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frustrated-writer-skyeknight · 3 years

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S.q.u.a.d. reacts to the Lion King

Based on this article: I watched The Lion King as a grown-ass man.

"Man, Disney should just stop with the remakes already." Jamie sighed as he took some textbooks from his locker, "I mean, I think the Lion King one was just a CGI version of the original."

Jack frowned, scratching the back of his neck. "There was an original version?"

"What? Dude, of course there is. It's a classic. Everyone's seen it." Jamie snorted, turning towards the approaching brunette trio. "Hey guys, you know about the old Lion King movie, right?"

Dimitri shrugged, "I know there's a new lion movie out." He said. "Looks more like a documentary thing, if you go by the trailer."

"Didn't have cable growing up," Jim replied, "still don't. Plus, Disney is overrated anyway."

Hiccup hummed thoughtfully, "What's lion king?"

Jamie stared at his friends dumbfounded. "Okay, we are so having a movie night now." He said.

Later that Friday evening, Jamie and his friends find themselves in the den of his home, parents out with the younger sister, and three bowls of popcorn with different flavors; cheese, butter, and barbeque. Plus, two boxes of pizza.

"Wow, Jay," Astrid whistled as she settled on a spot next to him, "you sure went all out for this."

Jamie shrugged, "Disney is my childhood." he said.

"I still say they're a gold digging empire," Jim deadpanned, but took a handful of popcorn. "But I never say no to free food."

Dimitri took a slice of pizza as Jack had too, and they 'toasted' to it, "Preach."

"Okay guys," Jamie rolled his eyes as he set Netflix on the television, "at least wait for the movie to start. Since I brought it up earlier, let's start with 'The Lion King.' I've got tissues ready in case you need it."

Jim snorted, rolling his eyes. "It's an Animated kids movie." He said. "Nobody cries over those.

───────────────

🎶On the day we arrive on the planet~🎶

"Well, opening song sounds good." Jack hummed, "wouldn't mind getting it stuck in my head. Unlike that overrated Queen Ella single one."

Dimitri groaned, "Ohmygod, yes." he groused, "People will not shut up about it!"

"Okay boys." Astrid rolled her eyes, "focus."

They did so, but it didn't take long for someone else to speak up. "Whoa, now hold up. So, that monkey dude..." Jim frowned, and Jamie felt the need to pause the movie. "I mean, come on, this monkey chief dude comes hobbling around on a walking stick earlier, and you expect that he can hold a damn newborn over a cliff? That's shady, man."

"Just watch." Jamie rolled his eyes, smirking at his friend's offended expression. "Also, I'm gonna have to preemptively warn you to suspend your disbelief for a lot of these movies." He hits play once more.

And they watched.

"He's as mad as a hippo with a hernia."

"That's some mad alliteration skills," Jack mused, "ugh, alliteration. Still confuse that with assonance."

Hiccup stared at his boyfriend, "The fact that you even bring that up casually..."

"Okay, feeling that Scar's the bad dude here." Astrid interrupted, "but I'm liking the accent."

Rafiki is painting Simba on his tree...

"There's that shady baboon butt again, doing grafitti without his goddamn walking stick." Jim snorted, "I don't trust that punk."

Dimitri chuckled, giving his boyfriend a one-arm hug. "Pup, you have trust issues. It's your thing." He cooed, "it's a cartoon monkey, he can't hurt you."

"But he can hurt his fellow cartoon animal peeps." Jim countered. "Shady bastard."

Dimitri rolled his eyes, "and they say you're a cold, insensitive prick." He snorted.

"Wait, a Lion in a Pride mates with all the lioness..." Hiccup frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. "He's literally sleeping with his wife and the rest of his, uh, concubines in a single..."

Jamie groaned, "You're ruining my childhood here."

"So, this is that famous overmemed scene." Jack snorted, "pretty grand, I'll give it that. Tempted to google what the shadowy place is, though."

Jamie shook his head, taking Jack's phone. "No spoilers." He said. "It's coming up soon anyway."

"Forgive me for not leaping in joy. Bad back, you know."

Hiccup nodded faux sagely, "Scar is me at every social gathering." He said.

"No, no! Don't, you gullible lion cub!" Jim shouted at the TV, much to everyone's amusement. "THAT DARK PLACE IS OBVIOUSLY NOT AN ELEPHANT GRAVEYARD, SIMBA. DON'T DO DUMB SHIT. LISTEN TO YOUR PARENTS. GO TO LION CUB SCHOOL!"

Dimitri snickered, gesturing to his soulmark. "He's talking in capslock again." He said.

🎶"I just can't wait to be king~!"🎶

"Okay, I'm so finding a playlist in Spotify now." Jack mused, scrolling at his phone that Jamie returned earlier. "These tunes are gonna be my jam."

Hiccup shrugged, "I still find it funny that the animals are so okay with their predators being their king. No revolution sparked by discontentment at all." He pointed out. "Sounds kinda fishy."

"Okay, anyone else feeling kinda awkward with Simba and Nala's sexual tension?" Jim voiced out, "I mean, they're kids... Or cubs... Whatever. They're young."

Hiccup nodded, "Not to mention, cousins. Being in the same Pride..." He trailed off as Jamie kicks him lightly on the shin.

"Again, ruining childhood for me." Jamie sighed, and Astrid rubs his arm soothingly.

Jim points at the screen accusingly, "Ah! An elephant graveyard!" he gawked. "okay, was wrong on that, but still creepy as hell. Especially now that practically everywhere in the Savannah is an elephant graveyard... Even a rhino graveyard."

Jack shook his head, "Guys, you need to chill."

"Okay, these hyenas reminds me of that old Cartoon Network show, Ed, Edd 'n' Eddy." Hiccup mused, "Especially Ed, who's basically Ed. Can't be a coincidence."

Astrid snickered, "He's also you; laughing or making jokes to laugh about in inappropriate situations." she teased. "Got us in trouble a lot in those 'bring your kid to work' events."

"Aaaand Mufasa comes in to save the day," Jack slow clapped, "knew it. But boy, is Simba grounded. You done fucked up, kid."

"I'm surrounded by idiots..."

Jim huffed, leaning back against the couch and Dimitri's arm. "Mood." He deadpanned. "Also, calling out their cruelty to animated zebras."

"I know right?" Dimitri humored him, "where the fuck is PETA when you need them?"

Jamie snorted, smirking at them, "Uh, I don't know... Reality?"

"Doesn't feel like it either." Astrid quipped, "elephants still dying everywhere."

Jack rolled his eyes, "Fucking chill guys."

"Ah, Hiccup, look. How's that for discontentment?" Astrid pointed at the screen, "Scar's not satisfied with being sass king of the jungle. Wants to run for real king, that can't end well."

Hiccup shrugged, "I'll take it." He said, "and it's not a jungle, actually.

"Dude has mad pipes though." Jack pointed out, "I'd definitely attend the opening night of 'Scar: The Musical.'"

Jamie hummed thoughtfully, "Huh, a lion king remake with his perspective instead would be an improvement." He said.

"Simba, it's to die for!"

"Okay Hiccup, take notes." Astrid quipped, "Scar's pun game is topnotch."

Hiccup snorted, tossing a throw pillow her way. "Must've learned from me." He shot back, "I'm a master."

"Still," Astrid said, laughing as she threw the pillow back, "I have the feeling this is the point of the movie I'm gonna start hating Scar."

Jamie cringed as the stampede started, and he paused the movie much to everyone's frustration. "Okay, guys. Again, maybe you need ti—" he trailed off.

"PLAY THE DAMN MOVIE!"

Jamie did so. And he found it strangely satisfying when everyone cried out a despairing 'NOOOOOOOOOO!' along with Simba as Mufasa fell to his death.

"Mufasa is dead?!?!" Jim gawked, "he died?!!? Just like DUMBLEDORE?!?!?! Just like MY FATHER?!" He whimpered, leaning on Dimitri as his boyfriend reached for the box of Kleenex from Jamie. "Feeling unusually upset right now. It's a damn kid's movie. It has no right to be hitting it home, and right to the feels."

Dimitri sighed, patting his back consolingly. "There, there..."

"Fuck you, Scar. Just..." Jim groused, "Fuck. You."

Astrid sighed, taking a sheet from the Kleenex herself. "Gotta say, though," she started, "for a schemer like Scar, he sure does skimp on the quality of his henchmen. Letting Simba go is gonna bite him in the ass someday. Guaranteed."

"Okay," Jamie paused the movie. "intermission. Who needs a bio-break?"

Jim just stood up and went for the bathroom. The rest finished the pizza and Dimitri made sure to leave some for Jim.

"You good, Jim?

"Shut up and play the movie." The brunette groused, "ugh, I can't believe I cried. Damn you Scar."

Jamie laughed as he plays the movie once more. "Told you you'd need tissues."

"Screw you, man."

───────────────

"Mufasa's death was a terrible loss..."

Jim eats his pizza. He continues to curse Scar as he speaks of Mufasa's death. "Don't fall for his crap, come on!" He scowled. "Zazu, he fucking slammed you to a rock!" He sighed, "Why the hell are you letting him become king? This is why you animals are getting extinct."

"It's.... really not." Hiccup protested.

Dimitri massaged his shoulders, "Jim, you can print out a picture of Scar and dart him, okay pup?" He soothed.

"The hyenas look like they can get shit done, though." Jack mused, "well, except for giving Simba the slip."

Jim hummed, "Oh, baboon guy. Almost forgot about this dude." He said. "Cutting him some slack because I feel he's going to drop some Yoda shit on this bitch."

"You get so feisty when you're irritable." Dimitri mused, "and this is why Scroop secretly has a thing for you."

"WHAT!"

"What?"

"Don't worry," Dimitri shrugged, kissing the tip of his nose. "I don't share."

Jim huffed, "Well, I bloody hope not!"

"You gotta put your behind in your past."

"Gotta get a tattoo of this Pumbaa quote." Jack joked, "words to live by 101."

Hiccup audibly whimpered, taking Jack's hand. "Please don't " he said. "Your skin's perfect. It's bad enough that my choice of words already marred it."

"Aw, babe..." Jack hugged him, "you know I love it."

Astrid blew a raspberry. "Get a room."

"Uh, my house, so no." Jamie protested.

Jim blinked, "Wait, I know this is Timon and Pumbaa because I had them on a pencil case when I was eight or something. Then, I got one of space and that was that." He started. "But damn, I didn't know Hakuna Matata was from here. I have heard this song before, I am not entirely ignorant."

"I'm so hungry, I can eat a whole Zebra."

"I'm condemning this casual Zebra slaughter," Hiccup declared. "Let it be known. You can't just eat a whole Zebra, Simba. Come on."

Astrid gagged, "Insects? Really?" She shakes her head. "Simba's diet is fucked. I'm not a nutritionist or a zoologist, but I really, really, don't think insects are enough to get Simba through all those years in the jungle. I mean, it's like asking humans to survive on dog food alone."

"And yet he has grown into a fine-ass lion over the course of about three bars of song." Jack whistled, "Intriguing. Switching to insect-based diet after the movie."

Hiccup shakes his head, "Snowflake, I rather you go vegan."

Rafiki appears and takes Simba's floating fur with the dandelions...

"There's monkey Yoda again," Jim snorted, "jumping down on trees, not a walking stick in sight. He's on to something though, so I'll let it sli—HOLD THE PHONE!" The brunette balked, "Did baboon man REALLY figure out Simba was still alive from smelling dandelions that floated from miles away?"

Dimitri rubbed his back in circles, "Pup, stop being antagonized by the damn monkey already." he snickered, "it's cute, but I'm worrying over your mental health."

"Don't tell me what to do, dimwit." Jim scoffed, "I mean, really, this insane Yoda monkey with inconsistent usage of walking aids might be the movie's last hope. How to feel about this, I don't know."

"AAAAAAH!"

Hiccup hummed, faux sadly. "We're gonna lose Pumbaa. I can feel it." he said. "Life's just not fair, and warthogs just aren't fast."

"Oh, wait, it's Nala!" Jack cheered, "Yaaay!"

The freckled brunette snorted, crossing his arms. "Nala goes from hunting Pumbaa one minute to having a conversation with him after Simba vouches for him?" he shook his head, "So, tell me how there aren't any riots with the predators being friends with some preys, and others not? Unjustifiable exceptions."

"Guys, suspend your disbelief." Jamie sighed, "I think I gave out that warning earlier."

🎶...You needn't look too far; Stealing through the night's uncertainties, love is where they are~🎶

"Whoa, 'Can you feel the love tonight' was from this movie? Okay, it's official, I'm in love with this soundtrack." Jack made an exaggerated bowing down motion towards the screen, "Hands down one of the best soundtracks I've ever heard."

Dimitri narrowed his eyes at the screen, in scrutiny. "They totally boned at this scene, right?" he deadpanned. "I mean, did you see those bed room sex eyes?"

Jim stuffed him with a pillow, "At least the sexual tension between them doesn't feel as awkward now."

"You said you'd always be there! But you're not... it's because of me..."

Hiccup nodded his head, "Sexual tension replaced with crippling self-loathing, just like real life." he sighed, "feel ya, Simba."

"God, I don't know how many therapists mom made me see until I finally got over blaming myself for my sperm donor leaving us." Jim sighed, shaking his head. "and then guidance counseling when we found out he killed himself a few months before Freshemen year started."

Dimitri stared at his boyfriend worriedly, "Pup, do you need a hug?" he embraced him without waiting for a response.

"It ain't your fault, Jim. Shit happens... Especially stampedes if you're in a forest."

Jamie sighed, "Savannah."

"Real talk, though," Astrid mused, "shit happens when you've got scheming uncles who planned to push their brother off the buffalo freeway."

The brunette stared at his girlfriend before picking up his phone, "I'm tweeting that."

Rafiki appears humming incoherently...

"I swear to god, this monkey is on meth." Jim snorted, shaking his head. "Yeap, he just called Simba a baboon. This primate is trippin'."

Dimitri stared at the rest of his friends, as if he was in 'The Office'. "I'm never gonna hear the end of this, am I?"

"Better not bring him to any Zoos soon," Jack advised. "He might try to throw rocks at the monkey containment."

"Okay, I take it back." Jim raised his arms, "This is going to be some pivotal revelatory shit." he started.

"Correction, I know your father."

Jim glared at the screen, pointing an accusing finger. "Okay, still trippin'" He scowled at the meditation monkey, "I hope this really is Mufasa and not some metaphorical mambo-jumbo. If not, I call subterfuge."

Jamie was starting to wonder if this whole movie marathon was a good idea. They were just starting with the first one, and Jim already seems like a lost cause. Maybe there was a reason innocent children were the target audience.

"CALLED IT," Jim growled at the television, "that's a reflection, you punk-ass monkey. Way to let a brother down." He shook his head, frowning as the screen shows cloud Mufasa. "Aaaaand now he's slipped Simba some acid. Just great."

Definitely a bad idea.

"Wow, it worked." Even Hiccup is surprised. "who'da thunk it. Hm, might wanna check for hidden projectors, though. Monkey might've pulled a Mysterio... Well, for a good cause, but still. Jim's got it right with subterfuge."

Dimitri glared at him, "Dude, spoiler alert."

"Oops." Hiccup blushed, "sorry."

Jack blinked at the screen, "What the fuck," he scowled, "He just left Nala behind and returned home? When it was her idea in the first place? Bro, that's your soulmark. Boy, is he in for some pain."

"I think this came out before the discovery of soulmarks." Hiccup patted his hand soothingly. "there, there.... What we should really be questioning is that desert. I'm still wondering how there's even an oasis in this movie."

Jamie face palmed, "Suspend your disbelief, suspend... Oh, forget it." he groaned.

🎶"He eeee's a big pig (Yup, yup). You could be a big pig too. Oy!"🎶

"In a movie filled with amazing songs," Jack snickered, "Timon's luau song's gonna be my personal favorite. Bonus points for presentation."

Astrid sighed, placing a hand on her forehead. "And they fell for it," she tossed her hand in a 'I'm so done' manner. "This is why you hire quality hit man, Scar. You can't half-ass a coup and not expect repercussions."

"Well, if he was Loki-smart," Jamie shrugged, "well, there's no Avengers to beat him up and the heroes don't win."

Jim snorted, "Simplified hero-winning's overdone." he said. "Villain redemption arcs like Zuko's should start catching on."

"So, you have no cable for Disney," Dimitri started, "but you know ATLA?"

Jim shrugged, "A therapist was a fan," he explained, "and she thought it'd help with my father abandonment issues. Confirmed: It did."

"I killed Mufasa..."

Hiccup face palmed, and groaned as if he was in real agony. "Aaaagh, typical villain behavior." he groused, "shut your damn Zebra-holes, and finish the job for once, you idiots never learn."

"Chat shit, get banged, Scar." Dimitri snickered, "Chat shit, get banged."

Jim stuffs a pillow at him once more, "Stop it with the innuendos!" he sighed, as he stared at screen. He raised a brow, "Amidst this all-out melee, meth-monkey is doing some serious damage. How, I do not know."

"Well, guess he's been hiding his pizzaz all along."

Simba and Scar finally battle it out

"NOOOOOOO!"

"YEEEEEEEEES!"

Jack cheered, "SIMBA WINS." he grinned, "And the hyenas have also found a temporary solution to their food shortage. Win-win."

"This was a kid's movie..." Jim narrowed his eyes at the screen, "and they heavily implied Scar getting gang-devoured."

Jamie snorted, and snickered. "You should see the one when the villain got hanged from the treetops."

"WHAT!"

"Remember who you are..."

"Feel like 'The Eye of the Tiger' would be a proper song for this moment," Jack mused, before pausing in thought, "wait, wouldn't that be 'Eye of the Lion', then?"

Hiccup laughed, shaking his head. "And just like that, the land is glorious again. No mention of rehabilitation process with might have included replanting trees, and attracting livestock with lucrative real estate prices." he mused.

"Let's just hope this heralds a decline in the merciless killings of animated Zebras." Jim snorted, "still unsure as to how meth-monkey hasn't managed to drop a cub off the cliff yet."

Jamie shook his head, as he went back to Netflix's home screen, and grinned towards his friends, "Now, as payback for effectively ruining my childhood, here's a little piece of info to mindblow you guys: The Lion King is basically Hamlet but with lions, and a happy ending."

"WHAT!"

"Ohmygod!" Jack balked, "IT IS! IT SO IS!"

Hiccup frowned, shaking his head. "I can't believe I didn't see it," he frowned. "And I fucking love Hamlet. I feel like I've let Shakespeare down."

"Baboon man should've made like Yorick and turned into a skeleton head..." Jim snorted, "Wait, was that why they made Scar hold that skull in a certain way?"

Dimitri rolled his eyes, "And here I thought we moved past the whole Rafiki antagonized drama."

Jamie laughed outloud, clutching his stomach. "Just wait till you see the Romeo and Juliet sequel."

"Can we get a movie with more..." Astrid scrunched up her nose, "... humans please?"

