#So sorry for posting less I was focused mostly on this for few days

[infernothechaosgod]

A little comic for a competition :)

[jburrgf]

CRAVE, MATT REMPE.

pairing: !ny rangers¡matt rempe x !pr girl¡reader

summary: forced proximity, coworker paring, fake dating,

description: you’re a personal assistant working behind the scenes in the NHL world — organized, focused, and determined to keep things strictly professional. But when you cross paths with Matt Rempe, everything starts to unravel. What begins as tension and irritation slowly turns into something far more complicated: stolen glances, blurred boundaries, and a possessiveness that neither of you are ready to face.

word count: 7.4k

You meet Matt Rempe for the first time on a Tuesday.

It's raining — not enough to be romantic, just enough to ruin your hair and smear your eyeliner in the reflection of your cracked phone screen. You're fifteen minutes late to the morning media meeting because the subway stalled, your umbrella flipped inside out, and someone spilled iced coffee on your blazer. It's one of those days where everything feels like a dare from the universe.

You burst into the media room at Madison Square Garden with damp shoes and an apology on your lips, and that's when you see him.

Him.

Six-foot-seven. Hockey gear is halfway off. Hair curled damply at the nape of his neck. Legs stretched so long that you're almost offended by them. And his most irritatingly amused expression as he watches you stumble through the door, breathless.

"Oh," he says, eyebrows lifting. "You must be the new PR girl."

You blink—PR girl.

"I'm the media relations coordinator," you correct flatly, trying to shrug off your coat with what's left of your dignity.

He grins, slow and lazy like he's already won something. "That's cute."

Cute.

You seriously consider quitting right then and there.

You don't get far.

Before you can even find a seat, your boss, Richard — salt-and-pepper hair, tired eyes, Mets mug always in hand — waves you over from the head of the table.

"Good, you're here," he says, flipping through a packet of printed media notes. "I need you to focus on Rempe this week."

You blink. "Me?"

Richard nods. "He's a walking headline lately. Fights, interviews, that whole clip of him saying he wants to 'punch the moon' or whatever? It went viral again last night. We need to soften his image. You're going to shadow him for content and prep him for interviews."

You glance over.

Rempe's now poking the sharp end of a pen into a Gatorade bottle. For fun.

You turn back to Richard. "I'm sorry. You want me to clean that up?"

Richard sighs. "He's not as dumb as he looks. But he is chaotic. You'll figure it out. Get him to post something sweet. Please give him a dog, or a grandma, or something. Make him charming."

"Can't we just… let him talk less?"

"Too late," Richard says, flipping the page. "He talks. Make it work."

The next few days are… not smooth. Matt was making everything more challenging for you. First, you try to get him to film a "Day in the Life" TikTok. Second, he misses his Lyft, saying that he got a stained sweater. And then he shows up twenty minutes late, unshaven, wearing mismatched socks and a Shrek hoodie.

"Are you seriously wearing that?" you ask.

He glances down. "What? Shrek's a style icon."

You pinch the bridge of your nose. "You're ruining my life."

He smiles, teeth flashing. "C'mon, PR girl. Admit it. You love the chaos."

You do not. Except maybe — just maybe — you do.

Later, when you finally get him to sit down for a short interview clip, he leans forward and goes: "Hi, I'm Matt Rempe, and my favorite pregame ritual is headbutting a locker until I see stars."

You stare at him. He smirks. And then, you roll your eyes for the 60th time just that day.

"I'm kidding," he says, eyes sparkling. "Mostly."

You and Matt don't go very far with the content. You record half of a video with the camera, and as you walk down to your car, you find weird selfies from Rempe on your phone. And on that afternoon, you badge in Richard's office—hair a mess, zero patience.

"I can't do this," you say.

He doesn't look up from his computer. "What happened now?"

"He called me PR Girl again. He refused to stop juggling pucks while I was trying to interview him. He ate two protein bars at once and choked mid-sentence. I had to edit out a Heimlich maneuver."

"Sounds like a productive day."

You glare.

Richard sighs. "Look, I know he's a lot. But he likes you."

You scoff. You cannot believe in that. "He does not."

"He does. I've never seen him listen to anyone, Y/N. And you got him to show up to something that wasn't optional andstay the whole time. That's a miracle in itself."

"He licked the mic, Richard."

"Baby steps."

[...] 

On Friday, after practice, you catch him stretching near the edge of the rink. He's sweaty, flushed, laughing at something Trocheck said, and you hate that he still manages to look stupidly good even when he smells like a locker room. That was almost impossible. But there was him.

Strangely handsome.

You approach with your phone already recording.

"Okay, last try," you say, holding it up. "Three questions. Answer them like a professional, and I'll buy you lunch."

His head tilts. "You're bribing me?"

"I'm desperate." You have to say. 

He grins. "I'm in."

You hit record.

"What's one thing fans don't know about you?"

He pauses, thoughtful. Then: "I can play the piano. Badly."

You raise an eyebrow. "Seriously?" That could never be serious. He was… Matt Rempe! Matt didn't do cute things. Right?

He shrugs. "A couple of years of lessons when I was a kid. I learned the Titanic song for a girl once. It didn't work."

You laugh — genuinely — and his eyes flicker like he wasn't expecting that sound from you.

"Next question," you say, voice a little softer. "What's something you'd be doing if you weren't playing hockey?"

He hums. "Probably teaching gym class in Saskatoon."

"Saskatoon?"

"Big dreams."

You smile. "Last one. What's your favorite thing about game day?"

There's no pause this time. "The crowd," he says, voice lower now. "It's loud. Messy. Feels like everything matters."

You stop recording—something in the air shifts. You clear your throat. "That was… good. Thank you."

"No problem," he says, and for once, there's no teasing in his tone.

You turn to walk away, grabbing your bag on the floor and ready to go.

"Hey," he calls after you.

You glance back.

He's still sitting, lacing up his shoes now, but his gaze is steady. "You're good at this. The media stuff. The wrangling thing."

You blink. "Thanks."

He grins. "Still gonna call you PR girl, though."

You roll your eyes. But you're smiling as you walk away.

Later that night, Richard texts you.

"Great clip, Y/N! You're onto something. Keep pushing him. Let's make this work.

You stare at your phone, thumb hovering over the keyboard, and then tuck it away without replying. Because for the first time since you took this job, you're not just thinking about how to manage Matt Rempe's image.

You're thinking about him.

The fact that he didn't seem to be the monster that he looked like.

And that? That might be the real problem.

[...]

You don't hear from him for three days.

This is annoying because, technically, you're the one who's supposed to reach out first. You're the one scheduling clips, organizing posts, coordinating with digital, and trying to make the Rangers' wildest rookie seem less like a cryptid who wandered onto the ice by accident and more like an actual human being. But for some reason, ever since that final clip on the edge of the rink — the piano thing, the Saskatoon thing, the look — you've hesitated to press send.

And, of course, that's when your boss decides to show up at your desk.

"Big idea," Richard says, clapping his hands together like you're not drinking coffee out of a chipped Stanley cup and scrolling through Matt's Instagram to see if he's posted another blurry picture of his feet.

You blink. "That's terrifying."

"You and Rempe," he says, ignoring you, "are going off-site."

You stare. "I'm sorry?"

"Media day. But casual. The internet loves authenticity. We're setting up a video shoot in Brooklyn — an ice cream truck, a dog rescue, and a couple of kids from the youth hockey league. You'll be shadowing."

You narrow your eyes. "You want me on camera?"

"No," he says with a dismissive wave. "But you'll be there. And people will see you. Which, frankly, isn't the worst thing. You're sharp. You're organized. You're good with him. I wouldn't mind the internet knowing who's behind his PR glow-up."

You hesitate.

Because it's one thing to be near Matt, it's another to be next to him — under the same lens, the same spotlight, the same curated chaos.

"I'm not trying to be a face of anything," you say carefully.

Richard shrugs. "You're not. But proximity sells. Especially when he looks at you the way he does."

You freeze. "Excuse me?" What was he even talking about?

He arches a brow. "You haven't noticed? He does everything you say to him to do it."

You have. And you don't want to talk about it.

"I'll book the car," you say, standing too fast. "If I'm going to survive a dog shoot with that man, I need caffeine and a sedative."

[...] 

The shoot is set on a quiet block in Williamsburg, just off the water. The ice cream truck is painted pale pink. The dogs are chaotic and too cute to be real. And Rempe — God help you — shows up in a navy blue beanie and a soft-looking hoodie that makes him look like the hot guy in a Hallmark movie who fixes antique clocks and only cries once.

You hate him.

"PR girl," he says as he approaches, a dog already climbing up his leg. "Didn't know you were making a cameo."

"It's not a cameo," you say, gently tugging the leash. "It's supervision."

He smirks. "You love babysitting me."

You give him a flat look. "You ate chalk last week because you thought it was candy."

"It was pastel!" he protests. "Who makes candy that isn't edible?"

You open your mouth. Close it again.

"Point is," he adds, smiling widely, "I missed you."

Your stomach does a thing. It's a stupid, fluttery, PR-inappropriate thing.

"Try not to lick anything this time," you mutter.

The cameras start rolling.

It's chaos — but good chaos. Matt holds a Chihuahua in one hand and a vanilla cone in the other. The kids from the hockey league swarm him like he's a giant jungle gym. At one point, someone throws a tennis ball, and four dogs and Matt all chase after it.

You stay off to the side, managing the handlers, the photographer, the digital team — but you notice the way he keeps glancing over at you between takes like he's checking if you're still there.

Like you matter.

And that's… dangerous.

Because this isn't a friendship.

This isn't flirting.

This is work.

And getting close to a player — even Rempe, who seems incapable of subtlety — is not part of your job description.

But then it happens.

You're crouching to help one of the kids tie a skate when someone calls Matt's name, and he turns too fast, tripping over a leash, a cone, and his own ridiculously long legs.

You don't see it coming until he crashes into you.

You land on the sidewalk hard.

And he lands on you.

Full body. Heavy. Hands braced on either side of your head, face inches from yours, chest rising and falling like he just ran a marathon.

You blink up at him.

He doesn't move.

And neither do you.

Somewhere, a camera clicks.

You hear laughter. Whistles. Someone yells, "GET A ROOM!"

And suddenly — so suddenly — it's not funny at all.

Because his eyes are on yours.

And nothing is teasing in them this time.

"Sorry," he breathes, voice rough.

You shake your head, barely. "It's… okay."

He doesn't move.

You don't ask him to.

[...] 

The clip goes viral within three hours.

You're not even back in Manhattan when your phone starts vibrating like it's possessed. The Rangers account posts it with the caption: "Just two people, falling for each other." You want to scream. Or throw up—or both.

By the time you return to your desk, the clip has garnered 2.1 million views, and you are trending.

Not him.

You.

"I'm going to die," you whisper, staring at the screen.

Richard walks by and casually says, "You're welcome."

You turn to him, horrified. "You planned this?"

He shrugs. "Not the fall. But I'm not mad at the result."

"It's inappropriate," you snap. "He's a player. I'm staff."

"You're not kissing him," he says, then pauses. "Yet."

You shoot to your feet. "Richard—"

"Relax," he says, raising both hands. "Just keep it clean. And keep it going. The internet's obsessed. He's finally marketable."

You open your mouth.

Close it again.

Because you know he's right.

And that's what terrifies you most.

That night, your phone buzzes with a message.

Matt Rempe: Still thinking about the fall?

You stare at it.

Please ignore it.

Try to sleep.

Fail.

Because you are thinking about it.

And the worst part?

You don't want to stop.

[...]

You're barely through the doors when you feel him watching you.

The charity gala is precisely the kind of thing you dread — overly formal, stuffed with people who care more about who'sseen supporting the youth hockey program than actually donating to it. You've been prepping for weeks, building storyboards, syncing schedules, and coordinating influencer coverage. But nothing prepared you for what Matt Rempe looks like in a suit.

Or, more specifically, what it feels like when he sees you in a dress.

Because the second your heels hit the marble floor, his eyes find you. And they don't leave.

Not when he's talking to the GM. Not when the team photographer calls for group shots. Not even when one of the donors pats him on the back and says something about "rising stars" and "young blood."

You try to pretend you don't notice.

You fail.

"What are you even doing here?" he murmurs when he finally sidles up next to you at the champagne bar, voice low enough that it makes you shiver. "I thought PR types hated events like this."

"I do," you reply coolly, adjusting your badge. "But someone has to make sure you don't go viral for eating all the hors d'oeuvres."

He grins. "I only did that once."

You arch a brow. "You stole a shrimp tower."

"I rescued it."

"From a child."

"She didn't even like seafood!"

You roll your eyes and sip your champagne.

"You look nice," he adds after a beat. It's casual, almost throwaway — but the way he says it makes something hot bloom low in your stomach.

You glance over at him. "Thanks."

"Like, really nice."

You narrow your eyes. "Are you flirting with me at a team-sponsored event?"

He shrugs. "I flirt with you everywhere."

You nearly choked on your drink.

The situation worsens when the press arrives.

There's a freelance reporter — tall, polished, confident — who sidles up to you near the silent auction table and immediately starts laying it on thick.

"You handle the Rangers' social?" he asks, leaning a little too close. "That explains the tone shift. It's gotten sharper. Funnier."

You shrug modestly. "We're trying new things."

"Like the Rempe stuff," he says, smirking. "Smart angle. He's the goofy rookie with a PR handler who dislikes him. It's got tension."

You blink. "Excuse me?"

He grins. "It's obvious. You're always trying not to smile in the videos. Feels kind of charged."

You step back, heart racing. "We're professionals."

"Sure," he says, clearly not buying it. "But the internet's rooting for you. I mean, the fall? The way he looks at you? Come on."

You're about to snap when a hand lands on your waist.

And not just any hand.

Matt.

"You okay?" he says, looking only at you. His voice is low. Firm. Different.

You nod.

The reporter raises an eyebrow, amused. "Speak of the devil."

"Funny," Matt says, not smiling. "Didn't realize this was an interrogation."

"Just a conversation," the guy replies, unbothered. "But maybe I'll circle back."

He walks away. You exhale.

Matt doesn't move his hand.

"You didn't have to do that," you say, avoiding his gaze.

"I know," he says softly. "But I wanted to."

You finally look at him, and what you see makes your stomach flip.

Because for the first time, it feels like the flirting isn't a joke.

It's something else.

Something real.

You don't leave together. You don't even talk much after that. But when the storm hits Manhattan just past midnight and all the bridges close, you realize two things.

One: You're stuck in the gala hotel.

And two: so is Matt.

You find him in the lobby, hair damp, jacket slung over one shoulder.

"We're snowed in," you announce, stating the obvious.

He looks up. "Yeah."

"We're not allowed to leave."

"I noticed."

You hesitate. Then: "Do you have a room?"

He nods slowly. "Do you?"

You do. But it's a double. And it's cold. And you're too wired to sleep.

So when he says, "Wanna hang out until the power comes back?" — you nod.

And follow him upstairs.

His room is dim, lit only by the warm yellow glow of a desk lamp. He pulls off his jacket and throws it on the bed. You hover awkwardly by the window, watching the snow swirl.

"I can sleep on the chair," he says.

You turn. "What?"

He nods toward the armchair by the TV. "If it comes to that."

"I'm not staying the night."

He grins. "Sure you're not."

You scowl, but your cheeks go warm.

He crosses the room and sits on the edge of the bed. For a moment, the only sound is the wind outside and your heartbeat inside your ears.

"I meant it, by the way," he says quietly. "What I said earlier."

You blink. "Which part?"

"You look nice. And that I missed you."

Something in your chest tightens.

"You don't even know me," you whisper.

He stands.

Steps closer.

"I know you don't let people in easily," he says. "I know you're too smart for half the idiots in this building. I know you roll your eyes when you're flustered. And I know the only reason you're pretending not to like me is because you think it's safer that way."

Your breath catches.

"I'm not trying to make this complicated," he adds. "But it already is. So, if you want me to back off, say the word. But if you don't…"

He doesn't finish, and you don't need him to. Because you're already stepping forward, and for one heartbeat, neither of you moves.

Then, suddenly — finally — he does.

And the distance between you disappears.

[...]

You wake to the sound of silence.

Not the sterile kind that fills your apartment after a long day. This is something softer. Sleep-heavy. Still. The type of quiet you don't notice until you've been wrapped in it for a while.

Your eyes blink open slowly. The room is pale, with morning light filtering through thick snow-draped curtains. For a second, you're disoriented. This isn't your bed. This isn't even your hotel room. It's—

Your head turns.

