samba.”

“Oh,” Homulilly said as she slowly sank back into her chair. “Sorry.”

Gretchen gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

Yet another beat passed, and then Mitty said, “Still…it’s good that you wanted to help out. So…maybe you could join the committee next year, yeah?”

Homulilly didn’t trust herself to respond. Mitty…was trying to comfort her, to make her feel better. Mitty felt sorry for her! Gretchen felt sorry for her! They all felt sorry for her, at least the ones that weren’t annoyed by the interruption! Homulilly had shown up hoping to impress and show Mitty up, but instead she had embarrassed herself so badly that Mitty was taking pity on her!

And the worst of it is that it was all Homulilly’s fault. Of course they wouldn’t need any more ideas; of course they would be almost done! Why hadn’t she known that? It was obvious! But she had been so caught up in the idea of going to war with Mitty that she had completely failed to think logically and instead had jumped at every dumb idea that had crossed her mind.

Yasmin had started talking again, picking up where she had left off, no doubt in part to steer attention away from Homulilly’s latest screw-up. Homulilly planted her hands on her knees in hopes that it would keep them from shaking, but she couldn’t stop her fingers from curling, crinkling the fabric of her skirt. She had started the evening primed and ready to go to war, but now it was herself that she wanted to smack.

…

Now…

“Wow,” Ophelia said. “Okay then.”

Homulilly was already red in the face due to what had recently gone down, but reliving the previous night’s humiliations darkening the color into purple. “I was an idiot,” she mumbled. “I was such an idiot.”

Ophelia pulled out another candy bar (how many of those did she keep on her?), slowly unwrapped it, took a contemplative bite, chewed for a bit, swallowed, and said, “If I tried to make you feel better, would it make it worse?”

“Yes.”

“Duly noted. So…what happened next?”

…

Then…

The actual meeting part had been mercifully brief, and within minutes everyone headed outside to get to work. Homulilly sulkily followed, mentally kicking herself every step of the way for every single decision she had made in the last twenty-four hours.

Sure enough, everything was practically done. The dance circle was an octagonal wooden stage surrounded by a white lattice wall, with a big opening on one side. All that was really left was to put up the last few decorations.

Once outside, everyone quickly dispersed to their tasks. Nobody said anything to Homulilly, so she sat down on a bench to watch as the last bits of light-hanging and sign-painting was taken care of.

The first thing she noticed was that Mitty and Gretchen weren’t working anywhere near each other, which was a relief. Or maybe it wasn’t. Homulilly had half-expected for Mitty to take advantage of Homulilly’s public humiliation to swoop in for the kill, but instead the two were barely interacting. Maybe she felt so sorry for her rival that she had decided to back off for the time being, out of pity.

Or, as Homulilly bitterly reflected was most likely the case, she didn’t consider Homulilly to be any kind of rival and saw no need to capitalize.

At the moment, Mitty was hanging out near the FIB’s wall, talking to Madeline. Homulilly watched as the two chatted and laughed, playfully exchanging barbs. Homulilly frowned. Come to think of it, Mitty was acting much the same around Madeline as she had with Gretchen. What was going on? Was she trying to seduce everyone on the planning committee?

Then, right there in front of everyone, Mitty reached down and grabbed a big handful of Madeline’s butt.

Homulilly’s jaw dropped at the boldness. Well, sure, she was used to Ophelia and Oktavia’s open appreciation of any cute girl that walked by, but they at least kept their hands and comments between the two of them. This was a whole new level of brazen!

“Sexual harassment!” Madeline called out, laughing. “Sexual harassment!”

“Hey, Mitty!” Patricia called over from where she was working. “Wait until after we’re done before you start molesting people!”

Confused, Homulilly just shook her head. Okay, maybe she was worried over nothing. Maybe that was just how Mitty was with everyone.

Still laughing, Mitty grabbed up the banner she was to put up and a bucket of tools and turned toward the wall. Homulilly expected her to leap or run her way to the top like everyone else, but instead she lifted her right leg, planted her foot against the side of the wall, lifted her left leg, and then proceeded to casually walk all the way to the top, her body perpendicular to the ground.

Despite the dark cloud that was hanging over her, Homulilly couldn’t help but leap to her feet and blurt out, “She can walk on walls?”

Though there was a fair distance between her and the apparent human spider, it was close enough for Mitty to hear, and she turned her head to smirk down at the stunned girl. “Hell yeah, I can walk on walls! Used to need to summon up my uniform boots to do it, but since that ain’t happening anymore, now I can do it whenever!”

“You know, I never got that,” Jada remarked from where she was working over at the stage itself. “We can still summon up our old weapons, right? So how come we can’t get our uniforms back?”

“Who the hell knows?” Mitty said with a shrug. “But hey, given the choice, I’d go with ol’ Sexy here.” She shifted the banner under her armpit, moved the bucket over to her left hand, and held out her right. There was a flash, and then a long green staff with a triangular yellow crystal at both ends was in her hand. She spun it around one-handed like a baton and then jammed it against the side of the building. The crystal seemed to melt and mold itself against the wall and the whole pole stuck.

Hanging the bucket on the pole, Mitty knelt down on the wall to get to work.

Homulilly thought back to her visits to the Ladoga house, where Ophelia, Charlotte, Oktavia, and Candeloro had their old weapons hanging over the fireplace, as they had managed to hold onto them when making their escape from Dead Drop City. She wished that she and Gretchen had had the presence of mind to do the same, but they hadn’t even seen theirs. Presumably they were still there, within that terrible clock tower. Just another thing Puella Magi had over witches.

“Lilly-chan!”

Homulilly turned to see Gretchen waving over to her. The pink-haired witch was hanging flags on the wooden latticework wall that surrounded the courtyard. She was making good time too, as she had her nest of wire-legs stretched all the way across the wall, each one plucking up flags to tie them into place in an impressive display of multitasking. It made her look like an incredibly cute pagan god of legend.

“Come on! You can work with me!”

Normally Homulilly would have jumped at the chance, but now all she could do was wonder why Gretchen even needed the help, as she was handily doing the work of at least six people with little effort.

It’s because she feels sorry for me. I mean, look at me, sitting by myself and looking pathetic.

Still, at least it was something to do, and maybe by being helpful Homulilly could make up for her earlier slipups. Sighing, she got up and walked over to where Gretchen was working.

Gretchen reached down with several of her legs and twisted them around to form a pair of step-ups. “C’mon,” she said. “I’ll give you a boost!”

Homulilly glanced over to where Mitty was still crouched on the side of the building, half-singing and half-humming a pretty raunchy hip-hop song. “No, it’s okay. I got it,” she said.

Gretchen blinked. “Are you sure? Because I-”

Homulilly took a few steps back, calculated her path, and bolted toward one of the columns. Then, just like she had done a hundred times to reach the rooftop pathways of Freehaven, she leapt up.

At first everything went as planned, and Homulilly was able clear most of the column’s length with a single bound. However, as she did so, she realized her mistake: sure, the walls she was used to scaling were far higher, but they also included a series of handholds and footholds, whereas the column had nothing for her to hold onto.

As Homulilly felt her ascent start to slow and her descent starting to take hold, she desperately braced her feet against the side of the column and pushed up. It wasn’t much, but it gave her enough momentum to seize onto the top of the beam with both hands. Then, before anyone could notice her near-mishap, she hauled herself up.

Straddling the beam with her legs, she shot Gretchen what she hoped was a confident smile. “See?” she said. “Nothing to it.”

Then she saw that Gretchen had several of her legs reared up around her like a startled octopus, no doubt at the ready to catch Homulilly if she fell. “Oh,” she said, looking genuinely surprised. Then she grinned and lowered her legs. “Cool! All right, let me show you what we need to do.”

Homulilly’s smile faltered. Wait, did she really think that Homulilly wasn’t going to make it?

Then she heard a small chuckle. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Mitty was shaking her head as she snickered. There was no doubt about it; she had seen how close Homulilly had come to falling.

Wincing, Homulilly turned away and instead focused on helping Gretchen with the flags.

The two worked in silence for a bit, which for them was unusual. Homulilly honestly found it hard to concentrate on what she was supposed to be doing, as her mind kept racing to come up with something to break the silence, anything they could talk about that wouldn’t betray the nerves she was feeling.

Then Gretchen said, “Um, Lilly-chan? Can I ask you something?”

The last time Gretchen had ventured that kind of question in that tone, it had led to their first kiss. But given recent events, Homulilly wasn’t exactly optimistic that the subject matter was going to be anything nearly as positive. Forcing what she hoped was a warm smile, Homulilly said, “Sure!”

True enough, Gretchen’s question was not one that Homulilly really wanted to answer. “Um, are you…okay? Because you’ve been acting very weird lately.”

Though she wasn’t much for swearing, all the time spent with Cheese the parrot had given Homulilly a large and filthy vocabulary to work with should ever the need arise. And though she said none of the words out loud, mentally she ran through most of them in seconds.

Fighting to keep her panic from her face but knowing that she was failing miserably, Homulilly stammered out, “Uh…wh-what do you mean?”