#Rise of the Guardians #How to train your Dragon #Jack Frost #Hiccup Haddock #Astrid Hofferson #Jamie Bennett #Anastasia #Treasure Planet #Dimitri #Jim Hawkins

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aratilightwood · 5 years

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When ghost Livia visits Kit.

This is set between ‘Queen of air and darkness’ and ‘The wicked powers.’

…

Appearance one:

*Kit finishes making brownies with Tessa in the kitchen*.

“The brownies are made. Why don’t you use the oven gloves to take the tray out, while I clear away the dishes?” Tessa asked.

“Ok,” Kit replied casually.

Before Kit moved towards the oven, he saw Livia. She sat on the table top near the microwave.

He stepped back in surprise.

“Smells good,” she said, “what’s cooking?”

“Brownies,” Kit said.

With the appearance of Livia, Kit forgot to put on the gloves, and flinched when he opened the oven and reached for the tray.

“Kit!” Tessa chided from where she stood at the sink, “I told you to put the gloves on.”

“I know,” Kit sighed.

Appearance two:

*Kit is watching over baby Carstairs inside her bedroom*.

“Would you please stop throwing all your toys?” Kit asked.

The baby giggled in reply from the playpen she stood in, as she lifted her toy bear and threw it on the floor.

Kit sighed and went to retrieve a bottle of milk from the nightstand, when he felt something hit his back.

It was a toy bunny.

“You’re in big trouble now,’ he said with affection.

When Kit turned around, he noticed Livia standing beside the playpen.

“Really?” he said.

“Hey! I didn’t throw it, the baby did,” she protested.

“I know it was you,” he said as he tried to suppress a smile.

Appearance three:

*Kit is training with Jem in the park*.

“The important thing you need to remember is, you must have good balance whenever you’re fighting with a staff,” Jem explained.

“Alright,” Kit said as he stood opposite Jem.

“Mirror my every movement,” Jem said, “keep your feet shoulder width apart.”

Before Kit could comply, Livia could be seen from the river’s edge and he became momentarily distracted.

Jem unexpectedly got on his knees and made quick work with his staff.

Kit tripped and fell on his back.

“Another thing you shouldn’t forget is, you have to stay focussed all the time,” Jem said as he hovered over Kit with amusement.

Kit stood up immediately and glared towards Livia who started to laugh.

“I’m sorry,” Kit said, “let’s continue training.”

Appearance four:

*Kit is watching ‘Silence of the lambs’ in the living room*.

“No, he’s not there. You’re all making a mistake,” Kit exclaimed at the tv with a mouthful of popcorn.

It had just passed 1:00am and everyone else in the house were asleep.

Livia than appeared beside him on the sofa.

He shouted and clumsily spilled some of the popcorn on his pyjamas

“What are you watching?” She asked.

“‘Silence of the lambs,’” Kit said. “A very intense film, so I don’t appreciate you frightening me like that.”

Livia rolled her eyes and watched the screen.

The police had just realised Hannibal Lecter wasn’t inside the prison, but instead taken away in an ambulance and escaped.

“Damn,” She said, “who is he? Some kind of convict?”

“A very dangerous serial killer, if you must know,” he said.

“Oh,” Livia said with realisation.

“Shhh, the movie is just getting interesting,” Kit said.

Appearance five:

*Kit is chopping onions in the kitchen*.

“What are you chopping?” Kit heard a voice behind him.

In surprise, his hand slipped, and the knife cut through his finger.

Kit flinched and immediately turned from the counter to look a Livia, who stood beside the fridge.

“It’s onions for an omelette,” he paused, “but look at what you made me do.”

Kit than lifted his hand to show her his injured finger.

Livia waved him off, “just run it under cold water or use a stele.”

Kit frowned and walked towards the sink.

Appearance six:

*Kit is reading a fairy tale to baby Carstairs before bedtime*.

“The wolf knocked on the door of the brick house and said, ‘Little pigs, little pigs, let me in,’” Kit exclaimed as he lay on the right side of the bed.

The baby lay in the middle of the bed and listened intently, but it was clear that she was falling asleep because she struggled to keep her eyes open.

“The pigs replied, ‘Not by the hairs on our chinny chin chin,’” Kit continued.

He then saw Livia appear on the left side of the bed and paused.

“Are you reading ‘The three little pigs?’” she asked as she observed the book on his lap.

“Yes,” he said, “just until the baby falls asleep.”

“You should use the ‘big bad wolf’ voice,” she said. “Tavvy enjoyed it when Julian used to read the same story to us.”

Kit cleared his throat and made his voice sound both deep and comical, “then I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house down!”

The baby started to smile widely, and Kit knew, it would be difficult to put her to sleep than.

Appearance seven:

*Kit is pushing baby Carstairs on the swings in the park*.

“There we go,” Kit said with a smile as he gave the swing a push.

The baby smiled uncontrollably and the hair on her head was fluttering against the wind.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he asked.

Kit than saw Livia as she sat on the vacant swing to the left of them.

“I sure am,” she said while she started moving, herself.

Livia’s presence had shocked him, and he wasn’t prepared as the swing the baby sat on, hit him over the head.

He fell to the ground instantly.

“Oops, I’m sorry,” Livia said apologetically.

“It’s fine, I suppose I should be used to this by now,” Kit replied as he stood up slowly.

Appearance eight:

*The entire family is watching ‘The lion King’ in the living room*.

“Mufasa’s death is so tragic,” Tessa said mournfully as she watched the screen.

“Don’t worry, Timone and Pumba help Simba deal with his grief,” Jem, who sat next to her, said.

Kit sat on the other side of the sofa, with the baby on his lap.

They had finished the first half of the film and ‘Hakuna matata’ started to play.

Livia than materialised beside Kit on the sofa.

“I love this movie and the song is one of my favourites,” Livia said.

“It’s a good classic,” Kit replied.

“You should sing along,” Livia said.

“I’m not doing that,” Kit said with a laugh.

“Do it,” Livia said.

“No,” Kit said again.

“I’ll keep pestering you until you do,” Livia said.

“Argh, Fine,” he said finally. “It means no worries for the rest of your days. It’s a problem free philosophy, Hakuna matata.”

Jem and Tessa both turned and looked at Kit with amazement.

“It looks like someone’s enjoying the movie,” Tessa said, “You’ve never sang along to Disney songs before.”

“I was under duress,” Kit said unhappily.

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what-stop-the-presses-rly-means · 5 years

Text

Bye, Bye, Sugar Blue Eyes part 1

Race x female reader modern au.

Part 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Summary: The newsies all grew up in the same orphanage before getting adopted and going their separate ways. Years later, it’s about to be shut down and some of them come back to run it themselves. Race has to go away for awhile to take care of a sick relative so Jack puts out an ad for a nanny.

Warnings: some mild swearing

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

I smoothed out my shirt with my sweaty palms as I paced back and forth in front of the tall, ancient-looking building. I needed to calm down before I went in for my interview. I just happened to see the ad for a nanny in the paper a few days ago when I was wrapping my friend’s things, helping her move. I wasn’t sure, but she insisted I would be good for the job. I didn’t even know that many businesses put ads in the paper anymore. They must be a little more old fashioned. I could get behind that.

Taking a deep breath, I walked inside. The building was definitely old but it was beautifully restored. From the main entrance I could see the shiny wooden floors that led into the living area, the dining room, and what looked like the kitchen. There was a big, intricate looking staircase, which I assumed lead up into the bedrooms. And to my left I saw a door that read, “Offices.” I was about to walk over when a group of boys came bounding down the stairs. There were four of them tossing a football back and forth. My instinct was to tell them not to rough house indoors but I felt it wasn’t my place. It wasn’t until the youngest one fell down and damn near got trampled, that I didn’t care about formalities.

“Hey!” The three older boys looked up, freezing on the spot. I walked over. “Now, I don’t know what the rules are about playing ball in the house, but I’m pretty sure we aren’t supposed to reenact Mufasa’s death scene with young boys.” They looked from me to the weeping boy on the ground and backed up. I knelt down. “Hey there, my name’s (Y/N). What’s yours?” He peeked through his fingers.

“Peter,” he said quietly. I smiled down at him.

“Hi, Peter. Are you hurt?” He nodded, holding his knee. “Can I take a look?” He hesitated before nodding again. I rolled up his pant leg and saw some red scratches. “Hmm… I think you’ll live. But just in case…” I reached into my purse and retrieved a bandage. Placing it on his knee, I winked at him. “Well, as someone who’s named after my favorite Lost Boy, I think you’re pretty invincible. You’re not gonna let a couple small scratches bring you down, are you? Would Peter Pan do that?” He smiled a little and shook his head. I rolled his pant leg back down and he jumped up, looking happier than ever.

Someone behind me cleared their throat. I scrambled up and turned around, coming face to face with a tall man.

“That was pretty impressive. Can I assume you’re here for the nanny position?” I nodded, face flushed.

“I am. Sorry about that. I didn’t even think, I just wanted to make sure he was okay-“

He held his hand up. “It’s okay, really. You did the right thing. That couldn’t have been more perfect. You’d think we’d set that up as some sort of test,” he laughed.

“I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” I held out my hand. He shook it, smiling brightly.

“Jack Kelly. Nice to meet ya. I’m part owner and coordinator here at Santa Fe’s.”

“Nice to meet you, Jack. Was this place always called Santa Fe’s? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it until a few days ago. No offense,” I quickly added.

“Don’t worry. Nah, it used to be called Pulitzer’s before we took over. It was about to get shut down two years ago and I couldn’t let that happen. I got my friends together and we pooled our money and haven’t looked back. We decided on the name, Santa Fe, because when we were younger we had a plan to run away to paradise. We never made it, but maybe we can make this the boys’ own little paradise.”

“That’s amazing.” He waved off the comment. “No, really. So many kids get pushed aside and forgotten here in the city. It’s refreshing to hear that people really do care.”

Jack placed a hand on my shoulder. “I think we’re gonna get along great. Let’s step into my office.” He led me to the office door and held it open for me. There were two cubicles set up in the room and a door that read, “Counselor.” A dark haired man sat at the cubicle near the door.

“Oh, hi! Are you here for the nanny interview?” He stood up and held out his hand.

“Sure am.” I shook his hand and smiled. Jack led me to a chair near the other cubicle.

“This is David. He’s co-owner and part time homeschool teacher for some of the boys.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Jack sat on the opposite side of the desk. “So.” I steady myself, preparing for a number of questions and scrutiny. “I’m assuming you read that the position will be a live-in situation?”

“Yes, and I could move in immediately. My roommate just moved out and my lease will be up at the end of the month.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And where would you go if you didn’t get the job? If you don’t mind me asking.”

I cleared my throat. “I would move in with my roommate and her fiancé for the time being.”

Jack nodded. “Okay, so you would be on the clock for an average work week: weekdays, starting at seven in the morning to get the boys ready for the day, ending at five in the afternoon. After that time you are free to do as you please. And you would have a one year contract. After that you can decide to stay with us or change career paths. If you were to get the job, I mean.” I nodded, biting my lip. “Responsibilities would include cleaning, watching over the boys, making sure they follow their schedules like going to appointments, studying, doing schoolwork; and sometimes preparing food or tending to any boy who is sick or wounded. Kind of a jack of all trades, so to speak. Would you be up for that?” he asked as he looked over my resume.

“Absolutely. I would love to help these boys in any way I can. They’ve already been through so much.”

He looked up at me and glanced back down at the paper before tossing it on the desk, making my heart sink. He leaned forward with a serious look on his face. “I have one more question for you… Will your roommate be totally heartbroken if you couldn’t live with her?” he said with a smirk.

It took my brain a moment to catch up. “…Wait. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

He stood up and held out his hand. “Nothing’s set in stone at the moment. We still need to do the required background check and I need to consult with Davey. But I have a good feeling about this.”

I couldn’t contain my excitement when I jumped up to shake his hand. “Thank you so much, Mr. Kelly!”

“Please, that was my old man. Call me Jack.”

“Thank you, Jack. I’m so excited to get started!” I could hear David chuckling behind me.

“Good choice, Jack. But we do have to be professional about this, remember.”

Jack smiled. “Before we get all the boring paperwork in order, let’s introduce you to everyone.” I followed him out and into the living area where a couple of boys were watching TV. “Wait right here.” Jack walked over to the foot of the stairs. “BOYS! CAN EVERYONE COME DOWNSTAIRS FOR A MINUTE? THERE’S SOMEONE YOU NEED TO MEET!”

Soon enough, the thundering of footsteps could be heard as about a dozen boys of varying ages flooded into the room. Jack turned off the TV to get everyone’s attention.

“Gentlemen, this is (Y/N). She’s gonna be joining us for awhile.” I waved awkwardly. “She’s gonna help you guys with everyday tasks. I’m sure you’ll welcome her warmly.” He looked pointedly at a couple boys who I assume must be some kind of troublemakers. Most of them nodded and waved, making some noncommittal sound of greeting.

“Are you serious?” quipped an older looking boy who was slouching on the couch. Jack sighed.

“Yes, Rider? You have a comment on the matter? This is new,” he said sarcastically. The boy leaned forward a bit, staring him down.

“You’ve only interviewed, what, two other women for this job, and as soon as someone halfway decent shows up you’re ready to just throw her at us? Race can’t be replaced that easily.”

Jack sighed again, rubbing at his face. “We aren’t replacing Race. He’ll be back again. But we are in need of an extra set of hands around here. You sure as hell don’t make it easy for us.” I wasn’t sure who they were talking about and frankly, I was afraid to ask, what with the way the boy was glaring at me.

Before Rider could make another comment, Jack spoke up again. “Does anyone have anything positive to say? Any questions?” The boys just shuffled their feet as they looked from me to each other. Then Peter, the young boy from before, stepped forward.

“I like her,” he said in a small voice. That made me smile. Some of the other boys seemed a little surprised to hear him say this.

“He doesn’t talk much,” Jack whispered. I nodded, understanding.

I leaned down. “Thank you so much, Peter. I like you, too.” The tension seemed to have left the room after that.

“Okay, go back to your business while I show (Y/N) around, thank you.” The boys dispersed as we left the room. Once we walked through the dining room I let out a little breath which made Jack chuckle.

“Yeah, they can be intimidating sometimes. You’ll get used to it. Or they’ll get used to you and back off a bit. If my first impression of you is anything to go by, I think you’ll be just fine.”

“I hope so,” I said, still a little nervous.

“Anyway, this is the dining room.” He gestured to the long wooden table.

I laughed a bit. “Meals must be a rambunctious time. But to look out and see this big, crazy family you’ve got? That must be amazing.” Jack gave me a little smile.

“It really is. And now you’re gonna be a part of it.” Wow. I really was, wasn’t I? We walked through a door on the back wall, into the kitchen. I gaped a little at just how big it was. It could easily fit more than a few people. With tons of counter space and a gigantic oven. Yet it was very homey with brick walls and amazing smells. And the man singing along to an unrecognizable Italian song while he cooked made the picture perfect. When he heard Jack clear his throat he turned around and smiled, adjusting his backwards cap.

“Hey there.”

Jack pushed me forward a little. “This is Albert, our cook. Albert, this is (Y/N). She’s the newest member of our big family, here.” He smiled down at me, using my words. Albert wiped his hands on a rag and held his hand out.

“Nice to meet ya! So you’re the new Race, huh?”

“Excuse me?” I looked at him in confusion as I shook his hand.

Jack gave him a stern look. “We’re steering clear of calling her that. Some of the boys aren’t happy about this situation.”

“Rider still givin’ you a hard time?”

“He’s not taking Race’s absence lightly, no. And now he’s accusing me of replacing him.”

“Eh, he’ll get over it,” Albert dismissively waved, going back to check on the food on the stove. I took my chance to speak up.

“Uh, not to be nosey, but who’s this Race everyone keeps talking about?”

“Oh! Sorry, yeah we should probably fill you in. Race is another good friend of ours. He’s one of the people I called when I heard this place was gonna shut down. He works as a counselor to the boys here. Some of them have had a rough go of it so he really helps them. The oldest, Rider, has grown pretty attached to Race so he’s not too happy that he’s gone.”

“Where did he go?”

Jack ran a hand through his hair. “His father isn’t doing too well. They don’t know how much longer he has. So Race didn’t hesitate to go back home, out of state, to take care of him. He’ll be back someday, we’re just not sure when. And we’re not gonna rush him.”

I nodded vigorously. “That’s completely understandable. That’s just awful.”

Albert turned around to plate some of the food. “Yeah. But Racer’s a trooper. And we’ll all be here for him when he gets back.” He must’ve seen the uncertainty on my face, so he continued. “Hey, don’t worry. That guy’s my best friend. There ain’t nothin’ he can’t handle. And you’re gonna do a great job with the boys. It’s about time we got a feminine touch around here. It may seem like you’ve got some big shoes to fill, but like Jack said, you’re not replacing him. No one could do that. But you will be a big help around here, especially for when he comes back. Take a little weight off his shoulders. Those boys love him and they’ll love you, too. Just give it some time.” He placed a comforting hand on my shoulder.

“Thanks. That really means a lot.” We all turned as we heard the door open.

“Hey, Al, lunch almost ready? We’ve got some hungry boys wantin’ to know. Oh, hey!” David smiled at me. “I see you’re getting to know everyone. If Al starts flirting with you, don’t panic. Just grab the broom and shoo him out like we do all the other rats.” I laughed as Albert threw a dish towel at him.

“To answer your question, yes, it’s almost done. I just need to set the table.”

“I can do it!” I piped up. “I-I mean I’d like to start helping out right away. You know, get into the swing of things. If that’s okay.” They all looked at each other for a second before Jack nodded.

“Sure, if you want. Dishes are in those cupboards, there.” They all watched me, a little bemused, as I gathered up as many dishes as I could and walked into the dining room.

“What are you doing?”

I jumped, almost dropping the plates in my arms. I looked up to see Rider staring me down.

“Oh, hi. I’m helping out. I wanna get started as soon as possible. David said you guys were hungry and I figured we’d better hurry up. There’s nothing scarier than hungry boys,” I laughed as I started to set the table.

“Yeah, don’t do that.” I looked up at him. “Don’t think you can get on our good side just because you help out and make stupid jokes. You’re not gonna be here very long. Don’t get comfortable.” With that, he left the room.

I just stared at the door as Jack came in with the rest of the dishes.

“BOYS! GO WASH UP!”

I jumped again. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I cleared my throat, “I’m fine.” I went around getting everything in place. When they brought all the food out I excused myself.

“You’re not staying for lunch?” Jack looked disappointed.

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude. Plus, it’ll be crowded enough in here without me. I don’t wanna make anyone uncomfortable,” I said as the boys started filing in. I glanced at Rider as he walked to his seat. Jack definitely caught on and grabbed a couple plates.

“No big deal. You, me, and Davey can eat in the office.” He spoke with such an air of finality that I didn’t try to argue.

#newsies #race higgins x reader #look! i wrote something!#mine #bye bye sugar blue eyes #race higgins

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luccie-eclair · 5 years

Note

What do you think of this whole Salem v Gods thing?