Matt.

He's on the other side of the bed, turned slightly toward you, one arm bent beneath the pillow, lashes casting faint shadows on his cheek. His mouth is parted just a little. His hair's a mess — flattened on one side, ruffled on the other — and his long legs are tangled in the comforter.

He looks peaceful.

You don't.

Because the second your brain catches up, everything from last night crashes over you like a wave.

The gala. The flirting. The hand on your waist. The room. The way he looked at you like you were the only person on the planet.

You didn't sleep together — not in that way.

But you'd shared a bed.

And the intimacy of it somehow feels more dangerous than anything physical ever could.

You sit up slowly, carefully, trying not to disturb him. Your feet hit the carpet. You tiptoe to the window, and the snow hasn't let up. Manhattan is a postcard in grayscale — all blurred edges and icy stillness. You let your forehead rest against the cold glass.

You should leave. You should go back to your room, drink the bad hotel coffee, and put all of this into a box labeled 'mistake.' But then you hear the sheets shift.

You turn.

"Hey."

Matt's voice is low and rough from sleep. He squints at you, then rubs a hand over his face. "You okay?"

You nod. "Yeah. I just… woke up early."

He sits up, the blanket pooling at his waist. His bare chest is broad and freckled and unfairly distracting. He stretches his arms over his head with a groan.

"Sorry," he says. "Didn't mean to take over the whole bed."

"You didn't."

He looks at you for a moment.

And just like last night — and the night before that, and every time he's gotten too close — it feels like the air shifts.

He runs a hand through his hair. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You're lying."

You roll your eyes, but you're too tired to fight him. "I just… don't know what this is."

His expression softens. "It doesn't have to be anything. Not yet."

You stare at him. "But it feels like something."

"Yeah," he says. "It does."

There's a long pause.

And then, quietly: "I'm not gonna push you. I know this is complicated. Work, and optics, and… us. But I meant what I said last night."

You feel your heart climb slowly into your throat.

"I like you," he says.

And somehow, that's the most terrifying thing of all.

Later that day, the snow starts to melt, but your sense of control doesn't.

You'd made it back to your room. Showered. Dressed and gathered yourself like armor. You even slipped Matt a sheepish "thanks for not kicking me out" text before heading back to the arena.

By the time you're at your desk, you've almost convinced yourself that maybe—maybe—no one will find out.

And then it happens. You're staring at your inbox when your phone buzzes once.

Tracy (Social team)

— omg, have you seen this???

Attached is a video. Shaky, dimly lit. Filmed from across the hotel lobby.

You hit play.

And freeze.

It's you and Matt from last night. You're standing too close. He's got his hand on your lower back. You're laughing—not professionally, not distantly. Softly. Like you're used to him touching you like that.

Which you're not.

But the video doesn't care about the truth.

It ends with the two of you stepping into the elevator. Alone.

Tracy

— girl, it's going viral on hockey Twitter

— "Enemies to lovers, snowed-in edition" LMAO

Your blood turns to ice. Seconds later, your office door opens.

Your boss steps in — tablet in hand, expression unreadable.

"We need to talk," she says.

[...] 

The meeting isn't a disaster. But it's close.

They don't accuse you of anything directly. Just ask a lot of questions — about professionalism, boundaries, and player access. You answer carefully, voice even, nails digging crescents into your palm under the table.

You explain that nothing inappropriate happened. You explain that you were snowed in. You explain that, yes, maybe there's chemistry, but you've done nothing to compromise the integrity of your role.

They don't say you're fired. But they do say this:

"We need to get ahead of it."

This is how you end up in Matt's apartment that evening, pacing in front of his kitchen island while he watches you like you're about to detonate.

"So let me get this straight," he says. "They want us to pretend we're dating. To explain the video."

You nod. "Just for a few weeks. Until the story cools down."

He blinks. "But we're not dating."

"Obviously."

"Yet," he mutters.

You pretend not to hear him.

He leans against the counter. "So what's the plan? Just hold hands at games and pretend we're each other's favorite people?"

You give him a look. "You already are my least favorite person. That part will be easy."

He grins. "You sure about that?"

You don't answer.

Because you're no longer sure about anything.

Except for this: the more time you spend with Matt Rempe, the harder it's getting to remember what you're supposed to be pretending.

[...]

It starts with your hand in his.

Not for any real reason — not at first. Just that you're getting out of the Uber together, and there are photographers outside the foundation gala venue, and Matt turns to you with a look like Ready? And you, despite every nerve screaming otherwise, nod back.

And then he takes your hand.

And doesn't let go.

The sidewalk is slick with leftover snowmelt. The cameras start flashing as soon as the two of you step into the light. You know, the moment the shutter clicks that, it'll be everywhere by morning.

Rempe. And the team's media manager. Hand in hand.

You tell yourself it's a strategy. Optics. It's a clean narrative.

But that doesn't explain the warmth of his palm against yours. Or the way his thumb brushes yours when he thinks no one's looking.

It doesn't explain why your heart stutters when he leans in to whisper in your ear.

"You okay?"

You glance up. He's in a suit. Navy. Perfectly fitted. A tie that matches your dress — coordinated because the PR team insisted you look "believably coupled." He smells like cedarwood and sharp winter air and something distinctly Matt.

"Yeah," you breathe. "Just a little overwhelmed."

He squeezes your hand gently. "You look beautiful."

You blink. That wasn't part of the script.

"Thanks," you say because it's the only thing you can think of that won't give you away completely.

The event itself is a blur.

There are sponsors and speeches and passed hors d'oeuvres, and every time you drift more than a foot from Matt, someone catches your eye with a knowing look. You're suddenly no longer the quiet girl behind the camera or the press release. You're his date.

You.

The most frustrating man you've ever met is now holding open doors for you, getting you champagne, and resting his hand on the small of your back like it's always belonged there.

You're too busy pretending to be in love to realize how natural it feels.

Until the photo.

It's taken near the end of the night against a branded backdrop. One of the foundation's social team members calls you both over.

"You two look amazing," she says. "Give us something sweet. Come on — just one for the team!"

You freeze.

Matt doesn't.

Without hesitation, he steps behind you, hands resting lightly on your waist. You tense as he leans in, but instead of kissing your cheek like you expect, he whispers into your hair.

"This okay?"

Your throat is dry. "Yeah."

You don't look at the camera. You feel him smile against your temple.

Later, you see the photo.

It's devastating.

You're tucked into his chest, both of you slightly out of focus behind a shimmer of falling snow. He's looking at you like you hung the stars. You're looking at nothing — stunned, maybe, by how easy it is to forget what's real.

Or by how badly you want it to be.

Later in his apartment, you're barefoot in his kitchen, holding a glass of water as if it might anchor you. The dress is off. His tie is draped on the couch. And neither of you has said a word in fifteen minutes.

It's not awkward. It's not quite comfortable, either. It's something else — the space between rehearsed affection and something you can't name yet.

Matt breaks the silence first.

"You were amazing tonight."

You glance over your shoulder. "So were you."

He leans against the doorframe. "I didn't hate pretending."

You look away. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Say things like that. It's not fair."

He doesn't move. "It's not pretend for me."

Your breath catches.

"Matt…"

He steps closer, slowly, as if you're something fragile. "I don't care about the cameras. Or the stories. Or what anyone thinks. I just… I like being with you even when we're arguing. Even when you glare at me like I'm the worst person alive."

"You are," you whisper, but your voice is trembling.

He smiles. "Then I guess I'm your problem."

His hand brushes your arm. You close your eyes. "Say something," he says.

You turn to face him. And for once, you don't have anything to say.

So you kiss him.

It's not fireworks or slow-motion magic. It's messy, honest, and a little desperate. It's like you've been holding it back for too long and finally let it slip through the cracks. He kisses you back like he's been waiting. One hand at your waist. The other is in your hair. He kisses you like he's not acting anymore.

Because he isn't.

Neither are you.

When you break apart, he doesn't say anything. 

You don't know how long you stand there, forehead to forehead, letting the silence hum between you like it's trying to say something neither of you can.

Your lips still tingle. Your heart won't settle. Matt's breath ghosts across your skin, and suddenly, the space between pretending and something real disappears completely.

He's the one who leans in again, and this time, you don't hesitate.

You kiss him like you mean it now. No script. No audience. Just you and him in his dimly lit kitchen, your dress hanging off a chair, his tie forgotten, and the tension that's been building for weeks finally breaking open.

His mouth is soft but hungry like he's trying to memorize every part of this. Of you.

You drop the water glass on the counter without looking. It lands with a soft clink that neither of you notices. All you feel are his hands — one curling around your waist, the other sliding up your back, fingers splaying across your spine like he needs to keep you close or he might lose you.

You press into him without thinking.

Your body fits against his like it's meant to. He's tall — too tall — and you're always a little aware of it, but here, now, it doesn't matter. You like the way you have to tiptoe to meet his mouth. You want him to bend to reach you as if it's second nature.

His hands skim the edge of your ribs.

You gasp — barely — and feel him pause.

You pull back just enough to look at him. His eyes are heavy, his jaw clenched, and he's breathing like it's taking everything in him to stay in place.

"Is this okay?" he asks, voice low, rough around the edges.

You nod.

Then, because you want to be sure he knows, you say, "Yeah. It's more than okay."

The smile that pulls at his mouth is crooked and boyish, a little stunned as if he can't believe this is happening. You can't, either.

His lips find yours again, more deliberate now. He kisses like he thinks this might be the last time — like he doesn't want to waste a second of it. The kitchen counter digs into your hip. Your hands slip under the hem of his button-down. His skin is warm and solid, and he shudders when your fingertips drag across his stomach.

You feel him tense.

Then he pulls away, just barely, and looks at you. Not down at your mouth or your body, at you.

"Do you wanna go to my room?"

It's not rushed. Not cocky. Just quiet. Honest.

You could say no. You know he'd back off in an instant. But you also know this isn't just about tonight. Not really. It's about all the almosts. All the things you haven't let yourself want until now. 

You reach up, slide your hand into his hair, and whisper, "Yeah."

He kisses you like thank you.

He doesn't rush.

That's the first thing that surprises you.

For a guy who usually barrels into everything like he's too big for the world — too loud, too impulsive, too much — Matt is soft here. Careful. Patient.

He shoves you backward until your spine hits the door, and you don't even flinch — your fingers already tugging at the collar of his shirt, frantic to get him bare. But he's faster.

Matt grabs your wrists with one hand and pins them over your head, holding them there like it's nothing. You gasp, breath catching in your throat.

You step into his room and barely have time to take in the simple, masculine chaos of it — dark sheets, one lamp on, a worn Rangers hoodie on the back of the chair — before he turns to face you.

And then you're kissing again. But this time, it's deeper. Messier.

His mouth slants over yours with a hunger that's been simmering for weeks. You feel it in the way he breathes, in the way he fists the back of your dress and pulls you in like he's starving.

Your hands go to his chest, then lower, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, yanking it out of his pants. His skin is warm under your palms, a mix of hard muscle and softness in all the places you had imagined.

He lifts you like you weigh nothing and tosses you on the bed. Your back bounces against the mattress, legs falling open without hesitation. He stares down at you — messy, panting, wet — like he's starving and just found his fucking feast.

You groan against his mouth when he bites your bottom lip.

He pulls back just enough to look at you. His pupils are blown wide, his jaw tight, voice low and wrecked:

"Tell me to stop, and I will."

"I don't want you to," you breathe, and then he's on you again.

You feel it in the way his hands finally touch you, like he means it — one sliding up the back of your thigh, the other gripping your waist tight enough to bruise. And then, he's kissing down your neck, sucking marks into the skin like he's claiming you.

"Fuck," he mutters into your collarbone, voice thick. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this."

You do it because you've wanted it, too.

You moan when his hands tug at the zipper on your dress, and he pauses, just for a second, to look at you again.

"You sure?"

Your answer is a breathless "Yes. Matt. Please."

He swears under his breath as the dress hits the floor. And when his eyes rake over you — bare skin, underwear, all of you laid out and open in front of him — his breath catches like he's never seen anything so fucking perfect in his life.

"Jesus," he says, stepping closer. "You're gonna ruin me."

You tug him toward you by the waistband of his pants.

"Then let me."

His kiss is punishing. Teeth. Tongue. Possession.

"Fuck, I knew you'd be like this," he growls, mouth dragging down your neck. "All bratty and loud until I get my hands on you."

"Matt—" you whimper.

He smirks darkly. "Still got something to say, baby?"

He lifts you like you weigh nothing and tosses you on the bed. Your back bounces against the mattress, legs falling open without hesitation. He stares down at you — messy, panting, wet — like he's starving and just found his fucking feast.

"Take that shit off," he says, voice low. "Now."

You scramble to obey, peeling off your top. You're left in nothing but your panties — soaked through — and he groans when he sees the wet spot.

"Look at you," he mutters, dropping his jeans. His cock springs out, thick and hard and already leaking. "You're fuckin' dripping for me, and I haven't even touched you yet."

Your mouth goes dry.

He kneels between your legs and drags your panties down with one hand, the other already sliding up your inner thigh. His fingers brush over your slit, and his grin turns cruel.

"This wet for me already?" he says, pushing two fingers in without warning.

You cry out, hips jerking — but he doesn't slow down.

Matt pumps them hard, deep, curling them inside you like he's trying to make you scream. Your hands fist the sheets. He watches every twitch of your body like a man possessed.

"Fuckin' knew it," he mutters. "Knew you'd take my fingers so pretty. Bet your pussy's even better."

You're already spiraling, moaning, back-arching. But right before you come, he pulls his fingers out.

"No—Matt—!"

He grabs your jaw with his wet hand, squeezing your cheeks until your lips part.

"Open."

You do without thinking, and he shoves his fingers into your mouth.

"Taste yourself."

You moan around him, licking eagerly, and his eyes roll back like he's losing it.

"Jesus Christ."

He jerks your legs wider and lines up his cock without warning — not even grabbing a condom. And for a second, you blink.

"Wait—Matt—"

He pauses, eyes flashing. "You on the pill?"

You nod, barely able to breathe. "Yes."

"Good," he mutters. "Because I'm not fucking pulling out."

And then he slams into you.

You scream — not from pain, but from the stretch, the force, the overwhelming fullness. He's big, but more than that, he's brutal. He doesn't give you time to adjust. Don't ask if you're okay. He just fucks into you like he owns you.

"God, yes—fuck—Matt—"

"You like that?" he pants, one hand grabbing your hip so tight you'll feel it tomorrow. "Like getting your cunt ruined by me?"

You can't even speak. You nod, crying out with every thrust.

He fucks you hard and fast, grinding so deep your legs go numb. His hips smack into yours, the headboard slamming the wall in rhythm. Your nails rake down his back, your moans getting louder, rougher.

He growls, low and primal.

"Say it," he snaps. "Say whose pussy this is."

"Yours," you whimper. "Yours, Matt—!"

"Say my fucking name when I fuck you."

"Matt—fuck—Matt—please—!"

You're seconds from falling apart when—

Your phone rings.

Shrill. Loud. The vibration buzzed across the nightstand. You freeze. Matt doesn't stop. He grins and leans down, biting your lip as he grinds in deeper.

"Answer it."

"What—?"

He thrusts again, harder.

"Fucking answer it."

You fumble for the phone with shaking hands, your vision going blurry from pleasure. The screen flashes:

"Richard (Office)"

Your boss.  You look at Matt, panic rising.

He slows but stays deep inside you, not backing off an inch. "Put it on speaker," he orders.

"Matt—"

"You wanna come, baby?" he breathes against your neck. "Then you're gonna answer it. While I fuck you."

You're soaked, trembling, lightheaded from the way he fills you — and you know you'll say yes to anything he says—your thumb slides over the screen.

"Hello?"

Richard's voice comes through, sharp and tired. "I've been trying to reach you for the past hour. We have a problem with the roster for tomorrow—"

Matt thrusts deep. You gasp.

Frank pauses. "Are you—okay?"

You force a breath. "Yeah. Yeah. Sorry. I—uh—was asleep."

Matt fucks into you again — hard — and you bite your lip so hard you taste blood.

Frank sighs. "We need you to resend the updated sponsor deck tonight. Can you handle that or not?"

Matt grabs your throat, not choking, just holding you there, and you can barely think.

"I—yes," you stammer, breath hitching. "I'll send it in twenty."

"Good."

He hangs up.

