It won't be difficult to flip through the calendar and spot our next contributor's distinctive style: it's clean, colourful, and fun - lines optional! 🎨
Please give a warm welcome to @refrone, who will be creating the artwork for the month of April! ☂️🌧️
summary: when moon leaves alola following the events of the us/um arc, sun decides to send her a letter.
wordcount: ~2.1 k
notes: originally written for volume 1 of the journey continues, a pokemon special charity zine, back in early 2021. beta’d by @petaldancing (thank you!)
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Dear Miss Customer Package,
Alola! It’s me, Sun the Delivery Boy. It’s been a few weeks since you went back to Sinnoh, so I thought I would send you this letter to see how you were settling in.
How are you doing? Things are okay here in Alola. My delivery service is doing pretty well. Kiawe and those old Team Skull grunts are making sure I take a lot of breaks so I don’t get burned out. It feels strange to be working with others, but it’s nice, too. I like having people I can count on!
I’ve been stopping by Professor Burnett’s place a lot. I think she feels lonely, now that Lillie’s spending more time with Gladion and her old lady. She still makes extra food by habit sometimes, but don’t worry, it never goes to waste! Me and Kukui finish it up real fast.
When I stayed for dinner last week, we were watching some news show on TV, and guess who showed up on screen? You, Miss! You were standing next to some old guy and getting an award or something. Congratulations! Did it come with a cash prize?
Either way, I hope you’re doing okay. Lately I’ve been realizing…it’s kinda weird not having you around. I guess I didn’t realize how much I got used to having you nearby while we were in the Ultra World. I definitely miss all your medicines and stuff, cuz it was so convenient.
Write back soon!
Sincerely,
Sun the Delivery Boy
P.S. I’ve never written a letter before, so I hope I marked the envelope right!
P.S.S. Geez, postage to Sinnoh is expensive. I picked the least pricey delivery option, so it might take a couple weeks for you to get this.
*
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Dear Courier,
I have to admit, I was surprised to receive your letter. It was delivered by a very harried looking Wingull, and had some questionable stains on it. What kind of delivery service are you paying for?
But, I do appreciate your reaching out. I’m enjoying being back in Sinnoh; as you know, Alola’s tropical environment was not something I particularly liked. Thank you, also, for your (kind?) words about my award. I received it due to my successful treatment of the poisoned Piplup I told you about. I synthesized the antidote quite easily thanks to the adorable poison-type Pokémon I caught in Alola; my beautiful Alolan Grimer was especially helpful.
That “old guy” you mentioned is my mentor, the celebrated Professor Rowan. My work in his lab is progressing wonderfully too. I only wish my elder sister were here in Sandgem Town with me; she’s currently visiting Snowpoint City, in the north of Sinnoh. I’ve told her a bit about you; she says you remind her of her two best friends.
Thank you again for reaching out. Please pass on my well wishes to everyone in Alola.
Best,
Moon
P.S. Just so you know, “P.S” stands for “post-script”, so if you want to add a post-script to your post-script, you would abbreviate it as “P.P.S.”, for “post-post-script”.
P.P.S. Like this.
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Dear Miss Customer Package,
Alola! Thanks for writing back. Your handwriting is real neat, which I guess I should’ve expected. Glad to hear your Pokémon are doing well; I thought your Decidueye might not like the cold so much, ‘cuz he’s a Grass-type, but I guess not, huh?
(I’m not surprised that you’re acing your work with the old guy. Amazing as usual, Miss!)
My Pokémon are doing pretty good too. Cent is actually listening to me a little more than usual! I think it’s good for him to still have a goal to work towards. I remember when we were in the Ultra Space, I felt so lost all the time, since I’d given up my goal at that point. Good thing you were there to make sure I kept moving forward, huh?
Today I had a delivery scheduled on Route 3. On the way back I stopped by Melemele Meadow. You didn’t get to visit it, did you? It’s one of the prettiest places in Alola, I think; it’s this big field full of yellow flowers where you can find all these cool Pokémon. When I was little I used to pick the flowers and use them to make leis that I could sell to people around the islands.
If you ever come back to visit us here, I’ll definitely take you there. I won’t even charge you for the ride, promise!
Sincerely,
Sun the Delivery Boy
P.S. I’m putting a couple of flowers from Melemele Meadow into the envelope. I know they’ll probably be all dried up before they reach you, but I’m sure the color will still be nice!