My original response was going to be “I’m completely neutral. All three were awful and no one is truly innocent. However, some of their actions can be justified, blah blah blah.” But I think there’s something I am missing or misinterpreting, so I’m gonna rewatch this episode and type as I go with direct… er, paraphrased quotes. This will also be long ass a mess, so I’m sorry. Also, don’t read on mobile. It will compress into one whole paragraph.

•"How could the Gods let this happen?“ -Salem. No commentary, just wanted to point it out for future ref if needed.

•"I understand your pain. But you demand of me what I cannot make so. Life and death are a delicate balance” -Light. So… it’s not like he “no” and gave zero reason behind it and no remorse. The first thing he says is “fam, I’m sorry your S/O passed and I understand that you’re grieving”. He gave his reasoning and I think he has a point. We live. We die. Whether that death is fair or just or neither. It’s a fact of life.

•This is probably not the first time he’s had to have this conversation. He’s probably given a similar answer to many people. Now think about this: he brings Ozma back. Oh well that’s so easy and would solve everything. No, it wouldn’t. If he brings back Ozma, and news gets out that all you have to do is ask, do you know how many angry people who were told “no” will come back and demand loved ones back? I hate to be that person, but if Light bends the rules for one, he’d have to bend the rules for everyone.

•"To disrupt the cycle-“ and then Salem cuts him off by saying it’s not fair. …see the point above.

•"Let him rest”- Light. That response was kind of cold especially in its delivery. She’s grieving and doesn’t know how to handle this (and the way she chooses to is… not good). He could stand to have empathy despite the fact that she completely snapped at him.

•"No"-Salem. Hoe, don’t do it.

•"All while careful to make no mention of his elder"-Jinn then the whole fight thing. I said it once already, but I tried this tactic when I was a child. My parents argued over it and at the end of it grounded me. Let me explain why. 1) My mother/father had already told me no and gave me a REASON for saying no. 2) I went behind their back to Parent #2 to ask a question I already got an answer to and purposefully omitted prior information. Omission of the truth when the other party has a right to know is still lying. 3) I got caught doing what I wasn’t supposed to be doing to begin with. My parents, in no uncertain terms said, “that is not how you get what you want.” But Salem is mourning and doesn’t understand how to cope with death. Yes. I completely agree with you. That’s why this should be a learning experience. She, gradually, learns how to cope and move on (which is easier said than done, of course). So… I guess you can kind of justify this. I was harsh about this is in an earlier post, but my opinion has slightly changed. This still isn’t any less manipulative, BUT factoring in the sheltered upbringing and inexperience with grief (which I didn’t previously) makes the situation a little different.

•"What is this? Where am I?“ -Oz. I think this should’ve been a sign not to bring him back again. He was resting perfectly fine. Hanging out with the other legends and every dog that passed at the pearly gates. Yall bring him back into drama, make him disappear, rinse, and repeat. All three of them are causing a resting man pain. Yes, all three. I said it.

•"When you came to me, I pitied you. But you were selfish/arrogant” -Light. I’m on the fence with this. I don’t think that she intended to be selfish and arrogant, but it didn’t translate that way. Perception and interpretation is everything especially if you’re on one end while someone else is on the other. Because of her actions (getting angry, refusing to accept answers, going behind his back, manipulating the situation), Light and now Dark perceive Salem to be exactly as Light described: selfish and arrogant. I can’t say that my reaction would be very different had I been in their position. Whereas Salem, with no experience with grief and losing the one and only person she held dear, is trying to regain what she lost. I wouldn’t call that selfish or arrogant, but her means of doing so say otherwise and that’s where we have issues.

•I know that someone’s going to say that she had no knowledge that what she did wasn’t really okay, but… I disagree. She is cunning. If Salem didn’t think that going to Dark to ask the same thing again was wrong, she would not have “carefully made no mention of his elder”. She knew that if she mentioned what happened with Light, Dark would also say no if only because she was never true worshiper of Darkness to begin with.

•"You are immortal. […]. You can never be with your beloved. […]. You must learn the importance of life and death. Only then may you rest" -Light and Dark. I understand teaching her that there's consequences to actions, but immortality? Really? I think that was overdoing it. Granted! They did give her a way out: understand the Circle of Life like Mufasa, and you can move on.

•But who is actually going to understand something so philosophical like that? She’s not Socrates. And to be fair to Salem, I think that she… somewhat accomplished that. She tried to kill herself many times to end the cycle and be with Oz. Does that not demonstrate her “understanding the importance of life and death” or are there hidden instructions in the .5 sized, Wingdings, fine print that is nowhere on the screen?

•"[Salem committing suicide] grew to be nothing more than acts of defiance against the gods"-Jinn. Ohhh, I guess I can see that as not understanding the lesson or whatever. But when she did it the first few times, it was with the intention of being with Oz. Thus we are back at the previous point. Why does that not count?

•"They were fallible (?). If she could turn them against one another, she could easily turn humans against the gods" -Jinn. Okay, this is about the point where I stop holding out hope for Salem. At this point, if it backfires, it’s on her. She lacks an excuse unless I can find one. Also, don’t throw swords at Ruby. That’s rude.

•"[Salem said that] she stole immortality from the gods. […] Claim the powers of the gods for themselves and perfect humanity" -Jinn. Refer to the point above. Before, I could argue that she was grieving and perception and all that. I can’t justify this.

•Unrelated, but the humans are low key dumb and that’s exactly why they all die. One, lone person stole immortality from not one, but two omniscient gods? Really? You fell for that?

•[Humans using gifts that the GODS gave them against them]. Refer to the above. This is exactly why ya’ll die. You really thought that these tiny little bursts of power were gonna… Okay, Susan.

•[Dark goes genocide mode]. This was a huge overreaction. And Light is just as bad. He just sat there and did nothing. Like I said, a passive bystander is just as bad as the perpetrator. Dark could’ve just killed those in front of him. I suspect that he was under the impression that Salem would just get another army of people and try again, but… I don’t think Salem is that dumb. If he’d killed only the people there, she would see that clearly if she tried again, she’d get the same result. So we’re back at this point, why did everyone have to die? Like, children died, dude.

•"I’ll tell the rest of the world [about the murders] and build a new army" -Salem. Dammit. I just got done saying that you wouldn’t have been that dumb, and here are proving me wrong. Doesn’t excuse genocide, but you know, method to madness I guess.

•[Dark destroys the moon?] Don’t really get why he did that. You just screwed up the tides, dude.

•"…a tragedy has befallen your home at the hands of my brother" -Light. No. At the hands of YOU and your brother. Refer to my point about passive bystanders. You’re just as guilty.

•"Return to your desolate world" -Light. I- no? Why would he want that?

•"Get world peace or die, dummy" -Light. What is it with this man giving impossible tasks with zero direction?

•But he gave Oz a choice. He could’ve said no. This series is all about the choices people make and the consequences and rewards for such. Nothing comes without some result.

•Why did Light make it so that Oz would jump in and take over some unsuspecting person’s life and get them involved in their soap opera?

•"You can’t" -Jinn. I- why???? Why would you even give him this task knowing that he wouldn’t be able to- Okay, Susan.

The rest of this just Salem and Oz: the Slice of Life Sitcom. So… my answer is unchanged? I am still very neutral and think all three are responsible and made less than stellar decisions, but not without some justification. I definitely understand the arguments others have made, but I think it really boils down to choice. They each made decisions that resulted in the current situation and that’s on them. I think that they share blame equally. I think this time, I do empathize with Salem a little more (to a certain point) so I am tempted to argue more for her, but at some point, I just couldn’t find any solid reason to do so.

#salem v gods #rwby thoughts #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 6 #rwby6 #rwby6 spoilers #rwby volume 6 spoilers #rwby vol6 spoilers #rwby vol6 #rwby volume six #rwby volume six spoilers

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roseamongroses · 6 years

Text

C2: You Tried, You Failed, Let’s Go to Sleep

Warnings: Cursing,

Sides/Characters Present: Remy, Roman

Ao3

C1 C2 C3

A/N: roman sweetie no

Fading into the imagination was always an experience, with the sharpness of reality gaining an unearthly blur to it, akin to an Instagram filter. That alone was enough to disorient the other sides from ever stepping foot in here, most anyway, but Roman simply felt at home with the knowledge that nothing was real.

When they were summoned it was always disorienting trying to differentiate what was Thomas’s reality and whatever tended to float in from the imagination that only Roman could see. All around him the earthy greens of today’s forest he imagined were heavenly, with a vibrant array of flowers and creatures peeking and popping up wherever he passed. Ah, to be a prince-

“No,” he shook his head, trying in vain to ignore the lure of the forest, the call for adventure, “I am serious. I am here on business I am-Oh are those-” he slapped his face lightly scolding, “ No -no. Roman you royally handsome blunderbuss, no”

He continued forward, trying to avoid plopping down to admire the most gorgeous of golden flowers streaked with the finest shades of lavender, clearly the remains of when he watched Tangled earlier that week.

Gritting his teeth, he made his way towards the center of the forest. Eventually, the trees thinned to a meadow of grasses and Roman nearly swooned when he heard the ever familiar trickle of the river.

Today, the Imagination decided to switch things up, with his castle of silver, gold, and marble instead being a cottage, specifically the ever fair, Snow-White's cottage. And he always loved those days, usually when work was low, and the mind palace was relaxed enough for him to pump out some especially spectacular ideas with little resistance from the others.

With a flourish of his hand, he none so gently willed the cottage door to open-

“Gah!” he screamed, as heavy death metal instantly poured out of the house in waves. His senses were rattled, and the forest, as a result, seemed to flip the switch in terms of atmosphere. Leafy greens and iridescent flowers, all turned a disgusting shade of sepia in an instant. Usually, it would take longer for his aesthetic to be so easily changed, but then again it was a long time since his space was so...blatantly invaded.

‘Remy certainly made no hesitation to make himself at home’, he wondered with a curl of his lip, peeking his head in slightly. The cottage itself was an absolute mess, but that’s not strange. Roman was used to a constant layer of torn fabric, broken jewelry, and half-written papers to cover the floor. But the strange thing was that it smelled distinctly of coffee and smoke.

Both things that had no business in his domain.

“Remy?” he called, stepping carefully over an idea pile, lovingly named ‘Squishy’ because it was overall the smallest. The music was still ear-splittingly loud, getting louder by the second, but he couldn’t find a sprite in sight.

His eyes flew to the rafters, “Remy? Remington-” they narrowed, spotting the layer of a dust-like substance covering the ceiling like a blanket.

He dusted the non-existent peasant dirt from his hands, cracked his knuckles, and like the purple, crusty, raisin, he snapped.

Sand fell from the sky easily, and his culprit was found. Five-Inch tall Remy was hovering upside down, his dusty-yellow wings beating rapidly despite his sluggish demeanor. In his hand was a Starbucks cup from Mufasa knows where, and floating beside him was the tiny-demon stereo blasting it's nauseatingly loud music.

“Fair Remington?” Roman called, smoothing his sash, “A moment, if you please?”

No response.

Roman’s smile twitched, “Uh- Remy, pal of mine?”

Remy peered over his sunglasses, glancing everywhere but Roman

Princey's smile was a bit too bright now, “Remy? Rem? Remy-” he inhaled, seeing no further changes.

“SLEEP.” he bellowed, his voice like a record scratch for the entire room, with the music freezing.

Sleep jolted, “Wha-Oh,” he swooped slightly, before fluttering upright, “Sup, girl.” he waved, taking a long sip from his coffee, “You ditching work too?”

“Work, what do you mean work-” Roman frowned, “I’m here because you trashed the mind palace at 3 in the morning-”

“Trashed is such a strong word, my sweet prince,” Remy’s wings slowed, “In fact, who’s asleep at 3-am anyway? Time is for losers and Thomas enjoyed my little gift anyway, got to rewatch Parks and Recreation and everything.”

Roman groaned, hands sliding down his face, “Now listen here you are-,” his face dropped and he gasped, “ No, I didn’t-Wait Remy?”

“Yo.”

“When I created you-”

“That's a gross way of putting it, my dude.”

“Not the point.” Roman hissed, hands flinging out, “You mentioned a job earlier? Did I assign you a job when I made you? Is that why you’re still here”

To be completely honest, Roman couldn’t remember much that night. Thomas had pulled another all-nighter from his urginging and when they had finally went to sleep, Roman had went to the Imagination to amuse himself before the dreams kicked in and he had to turn in.

“Girl,” he smirked, tossing his tiny coffee behind him, “Haven’t you heard? I’m the sandman, making dreams and what-not.”

Roman laughed, “I’m the dream-man, “ he said gesturing to his princely attire, that was radiating a satisfying shade of light.

Sleep pursed his lips,“If I remember it correctly…” He swooped lower, now eye level with Princey, “Sweaty, you’re creativity.”

“Yes, that is me,” Roman’s throat felt dry, “Dashing Prince of Thomas’s every desire.”

Remy peered over the top of his sunglasses, “I handle the dreams he can actually experience, hon.”

Roman scoffed, offended, “Pardon me,’ sandman’, “He mocked, “I’m doing my best, and my best looks damn good, I’ll have you know.”

Remy materialized a floating chair of sand. He spun it around and sat down, facing Roman, “Oh really?” he laid his head down on his arms, “Please, like, do tell me more.”

“While the offer to talk about myself is tempting,” In the distance, Virgil was slamming his head into the nearest brick wall, “ I must refrain,” Roman tapped his jaw, “A sprite shouldn’t be causing such havok, naturally . So I’ll have to take your “sand” away, you merge back with the Imagination, and the Mindscape is restored... and Lo won’t have my head, agreed?”

Sleep snorted, “Oh yeah totally.”

“Fantastic,” Roman beamed.

Remy raised an eyebrow, “Girl, JK , like no.” he summoned another Starbucks and took a sip, “You really like think I’m going back? After like all these years?”

“You did agree? But don’t worry the process is nice and snappy,”

“Uh,” Remy stilled, dissipating the chair, “Well let me tell you a secret,” he landed on Roman’s shoulder.

Prince perked up, “Secret?”

Taking that cue, Remy leaned in close. The air around them had gotten thicker and Roman could feel his eyelids droop, the pleasant sensation was...was...was..

Remy blew a kiss, “Not today satan.” he whispered.

Lucid.

C1 C2 C3

#Roman Sanders #Remy Sanders #Sander Sides #Sander Side Fanfiction #well here we go #stale memes all around #remy has wings and is tiny #roman is a puppy with a sword #thats the entire story #jk but yeah #NeverSayGoodbye

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xswestallen · 6 years

Text

Trying

Summary: Scenes from Barry and Iris' relationship from the first time they talk about having kids to the day they tell everyone Iris is pregnant (and of course, everything in between).

"My dad is so unfair!" Iris huffed. She folded her arms and flopped down on her bed.

Barry was spinning around in her desk chair, equally exasperated. "I think there are middle schoolers who can stay out later than us."

"You're probably right. 9:00 is a curfew for 7 year olds, not 17 year olds! The party isn't even going to start till 9! It's not like it's a school night! I don't understand why he's so strict."

"Cause he's a cop?" Barry suggested.

"Well, when I'm a cop and I have kids, I won't be so strict. I'll trust my kids and let them stay out till midnight like all their friends."

"Yeah." Barry agreed.

"And I won't make them do so many chores!" Iris continued. "Just enough so they're not spoiled."

Barry smiled. "I think you'll be a good mom, Iris."

The conversation was suddenly sentimental. Iris' frustration faded away and she sat up. "Really?"

"Of course. You're the nicest person I know. You've got a lot of patience, you're fun, and you give the best pep talks."

"Thanks, Barry. That means a lot. I think you'll be a good dad."

Barry smiled. He tried to hide how happy her words made him, but the blush in his cheeks gave him away.

"I can picture you doing science experiments with them and answering all the questions they have. You'll teach them so much." Iris mused. "And you have such a good heart, you'll pass that onto them."

A little voice in the back of Barry's head was screaming "TELL HER! TELL HER!" but he ignored it, just as he always did. His face hurt from smiling so much. Unable to look Iris in the eye, Barry stared at the NSYNC poster on Iris' wall.

"I hope I can be as good a dad as you'll be a mom." He said.

----------------♥----------------

The week between Christmas and New Year was a weird period where nobody knew what day it was and time seemed to not exist. Barry and Iris were making the most of their time off work and the snowstorm that was keeping them inside their brand new loft. They still had a lot of unpacking to do, but they weren't stressed about it. Cisco had come by and helped Barry set up the TV. When Barry and Iris weren't laying in bed making love or sleeping in each other's arms, they were sitting up in bed watching movies.

Today, it was The Lion King. Iris winced as Scar pushed Mufasa off the ledge. The lion fell to his death.

"This is too intense for a Disney movie!" Iris concluded. She held back tears as young Simba begged his father's lifeless body to get up.

"It's supposed to show the circle of life." Barry said.

"But the circle of life is too damn sad for kids. Let them enjoy being little before showing a murder!"

Barry laughed. "This movie really scared you, didn't it?"

"Oh, like Bambi didn't scar you!"

"Touche."

Iris reached for the tissues on the bedside table. She was thankful Barry brought them up when he picked the movie. "Anyway, when we have kids, we're fast forwarding to Timon and Pumbaa."

Barry's eyes lit up.

When we have kids

Since they started dating, they both knew that this was it. They were each other's soulmates. But, they hadn't talked much about the future. Hearing Iris mention THEIR future children made his heart flutter. He'd long dreamed of having kids with Iris, but to think that those dreams could become reality in the not-so-distant future filled him with happiness.

Iris wiped her tears away and blew her nose. Then, she noticed Barry's starry eyed gaze at her. "What?"

"When we have kids." Barry repeated.

Iris felt nervous. Had she brought up kids too soon? They had only been dating for two months. She didn't mean to scare Barry into thinking they were moving to fast. "Oh, well, yeah. I- I mean, I just- I didn't mean right now or anytime soon. But, maybe, one day, when it seems like the right time-"

"We could start a family?" Barry finished her sentence.

Iris smiled. "Yeah."

Now, Barry was tearing up. "Iris, I love you so much and you are the most amazing woman on the planet. Raising kids with you would be the highlight of my life."

Iris snaked her arms around Barry and pulled him towards her. She kissed him. Their lips stacked on top of each other and their tongues teased each other.

"I love you, Barry." Iris whispered.

"I love you." He breathed back.

Iris climbed on top of Barry, causing him to groan softly. and tilted her head to deepen the kiss.

They weren't ready for a pregnancy yet, but they were more than ready to practice.

----------------♥----------------

Barry and Iris were finally settling into domestic life as a married couple. After defeating Devoe, all was quiet on the metahuman front. It was another quiet evening in for West-Allens. Barry was preparing a stir fry for dinner and Iris was finishing up a chocolate souffle. After putting it in the oven, she ran upstairs.

Barry hummed to himself as he sautéed the vegetables.

"Hey, Bear?" Iris called from the doorway of the bathroom upstairs.

"Yeah?"

"Could you run to the store and get me some pads. I just got my period and we're out."

Within a second of finishing the sentence, a gust of wind blew Iris' hair back. Barry was in front of her holding a box of menstrual pads.