Matt doesn't even let the call finish clicking off before he pulls out and flips you over like you're nothing, dragging your hips back until your face is pressed into the sheets and your ass is in the air.

"Twenty minutes," he growls, lining up again. "Guess I better make this quick."

He slams into you from behind, and you swear you see stars.

You can't even breathe. He's fucking you like an animal now, grip bruising, pace vicious, filthy praise spilling from his mouth.

"Such a fuckin' good girl," he pants. "Letting me use you while your boss is on the phone. Letting me ruin your fucking cunt. You love it, don't you?"

"Yes—Matt—fuck yes—!"

Your orgasm hits so hard that your vision goes black.

You scream his name, your whole body shaking, and he doesn't stop — he keeps going until you're sobbing, overstimulating, and twitching. And then he comes.

With a growl, Matt slams into you and stills, cock pulsing deep inside, filling you up. He stays there, breath heavy on your neck, hands gripping your hips like he never wants to let go.

Neither do you.

You don't rush out of Matt's room. You don't bolt for the door like you're trying to escape some mistake because this wasn't a mistake. Not even close.

Instead, you lie there for a long moment, your chest rising and falling in rhythm with his steady breaths. The bed dips where he's still half on top of you, warm and heavy, his fingers tracing lazy, featherlight patterns along your spine as if memorizing every inch of your skin.

The silence between you feels like an electric current — thick, potent, and humming louder than any words could be. It's not awkward. It's not uncertain. It's just this — two people tangled in a moment that's theirs and theirs alone.

You lift your head to look at him, the way the soft light casts shadows over his jaw, the slight curl of his mouth when he catches your gaze. His eyes—dark, raw, unguarded—hold a kind of fire that makes your stomach flutter and ache all at once.

"Not running," he says quietly, his voice low and rough from what you just did to each other.

You smile, breathless. "No. Not running."

He presses a kiss to your temple, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek, thumb stroking gently. It's a touch so different from the roughness before, soft and careful, like he's holding something precious — you.

You close your eyes and lean into it.

For a while, you stay there, wrapped up in the aftershocks of everything that happened. The way his skin feels against yours, the lingering heat in your veins, the slow fade of that wild, rough hunger giving way to a quiet, intimate calm.

Matt's lips find yours again, softer now, almost hesitant, like he's discovering a new language. You melt against him, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer until there's no space left between you.

"You good?" he asks after a moment, voice barely above a whisper.

You nod. "Yeah. Better than good."

He grins that crooked, dangerous grin that made your knees weak earlier. "Good. 'Cause this?" He gestures between the two of you, the messy sheets, the way your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, finally found. "This isn't a one-time thing."

You laugh softly, breath hitching. "I was hoping you'd say that."

He sits back just enough to look at you properly, eyes sharp but warm. "I mean it. You're not just some girl I fucked and forgot about. You're mine"

You feel that. The weight of it. The promise wrapped in those words.

"Neither are you," you admit, heart pounding with how real it all feels.

Matt reaches over to the bedside table, grabs his shirt, and starts pulling it on without a word. You follow suit, slowly slipping back into your clothes, still savoring the lingering heat between your legs, the ache that's both delicious and familiar now.

As you stand to leave, Matt catches your wrist, tugging you back down beside him.

"Wait," he says, voice low and serious.

You look at him, curious. He leans in close, so close you can feel his breath against your skin.

"I want you. Not just tonight." His hand tightens slightly on your wrist. "More. You get that? I want you since the first time I saw you."

You nod again, the words caught in your throat.

"Good."

And with that, he presses a rough kiss to your neck, then lets you go. You step out into the hallway, the cool air hitting your skin like a shock after the heat of his room. You don't look back.

Because you don't have to, Matt Rempe just made it very clear — you're exactly where you're supposed to be.

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

alright guys so important announcement...!

i'm probably going to be writing for blue lock way less now. don't get me wrong; i still love blue lock and it's still my 2/3 favorite manga series ever (tied with wind breaker), but i just think that now that we're finished with the nel and there'll be a barricade of new characters that we won't know much about, i don't want to write for one of them and look back on my fic a few months later when more of their personalities and background and egoist bible profiles are revealed and realize that i've mischaracterized them. as a writer, mischaracterizing a character is one of my greatest fears as a writer.

not only that, but i think that since characters like kaiser and nagi are both leaving blue lock and will likely not return until a few years later during the serialization of blue lock, it's a bit harder for me to write for them. they are both some of my favorite characters to write for, and having to constantly reuse and embellish my ideas for previous fics because we have such little content of them would be exhausting to me. i thrive off of new ideas and content; constantly using old content will drain me.

i also feel like i've just been losing passion for blue lock a lot. this could be because i just caught up to a manga i really enjoy and recency syndrome is catching up to me (wind breaker is the manga if you're interested) or because it's on breaks so often these days--which i do not blame kaneshiro and nomura for; their health is important--or because i know that the u20 world cup arc is going to be an excruciatingly long arc or maybe it's just because i'm complaining for no reason. i still really love blue lock, and it's always going to be special to me. i just think that at this current moment, blue lock is probably at it's lowest.

and i don't blame the authors nor the actual manga for it. i think that after such a series-defining arc such as the neo egoist league ended and so many characters are going to be leaving soon or have already left, blue lock is just really empty right now. and this is mostly a me problem; i tend to get pretty bored and irritated easily, and since this is the current state that blue lock is in, i'm just really having a hard time writing for blue lock. i've scraped wips after wips because of it.

with that being said, i'll still write for blue lock. not as often as i do right now, but still enough for you to see me every once in a while on the blue lock x reader tag. i promise; i won't disappear. if the manga has some sort of exciting update or a new volume of the egoist bible or some sort of big series development, i'll probably come back and start writing more often for bllk again. probably. no guarantees. i'll still try to be as active as i can with my writing (as many of you might know, i tend to disappear for a few days then come back for a few days then disappear again and the cycle continues), but i'll be in different fandoms. i'm currently thinking of focusing on wind breaker.

so don't get too sad; it's just temporary until my passion for blue lock comes back. and i'm so sorry to anyone who is upset about this! also btw, please don't see this post and get scared to send me any bllk asks or requests. i love all of your bllk asks and i think some of them are great ideas and really entertaining.

i love you all,

helen

[teshadraws]

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

[Chapter 55]

<< First | < Previous | Next >

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Tobias and Nia tie up some loose ends around the guild in preparation for their journey to find Will, and Tobias shares a special pastime with his partner.

-

Team Evergreen doesn’t make an appearance after their mission in the tunnels, though Jaz stops by Tobias and Nia’s room at dawn two days later to give them an update on Andyn's mood.

“She was quiet for a while,” the stufful says. “Thinking, I suppose. But otherwise she's acting fine again.”

“Did I actually get through that thick skull of hers?” Tobias grumbles. He’s tying Nia’s scarf around her arm before they leave for the day, and it’s slipping annoyingly through his fingers.

Jaz sighs. “No, unfortunately not. It’s going to take more than a few heated words to get her to change her mind about this. Ezra and I have tried. But...”

Nia’s ears perk. “But..?”

“Something you said did make her think, Tobias. Maybe you planted some seeds that just need a bit of time to bloom.”

Pretty words for such a nasty conversation, Tobias thinks idly as he finally ties Nia’s scarf tight. He doesn’t have nearly as much faith that Andyn will turn over a new leaf any time soon.

Nia smiles at Jaz. “Well, I’m happy to hear she’s back to her normal self, at least. Sorry again that our group mission wasn’t, uh…as fun as we might’ve hoped.”

Tobias opens his mouth to say that that was Andyn’s fault, not theirs.

Jaz beats him to it, laughing softly. “Not your fault. Neither of your faults, really.”

Nia doesn’t argue that point, and the stufful leaves shortly after with a word of luck for their mission today and a promise to pass their hellos on to Ezra.

“Well, I’m glad we don’t have to worry about Andyn too much,” Nia says as the two of them pack up for the day and head down the Lexym Tree to the mission boards. “Are you still doing okay?”

Tobias is doing fine. Probably better than he should be, honestly. While Andyn hit a sore spot and he was much harsher than Nia would’ve been regarding the deerling’s parents, he stands firm by his conviction that Andyn needs a wake-up call. His words didn’t manage to get through to her, but he doesn’t really regret what he said, either.

“I’m fine. Just wish she’d wake up and realize her parents are the problem here.”

Nia is behind him on the steps, but Tobias can feel her attention on him, laser-focused. “You fought about her parents?”

Belatedly, Tobias realizes that this is the first time he’s said what his argument with the deerling was even about. Nia has been careful not to push.

“They suck, okay?” Tobias growls. “If they’re the reason she’s like that, then she should know that that’s messed up.”

Nia hums, but otherwise falls silent. That’s as good as an agreement for her, so Tobias doesn’t let the issue linger as they reach the ground floor where the mission boards are posted.

They’re still waiting to hear back from August about traveling to Will’s human settlement, so they’ve been avoiding any missions that would wear them out too much just in case they need to leave on short notice. Still, Tobias does have to swallow his pride when he realizes that leaves them with just a few very basic mission options for the day.

It’s not that he thinks the jobs are beneath him or anything, but they are undeniably…boring. And they give them less Seeker points, too. But he refuses to throw a fit like Andyn did.

“Well, let’s get this over with.”

“Hey, it might be fun!” Nia says, looking genuinely excited about the mission she’d picked out for them. “I haven’t tried cooking since waking up in this world.”

Tobias gives her an appraising look as they make their way back up the tree’s staircase. “Did you cook a lot as a human?”

Nia shakes her head. “Just basic stuff. Baking, mostly. But if it’s a low-level mission, it can’t be anything too complex, right?”

Tobias shrugs. For all his years at the guild, he’s never actually helped out in the cafeteria kitchen, always too busy trailing after Maggie and helping with medicinal duties.

He’s surprised to find that the day is actually pretty interesting, tucked away in the guild’s sprawling kitchen. They’re put to work under the command of the cooking staff, and their mission for the day is to provide breakfast and lunch for the entirety of the guild.

The vespiquen in charge has Tobias use his flames often, lighting fires in clay ovens and carefully toasting nuts and vegetables. He isn’t sure whether to be offended or proud when the chef looks at him with delight halfway through the morning with a clap of her hands and proclaims that they must make occa berry flambé for dessert today, with a fire type’s flames so readily on-hand.

He is proud, in an embarrassed sort of way, when the bug type compliments him on his temperature control with his flames. He manages to avoid burning a single pot or dish. While it’s a strange feeling, he likes the appreciative looks he gets from the other workers when he uses his fire, rather than the guild's usual wariness.

Tobias actually ends up enjoying the day more than Nia does, if the way she drags herself to the stairs at the end of their shift is any gauge. Her fur is caked in flour from a few ingredient mishaps, and Tobias has to bite back a laugh at her appearance.

She gives him a tired, playful glare in return. “Want to share with the class?”

“You look like a fidough.”

“Fidough,” Nia echoes, squinting. “Is that…a dog Pokemon? Oh my God, is that a bread pun?"

“It’s their species name. They are kind of…doughy, though. Yeah. That's the joke.”

Nia barks a laugh, and Tobias grins.

“Pokemon names are so silly! Hahaha!”

Tobias shakes his head as he leads the way up the stairs to their quarters. “Hey, at least they make sense. Who looks at a riolu and calls it a dog? What even is a dog?”

“Me! I’m a dog!”

“Yeah, yeah. And I’m Reshiram. C’mon, I want to have time to clean up before supper. You wanna eat with Maggie tonight? We can brag about the food we helped make.”

“Oh, that’d be perfect!” Nia says. Her fatigued posture lifts at the prospect, like a flower wilting in reverse. “Don’t let me forget, though, that I really need to talk to Avery sometime about the whole species naming thing. And the Pokemon language in general. Ordirune? It makes no sense that you and I can talk and read the same language when it’s, well…not the same language!”

Tobias vaguely remembers Nia mentioning this before, when they were in Ghatha with Junie. “Does it need to make sense? It works. We can understand each other. That’s what matters.”

“How are you not curious about it? It’s so wild to me!”

“It just doesn’t seem like something you’re gonna be able to figure out, so why waste time thinking about it?”

“Because it’s fun!” Nia counters. “I like trying to figure stuff out, even if it doesn’t really matter.”

Tobias can’t really argue with that. Nia’s just different than him in that regard. Still, as a nincada and surskit pass them on the stairs, he gives it a moment of thought.

“Giratina said that Mew made your Pokemon body, right? She probably did something with your brain so you could understand Ordirune, so you wouldn’t be totally lost in our world.”

“But language isn’t genetic,” Nia argues. “It’s something you learn. That’s true for Pokemon too, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Then it doesn’t really make sense that she could just…imprint it onto our brains, does it?”

Tobias frowns as they finally reach their floor, his legs a bit tired as usual from the climb. “It doesn’t make sense that she could just make you a whole body, either, but here you are. If she made your brain for you, why couldn’t she make it familiar with our language? Pokemon hatch knowing survival instincts because those things were ingrained into our bodies from birth. Like…charmander hatchlings knowing to keep their tail flames small if they’re in danger. Maybe Mew did something similar and built your body so you already know Ordirune and your brain sorta just…translates for you without you realizing it.”

Nia stops behind him right before they reach their door, and Tobias turns to look at her.

She’s staring at him with wide, almost awestruck eyes. “Tobias, that’s such a cool way of thinking about it! Oh man, you should come with me when I meet up with Avery. They'd find that idea super interesting. Plus, I’m sure Xander and the others would love to see you! I think you and Kry are like…bros or something now, after your spar the other day?”

Tobias snorts and turns back to the door. “Yeah, I’m sure they’re all dying to see me.”

His hand settles on the knob, but Nia reaches out to cover it with her own paw. She gives him a long, searching look. “Hey, you know I’m not joking, right?”

“They’re your friends.”

“Well, yeah, maybe first. But they want to be your friend, too. They aren’t just…putting up with you to hang out with me.”

Tobias feels all too seen, suddenly. Like his scarf got lost somewhere and left his neck naked and vulnerable. Tobias shifts on his feet, looking away.

That…doesn’t feel right. But aside from Nia, he hasn’t had a friend his own age since he was nine—and that was his sister. He isn’t exactly an expert on how friends work.

“They’re kind of stuck with me, if they want to be friends with you.”

Nia gives him a light bat of her paw and a scolding smile. “They’re not stuck with you. You’re fun to be around, Tobias. Whether you want to acknowledge that or not.”

Tobias thinks of how he yelled at Andyn just two days ago. “Sure.”

Then, unwittingly, he thinks about the rest of that mission. Thinks about Ezra’s cheeky, playful comments and Jaz’s calm confidence when she encouraged him talk to Andyn alone. Thinks further back, to Kry punching his shoulder during training and Xander and Felix’s lighthearted smack-talk and easy conversation. Thinks about Avery’s gentle smile and full attention when Tobias spoke.

He doesn’t think he’s their friend, not really. But the idea that he might be, someday, doesn’t seem quite as ridiculous as it once was. Tobias has…a lot of mixed feelings about that. Fear that he’s going to royally screw it up is somewhere near the top, though, so he shoves away the warmth the idea brings. No use worrying about it unless it actually happens, after all.

Tobias finally opens the door to their room, only to stop as soon as he notices a piece of paper resting on the floor near his feet. Tobias picks it up, and feels his fingers tighten around the sheet as he realizes what it is.

“What is it?” Nia asks, peering over his shoulder.

“It’s from August,” he summarizes, skimming through the short message. “We have permission to head overseas and find Will first thing in the morning.”

“Giratina was telling the truth, then?”

“Or they think it’s too big a risk to ignore, if nothing else,” Tobias murmurs. The bottom of the note says that the funds for their flight have been dropped into their mailbox, so Tobias digs that pouch out right away to add to their own money. He moves to where their satchel was left to rest against the wall for the day.

“Tomorrow,” Nia says, sitting heavily in her nest and wrapping herself up in one of their blankets like a swadloon. “That’s…so soon. I know we were waiting to hear back from them, but…well. I guess we’d better let everyone know we’re leaving again?”

Tobias drags their bag over and sits to sort through it, catching the disappointed note in his partner’s voice. He doesn’t really mind traveling again, even if their time back at the guild has been fine. Good, even, for the most part. But knowing they’ll have to say goodbye to Maggie again so soon does have something in his heart squeezing tight. He hopes she doesn’t cry.

“Yeah,” he finally answers, pulling out their meager collection of items to sort through. “We can tell Maggie when we eat with her later.”