Gretchen was many things, but an idiot was not one of them. She just gave Homulilly the look, obviously not fooled in the slightest.

Damn. Damn, damn, damn. What was Homulilly supposed to do? She couldn’t come out with the truth, which in itself just felt so completely wrong, as Gretchen was the one person she could always be honest with. But she couldn’t just tell the truth and say that she was worried that Gretchen might leave her one day.

Think, Homulilly. Think! There had to be something she could say, had to be something she could say to allay Gretchen’s concerns.

And then, in a flash of inspiration, she had it.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and fortunately did not have to fake it. “I know, it’s just…you know, after the museum trip, everything’s just been feeling like it’s upside-down, and…” She sighed, and said again, “I’m sorry.”

The annoyance in Gretchen’s eyes softened, to be replaced with sympathy. “Oh, Lilly-chan.” Then she suddenly lunged forward to seize Homulilly in a tight embrace.

Homulilly, who had not been expecting that reaction, almost went stiff with surprise, but thankfully her reflexes took over and she immediately returned the gesture, wrapping her arms around Gretchen in return.

Her face close to Homulilly’s ear, Gretchen whispered, “Lilly-chan, I know things are scary right now, but you don’t have to worry! You heard what they said: so long as we stick together, we’ll be all right.”

That was just what Homulilly needed to hear. She sighed, letting the tension in her shoulders recede a little. Maybe she had been a little silly. Maybe she had let Annabelle Lee’s words get to her. But everything was going to be fine, right?

Then Gretchen said, “That’s why you don’t need to act cool for me, okay? Just be yourself. That’s all I want.”

Normally Homulilly would have been just fine with that, but something about the way Gretchen said that sounded sour to her ears. “Don’t need to act cool”? So…Gretchen didn’t think she was cool?

Well, granted, Homulilly herself didn’t think that she was cool, but now she was starting to realize just how cool everyone in her life was. Ophelia was really cool, Oktavia was also really cool, and Charlotte was pretty cool herself, with their brash personalities, funny quirks, and the confidence with which they did everything. Even Candeloro, who was the least aggressive and most feminine of the group, was also cool in her own way. And Gretchen, who was small, cute, and really pink, seemed to have no difficulty endearing herself to the cool people and making friends with them.

In fact, now that Homulilly thought about it, back when they had first met all of their friends, Ophelia had first approached her because Cheese had scared her and Ophelia had wanted to cheer her up, and it had taken a lot of coaxing to just get Homulilly to talk to her. Whereas Gretchen had been the one to approach Oktavia and strike up a conversation.

And then there was Mitty.

Everywhere she went, Gretchen just kept fitting in with cool people, while Homulilly just seemed to be tagging along for the ride. It had even been Gretchen that had rescued herself from the torturous situation she had found herself in and saved Homulilly from the clock tower.

Gretchen said that she loved her with all of her heart, and Homulilly believed her. But with all the talk she had been hearing lately about soul resonance, how much of that was because they had joined together as a Walpurgisnacht, and how much would have happened anyway? Did they even like each other in the old life? Were they even friends?

Homulilly had an image flash through her head, that of what their old Puella Magi team might have been like, where the past-selves of Gretchen, Ophelia, Oktavia, Candeloro, and…maybe Charlotte (they had never really worked out why she didn’t share the same reflexive recognition as the others) risked their lives to protect the city and looked really cool doing it. And in the back was Homulilly, always holding the others back, always coming up short, always screwing up and making things worse.

Always letting everyone down.

And that was her now. The others kept her around, sure. And she had no doubt that they liked her. But how much of that was out of pity? For all she knew, in their former life she had been the black sheep of the group, the one that the rest just kept around for the sake of having as much firepower as possible.

All of this passed through Homulilly’s mind in just a few seconds, but she couldn’t let Gretchen know. So she just forced everything she was feeling and thinking from her face and voice and said, “Okay. I’m sorry. Thank you.”

They parted then, though Gretchen kept her hand on Homulilly’s shoulder.

“Just hold on,” she said. “We’ll be fine.”

Homulilly nodded and turned in her seat…

…only to just then remember that she was seating on a wooden beam fifteen feet in the air.

She felt her balance leave almost immediately. She tried to correct herself, but somehow her stupid skirt had gotten twisted under her and that just threw her off all the more. She then tried to grab onto the beam for support, but somehow her hand fell onto the bucket of flags that was sitting right behind her.

The bucket fell, and Homulilly slipped right along with it.

She let out a loud yelp as she went horizontal, headed for what promised to be a very painful impact on the wooden stage below.

And then she stopped.

A moment later she heard the bucket clatter against the ground.

Blinking in surprise, Homulilly looked around to try to get some sense of what had happened. She was still horizontal, hanging perpendicular to the wooden beam, one leg still thrown across it. But in defiance of gravity itself, she was floating in midair.

Then she felt the wire-thin bindings around her waist and arms.

Gretchen had lashed out with four of her legs, snatching her before she could fall and keeping her in place. Looking concerned, she slowly maneuvered Homulilly back into place. “All you all right?” she said.

Though her illusionary heartbeat was still pounding in her ears, Homulilly managed a nod. Whew, that had been a close one.

And then she heard Yasmin say from down below, “Um, you guys okay up there?”

Homulilly turned, slowly and carefully, to look. Everyone had stopped what they were doing and were all staring at the pair.

Gretchen waved to them. “We’re fine!” she said. “Just a little slip. Don’t worry!”

Homulilly’s eyes swept over the group, seeing the looks of pity and disappointment.

Then she looked up. Mitty was now standing on the roof of the FIB building, far above them, her head bowed with one hand pressing against her forehead. She slowly shook her head, in clear disbelief that the klutz had done it again.

…

Now…

“Well?” Homulilly said.

“Well what?” said Ophelia.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?”

Ophelia leaned back to recline across the wall on her elbows. She pushed her hat back and said, “Got plenty to say, but I think I’m gonna wait until you’re done before I say it.”

Homulilly sighed.

“Well?” Ophelia said, rolling her wrist to urge her on. “Keep it going.”

…

Then…

At the start of the night, Homulilly had been confidently striding forward with her shoulders straight, her head held high, and ready to prove herself to be just as cool as Mitty.

Now she no longer cared about any of that. She slumped into her seat next to Gretchen, head down, eyes moodily studying how the tiny marshmallows bobbed around in the steamy brown swamp of her hot chocolate.

At long last the night had come to an end, and everyone had decided to go hang out at the FIB’s all-hours coffee shop. Homulilly had frankly would have preferred to not to, but she was in such a bad mood by then that she couldn’t even muster up enough energy to say otherwise, so she had just said nothing and slouched after everyone.

Since Jalaga was still with them and couldn’t exactly come inside, they were all sitting in the outside area in a circle around a firepit, nursing their drinks and pastries and chatting away. It seemed that the others had decided to just ignore Gretchen’s moody and kind of embarrassing girlfriend and just act like she wasn’t there.

Some things never changed.

Though she wasn’t participating in the slightest with the conversation, bits were drifting past her consciousness. Apparently they were talking the museum trip.

“It was just such a trip, you know?” Mitty was saying, referring to their excursion to the museum the day before. Unlike Homulilly, she was wholly at ease, relaxing with one leg up over the armrest and the other stretched out onto the edge of the firepit. And why wouldn’t she be? She wasn’t the one that had made a fool of herself in front of everyone. “I mean, it’s one thing to read about all that stuff, see the pictures, watch the videos…er, holos, but it’s another to like jump into someone’s freaking memories.”

“Yeah, I remember going through the same thing last year,” Jada said as she shook her head. “Only worse. I hadn’t even heard of the Void Walkers before then.”

“Seems kind of scummy, if you ask me,” said Madeline. “I mean, to drop that on us right before the festival. Kinda kills the mood, right?”

“Maybe they’re hoping it’ll cheer us up,” Jada said.

“It didn’t for me.”

“Okay, but you know what I don’t get?” Mitty said. “See, the part I was really looking forward was meeting Astrid. Because she’s supposed to be one of the only witches to turn back into, uh, into a Puella Magi, right? And if we were going to see her memories…”

“You thought you would get to see how it happened,” Patricia said.

“Yeah, pretty much. Except no, that’s when they decided to show us her girlfriend’s memories of that moment. And when I looked it up to find out why, it turns out that it’s because there wasn’t any memories to show. Like, they actually scanned her brain and found this great big blank spot.” Mitty shrugged. “So…who the hell knows what happened?”

“We don’t have brains anymore, dumbass,” Jada said.

Mitty flicked a straw at her. “Well, maybe you don’t. ‘Sides, you know what I meant.”

“It was the Ideal Witches,” Jalaga said in a low voice. The flaming vaskergoros witch was sitting on the ground with her legs crossed and her arms folded in her lap. She was already kind of eye-catching like that, but that pronouncement brought all attention to her.

A strange change had suddenly come over the group. Despite the warmness of the night, Homulilly felt a strange shiver run down her back. Something about the way Jalaga drew her full attention. “I’m sorry, the what now?” she said.