"Thank you so much, baby!" Iris gave him a kiss on the cheek before going back into the bathroom.

"No problem."

Barry started to walk away, but he stopped in his tracks when a thought hit him. He stood there till Iris came out of the bathroom.

"Don't you hate having your period?" Barry asked.

Iris raised an eyebrow. "Uh- kind of?"

Barry scratched his neck. "Well, what if you ummm........ didn't get your period for a while?"

That only confused Iris more. She looked at Barry with narrow eyes. "What do you mean?"

Barry took a deep breath. "Iris, what if we start trying to have a baby?"

Her jaw dropped. She wasn't expecting Barry to say that.

"It's ok if you don't want to yet." Barry assured her. "I was just thinking that since we've been married almost a year, there aren't any big threats to worry about-"

"YES!"

Barry blinked. It was hard to believe this was really happening. "Yes?"

Iris nodded in comfirmation. She walked into Barry's arms and he kiss her forehead.

"I think the time is right. And since it can take a while to get pregnant, it's a good idea to start trying right away." Iris said.

Barry was giddy. He wanted to run around the world cheering. Iris mirrored his smile.

"Ok. So, let's start trying!" Barry giggled.

He lifted Iris’ chin with his finger and kissed her.

He stopped when he heard her giggling too. "What?"

"You know the odds of me getting pregnant while I'm on my period are really low, right?"

Truthfully, Barry didn't know that. But he didn't care. "Iris, do you know the odd of being struck by lightning are really low? And yet, that happened to me!"

Iris smiled into another kiss.

----------------♥----------------

Barry and Iris had been trying to get pregnant for three months. This month was the first time Iris was late to start her period, so Barry ran to the store and bought one of every kind of pregnancy test.

"Babe, how do you expect me to pee on all of these?"

Barry held up a giant bottle of Gatorade. "I got the biggest one they had."

Iris laughed as she took it from him. She examined the array of pregnancy test boxes. "This test says it's the earliest detection. So, I'll start with it."

Their eyes met as she picked up the box. They silently communicated their hope for a positive test. Barry rubbed Iris' shoulder. His affection made taking the test less daunting.

Iris took a deep breath. "I'm gonna go try."

"No matter what the test says, I love you so much."

"I love you."

Iris went to the bathroom and Barry bit his fingernails. His heart rose to his throat when he heard a flush. Iris walked out looking just as anxious as he felt.

"We'll know in a few minutes." Iris sighed.

She sat down and set an alarm for 3 minutes. She tried not to get her hopes up, knowing the test would likely be negative. But, it was hard not to daydream about what they would name their baby, how they'd decorate the nursery, and how cute Barry would look holding the baby.

Barry paced around the loft. He started out at a normal speed but soon his nervous energy had him moving hundreds of miles an hour. Iris felt more relaxed watching the red streak that was Barry than watching the clock. When the alarm went off, Iris felt like she'd hit the ground after a long fall.

"That felt like a lot more than 3 minutes." Barry said.

Iris smirked. "That's because you were moving so fast!" She went into the bathroom to retrieve the test.

Barry waited outside the door with baited breath. He thought Iris would yell with joy if it were positive, so when she slowly exited the bathroom without saying a word, Barry assumed the test was negative.

Iris stared at him, clutching the test with both hands. Tears poured out of her eyes.

Barry rushed to her side and hugged her. "It's ok, Iris. We haven't been trying for that long. It can take a few cycles to get pregnant. We'll still have a baby."

"Barry," Iris whispered. He looked down at her and realized she was smiling. Too overwhelmed to speak, Iris held up the test and showed him it was positive.

It felt like a dream. Barry had to look at it for a few seconds before his brain could register that it was really positive. He looked quickly from the test to Iris, then back to the test and then back at Iris. "Po- Positive?" Barry stuttered.

Iris jumped into Barry's arms so that he would lift her off the ground.

He nuzzled his face into her neck and kissed her. "I'm so happy!"

"Me too."

"We're gonna be parents!" Barry shouted with glee.

Iris laughed. Happy tears were still rolling down her face. "I've never been more excited!"

----------------♥----------------

The next day when Barry and Iris got to S.T.A.R. Labs, everyone immediately noticed that something was up with them. It was the constant hand holding, heart eyes, and giggling that gave them away.

"Alright, what's going on?" Joe asked them.

Barry and Iris exchanged smirks.

"We have some news." Iris said in a high pitched voice.

They hadn't told anyone they we're trying to get pregnant because they wanted it to be a surprise.

"So," Cisco said without looking up from the sketch of a new Flash suit he was working on. "What's the news?"

"The past few months Iris and I have been trying to have a baby." Barry announced.

Cisco dropped his pencil. Harry, who'd been concentrating on an equation on the white board spun around. Caitlin's jaw dropped. Wally's eyes widened. Joe stared blankly at them.

"Congratulations!" Cecile said. She was the only one who didn't seem shocked by the announcement.

Wally pointed a finger at his own chest. "I'm gonna be an uncle?"

"Yeah!" Iris said.

Wally ran towards her hugged her. Cisco, Caitlin, and Cecile came up next. Barry and Iris both started crying, overjoyed.

"If you ever want to do an ultrasound just to make sure everything's ok, I'll be happy to help you." Caitlin told them.

"Thank you." Iris cried, giving Caitlin a second hug.

"And if you need any tips," Cecile chimed in. "I have everything from the perfect morning sickness cure to a spreadsheet on where's the closest place to get all the foods you might be craving."

"I gotta make a S.T.A.R. Labs onesie!" Cisco said.

Barry and Iris looked at Joe, who was still staring blankly at them.

"Dad, are you ok?"

Cecile waved her hand. "Oh, don't worry about him. He did the same thing when I told him I was pregnant."

"I just can't believe it." Joe finally said. "My baby girl is going to have a baby!" As the tears started to flow, he came over to give Barry and Iris the tightest hug of all.

Iris blamed the hormones for making her feel so emotional. "I love you so much, dad! Thank you for being the best dad I could ever ask for. We're going to raise our kids just like you raised us."

"You are two amazing people, and you will be amazing parents." Harry said.

Cisco raised his hand in the air. "I call Godfather!"

Caitlin followed his lead. "Godmother!"

Barry laughed. "Absolutely!"

"Iris, remember to switch to decaf now that you're pregnant." Caitlin said.

"And we need to do a DNA test to know if the baby is a metahuman." Harry said.

Caitlin nodded. "And, we need to see if Iris has temporary powers like Cecile did during her pregnancy."

"But most importantly," Joe said, holding up his hands to silence the others. "I'm going to be called Paw Paw!"

#westallen #westallen fic #westallen fanfiction #westallen fluff #barry allen x iris west #barry allen x iris westallen #barry x iris #iris x barry #the flash fanfiction #westallen pregnancy #westallen baby #the flash fanfic #westallen fanfic #barry allen fanfiction #iris west #iris westallen #iris west-allen

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direwolfd20 · 6 years

Text

The Adventure Where Rikku Meets Legion

Things were going to be interesting here, that was for sure. Rikku looked around the group, twirling a strand of her long black hair. The group was discussing their earnings from the places they had been. Rikku had next to nothing. She wasn’t prepared for adventure to find her.

She was honestly surprised when she was handed a traveling stone. She took it, looking between everyone. A way to get to one another quickly. It would be nice, at least, if they should ever get separated again.

She was even more surprised when she was able to claim a cloak of charisma. It wasn’t much, but any boost was welcomed. Anything that could help her at this point.

With everything said and done, the group started heading out, walking together. They managed to walk in silence for a while, passing sheaperds and their heards, the meadows ripe with green grass. The sun shined, and everything seemed to be going well. At least for the moment.

Rikku didn’t know what it was about Lily. Maybe it was fact she had seen so little remourse for her actions, so little from her. Or maybe, it was the simple fact that vampires were evil.

She had never known a vampire, that was true. But, she had read about them. The stories and tales all seemed to hold true. There was never a vampire that didn’t go evil. Lily was likely to be no different.

Having the feeling that someone in the group was evil, it didn’t help. Rikku wondered if it was Lily who had done that in the Sanctum. There was the possibility, but it didn’t seem to make much sense. Still, it was the possibility.

“Can I pet your cat?” The goblin, Stitch asked. Rikku was surprised for a second, and shook her head.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why? I have a gentle touch.”

“He’s a little finicky. You might get bloodied.”

“Ah, it’s because I’m a goblin, isn’t it?”

“No! It’s because he’s a cat!”

“I’m a god!” Sir Didymus meowed in protest. “And no, the goblin cannot touch me!”

Rikku rolled her eyes.

“For there to even be a second of consideration in that act is horrendous. What kind of Sorceress are you?!”

“Of for fuck’s sake...”

“I’m your charge, those creatures are lowly cannon fodder!”

“I get it.”

“Good, than that thing leaves me be.”

“Yes, that’s what I told him.” Rikku muttered. Sir Didymus huffed, his head still sticking out of the pack. She loved Sir Didymus, but it was hard sometimes to think of him as a cat when she could talk to him. Instead it was like having a spoiled king in her backpack.

That was when a new issue came up. Vampires. Rikku couldn’t help but throwing a comment at Lily. It was hard to keep her opinions to herself. Even harder to know she was walking alongside a murderer who was free. She had killed many, and their was no excuse for that. She would kill many more.

Her saying it wrong for her to judge her for being a vampire, it got Rikku’s blood boiling. How could she say that when vampires, as a whole, were evil. It wasn’t like they were dealing with humans, elves, half-orcs and such, it was a vampire. A disease that changed one into an evil creature. It was like saying a demon was a good guy, or that chromatic dragons weren’t the evil members of dragon kind. That her feeding off creatures was just what she had to do to survive.

“By that logic,” Bo, who Rikku was figuring didn’t much like walking with an evil creature, “the Heretic should be left alone because he is just doing what he feels he needs to.”

With him joining in the argument, Rikku felt like she at least had someone else to back up her logic, that she was not insane.

“But, you are part of the group. And as part of the group, I will protect you as long as you don’t do anything evil.” he gave Rikku a pointed look.

“Fine, I won’t kill her as long as she doesn’t hurt anyone.” Rikku said, turning away.

“Bad guys.” Bo gave her another look, “You won’t kill her as long as she doesn’t hurt anyone but the bad guys.”

Rikku took a sharp breath through her nose. “Fine.” she said, her voice barely controlled, her plan found out. “I won’t kill her as long as she only harms the bad guys.”

With that, silence returned to the group. Rikku glanced around, not so much worried about herself as she was everyone else. More in the way of anyone who seemed ready to slit her throat. Besides the vampire.

As night fell, and the group set up camp, Jasin and Leotie take watch. Sir Didymus was going around, trying to keep an eye on things.

“Can I pet your cat?” Leotie asked. Rikku resisted the urge to toss her hands up and roll her eyes.

Instead, she sighed, “If he lets you.” There should have been no way, and she was already headed to bed. She managed to find Sir Didymus on a weak day, however, and Leotie began to pet him.

Bo summoned his Celestial lion, Mufasa as well. Sir Didymus looked to the animal, his eyes eyes full of jealousy.

He accepts Leotie as a follower, thoughts of keeping an eye on camp gone. Leotie promises fish, and Sir Didymus plans to make her regret it as he and Rikku switch places.

As the sun rose, and her four hours of watch were done, Rikku took down camp, getting Sir Didymus in her pack. Besides there being talk between Leotie and Stitch of riding dogs, or dragon pajamas, neither Stitch was too keen on. It ended in him agreeing to the pajamas. She shook her head, looking to Sir Didymus.

The day passes, and again they set up camp. Saige and Jacob go to hunt, though she is sure there are other things going on. Rather than worrying about Saige’s personal life she and Sir Didymus went to the side to talk more privately.

“How did it go last night?” Rikku asked.

“I, um, well...” Sir Didymus averted his yellow eyes.

“What did you do?” Rikku demanded.

“I got caught up in pets.”

“In pets?!” Rikku had to keep herself from shouting.

“I understand it was wrong, but I gained a new follower, you are no longer alone. You should feel good about that.”

“Sir Didymus, I need you. Especially right now.”

“I know.” Again, the cat looked away, and sighed, closing his eyes.

Rikku rubbed him behind his ears. “It’ll be okay.”

They returned to the group as Drax said something about Saige and Jacob having coitus. Rikku shook her head, but agreed. That was the danger of them going hunting. There was no guarantee that they would eat before they scared away all the animals.

Just then, Saige and Jacob walked through the camp. Both of them looked frustrated. “Oh god, he couldn’t get it up.” she said. She wasn’t sure if Leotie and Bo heard her, though as she was speaking more towards Sir Didymus.

The vampire starts to complain about her breastplate, and stands, going to take it off. She wanted to roll her eyes, but she did not. If she was in her position it would be uncomfortable for her as well.

That wasn’t the end of it though. As Rikku stared into the fire, thinking about her father, of a home she wasn’t sure she would ever return to, she heard crying. Knowing it sure as hell was not her, she turned to the tent Lily had gone into.

Rikku almost cursed herself as her legs went to move. She would not go there. She would not go near what was equal to a red dragon. The flame was her focus, they needed to be her focus.

Saige stood, and Rikku turned to watch her go. Drax took his sword into the woods. She didn’t know if anyone else had heard, and as torn as she was, she forced herself to stay put.

It was hard to hear the vampire cry. Rikku didn’t know they were capable. Were evil things capable of crying? It was news to her. She wasn’t far from that life. She supposed she had just guessed evil didn’t cry. Though, she didn’t understand the life Lily had lead, why she had become what she was, or who she was beforehand. It was her choices that lead her to where she was now, the same as Rikku’s choices were laid out in front of her.

What would the consequences be?

It was still on her mind that night. It unnerved her. It made evil more human, and she couldn’t accept that. She and Bo were on watch, Sir Didymus had come out of the tent, unable to sleep, and sat beside her. He watched her with careful eyes.

“You’re uneasy.”

“Yeah.”

“Remember, that while I understand your hesitation, adding to group tension isn’t something we need right now. Keep your nose clean.”

“She’s evil, D. She killed so many people with her own hands, orchestrated the death of her village. You can’t do that and not be evil.”

“No, but you need to understand that it is what it is. She isn’t yours to purify. Unless she turns on the lot of you, or we find out she is the snake.”

Rikku sighed, looking down at the dirt in front of her. Then she thought she heard something. Setting up straight, her ears focused, she thought she heard her name on the wind.

Within the next second, she realized there was no wind, there were no night creatures sounding off. At the risk of sounding insane, she leaned back a little.

“Hey, Bo. Do you hear, and not hear that?” she asked.

He looked confused for a second, “I thought I heard my name.”

“Me too, on the wind that isn’t there. And there are no crickets, nothing.”

The fire raised with a woosh, Rikku got up to her feet, and Sir Didymus, for the first time since he had become her familiar, ran. His form disappeared in the woods. She stared in shock before turning to see a man with almost glowing green eyes, a tight outfit of red and black came up from the fire.

Anger rose in her, and she glowered at him, “You made my cat run away!” she shouted, and then another issue was raised. More quietly she asked, “How do you know my name?”

The man, or creature, did not answer. Instead, he fought. With a double bladed sword, he slashed at her, the blades reaching deep in her, across her chest and stomach.

She called out, felt her world shift for a moment, and then, calling on that anger, it came back into focus. She would not lose.

Whilst Bo hit the man, Rikku summoned a Fiendish huge snake, letting it push her away from the man. Legion was it’s name, as spoken from one of the group members, everything too chaotic for her to remember who.

Screaming reached her ears, but Rikku dared not look away, casing mage armor, and healing before sending out force missiles. She didn’t care when the man disappeared. She didn’t care why.

She looked to Leotie, “You have her?” Rikku asked, realizing the screaming, now stopped, had been from Saige.

“Yes!” Leotie said, and Rikku was in the woods, yelling for Sir Didymus.

It didn’t take long to find him, sitting and cursing himself for rushing off. She knelt down, and he ran over to her. Sir Didymus leaped into her arms, and rubbed against her. There were no words spoken, and her heart went out of the cat. She held him on the way back, not wanting to let him go.

Rikku had been scared she had lost him. Now, she didn’t want to let him go.

This Legion, a man who kept appearing when he should be long dead, was worse than she could have imagined. Whatever they used against him, whatever defeated him, he became immune to. She held Sir Didymus close, wondering what she had gotten them in to.

#dungeons and dragons #dnd #dungeons & dragons #d&d #elf #sorceress #Sir Didymus the Cat #rp #roleplay #original character #writing #my writing #creative writing

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shakingthestars · 6 years

Text

To the Antis who “hate Reylo”: Disney/LF will teach us that love (of all kind) is the answer to hate

I. Why “Reylo hate” is non sense in the context of a Disney fairytale

I must admit that until very recently I hadn't realized how much some part of the fandom is so strongly against Reylo and against Kylo's redemption in general. I never really got interested in knowing how other people than openly Reylos see Kylo Ren and his relationship with Rey. But since the release of the trailer, I became interested in people's opinion and I find it incredible to see on tumblr so many people stating "I hate Reylo" as if hate was the proper answer to their frustration regarding where the story is headed. If I could do one thing to prove you that hating Reylo ain't a proper answer, I would recommend you to read this wonderful post by @acekyloren:

Anakin, Luke, Rey, Kylo Ren & Balancing the Force: Why Love is the Answer, Not Hate http://acekyloren.tumblr.com/post/166633462695/anakin-luke-rey-kylo-ren-balancing-the-force Seriously, I consider this is the best post I have ever read in the fandom until now because this is exactly the lesson that we - Reylo, Antis, GA - wil be teached by Disney/LF with the ST. Until now, the idea was that the LS and the DS were incompatible and thus balancing the Force for the Jedi meant any trace of the DS. War was always the answer to that mutual "hate" between the LS and the DS.Visceral Antis fail to see that for the time in the main SW franchise, we have two people caught in the middle of this eternal war beteen the DSand the LS like Romeo and Juliet caught in the middle of the war between their families or Tony and Maria from WSS caught in the middle of the war between their clans.

What do visceral Antis want by hating Reylo: that Kylo and Rey kill each other and this eternal war keep going? That Kylo and Rey end up as star-crossed lovers victims of this eternal war?

No way that things end up like this because the ST is a Disney fairytale. And what do Disney fairytale teach the GA?

That love of all kind is always the answer to war:

1) Pocahontas

Pocahontas: "Look around you! This is where the path of hatred have brought us! [Love] is the path I choose"

Pohatam"My daughter speaks with the wisdom of hundred years. We've all come here with anger in our heart! She comes with courage and understanding"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3dNqclpMBwQ

2) Lion King 2

Kiara: "A wise king once told me "we are one". I didn't understand? Now, I do!"

Simba: "But they..."

Kiara: "Them? Us! Look at them! They are us! What difference do you see?"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hRJdmSsXvT

3) TLJ teaser

Luke: "What do you see?" Rey: "Light [Rey’s theme in the background]...Darkness [Kylo’sthemein the background]...A balance..." Luke: "It's so much bigger!"

