❝ 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦, 𝘸𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘶𝘮𝘢. 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵. ❞
a young girl returns to her hometown after suffering a traumatic experience overseas. only to cross paths with a fluffy alien i...
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▌episode1; the beginning of a new chapter: (y/n)'s starting line!
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Someone once said that things happen when you least expect it. Be it good or bad, the universe always finds a way to surprise you.
You can try to run, but it always manages to catch up to you. Therefore, it goes without saying that it's important to face your adversities head on...
...But how exactly do you fight your alarm clock?
Opening your eyes blearily, the usually radiant (e/c) hued orbs were dull and sunken. Disgusting crust prevented you from opening them, and you turned to gaze at the morning irritant on your desk through half lidded eyes.
You groaned as it only got louder, displeasure coursing through your veins like a rapid river. With no choice, you hauled yourself off bed.
"Sheesh, sometimes I wish I had an internal alarm to wake me up instead. So that I don't have to hear this annoying thing blast my ears off..."
Sighing heavily, you turned it off with a flip of a switch. You yawned aloud and stretched your arms sleepily. Rubbing away the dirt on your tapering eyelids. you moved towards the windows. When the (colour) curtains were drawn, you grimaced at the sudden introduction of sunlight.
As your eyes finally adjusted to the glaring intensity, you opened the windows. A flock of startled sparrows by the window sill took off, soaring over the horizon. With your arms crossed, you leaned out a little, inhaling the crisp morning air.
Another day in Morioh, huh?
Eyes lidded, a gentle breeze caressed your face and your (h/c) bed hair. You basked in the sun's warmth a little bit more before deciding it was time to start the day.
. . .
You leapt off the last step, moving down the hallway and into the kitchen. The skirt of your sailor uniform swayed in the air as you adjusted your (colour) sweater sleeves.
"Good morning!" Your voice bounced off the pale walls. Padding into the kitchen in your knee length socks, you sat down at the dining table. You placed your book bag beside the table.
"Morning, big sis." The middle schooler by the stove angled her head to glance back at you. As she turned, you noticed the black puffballs lingering by her hands. The little things chimed back at you with their wide eyes.