Nia voices her agreement, watching Tobias as he puts everything together. Her mind is clearly miles away, though.

Tobias leaves her to her thoughts, making sure they have the usual essentials that they travel with: apples and berries for food and status ailments, their map, and a canteen of water for Nia. He would grab some hydration berries for himself if they didn’t shrivel so quickly, but at least fire types don’t dehydrate easily.

Anything else? They could go down to the item dispensary and peruse the orbs and seeds available, but their funds still aren’t overly impressive. And they aren’t planning on getting caught in any dungeons or intense battles.

...Okay, he knows better by now than to assume that will hold true. Still, by this point they’ve mostly gotten by without items, so he thinks they'll be all right without any fancy aids.

Besides, Nia will probably want to bring a book, and their sparse packing leaves plenty of room for that. They could almost pack up Nia’s beloved new blanket too, if they wanted to squish everything in, but that feels like a waste of space if they'll be indoors most nights. He’s basically a walking heater for the riolu at this point anyways.

Tobias looks around the room and his gaze catches on his guitar, leaning carefully against the wall by the window. He frowns at the instrument, fingers flexing as he itches to hold it. He’s been enjoying relearning it, and it calms him down on late nights, but it isn’t really an essential item. Their pack would be better off carrying something actually useful.

“You’re taking your guitar along, right?” Nia asks, startling Tobias out of his thoughts. She must've followed his gaze and guessed what he was thinking.

Tobias shrugs, looking back at their satchel. “Probably not. It’s not exactly useful.”

“It makes you happy,” Nia protests, like that makes it useful, somehow. “Plus, I like hearing you play. So if we’re taking a vote…”

Tobias flushes, falling still. Part of him still wants to argue, rationality over sentimentality and all that, but. Well. If Nia doesn’t mind him taking up the space, then…

Tobias silently gets up to retrieve the guitar. He tucks it away in their bag amongst the other items, pleased with how neatly it slots in between their supplies and a book about abilities that Nia had handed him to bring along.

Packing complete.

It’s only a few short hours later that they go to the medical floor with trays of food in hand, including some of the occa berry flambé that they’d helped make earlier in the day. They call a greeting to Fen and drop off a meal with the leafeon that has them purring their thanks. Next door, Maggie seems pleasantly surprised by their appearance.

"Hello, you two! Good to see you."

“You eat yet?” Tobias asks, holding up one of the two heavy trays he’s carrying.

Maggie smiles, taking the meal with a single vine and settling down in her nest to eat. “I was just starting to feel peckish, actually. Thank you, dear. Will you stay and eat with us tonight?”

“If that’s all right!” Nia says, holding her second tray—which she was insistent on—out to Sage with a smile.

The ivysaur, who had been eyeing the door as if it was just expected for him to leave any time Tobias showed up, blinks in surprise. Then, with a bashful smile and a murmur of thanks, he takes the meal with his own vines.

Tobias and Nia sit down close to Maggie and dig in.

Off to the side, Sage shifts awkwardly on his short legs. His leaves sway with the motion.

“Sit down already,” Tobias grumbles. “We aren’t chasing you out.”

Sage looks even more thrown by the peace offering, but with a glance at Maggie and Nia, he finally settles down as well on Nia’s other side. Maggie smiles soothingly at her apprentice's nerves, and Tobias is surprised that the open affection doesn’t feel…grating, this time. In fact, it feels kind of ridiculous when Maggie immediately turns her attention back to Tobias and Nia with bright eyes, clearly thrilled to have them here.

Tobias wonders how he was ever threatened by Sage’s appearance. Maggie has more than enough love to go around.

As they eat, Maggie questions what they’ve been up to today with a note of amusement in her voice. Her gaze lingers on the patches of flour still caught stubbornly in Nia’s soft fur, even after the riolu had scrubbed at them for a solid half-hour earlier.

Nia groans and dives into her mishaps in the kitchen, including when she’d tripped over a morelull and knocked over a slurpuff who was busy mixing up dry ingredients for a crust. Tobias laughs as he replays the scene in his head, but flushes when Nia follows it up with an exasperated comparison to Tobias basically being “Gordon Ramsay” in the kitchen, whatever that means. It’s clearly a compliment.

Maggie laughs. “That doesn’t surprise me, actually. Tobias was always very careful with measurements when he helped me make our medicines, even when he was small. He has a good eye for detail, when he’s invested.”

Tobias feels his face grow hotter as Nia and Sage look at him with astonished expressions.

“You don’t have to look that surprised."

The ivysaur winces and looks back to his meal with a quiet, “Sorry.”

Nia just shrugs with an easy laugh, as if to ask if he could blame her.

The conversation flows smoothly as they catch up. Sage is quiet, almost silent, but he’s clearly listening, tracking the conversation with pricked ears and sharp garnet eyes as he picks delicately at his meal. Tobias isn’t sure if it’s because the ivysaur is still cautious after Tobias’ initial hostility, or if he’s just that quiet by nature.

Nia tries to pull the grass type into the conversation a few times, but after a few short, almost shy answers, she relents and lets him bask in the conversation without necessarily participating. Maggie doesn’t seem worried about the ivysaur’s silence, so Tobias doesn’t concern himself with it either.

During a lull in the conversation, Maggie says, “You know, your mission from today has me thinking. Sage and I might have to steal you for ourselves soon—we could use some extra hands to gather the last of the autumn herbs later this week. The northern part of the Haven will likely have its first heavy frost soon.”

“Oh. About that…” Nia trails off, giving Tobias a pleading look.

Tobias sighs, putting his fork back onto his tray. Leaving it up to him, huh? “We’re actually heading out again tomorrow morning.”

“So soon?” Maggie asks with a bewildered expression.

“August dropped off a letter today approving our travel, so…” Nia says, dejected.

Maggie smiles, leaning over to brush her muzzle over the top of the riolu’s head. “You’re fine, dear. I knew as soon as we spoke with August that you would be traveling again soon. I’m just going to miss you. And worry, of course.”

“We’ll be fine,” Tobias says. “We always are.”

“You’re always getting into trouble, you mean,” Maggie corrects with a playful glare. “Let a mother worry, Tobias. And just do your best to come home without any new scars, all right?”

Tobias’ hand drifts up to his scarf. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Nia wince and trail a paw over the scarf on her own arm, right where she’d gotten bit by that panpour outlaw moons ago.

“We’ll be careful!” Nia finally says, though her smile doesn’t look nearly as confident as she sounds.

Maggie doesn’t seem convinced either, but drops the conversation to return to lighter topics. Such as how, just yesterday, Sage had given his first bitter medicine to some of the guild children who had come down with a cold.

Tobias laughs at the distraught expression on the ivysaur’s face, more than familiar with the experience after years of doing it himself. “How’d you like giving Bella her dose?”

The little bellsprout could be a menace when she wanted to be. Tobias can still feel the phantom smacking of her tiny root-arms.

Sage groans and drops his face into his tray.

“He made a valiant effort,” Maggie says, patting the ivysaur’s shoulder with a vine. Which means that Sage was surely near tears by the time they were finished.

Tobias uses his fork to point a bite of occa berry dessert in Sage’s direction. “Word of advice? Honey. Drown her dose in the stuff, but don’t tell her it’s anything but what it is. She can’t resist honey, but she won’t eat it if you try to trick her. Stubborn as a mudbray, that one.”

Tobias half-expects the ivysaur to dismiss his words, since Sage is older than him and the one actually in the medicinal role now. Instead, the ivysaur perks up and nods, reaching over his shoulder with a vine to pull a notepad and inkwell off the nearby desk and start writing something down.

Tobias blinks. He didn’t mean to actually take notes. The earnest faith in the gesture has his face heating. He looks away, stuffing a bite of occa berry flambé into his mouth. It’s delicious.

Soon enough, they’re all finished eating and it’s time to head out. Sage quietly insists that he can take the trays down to the cafeteria, leaving Maggie alone with Tobias and Nia.

“You two be careful on your trip, you hear?” Maggie says, voice firmer as she pulls them into a hug. “I don’t want to hear about you getting caught in any more fires or deadly fights.”

“No promises,” Tobias mumbles.

Maggie gives him an extra hard squeeze before releasing him.

“We’ll be careful, Maggie,” Nia says, stepping away with misty eyes. “See you soon, okay?”

Tobias can’t seem to say anything. The words stick like sap in his throat. He swallows against the lump of them and bumps his head against Maggie’s leg once more before stepping away.

The meganium sees them off as they pad down the hall and back down the tree.

“Xander’s team next?” Nia asks.

“You could go on your own, you know.”

“I could. But..?”

Tobias huffs, but doesn’t argue as he follows Nia to Team Shellshock’s quarters. The riolu knocks on the door, and childish shrieks rise up from behind the wood. Luca’s distinct little voice yells, “Hide! Hide!” and Tobias grins.

Avery is the one to answer, the kirlia’s gentle expression lighting up. “Nia! And Tobias. Lovely to see you two.”

“Good to see you too,” Nia says warmly. “Could we come in for a sec?”

Avery steps aside for Nia and Tobias, and as soon as Tobias crosses the room’s threshold he’s tackled by a writhing mass of blue and black fur.

“Gotcha!”

“Surrender, outlaw!”

“Lainey, sit on his head!”

Tobias puts up a halfhearted fight as the shinx cubs work to hold him down. Tiny paws step on his arms and belly and legs and his vision is taken over by lashing tails and gleaming, golden eyes.

“Don’t suffocate him, kids,” Xander calls idly, before his voice is drowned out by childish peals of laughter.

Tobias lets the cubs think they’ve won for a few moments, before twisting and gently throwing them off with an exaggerated roar. Leor squeaks and scrambles away to dive behind Team Shellshock’s items chest. Laine and Luca hiss playfully at Tobias before following their more timid brother, probably to come up with a new plan of attack.

Tobias smirks and moves to join the other occupants of the room.

Xander, Avery, and Nia are watching the cubs peek over the items chest with fond, amused looks. Felix is crouching beside the kids’ hiding place and murmuring something that quickly catches their attention. Kry is nowhere to be seen, probably out training or something while the cubs are here wreaking havoc. She doesn’t seem like much of a kid person.

Tobias stops at Nia’s side, purposefully putting his back to the shinx cubs to make himself an easy target.

“So you’re heading out again already?” Avery is asking.

“You two are the most restless ‘mons I’ve ever met,” Felix calls idly from beside the chest. “Try not to come back all banged up again, all right?”

“I’ll second that,” Xander says, and Tobias is surprised when the luxio’s golden gaze focuses not only on Nia, but Tobias as well. “Be careful.”

“Always!”

Xander chuffs a quiet laugh, as if well aware of how untrue that statement is. “Regardless. Do you two have everything packed up already?”

“I think so?”

“We travel light,” Tobias says.

Xander flicks his tail, looking thoughtful. His eyes stray over to the items chest on the side of the room, though Tobias thinks he isn’t focused on his siblings at the moment. Avery follows his gaze, and Tobias wonders if the kirlia is reading the luxio’s mind, since they apparently use telepathy with each other fairly often.

Avery must be, because they smile at Xander as if pleased with something he’d suggested, then back at Nia and Tobias. “Do you two have any orbs in your inventory?”

Nia looks to Tobias. He shakes his head.

Xander nods, and Avery goes to the chest, murmuring a quiet, “Excuse me,” to shoo the kids off the lid before opening the top and rummaging through it. They find what they’re looking for quickly, returning to Tobias and Nia with a shiny blue wonder orb in hand. Without hesitation, they hold it out.

“Take this with you. Just in case.”

After a beat of surprise, Tobias reaches out to take it, rolling the surprisingly heavy orb around his hands. “What kind is it?”

“An all power-up orb,” Avery answers. “It raises your team’s attack and special attack for a few minutes.”

“But...aren't these really rare or expensive or something?” Nia asks, gently taking the orb from Tobias’ hands to peer closer at it.

“The two of you seem to attract danger wherever you go,” Xander says, not answering the question. “I’ll sleep better if you take it.”

“We both will,” Avery amends.

Tobias’ immediate impulse is to reject such a rare, pricey item just being dropped into their laps. However, he remembers how desperately he’d wanted any kind of helpful item back on the Aqua Jet, when they were traveling via the river and the mystery dungeon hit. It would be undeniably good to have as a back-up measure.

Nia seems equally unsure for a moment, but then she smiles and cradles the orb closer. “Well...thank you, then. It’s really too much.”

"Not at all," Avery says.

Xander’s shoulders lose some of their tension once they accept the gift, and that's what convinces Tobias not to put up a fight. They mean it. They're just worried about their safety, about Nia and maybe even a little about Tobias. And somehow, their concern doesn't feel like pity, but something warmer. Something easier to stomach.

Nia gently bumps Tobias with her hip, so he rolls his eyes and tacks on a quiet, “Yeah. Thanks.”

Xander opens his mouth to respond, but before he can say anything, his ears swivel in the direction of the chest.

That’s Tobias’ only warning before the shinx cubs yell, “Attack!”  and charge Tobias once more. Felix must’ve been giving them battle tips, because this time they move as a coordinated unit, tackling Tobias’ legs. The charmander lets himself go down with an exaggerated oof, and the kids shriek as they swarm his chest, pinning him down with their soft little bodies. While he could still wriggle free if he really wanted to, their combined weight does hold him down pretty effectively. Tobias “struggles” for a few moments more before going limp with a dramatic groan.

“Victory!” Leor says.

��Drag him to jail!” Luca shouts.

“Throw him in the pit!” Laine adds.

“Whoa, where’d you hear that last one?” Felix asks, startled.

“From a cool story Bella found in the archives!"

Bella. Of course. Tobias has said it before and he’ll say it again: that bellsprout is a menace.

“Looks like I’ll be having another chat with Arlo,” Xander sighs, sounding all too much like a father.

Nia and Tobias head out shortly after, despite the shinx cubs’ whining over losing their playmate. At the door, Xander catches Nia in a one-armed hug, brushing the top of her head with his chin. The familiarity of the gesture catches Tobias off-guard, but Nia simply hugs the luxio back, unsurprised by the open affection.

As they leave, Felix and the kids’ loud goodbyes and Avery’s much quieter farewell following them into the hall, Nia hesitates.

“I feel like we should tell Team Evergreen that we’re heading out again, but…”

Tobias can only imagine the awkward tension that would rise if he was shoved into the same room as Andyn right now.

“I’ll leave that one to you.”

“That...might be for the best. I won’t be too long.”

Tobias waves her off, turning to head back to their room. He can get some more practice in on his guitar before they sleep. “Just remember that we head out early.”

“When do we not?” Nia counters, giving a wave of her own before setting off towards Team Evergreen’s quarters.

Tobias is relieved that Nia didn’t want him to join for that last visit. Between working in the kitchen this morning and seeing Team Shellshock and the shinx kids earlier, Tobias is just about done socializing for the day. He’s more than content to flop down in his nest and strum at his guitar for the rest of the night before they get back on the road tomorrow.

To Tobias’ surprise, Nia returns not long after they parted ways, when the moon is just starting to rise into the sky. She assures him that it went well, even if Andyn was a little quieter than usual, and that they all wished the two of them safe travels.

“Wished you safe travels, you mean,” Tobias snorts as he plucks away at an aimless melody. “Andyn probably hopes I fall off our flight ‘mon and into the ocean.”

“I don’t think she’s that upset,” Nia says, lying down herself. She eyes Tobias for a moment before reaching into their satchel and pulling out her book.

The night is peaceful, after that. Tobias works his way through some of the simple melodies from the music book they’d picked up in the archives, familiarizing himself with the easier tunes before trying anything more advanced. Nia reads her book, kicking her legs and occasionally mumbling something to herself.

It’s getting close to midnight when Nia finally yawns and slides her book back into their satchel. She curls up in her nest, blanket pulled tight over her shoulders until it bunches up by her chin, and watches as Tobias plays.

Eventually, Tobias figures he’d better get some rest too and slides the guitar and music book back into their satchel. He closes the curtain until the room is only dimly lit by his own tail flame, and curls up in his nest. He doesn’t realize until he's settled in that Nia isn’t actually asleep yet. Instead, she’s watching Tobias, clearly still wide awake.

“What’s up?” Tobias asks.

Nia shrugs. “Just…can’t sleep.”

Tobias knows the feeling. While it was easy to get lost in his music for the evening, Tobias won’t be surprised if he’s up for a while yet. Especially with their flight tomorrow, he has a lot on his mind.