In a Disney fairytale, love, compassion and understanding is always the answer to the eternal war between the Dark side and the Light side. And Disney/LF will teach us this lesson with the ST.

II. Not convinced that Star Wars is a Disney fairytale?

J.J. Abrams: “You’re going to have a castle, a Prince and a Princess if you look at a fairytale “

There are always three key characters in a Disney fairytale:

- A villain

- A Princess

- A Prince

In a Disney fairytale, the villain is generally a old manipulative mother/father figure who targets a Princess from birth with an evil purpose and achieves her evil plan no matter how the royal family tries to protect her. The villain uses manipulation/trick to make the Princess fall in a trap or keep her under his grip.

Guess who is the Prince(ss) targeted from birth by a manipulative villain?

Not convinced?

From the TFA novelization:

He met her eyes steadily. “We’ve lost our son, forever.”

Leia bit her lower lip, refusing to concede. “No. It was Snoke.”

Han drew back slightly. “Snoke ?”

She nodded. “He knew our child would be strong with the Force. That he was born with equal potential for good or evil.”

[...]

He had trouble believing what he was hearing. “So Snoke was watching our son.”

“Always,” she told him. “From the shadows, in the beginning, even before I realized what was happening, he was manipulating everything, pulling our son toward the dark side.

Doesn’t that remind you of a Disney fairytale ?

A Princess cursed from birth by an evil witch, sent away by her family to protect her and falling into her trap despite all attempts to protect her ?

Merryweather: “ Sweet princess, if through this wicked witch's trick, a spindle should your finger prick... a ray of hope there still may be in this, the gift I give to thee. Not in death, but just in sleep, the fateful prophecy you'll keep. And from this slumber you shall wake, when true love's kiss, the spell shall break.

Once you understand that in that story Snoke is actually the real vilain, Kylo is actually the Princess who nees to be saved from the “spell” and Rey the Prince who represents the ray of hope , things become more clearer. Then, you understand that Kylo may not be the villain you though he is. He is actually some dark version of Princess Aurora.

Not convinced?

Han to Ben: “Snoke is using you for your power. When he gets what he wants, he’ll crush you!”

Earlier in the movie...

Admiral Ackbar: How is it possible to power a weapon of this size (= Snoke)?

Finn: It uses the power of the sun (= Ben). As the weapon is charged, the sun is drained until it disappears.

In which fairytale did we see that?

Rapunzel to Gothel: “I’ve spent my entire life hiding from people who would use me for my power when I should have been hiding from you”

In Tangled: a story of a Princess targeted by a witch named Mother Gothel because her hair have healing power coming from the Sun. For which purpose? To maintain herself young forever!

The relationship between Gothel and Rapunzel is based is an intimate and exclusive mother/daughter relationship based on manipulation.

In TFA novelization:

When next Snoke spoke, there was an intimacy in his voice, a familiary that stood in sharp contrast with the commanding tone he hadused with Hux:

“I have never had a student with such promise - before you. The finest sculptor cannot fashion a masterpiece from poor materials. He must have something pure, something strong, something unbreakable, with which to work. I have - you.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZeoVFSCzlSY

Call me crazy folks! But I think that the real love triangle isn’t between Kylo/Rey/Finn but between Snoke/Kylo/Rey because Rey is the ray of hope who represents a threat for whatever evil plan Snoke intends to achieve with Ben.You don’t spend 30 years fashioning a masterpiece just for a random reason. Whatever Snoke’s reasons are, he certainly has creepy intentions

And by the way, alot of people consider the interrogation scene as the proof that Reylo is an abusive ship. May I point these parallels:

Friendly reminder that this is how the relationship between the two characters evolved:

Still not convinced that Ben is the Prince(ss) targeted by the evil villain in that story ?

Lor San Tekka (about Princess Leia): “Oh! The General! To me, she is royalty!“

Poe Dameron: “Yes! She certainly is!”

“Once upon a time, in deep winter, a queen was admiring the falling snow, when she saw a rose blooming in defiance of the cold. Reaching for it she pricked her finger and three drops of blood fell.

And because the red seemed so alive against the white she thought, "If only I had a child as white as snow, lips as red as blood, hair as black as a raven's wings, and all with the strength of that rose."

Soon after a daughter was born to the queen and was named Snow White”

Wasn’t Snow White also targeted by Evil Queen who gave her a poisoned apple?

Another parallel to prove that Snoke is the evil villain manipulating/hypnotizing the cursed Prince(ss):

One last thing for those who think that Kylo won’t be redeemed because of the patricide:

Which Disney fairytale was based on Hamlet?

Bonus:

Scar: “Tell them who is responsible for Mufasa’s death?”

Simba: “I am...”

Scar : “You see! He admits it! Murderer!“

Simba: “No! It was an accident [...] I am no murderer!”

Later...

Scar: “Here is my little secret! I killed Mufasa!”

In Disney fairytales, the villain and his evil purpose are always introduced to the GA at the beginning so that there can’t be any mistake. Had J.J.Abrams kept these lines from the TFA novel in the movie and showed more evidences that Snoke is a SW version of Maleficient, Gothel, Evil Queen, Scar or Frollo, the GA would have certainly interpreted both the interrogation scene and the patricide scene differently

Until now, Snoke’s purpose remain unclear and it is clear that he hasn’t achieved yet what he intends to do with Ben . To me, it is absolutely clear that he wants something specific from Ben. He has been working with this “pure, strong unbreakable, material “ for 30 years in order to achieve a masterpiece. And we know that he is interested in Ben’s power made from both the DS and the LS.

You really want the last and only Skywalker heir to pay for his crime and die unredeemed ? Fine! May your wish come true, maybe sooner than you expect because nothing can prevent a Disney villain from achieving his evil plan. If Snoke really wants something from Ben related to his raw power, nothing will prevent him from achieving his evil purpose despite all attempts. Since TLJ is the middle film of the trilogy, the lowest point shall logically happen there. And if you want my opinion, I think that Han’s line may be a foreshadowing for what could potentially happen to Ben by the end of TLJ.

Han : Snoke is using you for your power. When he gets what he wants, he’ll crush you!

What does it means if this happens ?

That Leia who begun her life losing her mother would end her life losing her only son, who by the way share some parallels with his Grandma, not only with his Grandpa

III. Not convinced that Rey represents a “ray of hope” for the Skywalker family?

J.J. Abrams: “In this scene, [Rey] is drawn to this place like Cinderella”

So Rey is set up as a Disney Princess. A lot of people think that her heroin’s consist in finding her family and that her family are the Skywalker. Since she is the heroine, she should be either Luke’s or Leia’s daughter, right?

If there is one single dialogue to pay attention in regard to Rey’s origins, it is the dialogue she has with Maz Kanata after she found the Skywalker lightsaber.

The whole dialogue hands on a plate her storyarc:

Maz: “Dear child! I see your eyes! You already know the truth! Whomever (her family) you’re waiting for on Jakku, they’re never coming back”

Who is Rey is waiting for on Jakku? Her birth family! And they never ever coming back for Force’s sake, which mean that she will never ever see them again because they’re most probably dead. If not, why does Maz seems so sorry for her and Rey end up crying like this?

And what did J.J. said about this?

J.J. Abrams: “Rey’s parents are not in TFA!“

Maz: The belonging (family) you seek is not behind (past) you! It is ahead (future)!

What is the belonging Rey seeks? Her family!

And here comes my point : why do people keep believing that family refers automatically to birth family and not future family ?

If Rey’s birth family is dead, how the fuck is she supposed to find the belonging she seeks?

Because the point of the most important part of her character’s journey isn’t to be reunited with her belonging behind but to find her belonging ahead

In other words, she may not have the opportunity to reunite with her birth family but she can still find a future family.

Who is the main family in the SW franchise?

Some people have problem with the heroin not being a Skywalker: Who told us that the heroine should be a Skywalker by birth ? In real life, your family is where you come from (birth family) but also where you go (future family). And indeed, you become part of your stepfamily by finding a belonging in your partner.So if the Skywalkers aren’t Rey’s birth family, they can still become her step family.

Maz: “Whomever you’re waiting for on Jakku, they’re never coming back but there is someone who still could. The belonging you seek is not behind you. It is ahead”

So if I follow the reasoning that whomever is referring to Rey’s birth family, then the someone Maz is referring isn’t part of her birth family. And that someone is the belonging she that will allow her to find a family but not the way she expected

Make what you want from this dear Antis but I doubt that such a young girl like Rey would find in Luke the belonging that will allow her to become part of the Skywalker family.

Maz: “Dear child [...]I am no Jedi but I know the Force! It moves through and surrounds every living thing. Close your eyes! Feel it! The light! It’s always been there! It will guide you! The saber, take it!

This piece of dialogue reminds of this dialogue in a Disney fairytale:

Pocahontas: But Grandmother Willow, what is my path ? How am I gonna find it?

Grandmother Willow: All around you are spirits, child! They live in the earth, in the water, in the stones! If you listen, they will guide you! [...]

Later...

Pocahontas: “[The wind] says something is coming! Strange clouds?

Grandmother Willow: What do you see?

Pocahontas: Clouds! Strange clouds...

You will tell me. Rey is a Skywalker since the Skywalker lightsaber calls to her in Maz’s castle and in the forest

Allright! Then I am coming with this answer!

Maz: “That lightsaber was Luke’s..and his father before him! “

And once again, here an interesting parallel with the Disney fairytale Pocahontas:

Pocahontas: “I have been having a dream [...] I am running into the woods! In front of me there is a arrow! It starts to spin! It spin faster, faster and faster until it stops

Grandmother Willow: “Seems to me that this spinning arrow is pointing down to your path! “

Later...

Pocahontas: “Spinning arrow...

Grandmother Willow: “It is the arrow from your dream!”

Pocahontas: “I was right! It was pointing to him! “

Friendly reminder that the compass belongs to John Smith. You will tell me: but in Pocahontas 2, Pocahontas fall in love with another man!

It dooesn’t matter. J.J. also refers to Rey as Cinderella and the same scheme applies very well.

Cinderella running away from the castle without her shoe vs. Rey running away from the castle without the Skywalker lightsaber

One last thing from the canon serie Clone Wars:

Anakin to Padme: “To me, there is nothing more important than the way I feel about you [...] You don’t believe me? I’ll prove it [...] When I finished constructing my lightsaber, Obi-Wan said to me “Anakin! This weapon is your life!”This weapon is my life! [...] It is yours! Believe me now?”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IJX7T1BAV7M

IV. Still a doubt about the identity of the Prince?

J.J. Abrams about the unmasking :

“You see Adam Driver and he looks like a Prince”

J.J. Abrams about Kylo and Rey’s meeting:

“ And this moment where she is about to, for the first time, be confronted by Kylo Ren, a character who she’s going to have a very interesting relationship with moving forward. […]

Both J.J. Abrams and Rian Johnson refer to Kylo and Rey as “two disparate pieces coming together” and “two halves of the Dark and the Light”.

Rey: “I need someone to show me my place in all of this”

Kylo: I can show you the ways of the Force!

J. J Abrams: “So there was a very powerful idea that what she desperately wanted was belonging (=family) , which she’ll get, but just not how she expects.”

Make what you want from this but I have never seen a Disney fairytale in which the Prince and the Princess are siblings or cousins for Force’s sake! Once you understand that Snoke has the role of the villain, Kylo of the “Princess” and Rey of the “Prince”, things become clearer.

So to all of us - especially the Anti who "hate Reylo" - I hope LF/Disney will teach us the lesson with the ST that love of all kinds not hate are the answer. And obviously, this lesson is needed given how the war and hate between the different Star Wars ships has been going for two years. Ship whatever you want and respect the others

#reylo #anti-reylo #kylo ren #rey #star wars

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simba-bonfamille-lyons · 6 years

Text

A Christmas Carol /./ [Simades]

In which Simba visits Christmases Past, Present, and Future, with a very special tour guide...

@trip-downtheriverstyx

Best Line: the whole things srsly everyone read this /unashamed promotion

[tw -- panic attack, mentions of alcohol abuse]

STAVE ONE: CHRISTMAS EVE, JUST BEFORE MIDNIGHT – Swynlake, England 2017

SIMBA: Christmas Eve was lonely, the house quiet except Simba and the sloshing of whiskey in his bottle. He sat in the living room, in the dark—except for the red, blue, and green lights of the Christmas tree. He hadn’t had the heart to not let Kiara put one up, and now, he stared at it, watching the lights change colors his eyes focusing and unfocusing—turning them into bursts of light over and over again. If you were quiet enough, which he was, he could hear the click of the lights changing.

He had sent Kiara away, because he didn’t want her to see him drinking, but more than that. He didn’t want her to have a terrible Christmas, again, because of him. Last year, he’d gotten his appendix out, the year before, she hadn’t spoken to him the whole day because she’d found out about Mufasa’s death. This year, he was too heartbroken to smile and pretend like everything was alright. Even for her. So, he’d packed her up and sent her to Nala’s, despite her protests and her assurances that it could just be them. He’d hugged her close, though, before she left, and he kissed her head and told her he loved her. That her presents from him were already under the tree she’d set up with Nala at Nala’s apartment.

Now, he sat on the couch, watching the hand on the clock tick closer and closer to midnight. Watching the bottle of whiskey get lower and lower as he sucked it down and down. He contemplated how much he would have to drink to shut his liver down. How much of it would it take to drown.

The only thing that kept him from testing that particular question was Bowie asleep on his bed near the fireplace, and the picture of Kiara on the mantle—the two of them in ugly Christmas sweaters from their first Christmas.

Eventually, somewhere before midnight—was it 9? 10? 11:59?, he didn’t know—Simba had fallen asleep. He awoke to the sounds of Bowie’s muffled bark. Bowie never barked unless something was happening that warranted barking—a knock on the door, deer on the property, someone inside the house (he had caught Kiara sneaking in late once or twice.) It jolted Simba awake, and, even though he was half drunk, he was awake and on his feet in an instant.

A shiver crawled up his spine.

There was a sound coming from the Christmas tree and Simba looked towards it—stomach lurching as he took a step back, knocking into the table and sprawling back into one of the arm chairs. “Taka?” he hissed, voice sharp. His body felt frozen stone cold with fear.

He heard a rattling sigh and the figure stepped further into the light of the Christmas tree.

Simba blinked and leaned forwards.

“Grandpa?” he asked, shaking his head slightly in confusion.

“Simba,” came his grandfather’s unmistakable voice. It had the same tone and texture as Mufasa’s and Taka’s—and Simba’s too. It was a voice that commanded the attention of an entire room. It was a voice that could be soft and gentle or hard and fierce.

“W-what—what are you…” Simba stood up, taking a few steps forwards.

He could see the lights of the Christmas tree reflecting through Geoffrey Lyons, who was broader than Mufasa and Simba had been, his skin much darker too. He looked like a shadow, but it was his grandfather. He knew for certain.

“Am I—dreaming?” he asked, his voice quiet. Ghosts didn’t look like this, he knew. It would take a very powerful one to appear like this.

“Somewhat,” Geoffery explained vaguely. “Simba, listen to me, and listen well. Tonight, you will be visited by another spectre this eve. You must go with them. Let them guide you, listen to their teachings. And, most importantly, follow your heart.” He touched Simba’s chest. It felt warm, and then it felt like it was on fire, and then, Simba felt himself falling backwards.

When he awoke the second time, he jerked awake to the sound of haunting bells, chiming midnight. They rang loud and deep through the house.

“What the f—”

“What the fuck?!” Simba said, whirling around to see none other than— “HADES? What the fuck are you doing in my house?”

STAVE TWO: CHRISTMAS EVE, MIDNIGHT – SWYNLAKE, ENGLAND 2017

HADES: It was a good question that Hades was asking himself.

But first, let’s back up:

Hades had not thought about Christmas in-- well, honestly, ever. Last year he’d been stricken with grief and the day passed like all other days: slowly, painfully, everything too cold. Before that he and Seph regarded it very little. They’d been forced to go to Christmas Mass when they were both much younger, their grandfather-- a pious man if only in what he preached more than his actions-- believing it might have some positive effect on his grandchildren’s devil-infected souls. With their mother there had been cookie-decorating and a Christmas tree, yes, but she never lied to them about Santa, never talked much of Jesus either.

But this year, Belle had flipped open to a page in one of their ancient tomes, pointed to a spell that involved catching a star, and looked at him like she’d already caught two-- one in each of her bright eyes. You’ll be home for Christmas, she’d said excitedly as though it were her Christmas wish. He’d touched her hair and he’d smiled back at her. Yeah, he’d agreed.

But the star was nothing but dust now. Belle’s wish had fizzled with it. They’d gone to the Christmas Tree Lighting, where last year Hades had sobbed into the snow, his blistered hands shoved into ice-- he had hoped to make up for that this year. But a melancholy sadness settled over the two of them instead, like another blanket of snow. They tried to have a good time, to drink cider and look at the lights and be, well, normal, he supposed.

But he knew what Belle was thinking. That come Christmas day, as silly as a holiday like that was (and they tried to pass it off as silly, the two of them), Belle would spend it alone and Hades would too. They would be separated by the Fates. Sure, Hades would catch the tail end of it. Sure, it shouldn’t matter but--

It was Belle’s Christmas Wish, wasn’t it?

So he’d gone to the Fates. And he asked a favour.

“A favour?” repeated Clotho. She laughed at once. “Didn’t we already do you a favour? When we bent our rules and let you save her--”

“So spoiled, so greedy--” tsked Lachesis

“So naughty, so needy--” sneered Atrophos.

“C’mon,” Hades snapped over top of them. He glared. “Isn’t there something I can do? Go get you-- some-- stupid pendant in some obscure part of the Underworld or-- I dunno, give you a year of my life or something--”

“Fate is not a bargain deal, Hades Acheron,” Clotho talked over him, her tone brisk. “You cannot purchase a day with a coupon.”

“Oh bloody hell--”

“But you can earn it.” And Clotho’s eyes gleamed.

Hades knew that look. It flickered between all the sisters now, Atrophos snickering as she snipped the air with her scissors. He looked from one to the other, took a deep breath to settle his own impatience. “I can earn it,” he repeated. They nodded, that gleam now a spark. Brighter, even more mischievous. “Alright. Tell me how.”

And so they guided him into the spinning room and brought forth an intricately woven tapestry of golds, reds, and blues. It was longer than many he had seen, so long in fact he looked toward one end and saw it disappear under the shelves and into the shadows. Usually it was royalty who had tapestries like this one, their stories preserved and extended. They were beautiful, complicated things. It also meant that oftentimes a hero did not have a tapestry of their own; it was shared.

His eyes flicked over it. Many of the swirling symbols and patterns meant little to his mortal eyes; they were illustrated in the language of the Fates. But there was one thing he did recognize. A statue. A statue-- in Swynlake. In fact-- there was townsquare. And he looked to the left, down the tapestry and saw Swynlake over time, streets growing, stores popping up…

“This is Swynlake’s tapestry?” he asked with his brow furrowed.

“Good guess, my friend, but no-- look again,” whispered Lachesis.

And he did. And he saw.

“The Lyons Tapestry.”