Mitty shot her a look. “Seriously, you’ve never heard of the Ideal Witches?”

“Um, I haven’t either,” Gretchen said as she hesitantly raised her hand. “What are they?”

“Not everyone reads as much as you, Mitty,” Yasmin said.

Jalaga shrugged. “Still. Given that you’re all on the planning committee for the Cultural Exchange Festival, I’d expect you all to know a little more about cultures outside of Freehaven.”

“Earth cultures, and other species’ cultures, not afterlife cultures,” Yasmin retorted.

“Even so.”

A silence fell over the group. Though they were sitting in a well-like plaza in a thriving metropolis, Homulilly suddenly felt like they were really out by themselves in the wilderness, gathered together around a crackling fire, the only thing holding the darkness at bay. Certainly Jalaga’s demonic visage added to the effect.

Then Gretchen tried again. “So…what are they?”

Jalaga didn’t answer right away. She just stared into the firepit, seemingly lost in thought. and when she did speak, she didn’t even seem to be speaking to them at all. “The Ideal Witches. Seven beings of unfathomable power. Some say that they were once a Walpurgisnacht made up of thousands of souls, but somehow only split into seven pieces. Others say that they each were a Walpurgisnacht that somehow remained whole upon death, keeping all the souls that they had absorbed. But they’re out there, out in the wild, untamed territories, luring the lost and unwary into their realms, entrapping them and feeding off their souls forever.

“It is said that each one presides over a separate aspect of our lives here, and our fates are steered by their wills. There is Mephisto, the human witch of Dreams. Nefflin, the andalite witch of Love. Zuffren, the vekoo witch of Desires. Kuh’sur’ri, the ai’jurrik’kai witch of Hate. Vendrel, the Nesk witch of Despair. Folc, the vaskergoros witch of Deception. And Irn, the kotoss interdrent witch of Determination. They are said to test those that they find interesting, to see if they’re worthy of receiving their blessing. And those who pass are granted their heart’s desire, while those who fail are added to their collection of souls.”

“So…like a reverse Incubator then?” Madeline said.

“Not a bad way of looking at it. Though with Incubators you got your wish and lost your soul. With the Ideal Witches it’s either/or.”

Patricia’s face screwed up in confusion. “And people believe in all this?”

“We go to school with a girl who can take her head off and dunk it like a basketball,” Mitty retorted. “Also, we’re dead and still sipping hot chocolate with a flaming alien. And I can walk on walls. How is any of that less weird?”

“Technically from my viewpoint, you all are the aliens,” Jalaga said good-naturedly.

“Yeah, I guess you have a point,” Patricia sighed. “Hell, if they are real, I kinda hope they’d visit me and give me some idea of what to do after graduating.”

“That brings up a good point,” Madeline said. “What do you guys want to do? Because I keep changing my mind.”

“…I’m honestly not sure anymore,” Mitty said. “I mean, I was going to go into professional dancing, but apparently you got to be something spectacular to compete out there, given what everyone can do, and I guess it doesn’t have the same mileage that it used to. So maybe I’ll just keep doing it as a hobby.”

“I know what you mean,” Gretchen said. “Our friend Ophelia-chan is an amazing dancer, but she still works at the power plant.”

Mitty stiffened. “Wait, wait, wait, hold up. Ophelia? Like, the bald girl who always wears red? That Ophelia?”

“You know her?”

“Know her? Of course I know her, every dancer in the city knows her! She’s great! She trains at the studio where my dance class is, and even subbed in on a couple classes!” Mitty shook her head. “And you’re friends with her?”

Now Homulilly interest was piqued enough to look up. After all, she had suddenly found something that she had that Mitty could be envious of. “Um, yeah. We go hang out at her place all the time.”

Sure enough, Mitty looked downright stunned. “Wow. Wow. So you get to go behind the scenes and everything. Hey, is it true that she has a private studio in her basement, just for her?”

“Er, no?” Gretchen shrugged. “Not that we’ve seen.”

“If she did, why would she be training at your studio?” Homulilly added.

Mitty pursed her lips, and Homulilly realized that she had sounded a little flippant.

However, Mitty didn’t press the issue. “I guess you have a point,” she said with a shrug. “But you have seen her dance battle?”

Gretchen nodded. “A couple times. That one time they took us to Sardi’s Land of Miracles-”

Mitty’s jaw dropped. “Ophelia was the one to take you to Sardi’s?”

“Well, her and the rest of our friends, anyway,” Gretchen said with a shrug. “Anyway, they had this big tent with a…a dance battle thing going on, and Ophelia took on this vaskergoros called, uh…”

“Busker?!” Now Mitty’s eyes were practically popping from their sockets. You saw an Ophelia vs. Busker dance-off at Sardi’s Land of Miracles?! Why the hell didn’t you ever tell me?!”

“…you, uh, never asked.”

“But you know Busker, right?” Mitty said, turning to Jalaga. “She’s like this famous top-boxer, does a lot of crazy stuff with water magic?”

Jalaga somehow managed to convey a look of befuddlement despite not even having much in the way of a face. “Er, no?”

“Seriously? How could you not have heard of Busker?!”

Two flaming, skeletal shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Not every vaskergoros knows each other. Besides, I don’t follow top-boxing.”

Mitty sighed in disappointment. “Aw, Jesus Christ. Okay, who won?”

“Busker, I think,” Gretchen said. “They were tied up until then.”

“So it was the third one.”

Jada stared at her blankly. “How many of these things were there?”

“Five so far. Ophelia’s in the lead, so there’s probably going to be another before too long.” Mitty sighed. “I hope I can find out where the next one’s happening in time to clear my schedule. I have to see one before they call it quits.”

“You think you’ll be up to challenging them one day?” Madeline asked.

Mitty snorted. “I wish. I mean, I’m good, but I’m not that good. Well, yet.”

“Well, I mean, it’s not like you have to rush,” Vivian said. “You have pretty much forever to practice.”

Gretchen made a face. “I guess…”

“And there’s no lack of choices,” Mitty added. “I mean, you don’t have to stay in Freehaven. You could go to Cloudbreak, or Marsters, or Steel City, or the Music Box, or like a gazillion other places.”

“How is it that you already know so much about…everything?” Yasmin asked.

Mitty stared at her in bewilderment. “Everything?”

Yasmin shrugged. “You already knew everything about Reibey and Oblivion, you know all about these Ideal Witches. I’m starting to think we don’t even need to study, we just need to get you talking to find out everything we need to know.”

“How can I not?” Mitty said. “Seriously, we live in a magical afterlife with a bunch of cool aliens! How can you not want to find out everything about it?”

“She’s got a point,” Madeline said between sips of hot chocolate.

“I understand,” Gretchen said. “Our friend Charlotte’s the same way. I think she knows more than the teachers.”

“See?” Mitty said, gesturing toward Gretchen. “There you go. Seriously, it’s kinda weird that you don’t…” Then she cut herself off. “Hold up. Charlotte? The librarian with the pink hair and the tail?”

Homulilly sighed and slumped down deeper.

“You know her too?” Gretchen asked.

Mitty nodded. “I was going to say the same thing! I mean, the library’s the best place to find out anything, and she’s the one that’s been helping me! But I’ve never seen you guys there. How do you know her?”

“Oh!” Gretchen beamed. “Well, she and Ophelia live together, so…”

“Uh…what?” Mitty’s jaw dropped open. “I thought Ophelia was dating that mermaid with the blue hair.”

Patricia perked up. “We have a mermaid?”

“Uh, yeah, haven’t you ever been to the Magi’s Gifts Emporium?” Jada told her. “She teaches music there.”

“You know her too?”

“I’m actually kind of surprised that you don’t! But yeah, my roommate gets guitar lessons from her.”

“She is!” Gretchen said. “Dating Ophelia, I mean. But Charlotte lives with them too!”

Mitty’s brow raised in appreciation. “Really? Huh. Wow, I know Ophelia had game, but…”

“Not like that!” Gretchen said with a slight blush. “There’s four of them: Ophelia, Charlotte, Oktavia, and Candeloro. They’re a Walpurgisnacht, so they stuck together. Ophelia is with Oktavia, and Charlotte is with Candeloro.”

“Ophelia’s part of a Walpurgisnacht?” Mitty said as she rubbed her chin. “Huh, I had no idea.” Then she frowned. “Wait, who’s Candeloro?”

“Uh…you ever been to the Honey Hive?” Gretchen asked.

“The coffee shop? Over on Avenida Sevilla?”

Gretchen nodded. “Yes. She’s one of the managers there. Um, the one with golden hair and ribbons for arms?”

“Oh.” The side of Mitty’s mouth lifted in a sly grin. “Oooooh, her. Yeah, I know her.”

Homulilly sighed. Of their little group, Candeloro undeniably was blessed with the most impressive figure, so it wasn’t uncommon for her to get quite a bit of attention from passersby.

But did they all have to be so overt about it?