For a moment Tobias just gazes back at Nia in the dim light, wondering if either of them are going to be well-rested come dawn. Then, he thinks of similar nights long, long ago, of looking at his sister or parents with a similar restless itch under his skin.

An idea pops into his mind.

For a moment, he hesitates. This is something…sacred. Something he hasn’t shared with anyone else since he lost his family. It feels wrong to even think about sharing it.

Then again, that’s what he’d thought about discussing Vivi and his parents at all, before the cart ride from Asra to Shivergleam. And that was…nice. Really nice. Swapping sibling stories with Nia. It hurt, but it also made something in him feel…looser. Like stretching out a stiff muscle that he hadn’t exercised in forever.

Tobias sits up before he can second-guess himself. “C’mon. I have an idea.”

Nia props herself up on an arm. “What?”

He climbs out of their nest and holds out a hand. “Trust me. It’ll help.”

For a moment Nia looks unsure, but then a smile crosses her face. Tobias helps her to her paws, and she doesn’t let go once she’s standing. He decides not to think about it too hard and gives her paw a squeeze, grabbing Nia’s beloved new blanket and slinging it over his shoulder.

“C’mon.”

Nia laughs under her breath as they leave the room, making sure to shut the door extra quiet behind her so they don’t disturb the other Pokemon on the floor.

“Where are we going?”

“Sure, just let me ruin the surprise.”

Nia's brows raise, but she doesn’t ask any more questions and just follows with an air of palpable curiosity. Tobias leads them to the staircase and starts climbing up, up, up through the guild.

“Are we visiting Maggie again?” Nia whispers.

“No.”

Tobias has done this many times over the years, since first arriving at the guild. But he’s always done it alone, sneaking past Maggie’s sleeping form to climb up to his favorite spot. He’d thought about asking Maggie to join before—she would’ve indulged him. But somehow it had always seemed a bit too painful before now. Before Nia. Now it feels less like chasing something he can’t get back and more like…sharing something he loves. Making it new again.

They finally reach the mail floor, evident by the cool breeze blowing into the staircase. There aren’t many fliers that work at night, so the floor is empty, the platforms bordering the edges of the room opening up to patches of clear night sky.

“Oh,” Nia breathes, registering where they are.

She follows him wordlessly as he goes to one of the far platforms and sits down at the end of it. She sits beside him, then casts a nervous glance below them to the Haven's trees, black and spindly and thin with the coming winter. She scoots back an inch.

Like this, they’re sitting at the edge of the world, the sprawling forest below and an ocean of stars above.

Tobias hands over Nia’s blanket, now heated by his own scales, and she gladly takes it to wrap herself up. He’s hardly surprised when she still scooches over to press against his side. The night air is cold, after all, chilly enough that he won’t argue against a little extra warmth himself.

“It’s beautiful out here,” Nia says, hushed. “I couldn’t really appreciate the stars in Asra, since we were on a stakeout. But here…”

“Peaceful, right?”

Nia hums her agreement.

For a moment, they’re quiet. The wind whistles by them this high up, stronger without the blocking force of the forest and carrying with it the crisp scent of the Silenfroar Mountains. Tobias can kind of see where the mountain range sits, a void of pointed black on the horizon that blots out the sky.

Tobias moves his eyes up to stare at the stars, feeling something in his throat tighten even as the rest of him relaxes. Even when he was a child, scared of nothing more than shadows on cave walls, his parents would lead him to the mouth of their cave to look up at the stars when he couldn’t sleep.

It makes him feel small. But in a comforting way.

“This is where we became a team.”

Tobias looks at Nia. “What?”

“Well. Technically we became a team down in the tunnels.” Nia smiles at Tobias. “But I consider this to be where we actually became one. For real.”

Right. After Afon’s Cap, when Nia finally stood up for herself and Tobias agreed to stop being so awful to her. They shook on it. Tobias can still see Nia in the pink evening light, paw outstretched and smile hopeful.

He flushes and looks away. He gestures vaguely with a hand. “Sorry. For. Y’know.”

Nia barks a laugh. “Being a bit of a jerk at first?”

He grunts.

“It’s fine. You’re much sweeter now.”

Tobias shoots her a look. “I’m not sweet.”

“Of course you aren’t,” Nia coos, giving his arm a patronizing pat. He shoves her away, and she laughs, immediately swaying back to his side.

“You have been so sassy lately,” he grumbles.

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll be nice.”

A brief moment of quiet. Then, a giggle from Nia.

“What?”

“I was just thinking about when we first met.”

Tobias has a brief flash of memory, from months ago. Spotting a strange, unfamiliar Pokemon—a riolu—unconscious in the middle of a nearby field. Waking her up to make sure she wasn’t hurt. Getting a blank stare and rising panic in return before Nia bolted into the woods and right into a mystery dungeon, Tobias hot on her heels.

Tobias snorts. “You were a mess.”

"I was!" Nia laughs. "I'm actually kind of embarrassed by it now. Can you imagine Kry’s reaction to seeing me run away from everything like that?”

“You were terrified of a seedot,” Tobias agrees, amused by the thought.

Although, knowing now how wildly different the Pokemon world is from Nia’s own, Tobias can’t blame her for being so freaked out. If anything, he’s a little embarrassed by how harshly he’d treated her. He wasn’t exactly a comforting presence at the time.

“But look at you now. Taking down steelixes all on your own.”

“Are you ever going to let that go?” Nia whines, paws coming up to hide her face.

“Nope. It's objectively awesome. And you aren’t going to tell anyone, so.”

Nia snorts another laugh. “I can’t believe I was so close to becoming a researcher instead of a Seeker. I can’t believe I fight on a daily basis!”

Tobias blinks, looking over at her. “You almost became a researcher?”

“I never told you that? Before I thought of teaming up with you, I thought becoming a Seeker was too scary, so I was going to become a researcher instead. Like Alistair and Tawny.”

Tobias wrinkles his snout, trying to picture it. On one hand, Nia would be right at home surrounded by all those books and the cozy environment of the guild every day. He could see her getting along well with the gardevoir and ribombee down in the archives.

But on the other hand, Tobias has also seen Nia’s eyes light up when she travels somewhere new. Seen how insatiably curious she is about the world and all the Pokemon in it. He's seen how her riolu nature shines through when she’s defending someone in a fight, and how genuinely happy she is when she can help out a client. All of that good would be smothered, stuck here at the guild.

And where would he be, if Nia hadn’t decided to come rescue him in that dungeon? Dead, at worst. Stuck in the medicinal quarters and miserable at best. Maybe Nia would’ve been happy as a researcher, but Tobias is immeasurably glad that they’re here together instead, as a team.

They both fall quiet again, looking up at the stars. The moon overhead is bright, painting everything in shades of black and silver.

“Humans went to the moon, y’know,” Nia eventually says.

Tobias gives her a dry look. “Ha ha. Funny.”

Nia blinks, looking genuinely caught off-guard. “No, really! Not, like. All of us. It was only a few. But we really did.”

Tobias squints at her, doubtful. But Nia doesn’t break. “…I thought you said humans couldn’t fly.”

“We can‘t. Or, well. Not on our own. But we built machines that can!”

Machines. Right. “Like…the cars you were talking about on the way to Asra?”

“Yes!” Tobias can hear Nia's tail give a happy thump against the wood. “Cars are great—they're so much faster than walking. And I loved the train in Ghatha. It was really similar to our own trains, so I wonder if a human had a hand in inventing that.”

“Probably. Don’t know if a Pokemon would’ve come up with something like that on their own. It was…kind of cool, I guess.”

“Oh, just you wait. There are so many cool human things I wanna show you! When I—"

Nia’s words cut off abruptly. Tobias feels a jab at his heart, knowing exactly why she'd clamped her mouth shut so suddenly. He wouldn’t ever get to visit, of course. And Nia wouldn’t get to visit him, either, if she left and went back to the human world. Giratina made that pretty clear. Tobias’ hand drifts up to his scarf, skimming the worn material comfortingly through his fingers.

The dark feels heavier, suddenly. Pressing down on them. Suffocating.

“I’m scared,” Nia eventually murmurs, curling tighter into her blanket. Her breath billows into the night air. “Of what will happen if we can’t do this. If we fail.”

Tobias knows the feeling. While Nia has two worlds’ safety on her mind, Tobias is struggling with just the one. He tries not to think about it too often, or it settles on his chest like a rock slide.

“Do you really think we’ll be able to find Xerneas?” Nia whispers, eyes trained on the mountains in the distance.

Tobias takes a moment to think before responding. “I don’t know. It’s not a great sign that Xerneas and Yveltal have been hidden for so long without anyone stumbling across them, but…”

“They’re the only lead we’ve got.”

Tobias swallows. “Yeah. But if worse comes to worst…we’ll just have to figure something else out. Failing isn’t really an option.”

Not with how much is on the line. They have to find a way to fix this if they want to keep everyone and everything in both of their worlds safe.

Nia turns to tuck her head into Tobias’ shoulder, her breath tickling his skin. The touch is grounding, somehow. Distracting enough to keep him out of his own head. They need a distraction. They can’t do anything until dawn anyways.

“Have I told you how much my family loved stars?” He blurts.

Nia’s breath catches, audible with her so close. “…No?”

Tobias wants to tell her. Wants to share. It’s still a terrifying feeling. His heart beats hard in his chest.

“We…lived in the mountains. Not the Silenfroar range here, but across the sea. Near a little village. But we lived way up, in a cave.”

Nia is silent. Tobias thinks she might be holding her breath.

“The sky was really clear, up there. It felt like we could reach out and touch the stars at night. Like…like it was just us and them.”

Tobias kind of feels like that now, actually. It’s a strange sensation. Deja vu, in a way. A little painful. A little sweet.

“And if it was ever too cloudy to see them from our cave, my…our parents would take Vivi and I flying. It was…”

The most magical thing he’d ever experienced. Something that makes a deep longing ache in his chest, even now. He hates that the world took that away from him. Won’t let him evolve to fly himself.

Nia’s hand slips free of the blanket to hold his own, her fur almost as warm as him.

Tobias takes a deep breath. “It was one of my favorite things. Vivi’s, too. When we couldn’t sleep, we’d sit at the mouth of the cave and they would teach us about constellations. Sing us stories.”

Nia is silent, hanging onto Tobias’ every word. Tobias closes his eyes. He can almost imagine it, fuzzy but warm. His father’s wing around him and his sister, keeping them sheltered from the chilly mountain breeze. Their mother humming and singing folk tales about the constellations. Tobias’ head bobbing as his eyes slipped closed and sleep washed over him.

“Do you remember any of the stories?” Nia asks.

Does he? He’s kept his memories locked away in the back of his mind for so long that trying to excavate them feels like wading through a sea of cobwebs. His eyes scan the sky, landing on a bright constellation vaguely resembling a head with big, round ears. He points at it with his free hand.

“That’s the teddiursa cub.”

Nia follows his gesture. “Teddiursa?”

“We saved one on our first mission. Uh. Small. Orange fur. Claws.”

“Oh! The cute little teddy bear!”

"Yup. He pairs with the ursaring.”

Nia follows Tobias’ finger as he trails up and to the right, where another collection of stars create the larger, blockier form of an ursaring head.

“Ursaring?”

“It’s what teddiursa evolves into. The story…” What was it again? “The story says that the teddiursa got lost one day. The ursaring was his mother, and she looked for him frantically, for three endless nights.”

Nia makes a sad sound in her throat.

“Desperate, the ursaring prayed to the stars, asking Jirachi to help her find her cub. Jirachi, the wishmaker, heard her and made her a part of the night sky, to be seen by all. The teddiursa saw his mother in the night sky, and wished to join her. Jirachi granted it, and the two have lived together in the sky ever since.”

Nia hums. “We have a similar set of constellations in our world, actually. Ursa Minor and Ursa Major.”

“Really?”

Nia nods, stars reflecting in her eyes. “I don’t remember much about the story associated with it, but…I think it’s sad.” She turns a smile onto Tobias. “I can’t decide if your world’s version is happier or not.”

Tobias blinks. He’d always assumed the story was a happy one, because the mother and child were reunited. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…they’re trapped in the sky, right? Are they happy there?”

Tobias frowns, looking back at the constellations. “…I like to think they are.”

Nia laughs softly. “Look at me, being the pessimist. I like your way of thinking better.”

Tobias makes a vague noise in his throat. They have enough things going wrong with the real world. Why not choose to believe that at least the teddiursa and ursaring got a happy ending?

“Thanks, Tobias. For sharing with me.”

Tobias isn’t sure if she means the story, or his memories, or his spot here, looking at the stars. Maybe all of it. He shrugs, embarrassed. “Who else ‘m I gonna tell? Xander?”

Nia gives him an exasperated, fond look. “I wasn’t kidding earlier. Maybe you can’t see it, but they really do want to be your friend. You guys seemed to be having a lot of fun when we sparred the other day.”

It can’t be that easy to make friends. Not when Tobias has spent the last eight years of his life almost entirely alone. But Nia is better at emotions than he is, so…

“It wouldn’t be…too terrible. Training with them again sometime.”

Nia grins, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Come on. Is it really so bad to have a few friends? You and I are friends, right?”

Tobias scoffs. “Duh. You’re my best friend.”

Nia’s smile drops with surprise, and Tobias tenses. His face burns with heat, and he snaps his gaze out to look over the trees, mortified.

Why did he say that? And so naturally, too. Best friend. What is he, five?

(Then again, it’s kind of obvious, isn’t it?)

Tobias can still feel Nia’s eyes on him, and steals a glance to find her eyes a little shiny, her expression a bit wobbly. “Tobias…”

“We should get some sleep!” Tobias says, too loud as he jumps to his feet. Nia nearly falls over in his haste. He doesn’t offer her a hand up this time, pacing a few steps into the flight floor and willing his stupid nerves to calm down.

He doesn’t hear Nia follow after him, but in a few short seconds she’s at his side again and stepping in front of him. “Tobias?”

He grunts, staring at his feet. At least the night hides how red his face is.

“Hey, I'm...I'm going to try something, okay? Feel free to tell me to stop.”

Tobias looks up, confused.

Nia looks just as embarrassed as he feels, somehow, shuffling in her blanket. But slowly, slow enough for him to stop her, she steps closer to wrap him up in a hug, cheek pressed into his scarf and blanket enveloping them both in warmth.

“I’m really glad you’re the one who found me in that field,” she murmurs. “You’re the best friend I could’ve asked for.”

Tobias feels his throat tighten up. As much as he knows that that’s not true—he’s a pain to be around more often than not—he also believes that she means it. His hands fall to the arms around his torso. His chest feels uncomfortably warm, a completely different sensation than when he uses his flames.

Nia squeezes him once before stepping back, closer to the stairs. She has a shy smile on her face. “C’mon, we should get to bed. One of us needs to be awake for tomorrow’s flight.”

Tobias relaxes, relieved to settle back into their usual banter. He moves to follow her down the stairs, ignoring the heat lingering in his cheeks. “I still don’t get how your two modes for flight are either screaming in terror or passing out.”

“It’s exhausting to be scared out of my mind! And I’m not scared when I’m sleeping.”

“Until you slip off our flight ‘mon and fall into the ocean.”

“You wouldn’t let that happen.”

“I might, if you insist we meet up with Junie in Stonebrook.”

Nia laughs. “C’mon, avoiding her won’t do you any good. You know she’d find us eventually anyways. And if you don’t want to fend her off alone, then you have to keep me alive.”

“Darn. All my plans, foiled.”

Nia laughs. Her tail wags as she talks, the blanket over her shoulders swishing with the motion. Tobias will never admit to finding it adorable. "Hey, do you think we’ll get to see Fliss tomorrow?”

“The braviary? Sure, if she’s around.”

“I hope so,” Nia says, “She was so nice, and she knew a lot! And she didn’t change how she treated us after she found out I was human, either. I wonder if—”

Tobias listens idly as Nia chatters on, the sound of her voice a comforting background noise for the short trip back to their room. Sleep sounds less daunting, after getting to unwind with Nia a bit. He’d been worried that sharing his space, his memories, would feel wrong, but instead it’s the opposite.

He feels…lighter. Ready for the journey ahead, no matter what it may hold.

[kingsillysmilez]

how do u get comms!! Like which site do you find you're getting the most attention on? And any othet tips you might have ^_^

I think it’s mostly that I’m very algorithm friendly when it comes to posting. I post art nearly everyday, if not multiple times a day, a feature most artists just cannot do. And I don’t really post anything that isn’t art related… It would be insane of me to recommend others try to do that though.