P.P.S. Thanks!
*
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Dear Courier,
Professor Kukui video-called me earlier this week to discuss Rotom’s pokedex, and mentioned that you’ve been stopping by to help out Soliera and the recon squad recently. If so, I owe you thanks; I’ve been in contact with them and know how overwhelmed with work they are right now.
I’ve heard similar things from Lillie and Olivia and even Gladion! Courier, you seem to be helping the whole of Alola nowadays. It’s impressive and very commendable, but please remember to rest every once in a while; collapsing from exhaustion won’t help anyone.
Though, I suppose I’m a bit of a hypocrite for saying that myself. Since I came back to Sinnoh, everything’s been a bit of a whirlwind, with research, publications, and conferences. It almost makes me miss the slow rhythm of Alola.
But, there are slow places here in Sinnoh as well. Your description of Melemele Meadow reminded me of a place nearby, Floaroma Town. The town of gently swaying blossoms. It’s well known for a certain flower called the Gracidea.
The Gracidea only blooms once every few years, and is much too big to fit in an envelope. But maybe, the next time it blooms, I can send you a few petals. Or maybe you could visit Sinnoh and I could show it to you myself.
Best,
Moon
*
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Dear Miss Customer Package,
Alola!
Sorry if my handwriting is a little hard to read. I fell off Taurus while doing a delivery and hurt my hand. Kiawe bandaged it up pretty good but it’s hard to hold a pen for too long!
Deliveries are getting busier nowadays. Now that Alola’s League system is up and running, there are more events than ever, which means more deliveries than ever! I’m glad for it, of course. It feels great to support the PokePelago in any way I can.
Sometimes I still wake up thinking that I gotta make enough money to buy the island back from Faba. It’s just for a moment, but then I remember the truth and it’s…well, not a good feeling. I know the work I did all that time wasn’t a waste or anything, but I feel like all my dreams maybe were; I would spend all this time trying to imagine what my Grandpa’s island would look like, and now I know those ideas are impossible. I don’t resent anybody. But it still hurts.
Speaking of hurt, ow! My hand is starting to ache again. I’ll sign off here.
Sincerely,
Sun the Delivery Boy
P.S. Hau and Mallow are experimenting with some new malasada recipes. I’ll see if I can box some up and mail them to you; you’ve gotta try them!
*
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Dear Courier,
Thank you for the malasadas. I shared them with my sister and her friends, and we thoroughly enjoyed them; one of my sister’s friends is quite talented at cooking, and he’s trying to recreate the recipe here.
I’m happy to hear that your work with PokéPelago is progressing well. I’m…sorry, about the loss of your grandfather’s island. I don’t know if I ever said that. I’m not the best when it comes to comfort. I’m a pharmacist, not a doctor! I don’t need to have a bedside manner.
But I’m still sorry. You worked hard for your dream and I know it was difficult to let go of it. But I also know that you have the ability to accomplish any task you set your mind to! I expect PokePelago will be established sooner rather than later.
If it makes you feel better: sometimes I dream I’m flying on Lunala again, drifting through Ultra Space surrounded by wind and stars. When I wake up, I realize I miss Lunala more than I expected to.
Keep an eye out for it, won’t you? During the night-time.
Best,
Moon
P.S. I was also unsurprised to learn that you’d hurt yourself, again. Courier, it’s not that I mind mixing medicines to heal you, but could you at least try to schedule your injuries in a way that makes it easier for me to gather the right ingredients each season? I’ve enclosed a jar of balm; it contains Sitrus Berry extract, which works best when fresh, but hopefully helps heal your hand at least a bit.
Apply a teaspoon to the affected area twice daily, then wrap with a bandage as usual.
*
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Dear Miss Customer Package,
Alola. Thanks for the balm; it healed up my hand super fast! I even lent a bit to Kukui, since he’s been getting all scuffed up lately.
I’m so glad you like the malasadas. Your sister and her friends sound like great people. You must be close to her, huh? I wonder what she’s like? A lot like you, I bet!
It must be nice to have siblings. I always wished I had some; I would’ve loved having somebody to play with or talk to when I was little.
Recently I realized I had spent more time with you this last year than I ever have with anybody else. Isn’t that crazy?