Gretchen nodded. “Well, that’s her. She actually does most of their baking. Her strawberry honeycakes won prizes and everything! She’s actually taking a trip to Orya’s Furnace right now for the Sweet Tooth Symp…sympuh…symphony…”

“Symposium,” Homulilly said.

“Right! That word!”

“What’s that?” Jada asked.

Mitty stared at her. “Uh…seriously? It’s a jott city that’s-”

“Not that!” Jada said with a roll of her eyes. “Of course I know about that! What’s the Sweet Tooth Symposium?”

Homulilly cut in before anyone else could. This, at least, she knew more about than everyone else. “It’s a convention. For people who make sweet stuff, like cakes, candy, chocolates, that sort of thing.”

“Gotcha,” Mitty said with a thoughtful look. “And you said she does the baking for the Honey Hive. Y’know, I’ve been over there once or twice. The cupcakes are to die for.” Which is kind of funny, seeing how I did!” She grinned, as if expecting laughter, but the others just stared at her in an uncomfortable manner. Yasmin especially looked a little annoyed. Sensing that her morbid joke hadn’t gone over well, Mitty cleared her throat and hastily moved on. “Anyway, you’re telling me that there’s this house where Freehaven’s best dancer, musician, researcher, and baker live together, and you two just…hang out with them whenever?”

There was a pause, and then Gretchen said, “Well, I never really thought about it like that.”

“We’re actually pretty sure that we all knew each other before,” Homulilly chimed in. Finally, there was something impressive that she had that Mitty didn’t! “Um, you know, when we were…alive.”

“Huh?” Mitty said, tilting her head. “I thought you were both separate Walpurgies.”

“Oh, we are!” Gretchen said. “They’re all one, and we’re another. But when we met…you know how you said that your girlfriend felt like she recognized you, even if she didn’t really know who you were?”

Mitty arched an eyebrow. “Yeah…?”

“It was the same.” She clasped her hands over her heart and smiled at the memory. “We both felt like we knew them, and they felt like they knew us. So…we figure that we were all friends, but they turned into witches together, and we turned into witches later.”

Mitty shook her head. “Wow. Two Walpurgies showing up in the same town, only a…little time apart. Your town must be a crater by now.”

Gretchen’s smile withered. “I…never really thought of it like that.”

“But if that’s true, then you two must’ve been the ones to bring them down,” Mitty pointed out. “Like I did with Bobby…er, Alyssa!”

“Um…okay!” Patricia said quickly before Homulilly’s glare could get any more fierce. “So, what you two want to be after we graduate?”

“What?” Gretchen scratched her head. “Oh, um, actually…we’re not sure yet.”

“Well, that’s fine,” Jalaga said. She reached over and stirred the embers of the firepit with one finger. “You have plenty of time.”

“That’s for goddamned sure,” Patricia said darkly. Homulilly pursed her lips but said nothing.

“Well, what do you two like to do then?” Mitty said.

“Huh?” Gretchen said.

Mitty shrugged and gestured with one hand. “You guys gotta have hobbies, right? Stuff you do in your free time. So what do you like to do?”

“Oh!” She and Homulilly exchanged a glance. “Um, well, when we’re not studying or whatever, we like talking, visiting our friends, going for walks, watching holos…”

“Yeah, but anything artsy?” Mitty pressed. “Do you paint, write, draw, garden, do pottery, weave baskets, anything like that?”

“Not everyone has go into the liberal arts, Mitty,” Jada said with a disapproving look.

“Well, yeah, but there has to be something! Come on, don’t you ever get the urge to just go out and create something?”

“I guess we’re not really the artsy types,” Gretchen said in a small voice.

“Huh,” Mitty said. “That’s weird.” She shook her head, and then smiled. “Well, that just means we gotta change that! It’s not right for you guys to be hanging out with all those geniuses and not have something to-”

“No,” Homulilly said in a soft but commanding tone.

“Huh? Why not?”

“No,” Homulilly said again. “Leave us alone.”

While all this had been going on, the others had been having small whispered conversations of their own. All of those stopped in a second, and everyone looked up to stare at Homulilly and Mitty. For her part, Mitty’s eyes had narrowed to slits.

“Hey,” she said. “Do we have a problem? Because I’m starting to feel like we have a problem.”

“Okay, no!” Jada cut in before Homulilly could respond. “Look, whatever problem you guys have, deal with it on your own time, okay?”

“I don’t have a problem,” Mitty said. “She’s the one who-”

“I said, deal with it later, okay? Because I am way too tired and stressed out to put up with this now. Got it?”

A moment passed, and then Mitty said, “Yeah, okay. Sure. Fine with me.”

“Good.” Then Jada turned to Homulilly and Gretchen. “And you? Are we all cool here?”

“Sure,” Homulilly said in a neutral tone. “We’re…cool.”

“Great. Now, chill out, already.”

Mitty slouched back and folded her arms. Homulilly did the same. The two glared at one another.

Then Gretchen abruptly stood up. “I think we’d better go home,” she said to the group. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Yeah, me too,” Mitty said as she stood up as well. “Mood’s killed dead. So…bye.”

There was a small chorus of awkward murmured goodbyes from the others. Mitty went off in one direction, Gretchen and Homulilly in the other. For their part, Gretchen was completely silent the whole walk, while Homulilly just slouched with her head bowed and mouth set in a straight line.

When they reached their dorm Gretchen waited until they were both inside and the door was firmly shut before addressing the problem. “Homulilly,” she said. “What was that all about?”

Homulilly turned away.

“What’s wrong? Why did you snap at her like that?”

Homulilly slowly took a deep breath and let it out. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she muttered.

“But-”

“Drop it,” she said, and then stomped into the bathroom.

She locked the door and looked at the mirror. Oh God, her face was a mess. Her blush was all smudged, her mascara was starting to run, and her eyes were all watery. She had been so proud of how she had looked at the start of the night, but now it was horrid.

Which was just the perfect metaphor for everything about her, Homulilly bitterly reflected. She could do everything she could to make her look pretty, cool, and confident like just about everyone else, but as soon as something went wrong it all collapsed. It was just a frail façade, a fake mask.

Meanwhile, Mitty could show up with no makeup, baggy clothes, and her hair undone, and still come off as way better than she ever could! Same with the rest of them! Ophelia was practically a celebrity, Oktavia had actual albums and everyone knew who she was, Charlotte was about to become a published author, and Candeloro was off winning awards and getting invited to big events in other cities! Even Gretchen was out there joining committees and making friends. And Homulilly?

Well, she was ruining things for everyone just by being there.

Homulilly wet a washcloth and furiously wiped away the mess on her face. When she was done, she looked again at her reflection.

She didn’t know why she did. It wasn’t like there was anyone special looking back.

Homulilly threw the washcloth at the mirror. It hit and slipped down to the sink with a wet splat, leaving a bit blotch over her face’s image.

Then she slowly sat down onto the toilet and turned the shower on full blast so Gretchen wouldn’t hear her crying.

#Walpurgis Nights

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destiny-smasher · 6 years

Text

Spirit Batteries (Commission)

You can read this on AO3 if you prefer.

A/N: This is a giftfic commission from Twitter user @Porecomesis for Hayley @sakura-rose12 as a birthday gift! It is strongly recommended you have read her webcomic Dame Daffodil as well as played the FREE Life is Strange episode The Awesome Adventures of Captain Spirit. (I take a major liberty from the vague ending of the episode to make this fic work)

The Awesome Adventures of Captain Spirit is a free downloadable side story in the Life is Strange Universe. Dame Daffodil is an original webcomic.

It's strongly recommended you have experienced both before reading this short story.