Because I post so much, people don’t, or can’t, forget that they follow me since there’s a new post to see on your feed from me all the time. Not all my posts are good, or will appeal to everyone, but that’s ok because I’ll post something else very soon. And when I’m doing comms, people see me posting comms I’ve done for other people and are reminded that I do comms almost everyday for a few weeks or whatever. And that constant reminder clearly works.

I get most of my comms from Twitter which gives me lots of feelings. But it makes sense. Now that I take comms mostly on Kofi, a lot of people don’t put what platform they came from so I’m not sure the specific numbers anymore but before I switched over to doing that I’m not kidding it was like 99% from Twitter :/

Another thing to add is that not only do I post frequently on each platform, but I post on a bunch of different platforms. It takes me a long time to post one image to all my socials but when a post flops on one platform it did fine on another. Plus it’s more convenient if that artist you like is also using the same platform you usually use right?

Im kinda going quantity over quality a bit, but i see proof it works. If I don’t post for a few days my notifications go completely dead. No engagement. Which would be fine, except that’s my entire business. Sites like Tumblr, and even Bsky now have a better non-algorithm based audience so people who want to see my art are able to find it without new content via their friends rb or relevant tags. But also anytime I put tags on any other site than Tumblr my post engagement goes down???? Do people not like seeing posts with tags in them? Apparently…

I’m focusing on post schedule because it’s pretty evident that there are much better artists than I getting less commissions so it clearly isn’t just art abilities that make commissioners come running. I’m still trying to make my art itself better of course, but I think it’s mostly that I finish so much art that I have any sort of audience at all.

Sorry this is so rambley, I’m not all that sure what to say. Getting commissions is sadly a social media thing more than an art thing I feel like, which means a lot of it is trial and error to see what works for you and your artwork to find that audience of people who like it and want to commission you.

[half-dead-writer]

Short drabble I wrote in a fic trade with a friend (hi Sharky :3) Hi um sorry for not posting recently- To my dismay, my SPTO phase kinda died sobbing anyway, here's a fic I wrote for a friend as a trade I'm a bit rusty with writing

Cinnabuns, my beloved

Reader brings exhausted Gideon at work a sweet treat.

character: Gideon Graves (Scott Pilgrim Takes Off) words: 974 reader: gender-neutral warnings: none ig? mildly suggestive ending

𝔯𝔲𝔩𝔢𝔰 + 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 / 𝔖𝔠𝔬𝔱𝔱 𝔓𝔦𝔩𝔤𝔯𝔦𝔪 𝔗𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔰 𝔒𝔣𝔣 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

The faint buzzing coming from the electronics.

The sound served as a calming ambient for Gideon. Some would probably find it annoying, but he didn't mind. The white noise grounded him, forced him to get focused on the paperwork. Like a reminder, mostly to keep Gideon out of his head. The utter emptiness caused by his insistence on making his lair so spacious, although admirable, often made Gideon feel like he was the only person in the world. A lonely man, cooped up in his lair.

The rustling of another paper put on top of another, seemingly in endless supply. 

What hour was it again? Gideon didn't pay attention. Sighing to himself, he let go off the pen he was clutching in his hand, his fingers sore from the constant grip. The unfinished paperwork in the corner of his vision was taunting, but the need of keeping up with his schedules was far more annoying than his exhaustion. His body slowly started to betray him, his muscles weighing way heavier than the beginning of his day. He should probably eat something. How inconsiderate of him to miss such an important detail. 

Groaning, already feeling the effects of his hunger and stalling his need for nutrition, he took a sip of his fourth coffee of the day, holding the need to cringe as his lips touched the cold liquid. He placed the mug back on the desk, head still swirling with thoughts of tomorrow's workday.

Tap, tap, tap... Footsteps?

The unexpected sound of shoes hitting the ground would alarm the man, if not for the familiar voice that followed soon after.

"Gideon!" They cheerfully approached closer, repeating his name a few more times before finally getting close enough for their bodies to clash together. The figure pounced behind him, wrapping their arms around his neck, their grasp bordering on being uncomfortably tight. Gideon's chair wobbled awkwardly, threatening to lose balance, before settling back in it's place.

"Y/N!" Gideon exclaimed, notably with less excitement than the attacker. "Careful, you're gonna make me fall-" He tried to stop the unjustified venom spilling out of his lips, keeping in mind for his tone to not stray from a simple warning. The irritation at the assault was largely exaggerated by his hunger.

"Sorry, sorry- I'm just excited to see you!" They said, offering an apologetic smile. "How's work?" Y/N cocked their head, nuzzling softly into Gideon's neck to get a better look at the papers resting on Gideon's desk."I noticed you're staying up late again, so I thought I'd bring you something."

Gideon ignored the way their hair lightly tickled his skin, now much more interested in the bag carelessly held in his lover's hand. "It's going alright." It wasn't a full lie, he got used to the mind numbing routine. "What did you get me?" His expression softened into a curious smirk, his initial annoyance subsiding. They quickly retracted from the embrace, eager to present Gideon their gift. His sight followed their movements, hearing the crinkling of the paper bag.

"Sustenance!" Y/N responded enthusiastically, taking out two items right after the announcement. 

Gideon figured out what it was even before the cinnamon buns were out of the bag, their sweet aroma lingering in the air. The pastries quickly got into his hands, he wasted no time to scarf them down. They tasted heavenly, his hunger provided even more flavor. "Thanks," he said, halfway munching on the soft bun. Even though his tired tone didn't portray much emotion, it was evident he fully appreciated the gift. 

Y/N smiled in return, letting themself sit on the desk, mindful of the papers placed in the corner of it. "Of course. I can't let you work on an empty stomach!"

The buns disappeared after mere two minutes of silence, leaving Gideon in a much better mood. He turned towards them with a faint squeak of his swivel chair, resting his hand on their thigh in a comfortable manner.

"Are you almost done?" Y/N looked back on the papers, neatly put into two piles. One obviously bigger than the other, presumably the finished paperwork.

"Almost." He said, exhaustion seeping into his voice. 

Y/N's brows furrowed in concern, "I see you're tired, what if you'd finish them tomorrow?" 

Gideon sighed again, annoyance painting his features once more, although this time not directed at his partner. "I'm almost done, I think I'll manage."

"Come on," their face approached closer to the man, "for me?" They put on their best puppy dog eyes, hoping to convince him to listen to their plea. Gideon raised their brow in an almost unamused manner, yet couldn't shake off the effect his partner had on them. After a moment of the staring contest, Gideon sighed, glancing once more at the pile of unfinished paperwork. There were no more than 3 sheets, surely an amount that wouldn't disturb his perfect plan of keeping up with his assigned workload for tomorrow.

"We can rewatch your favorite season of anime again?" Y/N offered with a cheeky grin, a deal they knew Gideon couldn't refuse. 

He chuckled weakly, already knowing he made up his mind. He moved a bit closer, his palm still insistent on resting on Y/N's thigh. "You're playing dirty, you know that?" He half-lidded his eyes, amused grin on his face showing hints of sultriness seeping in.

Y/N flashed him a toothy grin, happy about being able to successfully convince their partner to take better care of himself. Their hand reached for the man's tie, yanking it sharply towards themself. Gideon's eyes widened with surprise, their lips connecting in a quick kiss. Of course, Gideon reciprocated. The taste of each other's lips lingered until Y/N pulled away, satisfied with the state they left him in. Content.

"You like it, though."

[blitzwhore]

I am sorry if you don't allow second questions, but if I am allowed: Withdrawal?

I totally do! The more asks the merrier 😊❤️

So 'Withdrawal' is yet another of my Post-Mastermind wips that doesn't really fit canon after Sinsmas, but I really like this one. It pictures the days immediately following the trial, and Stolas' body's reaction to going cold turkey on his meds *and* alcohol at the same time. Apparently, going cold turkey on alcohol specifically can be really dangerous for your health, and I wanted to explore that a bit.

(tw for vomit and discussions of drug/alcohol abuse below)

“Shh,” Blitzø cooed softly, carding his fingers through Stolas’ soft feathers. “Shh. I’m here, Stols. I’m not going anywhere, ‘kay?” 

He’d left Stolas home alone the day before to go back to the I.M.P. headquarters, find out just how much of it had managed not to burn to the fucking ground. Their files had been mostly gone, and they needed a new computer, but, miraculously, their picture together had still been hanging from his office wall, completely undamaged. That had been all the proof Blitzø had needed that they were going to be okay. No matter how long it took to get back to where they were, he and his crew would be okay. 

He and Looney had come home some hours later to find all their kitchen cabinets open, Stolas sat messily on the bathroom floor. The stench of vomit had permeated the air as Stolas shivered and stared blankly at the wall, dry tear tracks on his feathered cheeks. 

Stolas hadn’t moved, hadn’t shown any signs of noticing his presence until Blitzø had gently coaxed him into an embrace. 

A few moments later, he’d broken down, shaking and gasping into the curve of Blitzø’s neck.

Today, with Loona at work, they could at least do this on the sofa, which was decidedly a better place to hold someone going through severe withdrawal than the bathroom floor.

Blitzø didn’t know what it was that Stolas had gone cold turkey on. Stolas had never mentioned using any substances without him, much less abusing them, and Blitzø had never come across any particularly suspicious stash of drugs or alcohol in that stupidly huge palace of his.

Not that he’d done much snooping. He’d mostly just stayed in Stolas’ quarters, and had only occasionally been roped into hanging out in Stolas’ living room. There were plenty of areas of the palace he hadn’t cared to explore, too apprehensive of their whole deal. Too focused on avoiding running into Stolas’ staff. He hadn’t needed more reminders of what his role in Stolas’ life was. Just another imp toy for his pleasure and entertainment—or so he’d thought.

But there had to be something. If there was one thing Blitzø was uncomfortably familiar with, it was an addict going through withdrawal.

Just thinking about Stolas hiding this from him threatened to tear a hole through his aching heart. If it was bad enough he was shaking and throwing up just a couple of days after quitting, it must’ve meant the days Blitzø had spent at the palace were the only ones Stolas didn’t abuse. It meant Stolas had purposely hidden it from him.

It meant Stolas had been going through this alone, for Lucifer only knew how fucking long.

This one hurts to read, and I'm the one who wrote it 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[cinnbar-bun]

Realized I actually need to talk about my story to get people interested so like… here it is! I’ll just lay out my basic summaries for the ideas so far with the stuff from my Toyhouse ✊🥲

So my collection of SBR fics is one that spans across ~3 ish stories (possibly more): The American Dream (pre SBR)-> Heart of Everything (during SBR) -> The Unforgiving (post SBR)

These fics are basically my worldbuilding on SBR and canon-divergent in many aspects. I do try to keep a consistent ‘everything that happens in canon is here until it’s not’, so many things from SBR remain intact and are largely unchanged from my fics. The major difference is the inclusion of my oc, Mary, who is FV’s daughter and plays a major role (reasoning) for the differences in canon.

These fics are also less focused on stands and stands fights (sorry lol), as I mostly prefer character-driven drama and wanting to explore different facets of my faves in this situation. They’re also focused on different viewpoints and perspectives so character POVs jump around to explore more of the SBR.

WARNING: THESE STORIES ARE VERY POLITICAL AND PERSONAL- THEY FEATURE DISCUSSIONS OF CLASS, WAR, AND DISCRIMINATION, ALONG WITH CANON COMPLIANT VIOLENCE AND RELIGIOUS IMAGERY. IF THESE ARE TOO DIFFICULT PLEASE DO NOT READ!

THERE IS ALSO SPOILERS FOR SBR PLEASE DO NOT SCROLL DOWN PAST THE AMERICAN DREAM IF YOU DO NOT WISH TO SEE!

The first one, The American Dream, (which you can read right now on my blog masterlist and my AO3) which focuses on Funny Valentine (the guy who lives in my head rent free and I yap about all day) as a character study and buildup to what we see in SBR as well as a connection to my main SBR fic. It features FV’s subordinates a lot (they’ve become so special to me) and my OC, Mary Valentine, who is his daughter in this ‘universe’.

This story, after the first arc, is less a singular and linear timeline, and more a collection of vignettes to further develop FV’s lore and establishing his plans for SBR.

The American Dream is separated into three sections with clear timeskips:

Act 1-(Born in the USA): starts directly during the San Diego exercise where FV gains the Corpse Heart and Mary is born. FV is emboldened with ‘feelings of patriotism’ and takes his leave, returning home with Mary and attempting to start on a political career as a local lawyer. FV finds he must grapple with the new reality of what politics entails while also dealing with return and status as a widower affecting his relationships.

Act 2- (name TBD): Starts a few years later, Mary is now five, and FV has become mayor. This section is the ‘longest’ and features FV’s machinations to slowly build his subordinates and a team of reliable people to help and aid him (aka people like Wekapipo/Ferdinand). This also features Scarlet’s introduction and their relationship.

Act 3- (Cult of Personality): About a year or two before the SBR, around FV’s presidential campaign and subsequent election. The kid gloves are coming off and now he’s got all his pieces, ready to begin his decades long plan to make America the ultimate world power.

The second story, The Heart of Everything, is focused on during the SBR.

This fic begins after the Oyecomova fight, in the train with the convo with Steven Steel and FV. Plot beats and arcs from the original SBR happen (aka, Scary Monsters, World of Man, etc.), but function with more added context and character development from other POVs instead of a focus on the fight.

Example: Scary Monsters arc in my fic focusing not on Diego and Gyjo in the mountains, but on FV and Ferdinand discussing his plans and Diego later getting more intel he uses against FV later.

Some arcs are not included as there is a focus on certain POVs over another, so there’s no inclusion on Sugar Mountain Arc because it’s largely unrelated to the other happenings in the fic.

Towards the end however there is more fighting and use of stands as things become more chaotic and divergent. It also features a burgeoning relationship between Mary, Diego, and HP.

Note: many character deaths and events are compliant with canon, but this fic has changed some so feel free to inquire!

The third fic, The Unforgiving, is still a largely recent addition I wanted to fully explore and takes place directly after the end of Heart of Everything. It’s being worked on and is the least fleshed out, but has some basic beats!

Please note this one has major major major spoilers rn don’t read if you haven’t seen SBR.

(Thanks Phi for this comm I need it to be blown everywhere I need EVERYONE to see these two and see this art specifically).

This fic does contain more stands and ‘fights’, but encounters is perhaps the better word, as many of them are based on an aspect to focus on. This largely centers as another character exploration of the characters post their experiences in SBR and focuses heavily on grief and growing.

It’s a bit of a ‘everything gets bad before it gets better’, where Mary, HP, and Diego work to heal on their own issues and unresolved problems together and grow into themselves. A lot of is Mary having to deal with the fact her father did all this shit and everyone died oops <3 but it’s a pretty emotional story for everyone that kinda establishes my lore for the characters in their post sbr selves.

Paulina is featured here, as a dark and sore spot on HP’s backstory that I’ve made for this fight (and she has simultaneously become one of my fave ocs ever she’s the girl ever.)

So yes, this is the outline for the three current fics directly related to the SBR (as the fourth one is still hmmmmm on) but please feel free to ask away!!!

[kiwi-luminaryofthestars]

03/06/2025 Progress Update:

TLDR: Chapter 5 is at 19K words, so we wrote about 5K over these past four day. Considering splitting up the chapter into two. Discussed ships that will be included.

I've been sorta jumping around in chapter 5, working on multiple sections at once, so I didn't know how much I'd written since I last checked the word count four days ago. And we're at 19K now.... AND IT'S NOT EVEN CLOSE TO DONE GODDAMMITTTTT.

Yeah okay, I'm seriously considering splitting this one into two. God, how many times am I gonna say that lmao? Gonna need a counter. Days Since Kiwi Mentioned Splitting a Chapter: 0

Pros of splitting are 1) the chapter will be done sooner, 2) it'll be not so overwhelming a read, and 3) I won't fucking destroy the beta's time with a fucking crazy long chapter lolll. Con is we wouldn't get to the heist in chapter 5, instead pushing it to chapter 6, and I already feel like I've made people wait long enough for SK and PT to meet... Then again, there will be plenty of SK/Phantom Thief interactions in this fic, so idk. I'm thinking I'll keep going for a bit, then make the final decision after I've got more written. But we are leaning more toward splitting it FYI.

