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[attr="class","bisc"]“You could have told us.” His lips pressed together as he thought about her muteness. Was this shit what caused it? Heck, he doubted Grappa and friends even remembered saying it. “I’m—” The shaking drowned out his voice. But, this time, he didn’t let himself get drowned out. What he had to say was important. “If I ever hurt your feelings, I’m sorry.”

Apparently, the bad at baking thing hadn’t been funny to her.

It seemed the shoe was enough to pause the phantom memories. Sure, a pair of sandals would have been better, but he hated those things. He was always scared he’d break some universal rule and end up pairing them with socks.

As they raced forward—his brain fuzzy and mind whirling a million miles a minute—-Biscotti took up the rear. Occasionally, he threw a glance at the jeering siblings over his shoulder. “Uh…” They way they moved wasn’t right. All the body parts were in the right place, but the thing creating them didn’t know how muscles worked. Which, when he pictured Eternatus, made sense.

That thing was just a bunch of bones stitched together by Dynamax energy.

As she complained about the weight, Scotti did his best to help support the bag. But the three-armed method didn’t do much but slow each other down. In the end, he kicked aside what she sprinkled to keep it from becoming a trip hazard. Which really didn’t make much sense now that he thought about it.

Hallucinations didn’t really stumble.

Notes
Lessen the Load
(Total RKS: 200 RKS + 1 Curio)

Vanilla Kingsley

☉

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[attr="class","bisc"]The brunette grinned. “You too.” He paused, mulling over the words. “Errrr. Me too. That was way to narcissistic for me.” And, as someone who purposely made himself the butt of all the jokes, self-esteem wasn’t high on his priority list.


Did Vanilla like ghosts? Wasn’t it a big brother’s ob to know stuff like that? Biscotti stared down at the Mismagius with a perplexed look as he tried to remember her favorite Pokemon. “Is it?” A breath of heated air escaped his mouth. “She’s trying way too hard to grow up.” Now that he had to pay rent and go to work, all he wanted was to be a 13-year-old kid again. No responsibilities. Just homework and stupid jokes.


Meanwhile, his little sister was out here trying to break a decade’s old mystery AND save the world. It really made a guy feel inadequate.


As someone with a bunch of older sisters, Scotti had seen it all before. Douchebag boyfriends cheating on them and making them feel small. Guys who clammed up and held it all back. “It’s his loss.”

If he didn’t want to be with a cool cat like Elise—a literal princess—then he was a moron. But Biscotti knew that from the second he heard his name. What kind of name was @amor?


Biscotti watched as she tossed a ring. His honey eyes widened. It’d taken all 10 rings for him to even come close. “Whoa! Dude-ette! You got it on the first try!” Suddenly, his arms were full with orange-and-black. His cheeks reddened. He shuffled his feet.


“Well—” He shuffled the plushes so that the Masmagius was at the front. “That’s what the King of Fun is for, right?” He took a deep breath. “And, uh, the Mismagius was for you—or, at least, I picked it thinking of you.” He took a deep breath.


Scarred shoulders lifted in a shrug. “And, poof, here you are.” Which would be past tense if he didn’t stop stumbling over his words like that.

Elise Calcifet

☉

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[attr="class","bisc"]Biscotti jumps around at the familiar voice. He immediately forgets about the game. The red ring clatters to the tabletop. Instantly, his face is awash in bright pink. He struggles to remember what words are as he stares at the princess. Even after twenty years, being around a real noble till tied his tongue in knots. “Hey, El. Long time no see.” If a few weeks was considered long.


At the mention of the game, honey eyes dropped back to the striped tablecloth. He blinked. “Uh, yeah. I guess so.” His gaze shifted to the swinging plushies above him. “I thought it looked fun.” Why he—a grown man—wanted a plushie wasn’t exactly something he had an excuse for. “I’ll probably give the stuff to Nilla.” The Mismagius swaying above seemed to stare at him judgmentally.


His own Galarian was rough and tainted by a Paldean roll. “I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it, El.” His next toss was forceful. “That guy was a tool.” Even with all her pining, just hearing about him rubbed him the wrong way. “I get you on the rest though. It sucks being a kid again.” Or, well, young adult. Not that there was much of a difference really.


The next ring drew an early celebration. “Look at—” It slipped off and joined its fallen comrades. “--that.” With a sigh, he turned to face Elise again. “You want to give it a try?”

Elise Calcifet

☉

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[attr="class","bisc"]Just mentioning the Galarian dreamscape made the brunette stiffen. “Look, Nilla.” His voice shifted for a moment. He sounded older and tired. “--that was 20 years. We went through a lot.” And, apparently, she’d adopted better to losing it than he had. But kids did have adaptable brains. “I had a wife, and now I don’t remember how to talk to girls. It sucks.” To go from being a king to just another nobody—no matter how kingly he’d been--was a big adjustment.

Though he was the one caught in the maelstrom, the crystal started spitting out images from Vanilla’s past. His older siblings to be precise. The salty ones. “Uh—-did this happen?” Biscotti’s voice rose to be heard above the grumbling of the assholes. “I’ve never seen them this bad.” With a grunt, he staggered away from the stone. As the blue-haired girl hit her knees, he bent down to untie a shoe.

Trying his best to channel his mother, he tossed one of them at the phantoms. He shouted some familiar family phrases as he did so. His sock came down to land on the pulsing flesh beneath him—yuck. “Quit being dicks.” He straightened. “I’d like to see you two down here.” Sure, Vanilla couldn’t bake. She didn’t care enough about perfection for that. But she had courage in spades. And, he’d die defending that.

But, hopefully, it wouldn’t come down to that.

Notes
Traumatic Memory

Vanilla Kingsley

☉