And it was then that his mission was revealed to him, in painstaking couplet form no less. But Hades agreed, shaking the hands of each of the Fates. Clotho rolled the tapestry all the way up and pressed it into his palm. The deal, then, finally struck.

On Christmas Eve, he walked into the house and drew Belle into his arms as he had every night before. The house had been warm, a fire in the fireplace, cider cooking on the stove. They shut the cold out and after dinner cozied up by the fire, Belle in two pairs of socks. They read and drank wine until Belle’s cheeks were nearly as red as the drink, and then Hades had scooped her up into his arms in a dramatic fashion to make her laugh, and he kissed her all the way up the stairs to his bedroom. He kissed her so she wouldn’t be sad, kissed her so she wouldn’t think, kissed her to keep her warm and make her sigh until her toes were curling against his leg and she held onto him so tightly, he didn’t think the Fates could take him away if they tried.

When Belle fell asleep, he stroked her hair and waited just a few minutes more. But the clock was creeping toward midnight. And he had a mission. He leaned forward and let his lips linger on Belle’s forehead right before the digital clock struck 12--

And then -- whoosh! Christmas fuckin’ miracle. He was in Simba Lyons’ house.

“Oi, cool it, cool it, I was sent by--” he grabbed the tapestry out of the back pocket, unrolling just the top of it. “Geoffrey. And the Fates.” He rolled it back up and couldn’t help but smirk, his eyebrows quirking up. “Congratulations, Simba, I’m your very own Christmas Ghost. And we’re gonna-- I dunno, save your soul or somethin’.”

SIMBA: Simba’s heart rate was still ticked up with surprise. He had a state of the art alarm system, you know, had it installed after Kiara had gone missing, his paranoia getting the better of him. It had been a good thing, though, it gave them all a certain peace of mind, especially after the whole Taka business. So, yeah, seeing Hades standing there silhouetted by the Christmas tree was a bit of a shock, and made him want to lash out, protect his home—at first.

But, his shoulders eventually dropped somewhat, though his hand was clenched in a fist and he’d taken a step forwards, ready to toss Hades out into the snow if it came down to it, even if he was the only one here, even if there was nothing to protect.

(Though, in the back of his mind, he was really wondering what the fuck Hades was doing in his house on a purely confused level—not even worried.)

Hades spoke and Simba couldn’t help but let out a bark of a laugh—it was not an amused sound, it was dry and sharp and he shook his head. He was still wary, but, he didn’t really think Hades was going to hurt him as the adrenaline ebbed away. He had no motive, not really. He wasn’t a murderous uncle bent on taking over InterPride—Hades was not a fan of the corporate world, Simba had figured that much out after the past few weeks of working together. Though, hey, maybe there was some motive Simba didn’t know about—he hadn’t thought Taka was a murderer. He had loved him.

Besides, what did it matter, yeah? If he died—

“Save my soul?” Simba deadpanned back at Hades after a moment, and he shook his head—snorting another laugh. “And who do you think you are, Allah? He’s the only one who can do that, and I’m afraid it’s too late anyway, by about four years, mate. Your time is better spent elsewhere.”

HADES: Hades was trying to be a good sport about all this.

When the Fates had told him what he had to do-- i.e. guide a lost soul through the past, present, and future to find his way-- he’d barked a loud laugh that echoed throughout the chamber. When they told him it was going to be Simba Lyons--

“HAH, no,” he had said at once. “No. No way. That bloke is hopeless, you kidding me? I already dragged him off the floor of Belle’s bathroom--”

But the Fates had just stared at him, stared until he shut up and grumped and seethed and accepted it. Though he had pressed on why. There were so many lost souls, weren’t there, people who made a bigger splash in the cosmic pond, certainly. He’d guide a general, he’d guide a president or prime minister, he’d guide-- hell-- a Magick like himself, who was overwhelmed, buried by the weight of their power. Why did it have to be Simba Lyons?

The Fates were not clear on this. Something like he knew Simba and Simba knew him and it was the kinda crossroads that would determine where the tapestry was gonna go. And so it was Simba, or no one. Simba, or he’d be decking the halls of the Underworld with Lachesis trying to squirrel him away under the mistletoe.

So here he was, and his brow twitched at Simba’s comment. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy (he’d been warned)-- but already? Hades rolled his eyes.

“Right, you don’t have a choice,” he said. “And neither do I. Look, I’m not-- thrilled, okay. You think I want to be guiding you around on my Christmas Eve? No. But-- I, ah, have to if I’m going to spend Christmas with Belle. You are my ticket. So you either behave yourself or I’m gonna drag your arse kickin’ and screamin’ to where we need to go.”

SIMBA: You don’t have a choice.

Those words made Simba bristle more than anything, his head snapping back with his own scoff on his lips, like a bull in a pen that had just been prodded. He didn’t like being told he didn’t have a choice—that was what had gotten him such a mess in the first place. He had been told his entire life that he didn’t have a choice. It was InterPride or it was nothing at all—no family, no duty, no honor. InterPride or nothing. That had been the choice and it wasn’t a choice, because Simba could never discard his family like that. The one time he’d tried it had almost killed him and that had been for a good reason—not just because he didn’t want to.

So, Simba didn’t have a choice with InterPride and InterPride made all of his choices for him—who he would be able to date and marry. What his life was going to look like. What subject he took in school, the people he met, the places he went. InterPride made all of those choices. Simba didn’t have choices.

But he could choose whether or not he was going to go with this asshole.

Except—he couldn’t. As soon as Hades mentioned Belle, Simba’s shoulders dropped and he turned his head, looking down into the fire embers burning low in the fireplace. His jaw muscle rippled and it was silent for a few moments. Then, he looked back at Hades and watched him carefully for a few seconds—trying to determine if he was lying, if this was some—trick. But, Hades held his gaze steady and Simba knew he wasn’t lying.

He just wanted to spend Christmas with the person he loved. Simba could understand that.

“Fine,” he said, “but no promises anything is going to change. I don’t know what it is you could possibly show me or do that would—save my soul?” he scoffed again.

HADES: Hades did not know either. He’d done his best, following along with the Fates and their obscure couplet instructions but there were holes in those rhymes, put there he imagined on purpose because these things could never be straightforward. No, straightforward would mean the Fates weren’t having fun and wouldn’t have anything to laugh at. Couldn’t have that-- what would the sadistic Hot Topic employees from Hell do in all that spare time?

So Hades was on this journey as much as Simba was. If anything, he was a messenger-- like Hermes, carrying his package (Simba’s tapestry) up from the Underworld. It was this tapestry, which looked like nothin’ more than a scroll clutched in Hades’ hand, that would be the map.

That part, at least, Hades understood. Otherwise? Well, he was the ambassador: envoy of the dead, the dying, the departed. He supposed that could apply to memories. So he’d wing it.

At least he’d gotten this far. Mentioning Belle was a good move (but he knew that; Simba was a sorry sap in love, wasn’t that why he was here?)

“Good, keep those expectations nice and low,” snarked Hades right back, though his lip twitched. If Simba was closer, maybe he’d see the triumphant gleam in his eyes. “Now c’mere. Got a present for you, Lyons.”

As Simba approached, Hades lifted the tapestry again, giving it a wiggle. “See this? It’s your-- tapestry. Everything that’s ever happened to you, everything happening now, the threads intertwined with yours--it’s all here. Take look” He held it toward Simba, hearing the chorus of the Fates--

With your hand on one end, let him touch the scroll

Then upon the midnight hour’s final toll.

Through the Christmas of his past will you take your stroll…

Simba’s hand wrapped around the end, but Hades did not let go. Then: the sound of a bell and a flash--

STAVE THREE: CHRISTMAS EVE, DAYTIME – NAIROBI, KENYA 2000

SIMBA: Simba hesitated again when Hades offered up the scroll to him. He stood in the center of his living room and eyed it. He knew whatever it was was magic—powerful magic, that was the only way Geoffery could’ve been summoned, and Hades too, breaking into someone’s home was hard, even with magic, if it was imbibed with magic itself—which Simba’s was, would be stupid to live in a town like this without magical protection. Could, quite possibly, all be a trap—even if Hades wasn’t involved with it. Maybe whomever had given Hades that tapestry were the ones who wanted to wish him harm.

He sounded like a paranoid fool and he knew it. But, could you blame him? After finding out his uncle had killed his father and tried to kill him—and having been unaware of it the entire time?

Still, Simba was just drunk enough to ignore his father’s voice in his head, telling him to be cautious, to be careful, there were people who loved him. (Which there was, but the thing about that was: none of them needed him.) He stepped up to Hades, a defiant gleam in his eyes to match Hades’ triumphant one.

He put his hand on the scroll and there was a bright flash of light which made him squeeze his eyes shut—

When he opened them, he had to blink a few times—the sun was baking bright against the dry, cracked ground. He knew, before he could fully see, that they were in Kenya. The sun felt different in Kenya, like it was closer, bright and sweltering, even in the winter—which is what this was. He could tell, because there was garland wrapped around the front porch of his Kenyan home. It was odd—because he could not feel the heat, or the gentle breeze that rustled the garland—which an antelope was chewing on, its shoulder shuddering as flies buzzed around it.

“Kenya,” Simba said, a little breathless, but by way of explanation to Hades, who was looking around with a bit of a crease in his brow.

Simba stood, like he was standing in the pages of a story book, before he climbed the creaking stairs—except, they didn’t creak as he put his weight on them. He couldn’t feel the warm wood of the porch underneath his palm. But, he kept walking, around the side of the large house, searching for—

Ah, there he was.

His Uncle Goodie’s warm, rich, smooth voice:

“So, they journeyed but never found the Lion; He had taken hold of sword and dagger…”

They rounded the corner, and there was his uncle, in the rocking chair in the corner of the porch, beneath the window. Around his feet was Chidi, Masamba, Oyibo, and Desta. Anan was sitting on the railing of the porch, arm wrapped around one of the poles, his feet swinging. Little Katlego sat in his lap, her head on his shoulder, half asleep.

“They returned home together with one accord To tell the King Mringwari, ‘Liyongo cannot be overcome, he is like fire! He is not mortal, that one, he is fire!”

“This is my favorite story,” Simba told Hades from where he had taken to leaning against the side of the house, arms crossed, a little smile on his face. “It’s about this warrior, Liyongo, he’s kinda—like Robin Hood, ‘cept he’s a prince, and better with a bow…”

He trailed off and pushed up from the wall. “Er, right—where am I?” he asked, more to himself than anything.

As soon as he thought it, he blinked and they were in the kitchen. He was sitting on the counter, a mixing bowl in his lap, but he was staring out the window.

His mother had flour on her arms as she rolled out dough. “What are you looking at, mwana?”

“I’m not,” little Simba grumped, “I’m waiting.”

“For your father?”

Little Simba nodded his head, but he was looking down at the bowl that he was most definitely not stirring as he was supposed to be. His mother sighed and put a little flour on his nose. Simba popped his elbow up to knock his mother’s hand away, not laughing like he usually would. He wiggled a little farther down the counter, away from her.

“You will see him when you get home.”

HADES: The flash of light blinded Hades and left a ring around his iris when at last it cleared. He blinked-- clutched harder at that scroll, feeling like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground. Then everything rushed in:

Hot air, the smell of-- grass and dirt? The sound of a voice he did not know. Green, brown, the creak of a wooden step.

He blinked again and saw it all, glancing toward Simba because this was not from Hades’ life. It was from Simba’s. The recognition sparked in his eye at once and he moved forward, leaving Hades standing rather dumbly for a moment before he snapped to attention. Hades then shoved the scroll back in his back pocket and followed on, climbing the steps of the porch. They did not creak because, of course, Hades was not really here. He was visiting, both of them hovering as ghosts would, looking over the shoulder of these memories of the past.

Wasn’t that what Seph had once said? That ghosts, really, were memory. And memory, really, was a type of ghost.

Stories too, thought Hades to himself-- and to his own memory of Seph-- as he listened in on this story. He glanced toward Simba as he talked about it. Was this story important then, was that why they were here?

He was answered a moment later as they dissipated and reappeared in the kitchen within the house, as though this was the real place they’d materialized in the first place. Once again Hades looked around. Nothing familiar to him, nothing but-- the affection in the woman’s voice. That reminded him of Opal.

That was Simba’s mother.

He let Simba wander closer and he, he stayed back. He ducked his head and pretended to be enchanted with a bowl of oranges. He reached for not, knowing full well he couldn’t touch it--

He knocked off the top orange anyway, because, fuck, right, ghost hands. It rolled from the pile, falling with a barely-there noise on the wooden floor. “Whoops, shit--” Hades said sheepishly though Little Simba and his mother hadn’t even noticed. He pushed it under the lip of the counter with his heel best he could. “Sorry.”

SIMBA: Simba’s heart had started pounding hard and tight in his chest at the mention of his father, and just like Little Simba, he had turned to look out the window with a hopeful gaze. He knew he was lucky, to get these extra moments with his father—like he had in the Underworld, and he treasured all of them. Moreso than even the real Simba, who was sitting on the kitchen counter top obviously missing his father so badly, would.

He knew this because—

“I don’t remember this,” he said out loud in his confusion, taking a step closer.

They spent several holidays in Kenya, of course. It was really only Aunt Miriam and Uncle Riley who celebrated Christmas, but it was as good of a time as any to get the whole family together—especially since half of them lived in the very Christian England. His father had always gone with him—or so Simba had remembered. He always did everything he could to come to Kenya, even if he had to come a day late, or leave a day early, or sometimes both. He was always there—

“It’s been two whole days!” Little Simba whined, kicking his feet against the kitchen cabinets.

“Yes, I know, it’s been two whole days of you being a brat,” Sarabi said, a hand on her hip—though her voice wasn’t unkind…perhaps just a bit exasperated, or exhausted.

Little Simba’s feet stopped kicking and he looked down into the mixing bowl, a deep frown on his face. Simba took another step closer, like he could reach out and comfort his younger self—though, he didn’t know what he would say, he could feel the disappointment burning in his own chest as he realized that he wasn’t going to get to see his father, even a past-version of him. A version of Mufasa alive and happy.

“Well, he’s supposed to be here,” Simba whined again, though his voice trembled even more. There was a long beat where Simba sniffled and Sarabi sighed. “I miss him.”

“I know you do, habibah,” Sarabi said gently, taking the mixing bowl from Simba’s hands and setting it down on the counter so that she could scoop up her gangly nine-year-old in her arms. Simba wrapped his arms and legs around his mama like a little baboon and Sarabi carried him over to the kitchen table, sitting down in the chair there, older Simba turning slowly until he was facing this new scene his brow furrowed.

“I miss grandpa too,” Simba hiccupped.

“I know, cub,” Sarabi said, stroking the back of his head gently. “Your father isn’t dead, though,” she reminded him with a bit of a chuckle, kissing the side of his head before Simba pulled back from where his head was resting on his mother’s shoulder.

“I know that,” he said brattily, tears on his face. “Grandpa is though.”

“Yes, and you’re father has had to take over, just like you will someday.”

“When Daddy dies?”

Sarabi chuckled again. Ghost Simba let out a wet little chuckle of his own, shaking his head and glancing down as his heart squeezed.

“No, when he gets too old.”

If only, thought Simba.

Little Simba fiddled with a tassel on his mother’s sarong and all was quiet in the kitchen. Outside the open window, Uncle Goodie’s strong voice could be heard:

“I am a young lion, I have instilled the wish to die in my heart; I fear nothing but disgrace if my enemies see my back. But both my feet are in shackles, And around my neck an iron ring has been forged…”

“This is right after my grandfather died,” Simba said, mostly to himself, realizing it in that quiet moment. “My father had only been CEO for a few months. I guess he…didn’t come with us this time.” There was a long pause where Simba stared at his mother rocking him in her arms. He missed that. He missed being small enough to curl up on her like that. He missed his father too.

HADES: Let it be known: Hades really couldn’t believe this was how he was spending his Christmas Eve, watching Simba Lyons get teary-eyed over Simba Lyons Junior who was getting teary-eyed over a father missing-in-action-- only he wasn’t, was he, he’d just not shown up.

Boo hoo hoo. Hades crossed his arms, looking down at that orange he’d tried to subtly kick away from prying curious eyes, so he wouldn’t roll his eyes and insult his ward for the night.

And look, Hades could have empathy for it all, he supposed, if it wasn’t history repeating itself. You’d think a kid would remember something like this and maybe make a change. What was Hades doin’ when he was nine years old on Christmas Eve? He remembered that, actually, too clearly, because it was the last year his mum was alive. There had been a fire in the fireplace and they’d all baked all day together, so they’d be ready for tomorrow. Hades smashed cranberries, Persephone helped with the potatoes, their mum did all the cutting. They’d baked sugar cookies, getting flour all over the place, then decorated them all. Or, well, Sephy did. Hades remembered distinctly only making two cookies, egged on by Sephy-- one for her, and one for their mother.

It snowed as it did most years. He remembered that too.

There had been no one to wait for, of course. Grandfather was far far away, even if it would just take a ride on the tram-- he did not come to Christmas. Hades’ father was a myth; he only knew he had one, somewhere, because all kids must. There were no people gathered on Hades’ porch; he did not even have a porch.

But still, Hades had a good Christmas and remembered it because it was so good. Because he’d had all the people who he needed.

He lifted his head at Simba’s voice, hearing him slowly start to remember (had he just pushed it away because it’d been sad?) Hades arched a brow and then wandered toward him, stopping by his side. Did the Fates expect Hades to comfort him? He hoped not. Instructions had been vague there too. He was just supposed to-- make Simba see the truth.

Well, Hades knew a thing or two about telling the truth.

“Guess he decided he had somewhere more important to be,” quipped Hades. He glanced sideways at him, remembering the empty house he’d stumbled into-- the sad, abandoned fire, the bottle of whiskey, the lifeless air. “Like father, like son.”

SIMBA: Simba was pulled from his musings as Hades came towards him. It was odd—having him here. Simba didn’t know how he felt about it. On one hand, he was glad he wasn’t reliving this memory alone, but he could hardly turn to Hades for support, so really—he might as well be going through it alone. He knew who he really wanted. He wanted his mother. He wanted his father. He wanted Berlioz. Even—Kiara.

Hades spoke, and Simba frowned.

He wanted to be angry. He felt the anger in his chest and he shot Hades a look but—he knew he couldn’t be, because it was true. The guilt covered the anger like a blanket, dampening it, putting it out before it could spread to his tongue. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest and looked out over the window beyond his mother’s head, where the plains stretched out for miles and miles. There was no one else here. There was no one coming. He would be spending his vacation alone, because not even his family could fill the hole left by his father’s absence.

For a brief moment, as he stood there with his arms crossed over his chest, he wondered if that was how—someone felt about him. He didn’t think so. He didn’t have a child who was waiting on him. He didn’t have a wife—or even a husband—or anyone at all. He knew he had quite successfully pushed everyone away. Maybe that made him better than his father, because, at least, he didn’t set up expectations. He’d just—been awful from the start.

It was easier that way, he supposed.

