On a roll~
Mother 3 ficcage, part two!
Fandom: Mother 3
Clinet: th3newblack, myself X3
Title: Different
Rating: K
Characters: Kumatora, Duster
Occasionally, Kumatora feels embarrassed around Duster.
She’s never really felt ashamed about herself or anything she does. If there’s one thing she’s taken from this royalty shindig, is that she should take pride in everything she did because she did it. She doesn’t back down and she doesn’t need help. Even when she fails, it’s a win because it’s hers.
But around Duster, things are different.
His mild manneredness makes her feel brash, and his quieter voice makes her feel loud. She always knew she wasn’t very lady-like, but it wasn’t until Duster that she actually felt it. Before she knew it, she started changing a little bit at a time. The first time she really noticed the effect was when she was picking out her disguise. She went for a long, pretty wig, because normal girls have long, pretty hair. Not the spiky thing she sports.
Like Lucas, people are just drawn to Duster. Even with his memory long gone, everything that made him who he is beyond lost, he still had that glow that attracts people. No name, no past, a million friends. Band mates that are a second family, a two towns full of people who find him great. Still generous, still kind. She knows that even without his memory, he’s still the same.
She knows, because she’s been watching him all this time.
And while watching him, something aches. It aches the most when the girls dote and swoon and fawn on him. Their long, curly hair, tiny waists and long nails. Heavy make up and thick perfume. All giggling and smiling prettily. Not a one is overly loud or rambunctious-at least, not in front of him. He smiles at them, holds their hands, dances with a few. He says nice things to them and plays fun songs when they ask.
That something aches because she starts to wonder, starts to worry. She likes him, too, just as much as those girls, if not more. But she’s not like them. She used to think she was better than all that, but when he tells a stupid joke and their almost shrill giggles carry to the restaurant, she wonders. Would he have liked her more if she didn’t always cause such a scene? Or if she grew her hair out? Maybe if she didn’t treat him so poorly.
When he gets his memory back, she tries it out.
“I’m Duster! I’m Duster!!” She doesn’t want to cry, no matter what that hot feeling behind her eyes insists. She wants to punch his shoulder, slap him on the back, yell “Yahoo!” But the girls he keeps aren’t like that. Instead, she keeps her hands to herself and earnestly promises to say his name as many times as he likes.
That mild manner crap didn’t seem to make much of a difference, though, so she gives it up. Duster’s nice to everyone because he likes everyone. He likes his greatest fans, and he likes the people that make fun of him. His love is a simple love, and it’s there for the world to share.
That aching is misplaced. It isn’t that everyone gets the kindness he shows her, but that she gets the kindness he shows everyone. She doesn’t want his generic smile, but she’s just about given up on getting anything more.
“We’re different, though,” he says one day. Maybe he’s talking about Lucas and all of them, but he’s only looking at her. “That’s why I like us.”
So she tears off her wig and breaks her nails when she punches. She screams at the top of her lungs, and throws insults like snow.
It makes her different.
Different is what he likes.
It’s what he likes about her.
And that’s what she likes about him.
--=--
They're so awkward, I love it.
Fandom: Mother 3
Clinet: th3newblack, myself X3
Title: Different
Rating: K
Characters: Kumatora, Duster
Occasionally, Kumatora feels embarrassed around Duster.
She’s never really felt ashamed about herself or anything she does. If there’s one thing she’s taken from this royalty shindig, is that she should take pride in everything she did because she did it. She doesn’t back down and she doesn’t need help. Even when she fails, it’s a win because it’s hers.
But around Duster, things are different.
His mild manneredness makes her feel brash, and his quieter voice makes her feel loud. She always knew she wasn’t very lady-like, but it wasn’t until Duster that she actually felt it. Before she knew it, she started changing a little bit at a time. The first time she really noticed the effect was when she was picking out her disguise. She went for a long, pretty wig, because normal girls have long, pretty hair. Not the spiky thing she sports.
Like Lucas, people are just drawn to Duster. Even with his memory long gone, everything that made him who he is beyond lost, he still had that glow that attracts people. No name, no past, a million friends. Band mates that are a second family, a two towns full of people who find him great. Still generous, still kind. She knows that even without his memory, he’s still the same.
She knows, because she’s been watching him all this time.
And while watching him, something aches. It aches the most when the girls dote and swoon and fawn on him. Their long, curly hair, tiny waists and long nails. Heavy make up and thick perfume. All giggling and smiling prettily. Not a one is overly loud or rambunctious-at least, not in front of him. He smiles at them, holds their hands, dances with a few. He says nice things to them and plays fun songs when they ask.
That something aches because she starts to wonder, starts to worry. She likes him, too, just as much as those girls, if not more. But she’s not like them. She used to think she was better than all that, but when he tells a stupid joke and their almost shrill giggles carry to the restaurant, she wonders. Would he have liked her more if she didn’t always cause such a scene? Or if she grew her hair out? Maybe if she didn’t treat him so poorly.
When he gets his memory back, she tries it out.
“I’m Duster! I’m Duster!!” She doesn’t want to cry, no matter what that hot feeling behind her eyes insists. She wants to punch his shoulder, slap him on the back, yell “Yahoo!” But the girls he keeps aren’t like that. Instead, she keeps her hands to herself and earnestly promises to say his name as many times as he likes.
That mild manner crap didn’t seem to make much of a difference, though, so she gives it up. Duster’s nice to everyone because he likes everyone. He likes his greatest fans, and he likes the people that make fun of him. His love is a simple love, and it’s there for the world to share.
That aching is misplaced. It isn’t that everyone gets the kindness he shows her, but that she gets the kindness he shows everyone. She doesn’t want his generic smile, but she’s just about given up on getting anything more.
“We’re different, though,” he says one day. Maybe he’s talking about Lucas and all of them, but he’s only looking at her. “That’s why I like us.”
So she tears off her wig and breaks her nails when she punches. She screams at the top of her lungs, and throws insults like snow.
It makes her different.
Different is what he likes.
It’s what he likes about her.
And that’s what she likes about him.
--=--
They're so awkward, I love it.