But maybe it’s not. Growing up in Alola, I didn’t really have…friends. I mean, the people here are really nice and all! But I was always working to save up money for the island, so I never had any time to spend with anyone else. (You know that saying, “time is money”? Well, I didn’t have either…)
Then you came along! And we were stuck in the Ultra Space for so long together. I know I wasn’t very good company back then, but I’m glad I wasn’t alone. Wasn’t that place weird? I’ll never forget those funky berries you found for us to eat. Or that area where gravity was all funny. Remember how each time I tried to take a step, I would float up into the air?
Miss, I never said “thank you”. I guess I took you for granted; but, the more time passes, the more I realize that the time we spent together was really important to me. So: thank you for looking after me in the Ultra Space; and thank you for always patching me up and never billing me for it; and thank you for sticking by me during everything that happened last year.
And thank you for responding to my letters! I don’t know if we’ll see each other again, but these letters are a nice way to stay in touch.
Your friend,
Sun the Delivery Boy
*
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Dear Sun,
Alola. I’m sorry I didn’t reply to your last letter sooner. I was busy discussing certain arrangements with my sister and Professor Rowan; if everything works out, we might see each other again soon.
But the other reason I held off on responding so long is that your letter…it gave me a lot to think about. And I realized something too. I realized that we are more alike than I thought.
When I read what you wrote about growing up without friends, without being able to connect with others, without having time to be with someone whose company you liked; it was very familiar to me.
You’ve called me “amazing” for accomplishing so much, and I appreciate it, but…I understand, now, that I had to give up many things along the way. As a child, I spent so much time in the laboratory, the people I talked to most often weren’t my parents, they were my professors! I had my sister, of course, but she had her own journey to go on and her own friends to make. It was…lonely.
But then I came to Alola. And was thrown into the most bizarre, frustrating, unscientific set of circumstances I could imagine.
Yet…I made friends, too. Courier, sometimes you annoy me beyond belief, but…most of the time, I’m very glad I met you.
I’ll admit that when I first arrived in Alola, I didn’t particularly like it. But it grew on me. And…
summary: lack-two and whi-two talk one final time.
wordcount: 589
notes: as requested by a very kind anon earlier this week!! sorry if it’s not as lighthearted as you’d hoped :’)
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Lack-two made his exit during the graduation after-party.
Following the speeches and diplomas and congratulations, any semblance of ceremony had fallen away. Trays of food were brought out, music blared from the speakers, and everyone present—trainers, teachers, family, and League members—began to celebrate. Leo was talking to Miss White, Hugh had been wrangled into dancing with Yuki, Mr. Cheren was in deep discussion with Champion Iris and Black.
No one was paying any attention to him. It was the perfect time to leave.
Yet, as Lack-two slipped out of the auditorium doors and into the cooling twilight, he was unsurprised to hear the patter of footsteps behind him.
“Whi-two,” he said, pausing to lean against the side of the building. “Won’t your mother be looking for you?”
A soft exhale from Whi-two. “No. She’s talking to Miss Bianca.”
He studied her from the corner of his eye. She was standing next to him, her profile lit by the light leaking from the open doors. Her gaze was trained on the horizon, but as he watched, it flickered to the side, meeting his own for a brief moment before she turned away like she’d been scalded.
“Um,” she began, “I suppose…you’re leaving now.”
“Yes.”
Whi-two nodded to herself. “I thought so.” Her teeth glinted in the half-light as she bit her bottom lip. “Superin—Lack-two…I just wanted to…”
Her words trailed off, and for several minutes they stood together in silence. Strains of music floated out from the party.
Lack-two had the oddest sensation, as if he were holding his breath. This was the last time he would be able to see Whi-two like this for a long, long while. Next time—if there was a next time—she wouldn’t stand next to him like this, she wouldn’t follow him like this. She wouldn’t say his name like this.
He felt an urge to say something. How strange. But what was there to say?
Instead he just turned his head to look at her more fully. She hadn’t worn her usual hairstyle today, probably to accommodate her graduation cap. Her hair was gathered down along her shoulders in two bunches, one of which had nearly come loose. Her gown was a size too big, and the sleeves slouched past her wrists. A scratch on her chin, from the Kyurem incident, had nearly healed over, and her nose was flushed red in the cool air…
Lack-two found himself drinking in the details of her, however trivial. It felt like he was still a trainee at Interpol, learning the ins and outs of human behavior through memorization, reading and rereading his books until they were imprinted on the backs of his eyelids.