If you'd like to commission me to write for you, feel free to send me a message! No budget is too small, we can always make something work!

~~~

“You got 'em?!” Her arms were starting to get some rope burn from how taut the whips were around them. “I've-” Alesea grunted out, her footing slipping slightly. She regained it. “I've got them!” She wrapped her mystical whips another loop tighter around her arms, trying her best to dig into the street curb. The black beast that they were attempting to subdue was proving to be an inconvenience. They all were, of course, but Alesea had convinced Charo – er, that is, since Lady Lily had convinced Dame Daffodil – that they ought to try striving toward safer, less destructive resolutions. While that had sounded simple enough in Alesea's head, in practice it was quickly becoming quite a pain, even with the two of them working together. Ales-...Lily had tied the creature with her whips, using two street signs as support to keep the creature from moving – a trick she had self-taught on a football field not long ago. Daffodil had needed some time to deal with the smaller creatures it had spit out. “I feel-” Daffodil zapped one. “-sorta bad-” Zapped another. “-'cause they're kinda cute.” And another. “Cute, perhaps,” Lily panted out. “but...still dangerous!” “Just like someone I know!” said Daffodil with a wide grin and a wink – all the while frying another creature. Lily smirked in spite of their circumstances, her eyes rolling a little in endeared amusement. Lily's gut reaction had been to gather these small beings up rather than outright destroying them – but they had no idea how these beasts functioned yet, and no real means of containing them. Where would they even put them? And how would they have any assurances they could even be contained? The creatures had demonstrated unnatural speed and strength. Yet if they left so many little ones out to roam, who knew what could happen? They could grow – multiply? It would be quite a mess. For the time being, it was unfortunately safer to try and attract their attention, and, well...get rid of them. Keeping their...mother? How did these things work? Well, keeping their parent creature subdued and angry seemed to be keeping the creatures nearby, hostile, yet their small size and scattered formation made them easy for Daffodil to deal with. Lily was getting tired out from keeping the larger creature pinned down, however. With a skip in her step, Daffodil taunted and clapped, drawing the remaining little ones near her, while Lily trembled and burned from the work she was doing. Daffodil airily posed, “Having a partner to help out is making this monster-fighting stuff so much easier, huh?” -zap- “Two flower-powered heads are better than-” “Daffodil,” Lily grunted through clenched teeth, her strength starting to give out. “Yup!” Daffodil squeaked sheepishly, focusing more deliberately on her task. As more small, growling black monsters were getting...killed? They seemed like living creatures, yet...also sort of not? Alesea's mind was filled with moral problems with all of this as it was. But regardless of how Alesea felt about these matters, Lady Lily was still obligated to protect human beings, first and foremost. Her feet had been using a street curb to bolster herself, but her sore legs gave way long enough for her slip a little. That slight slide, however, was exactly the moment the black, multi-legged beast had been waiting for. With Lily's whips slack for a second, the monster wriggled free, its spider-like legs rampaging at its captor in a spiteful charge. Lily stumbled backward from the disconnect, falling over. Her concentration broken, her whips' power faltered. Her heart froze for a moment as the spear-like feet of the monster punctured small craters into the pavement, heading straight for her. Its eyeless face was somehow filled with rage as its mandibles snapped. Lily re-focused her whips, trying to slash them at the beast – anything to mitigate its advance. Minimal effect, a few grazing scratches which barely slowed the monster down. “Alesea!” cried Daffodil with alarm, dashing toward the impending threat and firing off a beam – but the monster was too quick, and her attack instead cut through one of the street signs, sending it toppling over. The smaller creatures took the opportunity to swarm at Daffodil – and while most had been disposed of, enough still remained where their gnawing bites crippled the Dame to her knees to try and blast them off. “I-CHANGED-MY-MIND-THEY'RE-NOT-CUTE!!” Having scrambled to her feet, Lily had second or two to spare before the larger monster reached her. She cracked her whips at its feet, attempting to tangle them up. This somewhat succeeded, but rather than trapping the beast, it merely sent it skidding briefly before its multiple legs regained traction and cut through the whips again. Daffodil, still scraping spider-like biting from her legs, fired off another beam in a panic. This, too, missed its mark, nearly clipping Lily on the way – a gust of air pushed at her in the beam's wake. The monster lunged. Lily pulled her whips back in. But there wasn't enough time. -snap- Lily fell to her back. -snap snap- But...the creature had missed? An odd hissing. The monster was...floating. Right in front of Lily. Thrashing its mandibles in her direction, swiping its sharp legs every which way, yet...stationary in the air. It was pretty strange, all right. And Lily surely had not stopped its advance. But Daffodil, squashing and zapping small creatures off of her, looked just as puzzled. A weird moment of quiet fell over the the lot, and the monster even gave up its struggle. -zap- The beast exploded into black dust with a weak screech as Dame Daffodil finally hit her mark. The suddenness of it threw Lily off guard, another gust of air rushing past her from the destructive blow. A piece of black dust landed where the monster had just been, and a black flower quickly sprouted from its position. Daffodil was scrambling through a small batch of black critters to reach her partner. “You OK?!” Charo cried out, tripping up a bit on the beasties. “Cut it-!” she growled at them, shaking them off. “Alesea?!” “I-I'm all right,” Alesea replied, baffled at what had just happened. “How did you do that?” she asked, pulling her whips back in and ready to squash some more...'bugs?' “Do what?” Daffodil panted, kicking a couple more off of her feet. She zapped one. “Couldn't hit it until you got it to stop moving. Good stuff!” “I didn't...-” Lily noticed how tuckered out Daffodil was, but there were still maybe ten or so of the annoying pests to deal with. The poor girl's legs were all...nibbled. Yikes. Was going to be fun explaining that one to Sel...An impromptu hiking trip gone wrong? Or maybe she'd...fallen on her bike? Charo...didn't have a bike. Or maybe-? Alesea then realized that the remaining monsters were...also floating, now. Slowly being shoved together into a black, fuzzy ball. “Whoa,” Daffodil murmured in awe. “You get a new power already? ¡Guauu~!” She was pressing her wrists to her cheeks, glowing a smile of admiration at Lily, who...wasn't doing anything. “I-...It's not...-” Lily gestured a confused hand at the blob of creatures, writhing around one another and emitting their strange hissing squeaks. “My Lady's the best,” Charo smugly cited, snapping a finger at Alesea with one hand, while zapping the beasties to dust with the other. “Teamwork makes the dreamw-” “Why do you keep doing that?” Lily and Daffodil both froze at this, spoken from somewhere to their side. There was...a boy there, emerging from a payphone booth, his hand extended toward them. He sighed, letting his hand drop. He was...dressed in spray-painted cardboard, a cape, and a face-painted mask of blue. Couldn't have been much older than ten, if even that. As he approached them, he dejectedly pointed out, “Heroes aren't s'pposed to kill people...” Lily felt her face flush at this, and she glanced at Daffodil nervously. “Th-Those weren't people,” Daffodil sheepishly defended. Slamming her fists on her hips, she said with a prim nod, “Those were monsters. We-...We're saving people.” “But aren't you super heroes?” the boy asked. “I thought you don't kill - that's what makes you super.” The color probably drained from the heroines' faces as they offered squeamish smiles at that naive idea.

“We don't...hurt people,” Daffodil pointed out, with a shrug. A shrug?? Not exactly convincing... “We don't want to hurt anyone,” Lily explained. Traffic was starting to pile up a bit and police sirens could be heard approaching from the distance. Admirers of the flower-blazoned heroes were cautiously making their approach, phone camera snapping and all. Dame Daffodil went about greeting her enthusiastic fans and explaining things, while Lily pulled the child off the street. “Look, um...-” She noticed him rubbing at his eyes, squinting at her. Oh, right – some magic about their costumes made it so people couldn't see their faces. “I'm Lady Lily. What's your name?” The kid tightened his cape and nodded, hands at his sides. “I'm Captain Spirit,” he announced, deepening his voice. Lily giggled a bit at this, smiling. A hero wannabe, huh? His accent, though...- “You're not from around here, are you, Mr. Spirit?” “It's Captain. And no. I'm-...I, uh, am on a mission to explore for new allies. We need all the help we can to take down the mastermind Mantroid.” “Oh, um....Mantroid, is it?” Lily nodded seriously. “I think I've...heard of him before.” “Really?” the kid checked, his 'hero' act fizzling into suspicion. “W-well, Lady Lily has heard of him.” She winked. Then wondered if he could even tell. But based on the way his lips went agape, his eyes narrowed, and he nodded back, she sensed he could. “He's quite...a bad...egg. Isn't he?” “Um, well, he's more of a...force of negative energy that...-” “So!” Dame Daffodil pounced upon them, startling them both. “Does this kiddo wanna join the team?” she teased with a sly-eyed grin. “Oh, no, Ma'am,” Captain Spirit insisted with his deepened voice, crossing his arms over his measly but puffed chest. “I already have a team of my own. But I am looking for allies to join our cause against the killer Mantroid and his-” “Hey, who's the kid?” Some of the gathering passersby were getting eager about their, er, new acquaintance. “Uh, actually, yea,” said Daffodil, “what's your name, buddy? Where's your parents?” “I'm Captain Spirit, fellow crime-fighter. My, um-...W-well, I...