Okay, so this is gonna serve as kind of like a precursor to a possible pinned post on tumblr/updated notes on ao3, but I thought I'd try it out here first. So, after having some conversations with a mutual (which these past few days I've had NUMEROUS conversations with mutuals and it's been so fun EEEK, seriously if anyone who sees these ever wants to message me about random shit, I fucking love it) I wanted to be upfront about what you can expect in terms of ships in this fic. I really don't want to "trick" anyone-- by that I mean withhold certain ships without making you aware I'm withholding them-- because I know that's not really fair to do if the ship is explored. SO, below is some information about what is planned:

SAIOUMA - duh, it's the main one

KAIMAKI - included but rarely focused on (still will be prevalent in any section that includes Kaito, which is quite a few)

OUMAMI - not prevalent enough to include in tags imo and TINY TINY TINY bit included, like probably less than you think after reading chapter 4

SAIMATSU - another extremely small one and mostly implied, could be seen as platonic tbh

??? - This is a secret ship, and the only one I'm going to try not to spoil, if I can help it. This is probably the other most important pairing in this fic other than saiouma; HOWEVER, it serves mostly as a way to drive the plot and connect pieces of the mystery. I would say it's not NEARLY as explored as an actual couple as saiouma is, and a lot of it is implied. Hints of this ship will start sprinkling in soon and will be pretty openly-revealed by chapter 11. By then, however, the ship will serve the purpose of furthering Shuichi and Kokichi's story and not to spend time on this other ship. All just to say it's important, but this isn't a ??? ship fic.

My primary desire in divulging this is to be open and honest about the existence of certain pairings, and that one is yet to be revealed; I just don't want to waste your time. SO hopefully that helped with your decision to keep reading or not, which is yours to make either way :)

Anyway, sorry we're rambling again. It's my favorite hobby.

I'm so hopeful to get a lot of this chapter done this weekend. I'm really feeling this one, truly. The Rantaro conversation(s) are where I want them to be finally and the detective-ing is fun and the heist is already pretty much written lmao so we're going full-speed ahead!! Just gotta connect everything. Specifically, I don't have the second sub-section of the first section entirely written, the second sub-section of the second section written, and the heist needs to be fleshed out (was that confusing?? probably) I also had an idea of a short conversation between Kokichi and Shuichi that I'm thinking about including, so we might have ANOTHER sub-section in section two lmao. This one is pretty dialogue heavy, FYI.

ALRIGHT ACTUALLY I'M DONE YAPPING SORRY. I hope you have a goodnight, so fucking happy it's Friday tomorrow yessss.

[yours-the-author]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62023978/chapters/164534572

Alright, bring it in, everyone! The epilogue of The Beauty and His Right Hand Beast is here! I've been working on this for a few days, so I think it's a satisfactory conclusion, to say the least. Thanks to everyone who commented or gave a kudos; I really appreciate all the kind words and excitement! I'll see you around; until then!

.

.

.

Oh, and one more thing... (Applause begins)

There is no one more thing. (Applause stops and booing begins)

Hang on, let me explain!

I do have another story idea; you might remember me mentioning a PanPrice Little Mermaid fic? Yeah, that's the one more thing! I've got an outline mostly written down and a baseline for the first few chapters.

Problem is, I've been focusing so much on fanfiction for so long that I'm worried I'm not putting enough attention and energy into my original works (which I would like to publish one day, God willing!). So, for the time being, I'm taking a hiatus from fanfiction.

Where does that leave you? Well, goodness knows I have my vices, and fanfiction and fanart is one of them. I'll still be posting art and such whenever I can- it won't be nearly as consistent as my fanfiction updates, but what can you do?

(At some point, probably sometime either this week or next week, I'd like to post some "concept art" of for The Beauty and His Right Hand Beast, by which I mean I'll vaguely sketch some objects and sticks at some point and post it here eventually; other than that, though, nothing's really planned.)

So, Too Long; Didn't Read: I'm taking a break from fanfiction until who knows when, but I still intend to post art whenever I've got the time. When will I be back? Who knows? Not me, lol.

(Also, I'd like to take this break away from fanfiction to potentially come up with more ideas to turn into long fics; it'd be kind of lame if I came back, dropped one long fic, and then disappeared for who knows how long. Maybe if I think of some one shots I'll come back; I know I'll probably be here for Stick Ship Week 2025, if there is one!)

Anyway, thanks for reading, and sorry for the less than great news, but! Remember! Fan art will be coming! At some point! Inconsistently! So keep an eye out for sillies!

See you later!

[puckpocketed]

inspired by yesterday’s ovechkin-posting and the stick story, because. i had as much fun as anyone with the idea that riding a camel over all-star break is what jostled the goal-scoring back out of him, but at the same time... i am frothing at the fucking mouth about ovi × The League × national hockey media. where is his respect? where is his hype? where are his roses???? please !!!! understand !!!! that i find sidney endearing as a guy and he is undeniably incredible as a player and he deserves the love that he gets. but from day one, ovi has only existed to them in relation to sid and that makes me lose my fucking mind. 

and general hockey fans through the years loved ovi, and then they hated him, and then they said he was an overhyped washed-up old man who doesn't care anymore (starting in like 2013 lmfao). like, I'M sorry, back in the late '00s and early '10s he was being hounded for days about his cellies, and being booed every time he came out on the ice—and you're mad? that he looks like he's lost his love and enthusiasm for the game???? (i cannot for the LIFE of me find the podcast ep where i heard this, so. grain of salt. but a former teammate talked about how startling and upsetting ovi found the booing, bc it was such a sudden change, and meanwhile, ovi was just the same guy he’d always been 😭).

and then, idk, we went through hate again, and then indifference, and now in the 2020s we're back to "oh, his production has dropped so therefore he's overhyped, can’t wait ‘til he’s gone"?? the season ovi was 36 he had more points per game than sid did last year at 36 (90 in 77 vs 94 in 82). or how about. please remind me how many goals gretz scored the season he was 36 (25 goals compared to ovi's 50). or what about when gretz was 38 (9 goals compared to ovi's 31)? i am NOT trying to say that ovi is "better" than either of them—this is just me saying that people are completely irrational about him. like back when he was drafted and people were saying "oh, he's not actually as good as he looks, because he's lying about his age" bc he looked 25 instead of 18. like. okay lmao. and then what? his NINE rocket richards count less bc he started later? he's actually older now and scoring more per game than gordie howe was the first time he retired? like what are we doing here??? i'm not an empty-netters-pod guy, but they talked about it in the first few minutes of this ep; like... yeah, why was everyone so fucking excited to dance on his grave at the start of last season? and then again in the playoffs? he’s NOT DONE YET, and even if he were, i would hope to see a modicum of respect for the player he’s been and the career he’s had! 

the point is. ovi has scored 30+ goals per season every single year since his debut except the pandemic-shortened season. his teammates, current and former, love him and say what an awesome, generous, team-focused guy he is. he has literally dozens of nhl records already, some of them previously belonging to gretzky. and yet! general hockey fans and the league and national hockey media all refuse to take him seriously. and caps fans (mostly) and dc hockey media (mostly) (barry svrlugas i do not forgive you... dan holmi i would just like to have a fucking word with you....) are all just standing here like hello? alexander ovechkin is RIGHT HERE and he is very good at hockey. hello he is GOOD at HOCKEY, can you hear me????? is anyone seeing this, HELLO???? 

i don’t get it. i simply and entirely don’t get it. there are so many excellent players on teams that i hate! there are players i dislike and i can still point to many impressive things about their game!!! WHAT is the mental block that happens for everyone when it comes to ovi, and how tf has it been going strong for nineteen fucking years? 

thank you for listening!! i swear to you that the vast majority of the time i am simply having a fun time with whatever my terrible children decide to do, admiring ovi’s fashion choices, cheering on my number one babygirl dylan strome, and enjoying whatever horny, incomprehensible nonsense they get up to. it’s just that sometimes i gotta go guard dog mode about alex ovechkin 😅

Hello!!! First of all, thanks for going to all the trouble of typing all that out and including links. I have loved sifting through your citations, and felt very much like a floor dwelling sea creature eating nutrients from the silt <3

I believe you all when you say Ovechkin's not done yet. Shaking my entire clenched fin at everyone calling him a washed up old man!! Fascinated by the Caps' attempt to pivot into being competitive long enough for him to break the record, because what of the After? The Rebuild of Damocles beckons!! Except, having paid some attention to prospects I see they've got a pretty interesting crop of talent coming through. And there are those big contracts they just acquired (hello Dubie and Roy). I just feel like have to be on this train so I can say I was there to see how it all shakes out. History Witnessing type beat <3

and I'm SO endeared to Caps rituals. What little I've seen of them is so fun, so silly. Exactly my vibe. MUST a team "Play Hockey Well"?? can't they just be obsessed with each other . can't they torture and embarrass each other . being stressed about strange concepts such as ""Winning"" is so., passé .

Thank you again for dropping by and for the essay! and I'm sorry it took so long to get back to you, it was such a meal I was digesting it for days :>

extended thoughts/discussion under the cut.

From the outside looking in, I think can speak to how compelling it is to pit Crosby and Ovechkin against each other. As your ESPN article puts it: "Crosby was careful, corporate. Ovechkin was unpredictable, borderline dangerous. The key word was passion, and even though Crosby had it inside, Ovechkin oozed it. He was the anti-Sid, possibly the better player, and soon a cult hero." (x, y) I know you're frustrated by this, but they do sort of exist in relation to each other. Maybe I've fallen for the propaganda, but it's very literary <3 You could write their story down and present it to a novel studies class, and the easiest thread to pull on would be all the ways in which they're each other's narrative foils.

IF you held a gun to my head and made me guess at the 'why' of it, I'd probably agree with Eric Adelson! It really does feel like Crosby's image is who hockey wants to be seen as. A Good Canadian Boy; humble, no conspicuous expressions of his wealth, no partying, and of course no on-ice flash! I think I can understand the backlash somewhat; in such a team-oriented game, one with all these arcane honour codes and the emphasis on humility and respect and not rocking the boat, I could see why the spectacle of Ovechkin's personality would've grated. Crosby's an easier pill to swallow for the conservatism of hockey culture. (And I specified 'image' because there's the reality of what it is to be famous, deified, and torn apart each time you don't quite measure up. I hate to be the guy who says there's another side to this but, like, I'm sure plenty of people who are more familiar with Crosby's story could come out and tell me about the unique challenges that come with being considered The Next One.)

And obviously, your specific frustration is coming from the fact that Ovechkin is, somehow, seen as the inferior superstar, and that his achievements - which either equal or surpass Crosby's - go uncelebrated by mainstream media. and ough. man. I'm not as invested in this as you given I just got here, but your emotion is palpable!! I have... complicated feelings about his whole deal wrt geopolitics I won't lie, but I am serious about the whole "Is it the Russian thing?" I wouldn't, like, submit this as a legal document or anything, and I doubt I'd be the first to point it out, but there has to be a level of Othering that comes from his nationality, right?

So there's my thesis: he's not like them, he's not from there, and his image is not who they want for a star. Being so undeniably good for so long probably bought him some time in their good books, but the moment he looked a little bit mortal any grace they had to give was dispensed with. It sucks for you as a fan of course </3 I don't mean to sound so morbidly curious about it all,,, like i get that a real wrong was done to Ovechkin by the establishment that refused to recognise him!! But . well. I'm looking at this through a nonfiction writer's lens. I do hope someone who was there for the whole thing writes a book or two about this, because it would make for a really interesting story. I get the feeling people will look back on this stretch of time and think the world went a bit crazy for believing Alex Ovechkin was done.

[umepnnn]

3DOLC x ROE — results.

challenge created by @starliet and @cleostoohot 🖤

sorry (and not sorry) for the long hiatus cuz i'm enjoying life :)

so a few days ago i came across several posts about their challenge and i decided to try it out ! i didn't plan to post or anything so there wasn't a "what i'll be manifesting" post, but the results were so insane i had too make one.

ଓ affirmations i used:

regardless of everything...

nothing can ruin my manifestations

i always manifest within 3 days or less

i have everything i desire

ଓ what i manifested:

always confident and friendly, good at socializing

that's exactly what i did. i feel like a social butterfly at school and it's easier for me to join in convos now. making friends and having small talk just became easier for me. and i don't overthink so much anymore

being more included in my friend groups

i have a group i hang out with at uni for like 4-5 months now but i wasn't rlly active until this challenge LMAO now i'm like so comfortable with everyone and felt more like a part of the group. it also went like this with my other friend groups that i just started hanging out since this year. i actually speak to people individually now woah :)

getting closer with an SP

idk i thought this guy was cute so i just included this and at first the situation was: he's close with my friends but he's not in any of my friend groups so we don't hang much at all. but then after 2-3 days since this challenge, our mutual friend suddenly ADDED HIM into the group out of the blue and we all started going out and he is SUCH A GENTLEMAN to me + he added my socials as well hehe

school is fun, assignments are easy & no stress

literally came to school to chit chat and i'm not stressed at all. i get my work done on time and everything goes so smooth fr. and the best part is my classmates are the sweetest ugh SCHOOL IS FUN (they are the uni friend group i just mentioned up there) and they'd always gather around my seat lol and we'd chat the whole class.

bright smooth clear skin

same skin care routine – skin clearer than ever. no longer uneven dark spots or small little bumps <3 smooth like a baby's bottom :) my mom actually thought i was wearing makeup when i literally just washed my face n removed all the makeup !!

no dark circles

i slept like usual but my dark circles rlly went away since this challenge i'm actually surprised (even tho it should go away cuz it's the law lmao) and usually they'd still show when i have my makeup on but now it's wayyy less noticeable

friends from other countries coming to mine so we could hang out

just went out with one the other day lmao so check ✔️ i guess

everyone cares about me and is very nice to me

yoo my friends were so patient and attentive to me and even the taxi drivers are nice, they'd start convos and not in a creepy way. everyone is so nice for real <333

ଓ what i did:

i just read the list and affirm whenever i can, mostly focused on the 4D and know it's inevitable that they'd manifest <3 cuz it's already mine the moment i think i have it. and honestly the "nothing can ruin my manifestations" line helped me a lot.

other than that i did nothing in the 3D. i never initiated anything. they all just came to me just ✨ like ✨ that ✨

i got most of my desires within 3 days but i still continued affirming after 3 days cuz like why not? it's like i'm doing the challenge again or sum but yes i still get desired results after that.

btw i also listened to quite a few subliminals alongside doing this challenge just because i can xD even for the same desires and like they both manifested but anyways i'll make a separate post on my subliminal results.

© umepnnn 2021 – all rights reserved.

[note from a later date //29 jan 2024]

i have been on a hiatus since then until now, because i was busy with a lot of stuff i didn't have much time to learn and post astrology stuff here ~

i am still busy as ever and i don't plan on coming back here anytime soon (mayyyybee idk) but i still come on tumblr quite often cuz i loveee our astrology & manifesting content

and somehow today i checked my draft and saw this whole post here from three years ago i'm like wuhhh totally forgot.

BUT! everything i said is true fr like the "friends from other countries coming to mine so we could hang out" last year literally TEN of my friends came to my place (they're from 4 different countries) and I even went on trips with some of them — mind u i havnt seen most of them in like 2 years at the time

trust me manifesting is sooo easy just think u have it and u have it

thanks for reading and stay healthy stay safe everyone <3 cya

[yuristarz]

Hello! Welcome to the first real chapter of Krampuslauf. I know i just posted the prolouge a bit ago, but I'm so excited about this concept right now that I just had to continue writing. I hope you guys like this one!

Prolouge

(English is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes)

🌲Krampuslauf(1/?)🌲

Summary:

A nice Christmas getaway, this is what this should've been. An out from your regular stressful life, but things quickly turn from sweet to sour after a certain someone or something invites himself into your life.

A König x fem!reader fanfic inspired by the folktales of Krampus

Disclaimer: he talks about hurting reader but not in detail!!!

This is an 18+ story, so minors please dni!

The bathwater is luke warm when you get out, the wine glass is empty and you're well relaxed. After taking one of the fluffy towels you wrap it tightly around yourself and go towards the sink it's time to get ready for bed. Your luggage can wait, you'll have time for that tomorrow.

Reaching the master bedroom after quickly pulling your pajamas out of your suitcase you smile to yourself. This bedroom is a massive upgrade from yours back home. A king-sized bed a great view and even a fireplace. Yeah you can definitely manage with this place.

Falling into the bed felt like falling on a cloud, soft, warm, and fuzzy. The amounts of blankets and pillows comforting to the touch. Immediately the exhaustion sets in, the jetlag and the long drive finally catching up. After getting comfortable you quickly fall into a dream-less sleep.

