A stitch in Time [narration/text/action]
April and May had always been tumultuous months for Samus. Or at least, for as long as she had been hired at this forsaken school. It coincided with birthdays, it coincided with graduation, it coincided with dances, proms, and drama; all etched very firmly in her memories, reminding her she was and always would be perpetually ill-suited for any social event (that didn't involve gratuitous amounts of alcohol). She didn't like them, they didn't like her, and she was generally fine with that. However, this year Samus had but one mission on her mind:
She wanted to see Jeff walk across the stage. And maybe Char. And any other students of hers she was aware of that had actually managed passed her grueling finals. She didn't care what happened to her, she didn't care what embarrassment or drama she'd have to suffer this year. She didn't care if this really was the last time she'd ever see him or the others... This was all she wanted. It would be worth it. Years of teaching Jeff, dealing with his panty thievery, delinquency, awkward as hell heartswaps, touching moments, pranks, trips into space, lying, and other such things all culminated to this.
"Where is it..." Samus muttered, digging through a mound of forgotten clothes in the back of her closet. A similar minefield of clothing carnage could probably be found all over the firehouse.
Trying to convey that to Jeff utterly failed, she decided. Samus was certain she would endure at least some drama, any and all possibilities of which had been on her mind all week. Jeff's most recent leaving had left an ugly bruise on the relationship. He probably thought she hated him. Hell, maybe he hated her, and she was just stubbornly blind to it. He didn't seem to have any regrets about leaving... and Falcon had certainly made his points very clear. Samus was torn between regressing back into the steely ice-queen armor, torn between all-too-familiar feelings of betrayal and mistrust, torn between not giving a damn and just wanting to make amends. How could she possibly express how much that one little word truly meant...?
Torn at the seams... like her black dress when she finally found it. Great. Samus flopped backwards into the mess she had created, spread-eagle, and engaged in a staring contest with the ceiling while stray strands of hair from her bangs threatened to intervene. What was she even doing anymore? She wasn't being the hero she knew she could be. Demon Chickens... Team Rocket...Metal Gear REX... She wasn't needed as a hero when the school proved it could survive just fine without her. Jeff proved just the same. He was growing up. That was not a life meant for her... right?
The ceiling yielded no answers. The clock spit echoing clicks downstairs, as if it had something to say. It was something defiant.
...She still had time. If she had nothing else, she had that.
[Private to female faculty/students. NO BOYS ALLOWED.]
I need...
I can't believe I am even asking this.
...recommendations. For a dress. A new one.
[[This post can be used as a generic action/office log if you so please!]]
She wanted to see Jeff walk across the stage. And maybe Char. And any other students of hers she was aware of that had actually managed passed her grueling finals. She didn't care what happened to her, she didn't care what embarrassment or drama she'd have to suffer this year. She didn't care if this really was the last time she'd ever see him or the others... This was all she wanted. It would be worth it. Years of teaching Jeff, dealing with his panty thievery, delinquency, awkward as hell heartswaps, touching moments, pranks, trips into space, lying, and other such things all culminated to this.
"Where is it..." Samus muttered, digging through a mound of forgotten clothes in the back of her closet. A similar minefield of clothing carnage could probably be found all over the firehouse.
Trying to convey that to Jeff utterly failed, she decided. Samus was certain she would endure at least some drama, any and all possibilities of which had been on her mind all week. Jeff's most recent leaving had left an ugly bruise on the relationship. He probably thought she hated him. Hell, maybe he hated her, and she was just stubbornly blind to it. He didn't seem to have any regrets about leaving... and Falcon had certainly made his points very clear. Samus was torn between regressing back into the steely ice-queen armor, torn between all-too-familiar feelings of betrayal and mistrust, torn between not giving a damn and just wanting to make amends. How could she possibly express how much that one little word truly meant...?
Torn at the seams... like her black dress when she finally found it. Great. Samus flopped backwards into the mess she had created, spread-eagle, and engaged in a staring contest with the ceiling while stray strands of hair from her bangs threatened to intervene. What was she even doing anymore? She wasn't being the hero she knew she could be. Demon Chickens... Team Rocket...Metal Gear REX... She wasn't needed as a hero when the school proved it could survive just fine without her. Jeff proved just the same. He was growing up. That was not a life meant for her... right?
The ceiling yielded no answers. The clock spit echoing clicks downstairs, as if it had something to say. It was something defiant.
...She still had time. If she had nothing else, she had that.
[Private to female faculty/students. NO BOYS ALLOWED.]
I need...
I can't believe I am even asking this.
...recommendations. For a dress. A new one.
[[This post can be used as a generic action/office log if you so please!]]