But this wasn’t a manual. It was Whi-two.
He realized she was staring back at him. The flush had climbed from her nose to her cheeks. A breeze played with the strands of her hair, lifting them away from her face. Whi-two said, “You know…I’m really surprised you decided to come to the graduation ceremony.”
“I see.” In all honesty, he had surprised himself. It would have been most practical to leave as soon as he had been reinstated. Yet for some reason… he hadn’t.
Whi-two took a sidestep closer. They were shoulder-to-shoulder; the back of her hand brushed his. Before the ceremony, when she’d held his hands, her fingers had been warm. Now, they were cold. “But…I’m really glad you stayed.”
Maybe that was all there was to it. No thank you or sorry or good-bye. Just...
maybe some lighthearted corruptedshipping? or whatever you want i just like the way you write them :]
🥺!!!! oh my gosh thank you so much! I'm so glad you like my corruptedshipping writing <333
I've been working on a longer corruptedshipping thing recently, but that might take a while to finish, so I'll write/post something shorter for you later today!
notes: for @curls-cat who suggested “beautilocks moving in together”!
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It happened little by little.
First Goldi’s toothbrush on the bathroom counter. And then some of her pajamas in the laundry, which ended up in Beauty’s closet. And then the soy milk in the fridge, because Goldi was lactose intolerant and she slept over so often, nowadays, it didn’t make sense to get coffee from the diner every time.
And then the incense burning in the living room (jasmine, because that was what Natalie liked best). And then the potted bamboo in the front hall. And then the tabletop fountain in the master bedroom, the sound of trickling water mingling with the sound of Goldi’s breathing every night.
And then, and then, and then. By the time Beauty realized what was happening, it was nearly over.
They had gone out for dinner one night, the three of them, and when they came back in through the front door Beauty paused, struck suddenly by the clutter of shoes just inside the threshold. Hiking boots and stilettos and running shoes and slippers, all together.
Goldi touched the small of her back. “Beauty? What happened?”
Beauty blinked, swallowed. “No…it’s nothing.” She turned and smiled, leaning in for a kiss. “I guess I’m just glad we’re home.”
summary: tory discovers something on february 4th. early s4.
wordcount: 603
notes: for robbykeene101, who requested some keenry!
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The bench was vibrating.
Tory, in the middle of tying her shoelaces, looked up. Someone had left their phone on the bench, and it was buzzing with a call.
She glanced around. It was the end of practice; most of the other students were on their way out of the dojo. Kyler and Dieter and a couple of the other guys were milling around, probably waiting for her to finish getting dressed. She usually went with them and grabbed a bite to eat after practice on the days she had some extra cash.
The phone stopped buzzing. Then it started again, two short alerts this time. Text messages.
She tried to ignore it, but it kept pinging. Jesus, who the hell was so popular tonight?
Finally her curiosity got the better of her and she picked it up. It was an older model phone, like hers, a little busted up. Definitely not Kyler’s.
She tapped at the home button. The texts bloomed on screen.
Mom: I’m so sorry honey but it looks like I’ll be home pretty late tonight
Mom: Manager needs someone for the night shift and I’m the newbie so it looks like it’s gotta be me. I know we were planning on dinner together tonight but promise I'll make it up to you
Mom: Free for breakfast tomorrow? I’ll make your favorite
Mom: I’m sorry honey. I love you
Mom: Happy birthday
Tory was still staring at the texts when the sound of footsteps registered. She put the phone face down on the bench just in time for Robby to appear around the corner.
He had changed out of his gi, his hair still sweaty and sticking up at weird angles. Tory immersed herself in the task of tying her laces, watching from the corner of her eye as he sat down next to her and picked up the phone.
Robby’s face didn’t fall as he read the texts. It didn’t harden, either. It was just…flat. Like he’d expected nothing, and gotten nothing, and was absolutely unsurprised by that.
His movements were mechanical as he packed up his gym bag.
Tory finished with the laces and made to get up. She could see Kyler and the guys still waiting. She could walk away from this. It wasn’t her problem.
And Robby wouldn’t want her pity, anyways. Pity was useless. She knew that better than anybody.
But—
She turned to him. “Hey. You know any good food trucks around here?”
Robby looked up from zipping his bag. “What?”
“Those guys—” She jerked her chin at Kyler’s group. “They always wanna go to those stupid expensive ones that, like, put gold foil and shit on your food.”