-” Lily gently placed a hand on the kid's frail shoulder. “It's all right,” she gently assured. “You can trust us with your secret identity, and we can help you find your family.” “Yea, we're real super heroes,” Daffodil said cheerfully. “We know how to keep a secret.” “Hey, I am a real super hero, too,” the child claimed, shrugging out of Alesea's grasp. “I helped you beat those monsters, remember?” Aaaand then Alesea suddenly remembered – that strange stuff that had happened, which had no accounted explanation. “Whoa, wait,” said Daffodil, leaning over Lily, who was bent over toward the kid. “You serious?” She whispered at Lily, “Is he serious?” The police cars had shown up and were surveying the damage – minimal, compared to what could have happened. A car crash in the middle of the intersection from when the monster had first attacked, and Daffodil had escorted the drivers – safe, thankfully. Other cars had piled up, and it wasn't the busiest road. A damaged street sign, another one bent over, and some potholes. So, not as bad as it could've been. But, still... “Time to go,” Lily decided, nudging Daffodil off her. Her partner slipped off her shoulder, rolling sideways and nimbly skidding onto her feet. “Let's get you back to your family, Mr. Spirit.” “It's Captain. Not Mister.” “Right! Sorry.” “Are your folks nearby?” Daffodil asked, surveying the crowd and waving to a police officer. “Uh, no, they...-” The boy's were quivering a bit at this question, which had Alesea worried. “My...grandparents are...probably still at the hotel, but...-” “Do you know the way there?” Lily asked. The child nodded with hesitation. “Off we go, then,” Daffodil declared, scooping the boy up in one arm and tucking him over her shoulder. “Wah-!” he was appropriately surprised. There were some startled sounds from the small crowd that had gathered at the intersection. “This-...This missing boy was separated from his family!” Lady Lily assured with a bashfully courteous wave, raising her voice at the lot. “We're...escorting him home!” “Definitely not kidnapping!” Daffodil added, bounding off with the child in tow. ~~~ Having gotten themselves far enough away from the little monster incident back there, Daffodil and Lily stopped between a deli shop and a liquor store – a cozy little alleyway would offer enough cover for them to sort this all out. “All right, I think we should be good here,” Lily advised. Daffodil nodded, setting the boy down – he groaned and grumbled a bit, straightening his cardboard armor, shuffling his hair a bit, and adjusting his cape. “You OK?” Daffodil checked. He nodded, but definitely appeared to be perturbed. “Why were you hiding?” Lily asked. “I mean, why aren't you with your family?” Daffodil excitedly squealed, “And was that you who did the cool, like, levitation-y thing?” He raised a brow at Daffodil, who was looked quite bright-eyed and eager. “It's all right,” said Lily, deactivating her ring. Her magical appearance flashed away, revealing her everyday form – currently dressed in khaki shorts and a white tanktop. With a wry smile at the boy's shocked expression, she told him, “See? We know what it's like to have to keep these sorts of things a secret...” “Whoa,” the child murmured. “How do I get my superhero costume to do that?” “Well!” spouted Daffodil, thrusting up a proud finger. “First of all, you've gotta-” “Charo...Can we maybe...take this one step at a time?” “Oh. What?” Lily just tilted her head and curved her brows, gesturing toward her attire. “Ah.” Daffodil reverted to her chipper Charo self, wearing baggy sports shorts with brightly colored t-shirt that looked like a bi-product of a 90's commercial.

“Wow,” sighed the child, clearly envious at their transformations. So, whatever power he had...it wasn't quite the same as theirs, was it? How had he seemed so nonplussed by their abilities before, yet suddenly so surprised at their magical outfits?

“My name – my real name – is Alesea.” She extended her hand downward, and he took it, star-eyed. “And this is Charo.” Charo, naturally, leaned against the brick wall with her arms crossed, trying to look all suave. She slipped a little, the wall having been further back than she'd thought. “We can totally keep the whole 'secret identity' thing a...secret,” Charo insisted, nodding as she undid and redid her spiky little ponytail. “We've been doing this stuff ourselves for a while.” “So,” said Alesea. “What's your name?” The boy swallowed nervously, evidently embarrassed by his hand-made costume. Aw, poor little guy, that wasn't...why they'd...- “Those are fancy names,” he mumbled, shrugging. “I'm just...Chris.” “Chris is still a nice name,” Charo tried to placate. “A-and I mean, Captain Spirit? Wow, you, um, you've got us beat with that superhero name, huh? Way cooler than...erh...-” She shrugged, trailing off. “So, Chris,” Alesea began slowly. “You saw us using...um, abilities. Do you really have something like that, yourself?” Chris nodded, his bout of bashfulness giving way to a sudden excitement. He gave Charo a determined look. “It's my turn to pick you up,” he said with a mischievous little chuckle. “Eh?” Charo said, her expression wavering as the boy stuck his palm out toward her. “Wahhp-!” Charo squeaked as she slipped backward, drifting slowly up in the air. She began to giggle, watching a crushed beer can and a few pebbles start to float up beside her. She thrust out her fists, tucking her legs in and trying to spin around, but was realigned upward. Alesea studied the boy's form as he kept this up for a moment. He looked intently focused, his hand trembling, like he was wrestling with an unseen force. “Our lad here's got a juicy magic ability~” Charo snickered, trying to sway herself around. She tapped at the hovering beer can, and it moved, but wobbled back into the space it had occupied. “Like, OJ with pulp juicy!” Alesea burst into a snort-giggle, covering up her face to stifle her own aroused laughter. Charo had to stop being so adorably weird in public, it was rather distracting... Charo stretched out her legs, downward, and slammed her fists on her hips. Chris let her drop, and she landed, flat-footed, with a joking pride about her. This dissipated into some giggles. Chris, however, while smiling at first, began to cough and sputter some. Alesea and Charo practically swarmed the lad with concern. His frail hand shooing them off didn't stop Alesea from patting his back. The coughs worsened momentarily before they cleared up. “Whoa,” Charo winced he recovered. “That, um-...All that juice means you've gotta squeeze some oranges...huh?” “...What?” Chris groaned, still fuzzy-headed. “Looks like you're still learning how to use your abilities,” Alesea sympathized. She rubbed his back a bit more until he seemed to level out. He nodded in reply to her observation, and she explained, “Well, don't worry. So are we.” She accented her words with an encouraging smile. “Practice makes better,” Charo assured. Chris retorted, “Isn't it...practice makes perfect?” “Huh?” Charo's eyes slid upward as she tapped at her chin. “Sure, people say that, but...-” “Just...-” Alesea's smile withered nervously. “-...don't overexert yourself, Chris.” “I don't...know what that word means,” Chris admitted with a shrug. “Oh, um...-” Alesea's lips pouted out uncertainly. Maybe she was being a little too intimidating with how she spoke? Charo tagged in for this one. “You don't wanna push yourself so hard, buddy.” She ruffled his hair a little and he grunted a laugh, taking a step back. “Don't want you to choke on all that...superpower pulp.” “I don't like pulp in my orange juice, anyway,” Chris declared. “Smooth juicin' from here on out, then,” decided Charo, smacking one palm against the other arm's flexing bicep. Alesea shot her partner a bemused look, smirking. What was she going to do with this dorky Dame? “Anyway,” Alesea sighed out, shaking off her warm fuzzies. “How did you get this power, Chris?” Chris shrugged. “It just...happened one day. I fell, but...-” He stared down at his extended hands, flexing his fingers in, then out. “Then I...caught myself.” “No magical transformation, huh?” pondered Charo. “Did you maybe, like, feel the power coming from...something you're wearing?” “Oh, w-well-” He fluttered his cape. “-Captain Spirit's cape boosts his powers, but...-” “You can still do this without the cape,” Alesea noted, to which he nodded.

Alesea and Charo shrugged at one another. Strange. Whatever abilities this boy had, it sure wasn't related to their own. Then again, he definitely wasn't from their neck of the woods, so perhaps that was hardly a surprise. “Actually,” Alesea began, leading the trio out onto the street and out of the alleyway. “Where are you from, Chris? How did you end up out here?” “Yea,” Charo chimed in, “Are you lost?” “Maybe a little lost,” Chris mumbled with a shrug. “I'm from America.” “Ah, wondered about that,” said Charo. “This is, um, a long way from there...” “Ha, yea, the airplane ride was super long,” Chris sighed. “My grandparents fell asleep for most of it so I got really bored. I watched, like, three movies. And I'd already seen two of them.” Alesea and Charo smirked at each other over the boy's shoulders as they reached a street corner. “Is this the way back to your family?” Alesea checked. “Uh...-” Chris paused, surveying the street signs. “Actually...I'm not sure.” Oooh, boy. The child sighed deeply, and he wobbled a little with a yawn, then a cough. “You don't look like you're feeling so well, there,” Charo muttered warily. “How about-...Well, my place isn't far from here, why don't we get you there-” Charo exchanged looks with Alesea, who nodded primly in approval. “-um, get you something to drink, let you, ya know, have a sit, and...we can help you figure out what's going on?” If worse came to worse, they could ring the authorities, but given the child's predicament, the idea of putting him in police care was concerning. Who knew what could happen if they discovered what he was capable of? And some paint on his face wasn't going to work the way their magic did. “Sounds...guh...