Though, he was also—disturbed…if that was the right word—that he…didn’t remember this. How could he not? His father never missed any of his games, never missed holidays, or birthdays—or…did he? Simba scoured back through his memories, but there were too many games, too many birthdays, too many holidays to remember properly.

“He got better,” Simba defended, but his voice was small and uncertain now. Had he? Or—because Simba had been sent away, he didn’t see it. How many date nights had Mufasa missed with Sarabi? How many of her birthdays?

“Let’s go,” he said abruptly, feeling his skin begin to crawl as it felt like his entire childhood was being rewritten, etched into his skin. “How do we leave?”

STAVE FOUR: CHRISTMAS EVE, EVENING -- Swynlake, England, 2017

HADES: If there was one thing Hades knew about Simba, it was he had fight in him. More than Hades, more than practically anyone-- there was a fire that caught easily and quickly if you knew how to spark it and it wasn’t that hard to figure that out either because Simba wore that heart of on his sleeve-- if he wasn’t just giving it out to people. Hades had felt the brunt force of Simba’s fight before. He’d bruised that heart with just a couple of choice sneered words and Simba pummeled him with his fist enough times to bloody Hades’ nose and blacken his eye. There wasn’t much that Hades admired about Simba-- but if he were gonna pick something, it would maybe be the fight. Even when it was stupid, all whiplash and bravado and wounded pride. Hades preferred the proud to the meek.

But here, right now? There was no fight. He’d expected more than a half-hearted defense for the dead daddy Simba so idolized (and if you’ll recall, Hades had seen Simba blubbering about Mufasa when they’d been in prison in Hell so-- yeah, he was familiar). But that was all he got. Barely more than a twitch of his jaw and a brief glare that had no actual fire.

Simba’s fire was-- elsewhere. Soaked in whiskey? Suffocating in a suit and tie? Shoved in the empty spaces of his closet where his beloved Bonfamille had once been?

Hades didn’t know but he rose his eyebrows all the same at the pathetic comeback. This was maybe what he was supposed to be doing for Simba-- helping him fight. At least...Hades certainly liked that mission more than memory lane bingo.

“Cool your heels, mate, got all the time in the palm of my hand-- literally,” Hades quipped. He got out the tapestry again though and pushed off the counter to cross toward Simba. Their eyes met. Hades moved his brows up, as if he was gonna say something.

He could. Could say a lot of things. Could say, y’know, this isn’t really about if your father got better. It’s about you.

Didn’t though. Instead he offered the scroll to Simba and as soon as Simba’s hand wrapped around the end, the light flashed through again…

...and as they blinked through it, they were away from Kenya, the air now thick with the scent of oranges, cinnamon, and wine cooking on the stove. Hades’ eyes darted around the rather nice-sized flat. There was a medium Christmas tree in the corner, all decked out in lights and baubles. And when he looked toward the kitchen, Hades blinked in recognition. Because yeah, that was Nala Calame at the stove, stirring the big pot of mulled wine. There was another woman in the kitchen with her-- ah, an older version of Sarabi, now he saw, the woman from the kitchen in Kenya now older, with more laugh lines on her forehead and crinkles near her eyes, but the same woman all the same.

“Oh shit,” exclaimed a third voice. Hades turned and saw little Kiara Lyons sitting cross-legged at the christmas tree. “Shit, I -- snagged Simba’s gift when I brought yours over!”

Nala glanced toward her. “Oh, well, we can bring it over tomorrow afternoon--”

“No, it’s supposed to be under the tree for him!” Kiara sighed. She snatched up the box and scrambled up, walking toward the counter. “Do you think-- maybe, if I-- you know, I tell him, and invite him over for Christmas Eve he could bring it back with him…”

Nala sighed this time. “I dunno Kiara, you’ve already called twice--”

“Okay but I-- there’s a reason now!” She exclaimed and plopped the wrapped box on the bar before slipping onto the stool. “Besides he wants to come, I know he does, I just have to-- you know, ask enough. He wants to be here.”

Hades crossed his arms and glanced at Simba. “Well. Welcome to your Christmas Present.”

SIMBA: Simba did not find Hades quip amusing, as he could not grab hold of that cloth fast enough. He wanted to be very far away from the disappointed little boy at his back. Far from the uncomfortable truths that were beginning to take root in his brain. It is a hard thing, growing up and learning your parents were not as wonderful as you thought they were. Especially when said parent had been taken from you before you could—learn that through them, and then grow with them, embrace them as a person and not a figure to idolize.

Simba would never get that opportunity. To—be friends with his father.

He squeezed his eyes tight and grabbed the tapestry, feeling a tug in his gut. The smell was the first thing that hit him, the mulled wine but also—Nala. Her house. He knew it before he even opened his eyes, just like he’d known the plains of Kenya. He almost didn’t want to open his eyes, because he knew what he’d see—a Christmas tree with presents underneath. He’d sent his own along with Kiara when she’d left, even though she’d protested that he wouldn’t see her opening them. I already know what I got you, plus, I know you’ll like it because I’m just that good, he’d tried to joke, but he hadn’t really smiled as he kissed her on the forehead and sent her along.

He knew he’d see his mother at the stove, cooking, and Nala in her comfortable, festive pajamas. All of them cozy and warm and smiling. Without him.

His eyes sprung open of their own accord at the sound of Kiara’s voice and his eyes went to her immediately, watching her sitting there with a pout eerily similar to his own. His own mouth twitched down in an imitation without even thinking about it. He tracked her across the room, his arms crossing over his chest as his frown deepened, watching the scene play out in front of him. He didn’t want to get to close, like he was afraid to shatter it.

There was nothing about the conversation that surprised him. His heart tugged in his chest, but it was a dull thing. This was what the whiskey was for. He knew he’d made the right decision, sending Kiara off. What would she be doing at home, if he had let her stay? Bothering Simba with offers of Christmas cookie baking and Christmas movie watching and hot cocoa making until Simba snapped at her and then they got in a fight? Merry fucking Christmas.

“That may be true,” Sarabi said from the stove, half-turning to look at her niece, “but you also know he won’t say yes. Don’t let him ruin your Christmas with his bullshit.”

“Hey!” Simba said, taking a step forwards—snorting indignantly.

“It’s not bullshit,” he grumped in Hades’ direction, side-eyeing him since he was—the only one there to hear it. “M’heart’s broke. Should have a bit more sympathy.” He cast his eyes down and then up and around the room, squeezing his biceps tighter. “I’m not exactly the best person to be around anyways. They’re better off. So, if you’re tryina make me feel guilty—it’s not working.” He looked back at Hades defiantly.

HADES: “It’s not bullshit,” echoed Kiara, though she said it with a sigh. She fingered the ribbon of her present idly, looking at it, not at Sarabi or Nala. The two women exchanged glances with each other though.

Hades looked at Simba. “Hey, I’m not doin’ anything, mate. Just along for the ride. Looks like you’re the one who’s making history repeat itself--”

Then Kiara’s voice rose above Hades’ own:

“He’s just--lonely and sad and needs us. And I need him. That’s what family does, we’re there for each other--”

“Kiara,” broke in Nala. It wasn’t mean, though. She turned toward the bar and slid her hand over it, grasping Kiara’s wrist with her hand. Her smile was kind, almost maternal. Which was good; Hades flicked his gaze to Sarabi and did not see the same kindness there. He did not know what to see. She was not as open, at least, as Nala was, who was a woman who had always worn her emotions plain to see.

Nala squeezed Kiara’s wrist. “Hey, I miss him too. You know I miss him. I swear, if I thought kicking down his door and dragging him here would make everything better, I would. But he wants to be alone.”

“No one wants to be alone, not really,” Kiara argued to that, though she was talking out-- to the universe, maybe? Hades raised his eyebrows. “Like, I know-- what he says he wants, but he doesn’t want to be alone--”

“Well maybe he needs it,” said Nala, her hand slipping off Kiara’s wrist. She turned back to the fridge, opening it so she could get out, yup, eggnog. She headed toward the cabinet next as she talked. “Maybe he needs to have this horrible Christmas all alone-- to punish himself or whatever it is he thinks he is doing-- and then-- well, next year will be better.” She sighed. “Just try to forget about him, Kiara. He’s not coming.”

Kiara blinked furiously, ducking her head as she rubbed at her eye.

“Ah. Makin’ your cousin cry, always an excellent Christmas gift,” commented Hades with a snort. He looked at Simba. “She look better off to you?”

SIMBA: Making history repeat itself…

Simba cut his gaze away for a second, his jaw ticking. That unpleasant feeling was back in his chest. The one that felt like a clock ticking backwards, or—not in the right direction at all, forwards and backwards and side to side with no rhyme or reason. It made him a little woozy, but he just shook his head and gritted his teeth, holding himself tightly and staring steadily ahead at the scene in front of him.

I need him.

No, you don’t, Simba wanted to say at once. Obviously, Kiara didn’t. She was the one who had ran away from her abuse. She had saved herself. She was stronger than Simba was, much stronger. He’d told her that several times. She didn’t need him, no one did. Even Ber was fine without him—sad, yes, but better off. With his family, who loved him, and Lou—who would keep an eye on him and protect him properly.

His frown deepened at Nala and Kiara’s exchanging, while his mother stood silently at the stove, her eyes hard. He’d seen that look before—Sarabi hated when people were made upset by those they loved. Unless it was Simba apparently. Simba had to suffer in silence, because he had the weight of InterPride to shoulder instead.

He looked away, his gaze cutting sharp to Hades as his heart twisted.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled at him, but his voice cracked and didn’t sound very threatening at all. He turned his head away again. Shaking it.

“I’ve seen enough, let’s go,” he said, voice hard. He held out his hand for the tapestry. “Let’s get this bullshit future over with.”

HADES: Hades raised his eyebrows, jerking the tapestry away from Simba. “Not so fast, mate,” he said-- and then the room filled with light. The ground shifted, the smell of the wine and spices evaporating fast as though they had never been there.

Then the light cleared and they were standing in a much different room, door shut, blinds drawn, a single desk light on. Downstairs, there was music playing-- beautiful classical music that drifted through this large house and got into the walls.

Hades knew this house. He knew that music, he knew that smell-- which could only be described as clean.

And there at the desk was Simba’s Berlioz. He had leaned back in the chair, pushing it onto his back legs. He was staring at his phone, chewing over his nail.

Under the light of the lamp glinted a crystal vial, filled with what a clear liquid. Hades rose his eyebrows. He could feel the magic emanating off it, and it reminded him of the little vials that Belle brought home from Howl.

“He’s your family too, isn’t he?” Hades said as they stood in the silent tomb of a room. “Let’s see what Berlioz is up to…” he leaned over the boy’s shoulder to look at the text on the screen...

Simba’s name. Ah.

Simba, i’ve been thinking and i know what i said and i know you hate me now and i deserve that but i

His finger deleted the words, all the way back to Simba.

Simba, i’m sorry for

Delete delete delete.

I really shouldn’t be texting you but i don’t want to leave everything that way. I was upset because of star wars and i just...overreacted though i know its over and this doesn’t change that but i

Delete delete delete. Berlioz blinked furiously, then breathed in sharp, looking up at the ceiling the way people did when they wanted to stop crying. He rubbed at his chest, then closed his eyes.

There was a drop of water. It was a small sound. Hades looked at the vial and saw the liquid in it ripple.

“BERLIOZ!” came a shrill from all the way downstairs.

Ber started there in the chair, nearly falling back, but catching the lip of his desk. He rocked back onto four legs.

“BERLIOZ. COME DOWNSTAIRS. NOW,” yelled the unmistakable voice of Adelaide, the Bonfamille matriarch, from what Hades knew.

“I-- Coming!” Berlioz called. But he did not move. He looked back at his phone, texting--

Simba.

Deleting Simba.

“Well, this is pathetic,” said Hades.

SIMBA: The light flashed and—

They were in Berlioz’s room. It took Simba a moment to recognize it, especially considering how dark it was. He’d hardly ever been here. He knew Ber hated it. That Ber hadn’t picked out the furniture or the paint or the comforter on the bed, the drapes on the window. You would think Simba would be able to pick out his boyfriend’s—ex-boyfriend’s—bedroom as fast as lightning. But, this had never really been Ber’s space. He knew that. He’d known that since the first time he’d stood in this room, Berlioz standing in the center of it, looking—out of place as his gaze skirted around the room and he spoke with a detached voice.

There where his clothes, still on the floor, spilling out of boxes he hadn’t unpacked yet.

He hadn’t unpacked the boxes.

His eyes flicked towards Hades the same moment that thought struck him. They weren’t in the future. They were still in the present. This was his Berlioz, sitting in his chair at his desk.

His family as Hades said. He felt his throat tighten.

He crossed the room quickly, his shoulder jostling Hades’ as he leaned over Berlioz. His nose brushed Ber’s hair for a moment, though the scent of it seemed—far away. Eventually, he dropped his eyes towards his phone, watching the words type out, delete, type out, delete. His heart clenched with every one, and subconsciously, he reached for his own phone in his pocket. He wondered if he pulled it out and opened Ber’s contact, if he’d see the little bubbles.

Sometimes, he could catch Ber writing, before. They’d both reach for their phones at the same time, and Simba watched those little bubbles stop and start, stop and start. He always texted first if he saw that happening. Every time.

Adelaide’s voice called up from downstairs and Simba jumped just as Berlioz did. That woman was a nightmare, in Simba’s opinion.

He looked back at Ber—whose face was drawn, looking like he was about to cry. His head ducked again and he typed something else out. Deleted it.

Simba blinked and a tear slipped out of his own eye. He went to reach out for Ber. He wanted to touch his cheek, his hair, hold his hand. Let him know that he was there, that he loved him, because he did. He didn’t hate him. He could never. He thought Berlioz knew that.

Fuck me for loving you.

“Shut the fuck up,” Simba said to Hades. “You don’t know what you’re talking about! I swear to Allah—”

Ber stood up from his seat at the desk, pocketing his phone—no text message sent. He looked right at Simba.

“Ber, I—”

Ber walked right through him. He’d been looking right through him too—because this was some…bullshit magic and only Hades could fucking touch anything.

“Do something!” he snapped in Hades’ direction, shoving his shoulder towards the door. He didn’t know what Hades was supposed to be able to do—but he had come on this trip for some fucking reason. Maybe this was it.

HADES: Disclaimer: Hades didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about.

He also wasn’t sure he was supposed to. He was playing every stave of this by ear, so if he was supposed to be some grand maestro of Simba’s fate, well-- well, he could only do his best and this, mind you, this was Hades best.

He was starting to think that was the point though. Really, after two of these and now here on his third, dealing with a tired Simba and now a damn near fiery one-- the fight back in his eye-- he was thinking maybe he was supposed to piss Simba off.

Because Simba wasn’t going anywhere, was just unspooling his own goddamn tapestry as he sat and drank whiskey and wasted his precious, precious hours, hours that Hades would kill for.

So Hades was supposed to make Simba fight. That’s why he, of all people, had to guide Simba. Not to mollycoddle the self-pitying bastard. But to shove his face in his mistakes and make Simba realize that-- yeah, he cared. He wanted to be with his family.

He wanted that boy, for whatever reason, maybe most of all.

So Hades just scoffed at Simba. Chuckled, laughed at him. “Oh, and what do you want me to do? I’m not who he wants-- I’m not the one he’s in love with. There’s nothing I can do to stop him from bein’ miserable. Soon that won’t even be in your hands anymore, mate, and there will be nothing you can do either. Though don’t take my word for it--”

He held up the scroll. “See for yourself.”

STAVE FIVE: CHRISTMAS EVE, LATE AT NIGHT -- Paris, France, 2021

SIMBA: Simba could punch Hades in the face. He really could. His hand clenched and unclenched at his side as he watched Berlioz pull the door open to his room and shut it again behind him. The only thing that stopped him was—

He didn’t know what. Maybe his own self-pity.

It’d feel too good to punch that smug fucker in the face (Simba would know, he’d done it already, hadn’t he?) Simba didn’t deserve to get what he wanted. Not right now. Not after watching Berlioz torture himself. Berlioz, who was so sad. Berlioz, who Simba had hurt worse than anything, because a broken heart was worse than a punch in the face. Because there was nothing you could do about it. No ice to help it heal. Even whiskey just dulled the senses.

Hades’ words echoed in Simba’s brain like a dull throbbing headache, like something had been wedged in between the bone and the soft tissue. Something that didn’t belong there. Or, maybe, it wasn’t what Simba wanted. A literal hard truth shoved into his brain.

Soon that won’t even be in your hands anymore, mate, and there will be nothing you can do either.

Simba whirled on him, his eyes dark and suspicious. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” he snarled again, though, his voice was—slightly more…confused, suspicious, unsure. The thought roiled in his stomach. That there—wasn’t anything he was going to be able to do to fix it. That it was never going to be him that made Berlioz happy. It was all he wanted. More than InterPride. More than, even, being a teacher. He just—wanted to be the thing that made Berlioz smile.

He hesitated, this time, like he had the very first time, to grab the scroll. But, eventually, his curiosity—morbid curiosity, perhaps—won out. He reached out to touch it.

The light flashed—

When he blinked open his eyes they were at a—party. At a venue Simba didn’t recognize. Outside the big, beautiful windows was not a skyline he immediately recognized either—it was a city, which certainly wasn’t Swynlake. The decorations were obviously Christmas, with tinsel and holly hung with care. He spun on his heel, taking in all dazzling outfits, the din of the crowd, the chime of champagne flutes, with his brow furrowed.

“Where are—” he started, glancing at Hades, but then he caught sight of a familiar face—

Berlioz was standing a few feet away, in the middle of the crowd. Simba’s heart clenched. He looked—different, somehow, though Simba couldn’t pin point exactly what it was. Maybe it was just—how uncomfortable he looked, standing there with a glass of champagne, his expression blank. Simba knew that look—Ber was hardly breathing.

“What the fuck,” he said, casting another glare at Hades—like this was all his fault (which, it kind of was)—before he stalked quickly in Ber’s direction, his eyes scouring over his figure, wondering if there was anything he could do to help.

HADES: Now they stood in a large ballroom, not unlike town hall but-- much, much nicer. Hades glanced up at the high ceilings, glimpsed the marble columns. He knew where they were this time if only because the Fates had let him read ahead, following the two different threads this future concerned with his finger. He’d have to know, just in case Simba had questions and this particular scene did not answer them. It was the only time, really, that there was an exception to the rule about such things. For once, Simba got to know.

Nifty, wasn’t it?

And so Hades knew why Berlioz was here, standing awkwardly in the middle of a milling crowd, his face too flushed. He knew, in rough swaths, the different moves that had gotten him here. He knew unlike Simba that Berlioz did not live in Swynlake anymore, that he was not a music producer, that he had only recently moved out of his parents’ home to a quiet apartment all his own.

He knew about the boy headed Berlioz’s way. Not Simba-- the other boy, who appeared at Berlioz’s side before Simba got there, two champagne flutes in his hands and an easy smile, showing off his perfectly straight teeth. He swooped in to Ber’s side and Ber’s eyes snapped toward him.