Robby snorted humorlessly. “Yeah? How’s that taste?”
“Fuck if I know. That’s why I asked if you knew any good ones. I’m starving.”
Tory could feel the weight of his gaze, heavy with suspicion. She let her own eyes wander impassively across the room, like it didn’t matter to her one way or another.
Finally he said, “Yeah, there’s a couple decent ones by this skate park I go to.”
She finally got to her feet, slinging her bag over one shoulder. “Awesome. Let’s go. You owe me a soda, anyways.”
Robby stood up next to her. “Yeah? For what?”
“For not kicking your ass in practice today.” They started towards the doors, Kyler and the guys trailing after them.
That actually got a laugh out of him. “What, because I knocked you onto the mat? That was part of the lesson, remember?”
“Whatever, asshole.” But when he wasn’t looking, Tory allowed herself a small, triumphant smile.
The worst thing about eternal youth was having a daemon that just wouldn’t settle.
It didn’t matter how well-versed Pinocchio was in Latin poetry, how refined his opinions on late blue period Picasso were. As long as Mariuccia was flitting about, morphing from puppy to sparrow to beetle, no one would see him as anything more than a child.
(Papa had loved her. She was proof that Pinocchio was a real boy, a living, breathing person with a soul. She had not existed when Pinocchio had been a marionette.)
Sometimes Mariuccia held a form for more than a few hours, and Pinocchio felt hope rise in his chest, thinking what if, finally, maybe this time…
And then, inevitably, she changed, and Pinocchio was left cursing the day he met the Blue Fairy.
summary: tory and robby in a red convertible, 4x08
wordcount: ~1.6k
notes: rated t for teenage kissing 🤡
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“Hopefully it’s all dry by then.” Tory tucked the sales tag back into the collar of her dress.
She could feel Robby’s gaze following the movement of her hand, could feel it tracing along the lines of her shoulder and neck.
But when she glanced up, he was staring at her right in the eye.
The dress clung damply to her skin. The pool water had washed the curls out of her hair and the makeup from her face. And he was still looking at her with that dopey-soft expression, like he had on the dance floor and in the pool.
Tory knew that expression. Sort of. Usually it was tinged with this kind of…reverence. Like, oh my God, I can’t believe I’m with Tory, she’s so badass and scary and cool and sexy.
But with Robby there was none of that. Just the warmth of his eyes and the playful purse of his lips. Like he was trying not to smile. Or trying not to kiss her.
The lights from the fair painted him gold and green. The words were spilling from her mouth before she could think twice. “I guess we should get our money’s worth.”
It was half-challenge, half-invitation. He’d probably back down now, anyway. It was really too bad; she’d always sort of wondered what it would be like to—
Robby leaned forward.
Wait. He was actually making a move?
For a moment Tory was still, wide-eyed; then his fingers touched her jaw and she was moving forward too, the easiest thing in the world.
They met in the middle. The kiss was surprisingly chaste, all things considered, but still...nice.
Robby pulled away after a few seconds, his lips curling into a little smile, like he knew he’d caught her by surprise. Annoyance twinged, and her own competitive spirit kicked in. He’d decided to strike first?
Fine. She’d strike back, hard.
Tory twisted, throwing a leg over the seats and slipping into his lap. She savored the sound of his sharp inhale. Who was caught off guard now?
This new position had her taller than him, and she braced herself on the back of his seat, caging him in. He was looking up at her, his eyes all big and dark and wanting, his palm sliding along her waist, searing-hot through her dress.
Tory leant down, kissed him again. Her hair pooled around their shoulders in a chlorine-scented curtain. Her hand found the side of his neck—so vulnerable—and she eased into him, settling on his lap.
Robby’s mouth moved languidly against hers. He was a good kisser, if a little slower than she was used to. His teeth caught her bottom lip—not quite a bite, but enough to make her shiver. She retaliated by running her nails against the nape of his neck and was rewarded with a soft gasp. There. That would teach him…
But even that little victory drifted away, and then it was just pure sensation; the heat of his mouth, the friction of his hand as it moved along her hip, the smell of pool water and crushed calla lilies. Seconds melted together, one after the other, the sounds and lights of their surroundings fading to nothing for a long, long while.
It was impossible to tell who broke away first this time. Maybe both of them at once. They stayed close for few moments, their breaths mingling, before Robby laid his head on her shoulder and she rested her own cheek on his temple.
