#axdently

“Han Jae,” Simon closes the door to their bedroom behind him. “I...I need to tell you something,” When had he ever felt this nervous before? Not with Han. Never with Han. Simon touches at his forehead. Is he sweating bullets? Ectoplasm? A knot tightens in his stomach. The room tilts sideways. Bells clang in his ears. He needs to sit down. 

“You and I...we’ve known each other for a long time, yes?” For nearly two decades. For practically half his life. “And you...you enjoy staying here, yes? With me. And...and the children, of course,” His head nods along with words that make little sense. “Would you follow me anywhere, if I asked you to?”

— he'd started with an unwavering confidance, brimming with an assurance in his own reflexes that he was sure there couldn't be a single reality in which kyle todd could beat him. so sure of himself, andres had willingly relinquished his cherished "lucky charm" when it came to mario kart — waluigi himself. his phalangies clutched the joy-cons with a fervor, causing his knuckles to pale as sweat droplets formed at his forehead. with each nimble drift nd sharp turn, his entire body leaned in sync. amidst the ensuing chaos, their shared bag of dorito crumbs now lay scattered across the floor, and yet, he was oblivious to his surroundings. his reality swiftly shifted from triumphant confidence to his worst nightmare. just as he approached the finish line, a relentless blue koopa shell demolishes any hope he'd had of victory. devasted, so anguished by his loss, andres closes his eyes and drops the controller in a gesture of defeat. 

❝ this is the last time i’m ever letting you take waluigi from me again, bro. what kind of friend are you?! i’m rethinking everything. i might sue. ❞

“So...this is where it all goes down...huh?”

Of course, Ulysses has been inside of House Fraiser before, but back as a young student. “It feels like I’m getting to see the behind-the-scenes of it all. Is...this your office...I guess?” What he’s really asking is if this was the room that belonged to her...although he can’t quite bring himself to say the words. Or to hear them back from Sif. Instead, he finds himself eyeing the contents of every shelf, every heavy book, and even the plants sitting in the windowsill. “Sorry, is now a bad time?” He turns to look back at Sif. With news of any sacrifice that must be chosen by each head of house, he realizes she might be under too much pressure and not open for any visitors. “I can come back. If you need me to.”

Ren decides that he hates Kyle’s job.

Not because he doesn’t make okay money at it. But he hates having to wait outside of that dull building for Kyle’s bright and shining face to greet him. Every time one of the other agents open the door, he sits upright...only to find it’s a stranger that Ren doesn’t recognize or care to learn. He’s sure someone at the front desk must think he’s a stalker because of how frequently he stands outside waiting...but Ren wants to be the first one Kyle sees on his way out of the job.

“Finally. I feel like I’ve been waiting for you forever,” A smile suddenly grows on Ren’s face the moment he lays eyes on his boyfriend. “I wasn’t sure when exactly you finished, so I didn’t call Gabs to come wait for you,” Not like she would wait around for Kyle anyway, “Soo...I can tell her that I need a ride...or we can try and wait for the bus?

“I’m telling you, darling, there’s nothing for us to worry about.”

News of sacrifices had been the only thing whispered about through all of Selphia. But Simon had not taken the news to heart; where others were panicking, he sat in his living room with his current issue of The Daily Grail. Johanna’s dolls decorate the ground. “I don’t even have an official license anymore. I doubt my name is even written on the legers anymore,” He turns the page. “Oh, would you look at that. Sainte Coquille’s is having a bake sale this weekend.”

Sara could not recall the bar that they were currently in. They were convinced, however, that it wasn’t their favorite. Where was the cute bartender that they would flirt with for free drinks? Or the stickers in the bathroom that Sara had scribbled mustaches onto? The floodboards under her feet didn’t squeak, and she couldn’t sit in her favorite wobbly chair.

When she returned from the bathroom that lacked the familiar graffiti to return to their original lopsided seat. But the barstool she returned to sat perfectly even on the floor. How was she supposed to rock back and forth all night? Plopping back down, she tried to capture the same energy that she’d had before. But the bartenders were back to ignoring her, and they felt too stiff where they currently sat and -- wrong, it was all wrong.

“Hey. You there? Yeah, hey,” They tugged harshly at the shoulder of the person in front of them. “First of all, your box bleach dye looks like shit. Secondly you’re --” Upon seeing Talc’s face, Sara’s scowl deepens. “You’re in my seat. And you --” She scowls at the bartender, who they’d asked to keep a watch over their spot while they peed. “There goes your good tip I was gonna leave you. What the hell,” Sara huffs. Then kicks at the lopsided chair. “Get out of my seat before I push you out of it.”

Despite your current illness and my heartbreak due to our present arrangement, I fail to see a reason why our own courtship must come to an end. It’s the children’s safety that I feel the utmost concern for, whereas we share the same knowledge that my own life will continue to persist against all odds.

I simply prefer that Jasper makes it to adulthood with all ten fingers. It’s a challenge in itself with his love of reptiles and dragons; his father wanting to dine on his sticky hands does not need to be added to the mix.

Dining alone when I am accustomed to having you at my side has not been easy. I find myself longing for discussions of flagellum and the asexual reproduction of spores. To fulfill the desire of quality time that I presume we both share, I would cordially like to extend an invitation to you that we may share a meal together this Saturday night. Gabs has already been contacted to watch the children, and Sunday afternoon can be spent with them in the park as Jasper practices for his upcoming soccer game next weekend. He still shows more interest in catching crickets than kicking the ball.

The coach assures he has the energy of a true soccer player, but I needn’t remind you that soccer will not be the path Jasper ultimately takes.

Please ensure that you dress business casual. I have already made reservations at promptly six in the evening at a fine restaurant and wish that the attention we draw is from the way your legs look in a suit, not because you’re sopping wet.

Sincerely Yours,

Ulysses considers himself a skilled peruser of boutiques and haberdasheries alike. Drop him into any boutique and he’s certain he could find exactly what he’s looking for. Ladies perfumes? Organized by brand. Hair care products? Back of the store, right by the hair accessories. Belts? Sorted by material and then color next to the row of hat displays.

But this boutique.

He looks for perfume and stumbles across the shoes. He tries for lotion instead, and stumbles across the dresses. Uly stops there - the full body mirrors are always kind to him, and he uses the opportunity to run a hand through his hair and ensure each strand still remained in place. Focused on his own appearance, he doesn’t notice anyone leaving the dressing room right away, not until a younger woman stands in the mirror next to him, admiring her current dress.

Although, Ulysses does notice the material hang loosely at her shoulders and bunched up at her back.

“Are you here by yourself?” He leans over to ask. “I can zip that up for you, if you’d like.”