“Berlioz--! Here he is. Berlioz, you’ve met Camille Delon, yes?” said the boy-- his name was Guy Binoche. Hades knew that too. He brought with him a beautiful blonde woman, hair perfectly curled and falling over one shoulder.

“Oh I-- er, no, I don’t think…”

“Ah, he doesn’t remember,” said Camille with a little laugh. Berlioz blanched. “Guy, your boyfriend does not remember me!”

Guy laughed too. “Ah, you must forgive him, he’s too in his head like always, aren’t you?” Guy smiled at him. “It is why I brought you more champagne, mon biquet. Drink up, relax!”

Like a dog obeying the command, Berlioz drank his champagne flute. Just a sip--

“Ah, more, c’mon Berlioz,” said Guy and then he looked back at Camille. “Anyway-- you must remember Camille, she works with me at your father’s office. She is on the public relations team.”

“I just wanted to say a quick hello to the Senator’s son,” said Camille. She smiled again, her eyes crinkling. “I hope you are having a good night?”

“Y-yeah, yeah, it’s… this is lovely,” Berlioz uttered, lifting his free hand to gesture at the decorations.

“I am sorry for keeping Guy so long near the drinks,” tittered Camille. “But I’ve returned him now. Here, I should let you enjoy yourselves!” She reached forward and squeezed Guy’s arm, then leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Happy holidays, you two. Guy, I’ll see you after the New Year!” And then she turned and flocked off.

Immediately, Guy’s smile dropped and he looked at Berlioz. “You couldn’t even pretend to know her? I have introduced her to you at least twice now. C’mon, mamour,” he tsked, reaching forward to tug on Berlioz’s suit coat lapel. “You said you were going to try tonight.”

“I am,” said Berlioz, quietly.

“Are you? Because you’re acting like a bitchy ex-lover of mine. You can’t be jealous of all my friends, Berlioz.”

“Wh--I-- I’m not.” Berlioz’s eyes widened. “I--I’m sorry.”

“Don’t start that.” Guy rolled his eyes, sucking his teeth a little. There was a beat, then his eyes flicked to Berlioz again. “Come, drink. You’re much sweeter when you are drunk-- not nearly as jealous.”

“I wasn’t--” Berlioz started but Guy scoffed at him, cutting off the end of his sentence. His mouth closed.

Hades raised his eyebrows.

Another second later, Berlioz stepped a little closer, his voice lower. “I wasn’t jealous. I’m sorry, I’m-- in my head, you’re right. You’re right. I’m sorry. Please, I don’t wanna fight--”

“Alright, calm down,” said Guy. “Now will you drink please and try to have some fun?”

“I am having fun--”

“Drink, Berlioz.” He leaned in-- and his whisper would be lost in the party but the magic of the Fates and this spell amplified it, somehow. Hades could feel the whisper in his own ear. “And if you’re very good, I’ll let you suck my cock tonight. See? No reason to be jealous.”

Berlioz blushed bright red, ducking his head. Guy laughed, nudged him. “Drink!” he said again and Berlioz obeyed, downing the rest of the drink and then letting Guy put the second flute in his hand. Guy knocked their glasses together, then took a sip himself, his eyes lingering on Berlioz’s flushed face as they drank.

“Hey,” he said. “I love you.” He said it like he was expecting an answer.

He got one. Berlioz parroted it back to him. “I-- I love you too.”

“Guy!” came a voice and Hades looked toward the sound-- seeing a man approach them this time, a woman on her arm. He was tall, blonde, around the same age, his girlfriend blonde too. They fell into conversation with them, once again Guy taking the lead. He slipped an arm around Berlioz, made a joke-- And this is Berlioz. Forgive him if he doesn’t say much, he’s had too much to drink tonight-- and the couple giggled and Berlioz stood there, a pained smile on his face. And the conversation wound on, loud and fast, and Hades watched as Berlioz nodded and nodded and nodded…

Even Hades felt his stomach twist in pity. He knew that look; he’d seen it on Belle’s face when the crowds were simply too much.

“Excuse me,” said Berlioz at one point, blurting over the man in the middle of a sentence. “I ah-- I’ll just…be a moment. Need to-- just erm, go to the bathroom.”

He got about four steps away before Guy’s hand clamped on his arm and stopped him. “Berlioz, really?” hissed Guy.

“I-- I’m just-- going to the bathroom, I, I promise.”

“You could have waited for a break in the conversation. You’re making me look like a fool.”

“I-- I’m sorry. I’ll be right back,” pled Berlioz. “I’m sorry.”

Guy’s hand slipped from his arm. “At least bring back more drinks?” He scoffed again, shaking his head, and then returned to the couple with a laugh as though nothing had happened.

Then Berlioz bolted, knocking into someone on accident, barely apologizing before he kept going. Simba started after him at once, but Hades just-- blinked. And the scene changed.

They were in the bathroom now, shoved into a tiny stall with Berlioz. He had untied his bowtie, unbuttoned his shirt two buttons down. He was sat on the toilet, the palms of his hands shoved into his eyes as he dragged in rough, uneven breaths into his lungs.

Hades stood there and he crossed his arms, uncertain what else to do.

SIMBA: Simba stopped in his tracks when some man appeared at Ber’s side. He glanced over his shoulder uncertainly at Hades. It was—so hard to remember he was invisible—not really there—when Berlioz was right there. He felt like he could reach through the veil and touch him. He wanted to believe if he did that, Ber would feel it. He’d know Simba was with him.

Where was Simba?

He got closer, stopping right on Ber’s other side, his eyes scouring over his face—he looked different, somehow, older maybe, little lines by his eyes and his jaw sharper than ever. He looked handsome. Simba’s heart ached and it was hard to tear his eyes away from him to follow what was going on.

He didn’t really need to—because he knew this scene well, didn’t he? He had been that other man before, dragging Ber to parties that he hated. What was this supposed to show him? That Ber would never get out of this life anyway? It didn’t matter? That was some bullshit—Ber hated this life, why would he be in it still without Simba?

Either way—he hated this man. He hated him for laughing at Berlioz. For telling him to drink. For drawing attention to the fact that Berlioz was—not good at this sort of thing. His eyes narrowed slightly and he felt the urge to put his arm around Ber and draw him close. Protect him.

You said you were going to try. Simba’s jaw ticked and he looked away, those words familiar too.

His eyes cut back at what the man said next, his heart clenching in his chest. It felt like whiplash—guilt and anger waging a war inside of his chest. All those apologies used to be for Simba—and there were always reassurances that followed, even if they were a little rough and annoyed, Simba did always mean them. He knew that these things were hard for Berlioz.

He kept flashing back to that fateful night, his stomach curling and making him feel sick. His jaw muscle twitched. His hand clenched into a fist. His head snapping back and a scoff of disbelief leaving his own lips at that—what even was it—a bribe? I’ll let you suck my cock. Sexual favors weren’t supposed to be a trade for good behavior. That was—controlling. Awful.

Berlioz knew better. Berlioz, you know better, Simba wanted to say.

I love you. I love you too.

“You don’t—mean that,” Simba said, close enough to have whispered it in Ber’s ear. He didn’t, Simba knew. He knew what Ber sounded like when he told someone he loved him. It wasn’t like that, not like a—call and response. Ber’s love was a gift, and he spoke it like a present, a medal, a trophy, every time.

Simba wanted to punch this Guy in the face. His heart clenched tighter and tighter as he watched Ber grow pale, watched his eyes dart, his lips press close together until they were almost white. Don’t you see what’s happening! he wanted to scream at Guy, shaking him by the shoulders.

When Ber made a break for it and Guy grabbed his arm, Simba actually reached out like he could pull his hand way—but he just went right through, which made him growl in annoyance. He didn’t waste a moment before turning and weaving through the crowd after Berlioz, right on his heel, like Guy should be doing. He shouldn’t be alone, he shouldn’t be alone. He’s having a panic attack. He shouldn’t be alone. Simba’s brain kept repeating the words, his own chest tight as Berlioz barged into the bathroom. Simba slipped right through the door and knelt down in front of the toilet Berlioz had perched himself on.

There were tears in his own eyes as he tried to touch Ber’s shoulder, his knee, his hand, his hair. He just kept going through him every time. He blinked and let out a harsh breath, a few tears rolling down his own cheeks as he tried in vain to soothe Ber.

“Hey, shh,” he said softly, “hey, it’s alright, it’s alright. It’ll pass. It’ll—it’ll go away. Just—breathe. Ber, please. Please, hear me.”

Simba turned to Hades, looking up at him with a scowl on his face, remembering the orange all the way back in Kenya.

“Do something!” he pleaded again, just like he had back in the present. “Help him, he’s—he’s having a panic attack. Please. He—he shouldn’t be alone.” He looked back at Ber and tried to touch his knee again.

HADES: There was nothing Hades could do.

Just like just moments before-- and four years ago-- when Berlioz had sat alone in the room, unable to send a text, Hades could not fix his present, could not ease his heartbreak or change this future. He had followed the silver thread of Berlioz Bonfamille once it had broken off from the Lyons Tapestry, because it had, of course-- frayed, became a loose end that would never resolve. He ended up here. He ended up in some version of here: in France, with his parents, with some boy or another.

There were other boys before Guy. There was even a girl or two. And he was sure if he had kept reading, Hades would see more.

Because yeah, that fucker wasn’t his-- true love, his destiny. Didn’t need to have a magic future-telling tapestry to tell you that. Just had to see what they saw now: Berlioz, shuddering on the toilet seat, trying to strangle his own sobs even if that just made it worse. It didn’t matter what Simba did, what he said, how hard he tried to reach through space, time, dimension. Even Hades-- he might be able to reach out and make Berlioz feel a tickle on the cheek, a brush of something in his hair. But Berlioz would keep crying. He was alone.

So Hades looked up at Simba, pity in his eyes-- though he tried not to feel it, it soaked in every part of him. “Sorry, you...you know I can’t.”

Berlioz trembled, whimpered low. His sobs had turned into keening.

“He’s not a music producer, you know,” Hades added in the empty space between. “He plays in an orchestra. Mum got him the audition.”

Berlioz wiped his palms on his trousers, letting out another breath that rattled his whole body.

“He didn’t finish the degree at Pride University. He moves back to France this upcoming summer. No reason to stay in Swynlake.”

Berlioz breathed in, deeper. He mumbled something. If you listened very closely, you could hear it: stop thinking about it, don’t be stupid, stop it, stop stop stop--

“He’s about to get a text.”

Berlioz’s phone buzzed. He reached for it at once, plucking it from his pocket with a hand still shaking. Was Guy, and there were two words only-- Hurry up.

Berlioz sucked in another breath, but his face screwed up. He leaned back and looked up, but his eyes were squeezed shut as if it could stop the tears from slipping down his face.

Hades pulled out the scroll. “We should go.”

SIMBA: As Hades listed off Berlioz’s future—not a music producer, not in Swynlake, Adelaide getting him a job, didn’t finish school, dating some asshole—Simba felt his heart sink and sink and sink.

He knew that Berlioz wasn’t destined to this, he was destined for so much more. He would eventually get out of this relationship—Lou would not let this go on if he knew, Simba was sure of that. He could maybe find someone nice, someone he liked. Someone gentle and good. But—would he be happy?

Berlioz was always so worried about happiness. Having too little. Having too much.

But, more than anyone Simba knew, he deserved happiness.

Simba wanted to give it to him.

He felt something shift inside of his chest, watching Berlioz cry quietly—not being able to comfort the way he knew that he could, the way he wanted, the way he should.

He needed to go to him. Needed to convince him, no matter how long it took—to come back to him.

So, when Hades said it was time to go, Simba nodded firmly and stood up, grabbing the tapestry in his hand, ready to fix everything—

They weren’t in his house.

He whirled around, brow furrowed. What the fuck.

“What the fuck?” he said, just as a nurse—was that a nurse? Walked through him to bring coffee to another nurse who was standing behind the nurse’s station watching—himself. Looking out the window. Simba only recognized it was him because of Bowie at his side, his head in Simba’s lap. Simba was—skinny, though. Even from here, Simba could see the grey streaking through his hair and the yellow tinged around the corner of his eyes.

“No one came?” she asked, looking at the clock. It was 9:30.

“No,” the other nurse sighed. “Poor thing, he’s been sitting there all day watching the window.”

“Not a single person? But it’s Christmas! Isn’t his family some big name around here?”

“That’s the former CEO of InterPride, Eloise,” the second nurse said, rolling her eyes at Eloise.

“What? The one who had the nervous breakdown?”

“Yes, how do you think he wound up in here? Don’t you read files?”

“Only for my patients. And he’s not one of yours.”

“I read all the cute ones files.”

“Mary!”

“What? He’s handsome.”

“Maybe he used to be,” Eloise scoffed, “before he had a nervous breakdown and got himself checked into rehab, lost his job, and apparently all his friends.”

“Don’t be mean, Eloise.” Mary hit her with the folder she was holding.

“Should we say something?” Eloise asked after her laughter subsided.

“Yes,” Simba, real Simba said, his heart all twisted up in his chest. He felt like he was going to throw up. Even stumbled a bit like he’d suddenly forgotten how to stand.

“No,” Mary sighed, the laughter slipping away from her too, “just leave him be.”

Simba blinked and a tear, and then another slipped down his cheeks. “There’s still time, right?” Simba asked, turning to look at Hades. “Someone could—still come?”

HADES: They weren’t done yet.

He knew Simba thought they were by the steel in his eye, which had not been there before they had started all this. He’d been a zombie-person then, damn annoying in his apathy and self-pity. It was actually good to hear him snap at Hades or try in vain to reach out to Berlioz. It made Hades think this was all working.

But the scene they saw was not Simba’s future. That was what happened to Berlioz. There was another frayed thread on the Lyons Tapestry, another Meanwhile--

The scroll took them to meanwhile, whipping them through space, away from France and the baubles on the walls. They appeared instead in a dark, near empty rec room. Their were Christmas decorations, but if there had been a party here, it had happened a long time ago, and now no one was left-- no one but Simba sitting all alone.

And this was the true irony of Simba Lyons’ future.

There are many kinds of deaths in a life-- Hades had learned them all since he was small. There were deaths that happened little by little, that came in tiny white capsules slipped into the mouth or in bottles of whiskey coddled in place of a lover. There were deaths that happened long before the body broke down and the spirit could escape. That kind of death, the body was a prison. You could only sit and rot and wait.

This Simba had died a little more with every person he shoved away for he was a boy born into a beautiful, long tapestry with many threads. With those other threads, there were ups and downs, milestones, holidays, vacations and celebrations. But he did not do any of these things alone. In fact, Simba was not supposed to do anything alone; his story was one of family.

InterPride was not synonymous with his family the way that Simba thought not as he insisted it was all for the Lyons’ legacy, pushing forward despite what his heart wanted, what his heart called him to do. That was the warning from this future. Hades had read ahead and he had seen for himself.

He met Simba’s desperate, horrified gaze, felt that sick taste in his mouth-- the pity. He felt uncomfortable and he wanted to look away. But that was not the job of the ghost of Christmas Future-- who had always been Death.

So here was Simba’s little death.

“No,” he said, quietly and simply to Simba. He could tell Simba that Nala was running InterPride now and that he had missed the birth of her baby-- that Kiara was spending her break from school with Sarabi and all his cousins in Kenya-- that long before Simba had sat in this chair, he had had one, two, four, eight, twelve, one hundred chances to try to fix things and he had chosen not to, becoming a drunk instead of a friend, a cousin, or a leader.

He could say all of this but it would not matter, really. What mattered was this simple truth: “No, no one is coming.”

SIMBA: No one is coming.

“You’re lying,” Simba accused at once, his throat tight, tears burning on his cheeks. In his heart, though, he knew Hades was telling the truth.

In this future, Simba had no one to spend the holiday with. He had lost his job, the one thing he had probably pushed everyone away for. He had still failed. Was that his destiny then? Simply to—fail. To ruin his family legacy, to disappoint his father, his grandfather. He supposed he shouldn’t be that surprised—there was only so much he could do if his heart was not in his work. It had already started eating him from the inside out. He could feel the despair like a piece of black coal lodged between his ribcage. He could feel it every time he drew a breath, and every day, it got a little bit bigger and a little bit bigger.

One day, yeah—it was probably going to consume him.

Simba hadn’t really thought that far ahead. He knew, maybe subconsciously that down the road, this was what awaited him. Or, maybe he’d fooled himself into thinking what it was he told everyone else: that one day, he’d grow into it. That he’d love it. That everything would calm down, and maybe he wouldn’t love it, but he would—appreciate it, at least. He would…like what he did, perhaps.

But, at the end of the day, this was the end of the road.

Berlioz had been smart to get out, and he was just the first.

Nala would probably be second. She didn’t tolerate Simba’s bullshit for long. His mother was not soon after. Kiara would’ve been last at all. She would’ve tried and tried and tried. Simba could only imagine what it would be that would set her off, have her—give up on him too. It made his heart twist and he felt woozy again. There was a physical ache inside of his chest for home. For his family—Kiara and Nala and his mother and Berlioz.

He wanted to go home.

He didn’t want his life—not the one that he was living now. He didn’t want this future. He wanted—to be happy. Finally, finally be happy. It had been so long. Five years, almost, of misery.

How was he supposed to reconcile that misery with his family legacy though?

I can’t give up InterPride.

But you won’t be happy there, you’ll end up here, a voice in his head argued.

I’ll make myself like it.

If InterPride is in your life, this is where you end up.

InterPride was the thing that sealed this fate. Nothing else. Simba knew that. Of course, he wanted Berlioz back more than anything. He wanted him back so much every breath he took away from him hurt. But, he also just—wanted to be happy. He wanted to help people, but not at the cost of his family.

Wouldn’t InterPride cost his family?

His head hurt, his heart burned and he just wanted to go home. He wanted to hug Kiara and kiss her cheeks and the top of her head and watch her smile as she opened presents. He wanted to argue with Nala in the kitchen over the proper way to make eggnog. He wanted to sit with his mum by the fire and keep her fingers warm and let her tell him stories about his father, just the two of them in the near dark. And he wanted Berlioz to snuggle up to under the covers after a long day of food and family and laughter and joy and love—all the things the Christmas carols were about.

“I want to go home,” Simba said quietly, his voice still choked, his heart bruising in his chest. He turned from the sad sight of a future he had not chosen for himself. He wanted to choose. For too long, he’d been a pawn of his father and his uncle.

Simba just wanted—to be himself.

“I know what I have to do,” he told Hades, finally sliding his eyes over to meet his gaze, giving him a small little smile. Maybe he should feel embarrassed, but he didn’t. Instead he felt—

“Thank you,” he said, reaching out to squeeze Hades’ shoulder, nodding his head a little. “You’re saving my life.”

A beat.

“Bit sorry I punched you, now.” He let out a breath of a laugh. “Tell Belle I said Happy Christmas.” His hand slipped from Hades’ shoulder and he reached out for the tapestry.

And there was a flash of white light—

And Simba was home.

#bdrphades #simades #featuring geoffery #featuring sarabi #simara #simala #a christmas carol #aka #the best thing i've ever done

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