Bit by bit, the noise of the fair meandered back into focus. A breeze came by and cooled her flushed skin. Robby’s chest rose and fell against hers as their breathing slowed down.
“Nice earrings,” he murmured after several minutes. The words were a billow of warm air against her throat.
“What?” Tory’s voice came out all raspy. “Oh, thanks.”
She’d worn her snake earrings tonight. A reminder to Miguel and Sam and everyone else that she was as much a Cobra Kai at a dance as she was in a fight.
Robby’s hand came up to touch one now. His knuckles grazed her jaw and she nearly flinched at the feeling, the electric shock of it down her spine. She shifted back, away from him.
Tory met his gaze and immediately wished she hadn’t; his eyes were still so dark, his face still so reddened. She was suddenly, intensely aware of their position. She was straddling him, her knees bracketing his waist, their hips flush. How many times had she pinned him like this during practice? It felt so different now. It was so different.
All at once, it was too much, too fast. She eased off of him, rolling back into her own seat.
“Need a minute,” she said by way of explanation.
“Sure.” Robby still sounded a little out of breath. Tory leaned against the passenger door and studied herself in the side-view mirror to keep from looking at him. Her hair was even more messed up than before, and what little lipstick had remained after her swim in the pool was now smudged past saving.
She turned her head very slightly. Robby was leaning back in his seat, staring up at the sky as the lights played across his face.
After a moment, Tory mimicked his position. He slid her a smile but made no move to kiss her again; she wasn’t sure if she was more relieved or disappointed.
For a while she watched the fair in front of them. The ride closest to the car was one of those swinging hammer ones that she’d loved when she was younger. The delighted screams of the riders crescendoed up and down as the hammer swung towards them and then away.
“This is a nice place,” she said. “How did you hear about it?”
“Kenny told me.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “Some girl in his class wanted to take him here.”
Tory snorted. “And here I thought he’d be one of those kids who never went on a date until he was, like, thirty.”
Robby laughed even as he nudged her shoulder with his. “Hey. That’s my student you’re talking about.”
She studied him from the corner of her eye. He had that fond expression that he always did whenever he was with Kenny. Tory had had her doubts about the kid in the beginning, but she had to admit; Robby had done a great job whipping him into shape.
And he was good with Kenny too. She’d seen it herself, the way they joked around, the easy laughter, how Robby was always instinctively stepping in front of Kenny, like a shield. Maybe he was just one of those guys who got along with kids. Maybe he’d get along with Brandon—
No. Stop. Tory clamped down on the train of thought with sudden panic. What the fuck? What was she thinking? Let Robby meet Brandon? She hadn’t even introduced Miguel to Brandon, and she’d gone out with him for months.
She drove the edge of one blunt fingernail into her thigh, the pain helping her ground herself. Obviously, she was all…hormonal or whatever from their kiss and was thinking crazy thoughts.
What had she said before, when she’d asked him to prom? Strictly a tactical move.
Yeah, that had worked out well.
Tory inhaled carefully. She didn’t need this. She clearly wanted this more than she’d thought. But what she needed was to focus on the All Valley. To become a champion.
And after that…who knew?
She made a show of pulling out her phone and checking the time. Shit, it was already almost midnight. Well, at least that made this next part easier. She said, “It’s getting pretty late.”
“Yeah?” He shifted to look at her phone. “Huh. Good thing we don’t have practice tomorrow.”
“Yeah.” Tory ran her finger over a crack on her phone screen. “I still need to wake up pretty early, though.”
“Oh, yeah. Gotta return the dress.”
She almost sighed with relief. “Right.”
“I can drop you home now if you want.” He’d picked her up from a park near the dojo at the beginning of the night.
“That’d be great, thanks.”
Robby bent and rummaged for the car keys in the door handle. The mood had flattened out into something that was—not uncomfortable, definitely, but more business-like. Professional.
For a moment, she really wished she didn’t have to leave.
Tory pushed the feeling away and looked down at her lap, rubbing the hemline of her dress between her fingers. The fabric was still kind of damp, even after a ride in an open-top convertible and all the time they’d spent here. She resigned herself to blasting it with a hairdryer the next morning.
When she looked up, Robby was watching her again. Not like he had before, when he’d kissed her, but with that sort of amused fondness, like he had with Kenny.
He said, “Still gotta dry, huh?”