-” Chris' form slipped over to one side, and Charo caught him fretfully. He snapped awake, stumbling back upright and rubbing at his eyes. “I think that's as good idea as any right now,” Alesea agreed with her partner's notion. ~~~ Alesea could feel her face pale at his expression, stoic and deadpan, staring down at the young boy napping on his lounge. He took a quiet, judgmental sip of his canned coffee. “And you...found him?” Sel dryly posed. “Y-yes, exactly,” Alesea mumbled. She took her own sip of iced coffee from her own can, trying to mask her embarrassment. “There was-...Well, we were out hiking, and Charo had a, um, tumble, and...-” “Is that what happened to you?” Anselmo suddenly balked, nearly choking on his coffee. He thrust a finger at Charo, who had just come out of the loo, her legs now plastered with bandages. Sel grumbled out, “What kind of hiking spot around here was so rough where that could've happened?” Charo shrugged, teeth grit. “Dunno, but I'm fine. Really.” “How do you two keep...-?!” Sel's face looked like a kettle ready to explode for a second, there. “That's not important right now,” Alesea interjected, sticking her more confident foot forward. “Is it?” she retorted, gesturing toward the tuckered out child. “I mean, maybe it's a good thing we wandered outside of our...normal...hiking route, or else this poor boy might've...passed out all on his own out there.” Charo lifted her brows, stuck her hands out toward Alesea, and nodded at her brother. His frustration fizzled out and he groaned audibly, slurping more of his coffee. “You two just have to try playing the hero, don't you?” Anselmo took a deep breath and fluttered his lips against the edge of his coffee can. Alesea and Charo exchanged wary smiles at his remark. “All right, so.” Sel wandered off to the kitchen, and the pair of partners followed him. Sel scooted his chair out a bit, crossing one leg over the other. He perused the contents Charo had scooped out of the boy's pockets when they'd de-armored him for his nap. A library card. “Chris...Eriksen, huh? Beaver Creek?” Anselmo noted the town logo displayed on the card. “Where's this boy from?” “America,” Charo replied with a shrug. “It sounded like he's here visiting with his family,” Alesea pointed out. “He mentioned his grandparents at a hotel nearby.” Anselmo slid another card around on the table, which had a big triangle near the top. “Must be a keycard for their room,” he observed. “Mm,” he hummed through a sip of coffee. “Aah. I recognize this place.” He passed it to Charo. “You should look up their number, give them a call.” Charo gawked at the card, a bit baffled at first, but then nodded and headed off for her bedroom. As Charo waddled off to her task, Alesea didn't know what to do with herself, hovering in the kitchen's doorway. She drummed her fingernails against the half-empty coffee can she was slowly working through. Then she felt Anselmo's critical gaze land on her. He sipped quietly, his dead eyes laser-firing a sting of disappointment at her. She felt her face turning pink with some shame and sipped in defense. “She was-” “How did-” They both had started to murmur at each other at once, keeping their voices down. Alesea pushing loose hair behind her ears, nodding complacently at Sel to let him go first. “How could you let her take a tumble like that?” “It was...-! She was...-! That...boy, we got...distracted – um, alarmed – he was in danger, and Charo, she-” “In danger?” Nnnnnnn maybe that made it sound worse...! “Oh, what? N-not, like, danger danger, I mean, he was...all by himself, and he could've...fallen, and so-” “So Charo fell instead? To prevent him from falling.” “S-Something like that, I...-” Anselmo took a deep breath, squinting his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nostrils.

“All right. That's enough.” Anselmo slurped the last of his coffee and planted the empty can on the table. “I don't know why you're lying to me. But I'm sure it must be to protect someone over something.” Alesea twitched a nervous shrug through her grimaced smile. “I guess at the end of the day, I'd rather my sister get some bug bites and scratches than let a lost child have a heat stroke. So...you did good.” “Mm...-!” Alesea grunted her gratitude through her coffee can.

Ansemlo breathed out tiredly as he rose from the table, grabbed the can and rinsing it in the sink. “Just wish you two would stop trying to take on these kinds of things, especially with...this monster business going on.” He flicked water from his fingertips and dunked the can into the recycling bin. “You could've called the cops or something, instead of...-” He warily flicked his wrist toward the lounge room. “We panicked,” Alesea confessed, clutching her can daintily with both hands, almost like a shield before her. “He was...over-excited about...finding someone who was...willing to help, and he had a dizzy spell – passed out. And we weren't...sure what else to...-” She swallowed a gulp of cold coffee and shook her head with shrug. Her stomach felt weird from the sensation of, well, lying to Sel. Again. This feeling was getting old, and fast. But what other choice did she have? Charo emerged from her room, still on her phone. “Yup!...Mm-hmn...Thanks.” She let loose a raspberry sigh as she ended the call. “Why'd you make me call them? Talking to random people on the phone is terrible. Mean Momo.”

As she grouchily pouted her way into the kitchen, she put her phone into her pocket as Anselmo gave her a pat on the head. “You brought him here,” Sel pointed out, heading toward the cupboard. “That makes you his host. And a good host would make those kinds of arrangements for their guest.” Alesea squirmed her way over and gave Charo a gentle rub on the back, complimented by a warm little smile, which she received back in turn. “Well?” Sel pondered, digging into the cupboard. “What did they say at the hotel?” “Oh, erh,” Charo scratched at the tip of her nose. “Sounds like his grandparents are the ones he's traveling with, they'd fallen asleep. Guess they'll be on their way to pick him up soon.” “Ah, good,” said Alesea, relieved to hear it. “In the meantime,” decided Sel, “we should probably give him something to eat, if he's been out out there in this heat. Now, I mean, it's been a while since I was his age,” Sel pointed out, “but I figure...-” He flashed them an unopened package of Hobknobs. “-...milk and biscuits, that's gotta be one way to pick up a boy's spirits, right?” “Chh, 'spirits,'” Charo snickered, elbowing Alesea. She couldn't help but giggle as another warm tingle swept up her neck. “What?” Sel prodded, slightly irate at their mocking. “It's just cute,” Alesea dismissed, nodding as she drank the last of her coffee. “I think it's a brilliant idea.” “I'll get the milk,” Charo decreed, heading off. Alesea gave her a pat on the arm to send her on her way. “I'll go wake him,” decided Alesea. Like their own little team, they went about their tasks with efficiency. Small as it was, it felt good working on the same side as Charo's brother, instead of working around him. Alesea knelt down over the couch, brushed her ponytail behind her shoulder, took a deep breath, and nudged a cautious hand at the child's shoulder. He moaned and sputtered nonsense for a moment before his eyes slowly opened. “...nfgh...th'prncess...” “Chris?” Alesea checked when his eyes closed again. “Hey. We've got a snack for you.” Chris opened his eyes again, wider this time. Alesea smiled at how adorable this kid was. “...nnn...have a pretty smile,” Chris mumbled, still half-awake. Alesea felt her face light up. “Like my mom's,” Chris yawned out. Alesea chuckled through her nose, not sure if she was more embarrassed for her, or for the boy. “What?” Charo prodded, amused but confused as she entered with a glass of milk, complete with ice cubes to keep it cold.

Alesea just shook her head, smirking, and gave her befuddled partner a rub on the arm. Charo set the glass down on the coffee table, and Anselmo sighed – loudly – as he put a platter of Hobknobs down beside it. Chris seemed a bit perplexed by this new figure, but not as startled at the change of scenery as one might expect. Anselmo was giving Charo a glare. She beamed innocently at her brother as she scooted a coaster beneath the glass of milk, appeasing him. Chris sat up, rubbing at his face some more. He scratched at his chest, and then the surprise kicked in. “Wh-? Where's my...-?” “Your gear is over there, Captain Spirit,” Charo quelled, nodding toward the front door. The boy noted his cape and cardboard armor sitting on the floor by everyone's shoes and, after a moment, nodded his contentedness about the matter. “He's a superhero,” Charo said to her brother, waggling her brows and nudging him with the back of her wrist. Jeez, Charo, do you really need to...-?? “Uh-huh,” Anselmo said dully. “Must be getting swept up in all that hype over those...'heroes'-” He air-quoted. EXCUSE HIM?? “-that the news is obsessed about.” Chris cleared his throat, “Mmph, I...used up my energy fighting off a monster attack.” He coughed drylu – ow, hopefully he was OK? “It's time to recharge...” He took a swig of ice-cold milk, humming pleasantly. “I can feee~eeeel the power.” Alesea had to contain another snort-giggle from escaping. “Heh.” Even Anselmo seemed a bit charmed, which was saying something. “Well, uh, every superhero needs to keep their strength up. We, uh, got you some Hobnobs, here, so...have at it.” Chris – well, Captain Spirit – frowned at this. Breaking character, he asked, “What's a hobnob?” Charo gasped with shock at this. “No. You eat those,” she commanded, jabbing a finger out. “You take one of those, and you stick it in your face-mouth-place, and you bite at it, and you eat it, and it is w-o-n-d-e-r-f-u-l...!” The kid seemed taken aback at this. “I-...I don't...