“Yeah.” Tory shrugged. “Wish I could keep it, but…” It was a pretty dress, but the refund money would be better spent on rent or utilities.
“I don’t know. No big loss,” he said. At her questioning look, he elaborated, “The dress is nice and all. But for what it’s worth…” And there it was, that flicker of something else in his eyes, his voice—playful and warm and wanting. “I think you look better in your gi anyways.”
Tory stared at him. Her mouth was very dry. “Lucky you.”
Robby’s eyes twinkled faintly as he smiled. “Lucky me,” he agreed, and started the car.
notes: for @curls-cat, who was (is?) playing around with an sg daemon-verse a while back!
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Puck, troublesome creature of magic that he was, had a daemon that defied all reason. One moment it appeared as a cloud of twinkling lights; and then a living flame that leapt from place to place; and then a fluorescent parrot with feathers made of flower petals. Always changing. Always impossible.
Puck never called it by name.
Sabrina realized this a week after she’d met him. “Hey, gasbag,” she began one morning at breakfast. “What’s that thing’s name, anyway?” She nodded at the daemon, currently a chittering monkey-bat-spider hybrid clinging to the ceiling.
Puck, predictably, blew a raspberry at her. “Wouldn’t you like to know, ugly.”
Sabrina sneered back despite a pang of bewildering hurt. She had told him her own daemon’s name, Ren, the day they’d met. Because that was what you were supposed to do.
“Don’t take it too harshly, liebling,” Granny Relda consoled her afterwards. “The faerie folk are notoriously tight-lipped about names. Especially daemon names.”
So Sabrina rolled her eyes and tried to put it out of mind. She talked to Puck and Ren talked to Puck (which was odd in itself, but maybe just another faerie thing) and Puck talked to the both of them while his daemon said nothing.
She tried to ignore the flutter of her heart in the quiet moments when Ren and Puck’s daemon pressed close together, spotted fur brushing iridescent scales.
Until the day they sent Oberon’s body out to sea. The day Sabrina held Puck’s hand at the water’s edge, and Ren lay across her shoulders like a living scarf, and Puck’s daemon was a dragonfly made of diamonds and emeralds that flashed and sparkled even under the heavy gray clouds.
The day Puck leaned over and whispered his daemon’s name in Sabrina’s ear. Quiet and careful. Like tucking a knife into her palm.
For the briefest moment, a fraction of a heartbeat, Puck’s daemon rested on her collarbone. Its jewel-bright wings quivered, grazing the skin of her neck. And then it was off, wings buzzing, flinging itself up into the boundless sky.
summary: robby’s first impression of tory, early s2.
wordcount: 306
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The roller rink wasn’t the first time he saw Tory.
The roller rink was the first time he met her, sure; but the first time Robby saw her was at the country club with the LaRussos.
He was lying there by the pool with Sam, the sun hot on his shoulders. Sam caught sight of something above them, and he followed her gaze to the balcony.
He’d seen pictures of Aisha before, so he recognized her easily enough. The girl next to Aisha was new, though; tall, bleached hair, flannel in the middle of summer.
Robby knew immediately that she wasn’t an Encino kid. He wasn’t close enough to see the details of her hair or her clothes, whether they were country club-ready or not. No, it was the way she was standing, the expression on her face.
He could see, even from a distance, that familiar mixture of shock and astonishment, the oh-my-god-I-can’t-believe-people-actually-live-like-this of it all. Her eyes wide open, drinking everything in, even as her shoulders pushed back with defensive overconfidence.
Robby knew that stance. He’d had that stance. She looked as out of her element as he’d always felt in places like this.
He thought about going up there with Sam and introducing himself. And then the concierge came by and tried to kick him out, and then Mrs. LaRusso lost her wallet, and the new girl slipped from his mind for the rest of the afternoon.
It was only later, as Sam ranted about someone named Tory who had threatened to steal the club’s silverware before pushing her into a dessert table, that Robby made the connection.
He thought about it—stolen silverware, and stolen wallets, and never feeling like you had enough. Never feeling like you were enough.
He said, “I don’t know, Sam. Maybe she’s not as bad as you think.”
@lunar-beauty thank you so much! characterization is always something i worry about, and this was my first time writing ck fic so i’m glad you liked it <3
@robbykeene101 thank you!!! i’m working on another one now, not sure if i’ll finish it or not but we’ll see!