-” “Like this!” Charo grabbed a biscuit and bit into it. “One nibble and your hobnobbled,” Charo quoted, not being dignified with a reaction. “I think you're scaring him,” Anselmo grumbled, clutching his sister by the skull to get her hyperactivity to settle down a peg. “They're just biscuits,” Alesea explained gently to Chris. “Go on, try one.” “Biscuits...?” He looked skeptical. He carefully picked one up, studying it. “Looks like a cookie.” “Oh, right,” Alesea blurted sheepishly. “American...” Through mouth full of Hobnob, Charo asked, “Whuff's uh googi emmeeweh?” Chris took a bite, seemed to approve, and then devoured the rest of the thing, glugging some milk along with it. A gentle rumble emitted from Charo's hip – her mouth still chewing at a Hobnob, she pulled out her cell phone. Swallowing and flinching at the under-chewed biscuit going down her throat, Charo greeted, “Hello?” She glanced at Chris, who was going to town on his snack. “Ah, yes! That was me. We-...Uh-huh. Yea, he's fine.” She nodded down at the boy, and then glanced at Alesea, who nibbled on a Hobnob herself, smiling back. “Directions? Erh-...I'm...-” She grimaced, tugging at Sel's sleeve. “Lehhhht me pass you to my brother, he can-...Ahhh, yea,” she said through a sheepish laugh. “Juh-...Yea, just a...-” Her eyes popped open wide, a flash of impatience as she handed her phone to Anselmo, who gave her a stern look before taking it. “What are these called?” Chris asked, breaking one of the biscuits in half. “Hobgoblins?” “Oh, uh-” “Hello, yes? This is Anselmo.” “They're good,” Chris blurted. “Mm,” Alesea lifted a finger toward him. “I'm her older brother. He's-” Chris rammed the two Hobnob halves against each other, growling and crying as he played. “...Mm.” Anselmo frowned briefly, then began to walk off. “He's safe. Just...having a snack, he-...Oh, well, it...sounded as if he could've been dehydrated, but-...Wait, from what hotel?” “-rreeEEOWW, ksshhh-ksshhh, shuh-WING~ ” Hoo. Kid was maybe having a bit of a sugar rush, or something? Charo grinned, grabbing a Hobnob and thrusting it toward Chris' dualing makeshift toys. She began to make weird little hissing noises – evocative of the kinds of black beasts they had been contending with. Chris rotated his pieces to face Charo's encroaching 'monster.' “ahhh watch out! it's a mega spike spider! It's heading right for us, I don't know if I can hold it off! captain spirit captain spirit! please lend us your power!” He set down the pieces, sticking out his hand. “Don't worry, Captain Spirit will protect you from far away. Hnnnnnn-” “O-OK, now,” Alesea chimed in warily, reaching out a hand to Chris's arm. “Just...don't...really use-” “I'm just playing,” Chris matter-of-factly advised. He nodded his head with raised brows off toward where Anselmo had gone, adding in a whisper, “There's still a civilian around...” Alesea smiled with bemusement, receiving a smirk from Charo. “Hnnnn-”

Charo began to wobble the biscuit around, slowly pushing it toward Chris' hand. She squealed and hissed angrily, making an adorably authentic face to match. “It's...so strong,” Chris grunted. “It's taking...all my power...just to-...urgh...-keep it from attacking...!” He scooped up his two biscuit halves suddenly, while still holding out his hand. “thank you thank you let's get outta here!” He waddled them off, tucking them behind his milk glass. He then drank a sip of milk while the thought occurred to him. “Now what?” Charo asked quietly, still thrashing her biscuit around. “You can't just...let it go free, can you?” “Uh...-” Chris seemed taken aback by the question. And Alesea was a bit alarmed at that being brought up again. “It'll hurt people,” Charo pointed out, squeezing in some more little monster growls. “So, what'll you do?” “I...erh...-” Chris scratched an itched on his nose, flustered. “Uh-oh,” Charo gasped, jerking the Hobnob about. “It's...breaking free...!” “Hnnnn-” Chris refocused his hand at it. “You can't keep this up forever,” Charo whispered in an eerie, villainous voice. “Sooner or later, you'll slip up...” “I-...I can throw it into space,” Chris theorized. “It can't hurt anyone up there!” “Can you throw it into space?” Charo growled with her cracking voice, brows narrowed. “I've never seen Captain Spirit wield such power. You're bluffing.” “I...could...put it in the ocean.” “haha, yessss, throw it in the sea~ It will make babies and consume the innocent animals!” “Charo,” Alesea snipped, giving her a sharp but gentle slap with the back of her wrist. She shrugged defensively. “If you can't destroy a monster,” Charo quietly rumbled, “how can you protect a person from it?” “Heroes can't kill,” Chris huffed. “I thought you were a hero, how come you're doing this?” Charo sighed, fluttering her lips and setting the biscuit back onto the plate. Agh, Charo...your fingers have been all over that... “Sorry,” Charo mumbled, shedding her facade. “It's just...being a hero, sometimes that means you can't...just...do the nice always.” “Then what's the point?” Chris raised. Charo gawked back at him. “It-...You're helping people,” she said. “Protecting them.” “But,” Alesea intervened, “what if there's another way to do it?” “Like what?” Charo puffed, her patience slipping a little at the implication. “What if I trap it?” Chris decided. “Keep it in, like, a monster cage. That way, we can get...a scientist to do research on it.” Alesea smiled at the notion. She wasn't so sure that would work in their particular case. But it was the thought that she got behind. “Mmmm,” Charo hummed, shrugging uncertainly. “That's...maybe harder to do than to say.” “Maybe you could...tame it?” Chris pondered, taking one of his biscuit halves from before and dipping it into his milk – a ways down – before eating it. “Like a stray dog?” he said through a cheekful of biscuit. Charo and Alesea traded thoughtful looks of consideration, neither sure of what that would entail, much less where they'd keep the things. “Do you want to keep a monster at your house?” Charo asked him. “Also – wouldn't it give away your secret identity? Also, what if those monsters keep coming all the time? Where do you put them all?” “Hm.” Chris crossed his arms, swallowed his morsel, and rubbed his chin blatantly. “Well, where do the monsters come from?” Alesea and Charo both paused at this. They didn't know. “Uh...up?” Alesea muttered, pointing a finger skyward, her face wrinkling with dissatisfaction at the blindness of their situation. “They fall from the sky.” “Whoa, like aliens?” Chris said quietly, in awe. Charo and Alesea gave each other bug-eyed shrugs. For all they knew...- “Maybe you can't throw them back up to space,” Chris admitted. “But if they got here, there's gotta be a way to go back where they came.” “Possibly,” Alesea decided. “Or at least a way to figure out what they really are,” she said to Charo, rubbing her partner on the shoulder. “It sounds like a better idea than trying to...keep this up, anyway.” Charo took a deep breath, her glazed-over eyes wandering off as an ashamed pout slipped over her face. Alesea squeezed her hand down, rubbing her thumb against Charo. “These are the kinds of complicated messes heroes get themselves into,” she said. She glanced to Chris and added, “And it takes a brave person to try to do something about it, even if they might do it in a different way.” She let her forehead press itself against the side of Charo's head. “Being a hero means making some mistakes along the way, but as long as you're keeping people safe...-” She sighed into Charo's neck. “-...you're still doing something important. And courageous.” Charo leaned back into Alesea, their skulls pressing together gently for a moment. “I'm glad I don't have to fight monsters like you do,” Chris decided, grabbing the biscuit that Charo had placed down. And putting it IN HIS MOUTH Aughh, Chris, Charo put her fingers ALL OVER THAT. “It's...pretty scary.” “Ah, well, every hero needs someone to help watch their back,” Charo replied, tapping Alesea's back with her chubby palm and scratching a little. “It's less scary that way,” she said, looking at her partner with a pink-cheeked grin. “A lot less scary,” Alesea agreed. “But...still scary.” Anselmo entered the room, thumbing the front door with the phone still to her ear. “Chris?” “Yea?” “I think your grandparents are here to pick-...Huh?” He side-eyed Charo's phone. “Yes, he's right-...Uh-huh.” “Oh.” Chris had a bit of a mopey look to him. Looking up to Charo and Alesea, he assumed, “Guess I should probably go, then, huh?” “You've got people waiting on you,” said Charo. “Gotta keep them safe, too, right?” “Keep them safe from driving on the wrong side of the road,” Anselmo muttered under his breath, handing Charo's phone back to her. Running his hand through his hair, he sighed. “Anyway. Uh...So, Captain Strange-” “Spirit.” “Captain...Spirit. Next time you've got monsters to fight, uh...make sure to check in with your family first, all right?” “Roger.” Chris bounded up from the couch and give Sel a salute. He grabbed another Hobnob, stuffing it into his face, and guzzling down the last of the milk. Heh. “Gotta stayed fueled,” Charo encouraged, ruffling his hair roughly as he wiped a milk mustache from his lip. “Make sure you don't, ya know, drain your Spirit Batteries when you fight evil.” “Yea,” Chris agreed, looking up at Charo with an admiring smirk. As he rounded the table and passed by Alesea, she gave him a pat on the shoulder. She leaned down and said to him with a cautious tone, “I think you're right, that heroes should try to not hurt anyone – even monsters. Just remember that sometimes...people are the monsters.” “So...” Chris gave her a thoughtful nod with a gleam in his eye that she very much approved of. “That means it's super important to try to save them. Those people, I mean.” Alesea beamed down at him and nodded emphatically. She escorted him to Charo's front door. He gathered his armor and stuck it on. A car beeped from outside. Alesea concluded, “I'm sure you'll figure that stuff out as you go, um, Captain Spirit. Even the most super of heroes have to figure out these kinds of things. Whatever you do, I just hope you can learn to be whatever kind of hero you need to be.” “You've definitely got the stuff to be super~” Charo assured, helping tighten his cape on and nudging him along out the door. Heading to the driveway with him at her side, Charo pumped up a fist. “When you get back home, you've gotta find your own way to be someone's hero!”

#Dame Daffodil #Captain Spirit #Crossover #One shot #writing commissions

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