You made it almost pitifully easy for him to stalk you. Leaving your curtains open like this, like you want someone to watch you be so vulnerable. His masked head tilts as he focuses on you. Leaning against the windowsill, his eyes glowed an ominous redish blue through the two holes at the front.

After a while of watching you a thought made its way to his head, he could just break in right now...do horrible things to you, unspeakable even. Make sure after he's done with you, people will fear him again. No, not tonight it's too early he tels himself. he'll let you live a bit longer.. let you settle in.

And when the time is right, he'll make you wish you had stayed wherever you came from...

The morning sun makes you squint your eyes as you slowly rise from the bed and stretch. You look around the room again, and your gaze stops by the window. Weird... yesterday an even coat of snow covered the windowsill. You were sure of it, maybe it was a bird or squirrel or it was always like that. Probably nothing to worry about.

After getting up and making your way downstairs you rummage through the cupboards and fridge. There isn't much to eat, mostly dry stuff and a few cans of fruit and onw with stew. You'd definitely have to drive to the small village at the bottom of the mountain to get some more things to eat.

After a quick meal consisting of crackers and some marmalade, you take your suitcases and drag them up the stairs to your bedroom. Opening the big doors to the wardrobe you start to stuff your clothes in it, making sure to put together an outfit together on the way. Now done with stuffing the wardrobe, you push your empty luggage under the bed and get changed.

You walk down the stairs once more and put your winter boots on by the door. As much as you'd love to just stay holed up here in the mountains for the next 14 days you still need food, so that meant driving down the snowie roads and getting enough food as to not make another trip down.

He watches silently as you walk out of the cabin and get in your car and start the motor. Good. That would give him some time to think about the best way to go about this.

_________________________________________

Hi! Thanks for reading chapter 1 of Krampuslauf! It's a bit short but I think as the story continues they'll get longer. I hope you guys liked it. Constructive criticism is always appreciated <3

Since you wanted to get tagged :) @kneelingshadowsalome

[violetlypurple]

With the Windows recall shit rolling around, I'm going to be That Girl and put it out there that Linux is, indeed, still a thing, and a thing that has come a long way with regards to user experience and gaming. And a thing that runs 75% of the internet but anyways Saying, "Linux isn't just for nerds and enthusiasts anymore!" wouldn't be an entirely truthful statement, but if all you do is play games, go on socials, and hang in discord... It'll work? I'm speaking to a target audience here, posting from an FFXIV-focused blog, so let me dive into it a little for that target audience, with the assumption that none of you are out there being sweaty over Apex, Overwatch, Fortnite, or whatever zoomers play these days. Basically anything you play through Steam will run flawlessly* on Linux. Valve have baked the Proton compatibility layer into Steam for a while, and since Valve's Steam Deck runs on Linux, they are on point with updates for it. This means that Steam will do the work of making Windows games run on Linux for you without any additional software or tinkering. This includes the Steam version of FFXIV**.

Now, I can't speak to or ensure that reshade or any 3rd party plugin will work. In my case (details below the cut) reshade was more or less intact but all the presets broke so I just kinda said fuck it and removed the remnants. But thats ok, right? You want to try out the 7.0 graphical updates without instagram filters, right? Don't you..?

Mods and other plugins? Don't know, don't care, frankly don't like that they exist outside the narrow window of seeing people's fun screenshots. Sorry not sorry. That said, I have seen some things on the googles.

There are obviously various things that work differently/don't work on Linux like they do on Windows. I can't account for every case, so google is your friend here. The one particularly notable case I ran into was screenshare with Discord being unable to deliver audio, which makes group watching things like netflix a bit of a problem. There are technically workarounds but again, Target Audience.

Sooo... Yeah? If you're mildly tech savvy, go get Ubuntu, install it on a second drive, external drive, or even just try it out from the usb you put the install media on for an hour. If you wanna get spicy with it, do some looking around to see what distribution of Linux might suit you better. Pop_OS is also pretty beginner friendly. Yes, there are some adjustments and some things to learn, but if you have the energy to be mad at what Microsoft is doing, you have the energy to learn a few new things to get away from it. As with anything related to messing with your operating system; back up your important things, just in case!

The Notable Caveats:

*I can't speak to all multiplayer games, since some use anti-cheat or DRM that may not work on Linux. But frankly, a quick google of "will [game] run on Linux" can get you a quick yes or no on if this will be a problem for you. In my case, I mostly care about Helldivers 2 with its nProtect, and it works fine. BG3 has no problems either.

**You might be thinking, "But Basement Witch Noone Knows, I don't use the Steam version of FFXIV!" And yes, that does complicate matters. My brief tutorial is below the cut, should you find yourself committed to this notion, or just have a morbid curiosity.

Ok, so I don't have the Steam version of FFXIV either. There are two ways around this that I am aware of.

The first, which I would not recommend, is to get a 3rd party Linux launcher. If you care about this Windows recall thing, you probably fully understand why I would advise against using a 3rd party app to put your username and password into. If you are willing to do some research into the providers of these tools to determine their trustworthiness, I can't stop you, but I wasn't interested.

The second is Steam! Again! A fun fact about FFXIV is that it runs pretty self-contained in its folder. I have shit internet, so I have been just copying the whole ass SquareEnix folder off my drive and onto other drives to save myself two days of downloading for years now.

If you have Linux installed and familiarize yourself with the Home folder where your usual Documents/Pictures/Videos folders are, I just copy pasted my whole SquareEnix folder in there, to the cries and lamentations of Linux nerds everywhere that would insist I put it somewhere proper. Anyway. Once it's there, all you need to do is add it to Steam. In the Steam Library there is a button to Add a Game in the bottom right corner. When you click that there is an option to Add Non-Steam Game. When you click that, you will get a prompt to locate and select the game. Here you want to hit Browse, navigate to your Home folder, SquareEnix, FINAL FANTASY XIV - A Realm Reborn, boot. in the boot folder you will need to select ffxivboot.exe. Once you have selected it and clocked Open, it will return you to the Add Non-Steam Game list and you should see ffxivboot.exe selected. Hit Add Selected Programs, and that's it! You can now launch your bodged-in copy of FFXIV through steam, and it will apply the necessary Proton layer to make the launcher and the game work as normal. Yay Linux!

i use arch, btw

[bread--quest]

sunny being a spooky little guy in their first ever interaction :eyes:

actually y'know what this is basically at a ending point anyway and i've just been looking for an excuse to post it so. surprise sunny treat!

By Season 22, Day 70, Liquid Friend has more or less gotten reacquainted with the Vault. It and Plasma have dusted off their office and gotten it back in working conditions, said hello to their old friends, and reintroduced themselves to the people who have come here since they left. The Vault's gotten bigger since it was last here, but Liquid still knows its hallways like an old friend, and it knows all the people in here by name at least, if not more.

Which is why it's taken completely by surprise when it rounds a corner to see someone it's absolutely never seen before standing there, happily dusting a wall.

Liquid runs through all the people it knows of in its head. Obviously this is not Uncle Plasma. They are also obviously not Clare (although they do have little wings and a glowing, flickering halo), Parker, New Megan, or Fletcher. They could be Cote, maybe, since Liquid's never actually seen Cote, but that would raise a lot of other questions. Definitely not Nagomi. Not York. Not Chorby, Aldon, Goodwin, Pitching Machine, or Valentine. Not James Mora either.

Well, what the heck.

"Hey there, uh..." Liquid takes a slight step forward. The person(?) turns to face them with wide golden eyes. "I'm Liquid Friend. It's nice to meet you! Are you...lost?"

"Are you lost?" Liquid Friend's own voice says, and Liquid jumps, startled, and thinks for a second it was an echo, but one of the many strange things about the Vault is that it doesn't usually echo, and anyway that was far too pitch-perfect and crisp to have been a quirk of architecture, which means...

"Did you say that?" Liquid says, and this time it keeps an eye on the person so it can tell for sure— when their mouth moves, what comes out is Liquid saying "Say that?" A perfect echo.

Okay. That's a little creepy.

The person moves forward, towards Liquid. They're keeping one hand on the wall, Liquid notes— maybe for comfort? To keep from getting lost? For steadiness? They move like someone who's not quite used to having a body. Their hand leaves a bright gold streak behind it as they drag it along the walls— do they have wall polish on their hand, or something? (...Is wall polish a thing?)

The person stumbles a bit closer and then stops. They don't seem threatening, exactly, but Liquid's getting the willies for sure. It might be time to call in backup.

Liquid turns around and calls "PLASMA? THERE'S SOME KIND OF...HAUNTED BABY OVER HERE!"

Haunted Baby makes a startled yelping sound and Liquid looks back to see them stumble backwards a few steps, plastering themself against the wall, eyes wide.

"Oh no! Did I scare you? Was I too loud?" Liquid says, bubbling in distress.

"Too loud," echoes Haunted Baby, looking very betrayed.

"Aw, I'm sorry," Liquid says, kneeling slightly to be more on their level. It notes a couple interesting things about their appearance—same golden tint to their skin as the Replicas, the little halo and wings that look like a mimicry of a Legend, hair orange-brown but golden-tipped in a way it doubts is hair dye—but mostly focuses on the fact that they look, more than anything, like a frightened little kid. "I'll be more quiet now, promise. I didn't mean to scare you. It's okay. Do you need help? Are you– do you know where you are?"

Haunted Baby visibly brightens– as in, they look happier, but also as in their halo and wings glow slightly and, unless Liquid's mistaken, their eyes get brighter as well. 

"The Vault," they say, in a voice that isn't Liquid's but seems like it shouldn't be theirs either, far too big for that tiny body and with an echo of its own, like the hallway itself is trying to amplify it, and it's Liquid's turn to rock backwards slightly, very startled and the tiniest bit afraid.

"Liquid?" Plasma's voice says, and Liquid finds to its great relief that the voice is coming from Plasma's mouth this time (inasmuch as Plasma has a mouth, anyway.)

"Plasma!" it says, scrambling back to its feet. "I'm so glad you're here." If it was possible for anyone to pinch Liquid, it might ask Plasma to pinch it to make sure it's not dreaming.

Plasma nods towards the tiny figure standing across from them, looking blissfully unaware of the mega-spooky thing they just did. "Is this the...Haunted Baby?"

"Haunted Baby!" chirps Haunted Baby, in Plasma's voice.

Plasma's expression doesn't appear to change much, but Liquid's known them long enough to know they're startled. "Ah."

[eccentric-nucleus]

anyway wrt 'other projects i am thinking of working on' here is a kind of enormous worldbuilding document about Setting Stuff

sorry for some of the formatting; the tumblr editor seems to be literally incapable of handling paragraphs inside of lists, whether that be in markdown or in actual html; you have to go to rich-text and then manually fiddle with stuff. this is also the only way to add a readmore now, i think?? god why is the tumblr editor so bad. i should just post this on my dreamwidth tbh

so it's a desert planet overall, inspired in some mix of... dark sun's athas, kenshi, morrowind, trigun, gears of war, westerns generally, etc. there's a big crater at one pole (at least one pole) that's a water ocean; it's called the sea of fog b/c the actual ocean is hidden beneath hundreds of meters of local cloud cover. there's an equatorial acid sea & the overall landmass is more-or-less divided into northern and southern halves. there's probably an isthmus somewhere that connects the two but it's kind of out of the scope of my current worldbuilding.

mostly my current worldbuilding has focused on one specific region that i'll say is 'roughly the size of russia'. the 'great desert' (tho as you can tell from the planet description, it's mostly desert all over). loosely: bounded at the north when the desert turns into steppe and corn fiefdoms start to dominate around the polar ocean; bounded at the south by the acid sea; bounded at the west by a huge mountain range; bounded at the east by... less discrete geographical features, but eventually there's perpetual sandstorms and huge unstable fissures that are difficult to pass.

(yopa, in the new hive, is in some variant of this setting. as you might recall, they're down south a few days travel from the acid sea. that's the southern border of the world map! arguably i should have had 'acid rain' as a weather type instead of 'sandstorms', but w/e there's plenty of other things i'd tweak now if i could. weird how i say going north leads to a lowland instead of a highland. that would be below sea level!!)

also there's likely gonna be some level of procgen integration for any game i make with this setting, & so i'm not really 100% on whether this is gonna be a template to build off of, in terms of 'these are the kinds of organizations and cultures you'll see emerge' vs. a specific idea in a specific world. it depends on how good i get at world history simulation, really.

a few notes on the various peoples that inhabit the great desert:

the corn kingdoms of the north. on rolling prairie/steppe with occasional rocky obstructions erupting through. very scattered trees, w/ more cultivated around villages. corn (or a corn-like grain, you know how it is with fantasy worldbuilding) is their staple crop, and pretty much every little village has their own heirloom variety. corn patterning is a highly political subject. every time some new attempted-ruler tries to unify the disparate fiefs and villages the big visible symbol of that is them growing their preferred kind of corn. food tithes only desiring the proper kind of grain or demanding more if it's 'unsuitable varieties', that kind of thing. one of the major strains is a bitter, rich cyan color that needs heavy nixtamalization to be particularly edible & only grows well in the regions immediately ringing the sea of fog; outside it grows pale and reedy from nutrient deficiency. meanwhile another one is a sweeter, mealier red variety that grows well in southern desert soils. i have a whole document on corn varieties and the political implications of growing each one. this is very much inspired by like... japan pre-unification, warring clans kinda situation. they probably have a higher % urbanization than most of the other peoples on this list b/c they actually do food importing i wrote a bunch of stuff on them and only later realized that even if the planet overall is hotter & so they're only just approaching temperate regions at the poles, they're still at the poles so presumably they have like 18 hour nights at winter or w/e. i don't know how that's gonna work out as a farming society. i might have to do some math about axial inclination and revise this section some. occupation-wise: lots of farmers. lots of lawless roving bandits from released conscripts after one clan or another had a military offensive collapse. that kind of thing.

the nomadic tribes of the great desert. there are a bunch of them (12? 13?) but i only came up with names of some of them major tribes. each tribe has a specific variety of weird mask that they wear as face coverings b/c of cultural beliefs about not showing yr face to those outside yr immediate family. the ash tribe wear masks of pitted volcanic rock that are just like, weird rocks. the masks are like a 'public face' in the same style as having a public name vs. a private name, & they consider everybody else to be weird uncivilized faceless demons each clan is made up of several smaller tribes, & they loosely confederate with each other as needed. the clan names get translated into other languages as things like "ash" or "vulture" or "fire-eater", but in their own language there's a chunk more nuance that's not really translated well. each one is associated with a loose constellation of concepts & there's probably some kinda inflectional state that refers to ones own subtribe or family lineage within the larger clan that tends to get removed in translation. anyway they travel along routes in the desert between various oases & are generally considered to be bandits or evil spirits by many of the other peoples who try to inhabit the great desert. there's a lot of king of dragon pass style "it's just friendly social behavior to sometimes raid a nearby camp and steal their goats" activities going on. sure, you don't want to murder the people you're raiding but sometimes they get a cracked head and that's just the cost of having sociable relations. this is how they figure out their relative ordering of power among themselves, but this behavior is not well regarded by the settled villages that get raided. they're just evil bandits who steal their stuff. occupation-wise, i have these put down as producing an awful lot of witches. witches, poets, warriors/raiders, artists. presumably also animal caretakers and scouts/foragers/rangers, too

very far south, along the edges of the acid sea, there are stilt-villages of fisherfolk who catch the weird things that live in the acid shoals. they build from some kinda tree-like acid vegetation and they have to cover everything they build in thick layers of resin pitch to make it acidproof. lots of waxed leather raincapes. pretty much everybody has pitted acid scars all over regardless. there are probably some villages out on islands in the acid sea that are totally disconnected from everywhere else save for like, shingle-bottomed resin boat travel over the acid sea. these are the only peoples who might plausibly have traveled to the other continent. if we're assuming the world used to be more watery & then the oceans sublimated away leaving behind mostly acid, these people would be living on what was formerly the abyssal plain. but maybe that's not what happened!

there's some striped canyons somewhere with big cities carved into the walls & bridges made between them. not a lot of notes on these people aside from lots of artists and bards

there are also the big mesa-temples. big mesa. hollow it out! temple complex at the top. big warren cave-city. they worship families of great beasts they consider to be divine messengers. brulvundojn is from here! it's not great. they're very eugenics-y in their attempts to breed humans into a great beast lineage. generally it doesn't take. when i was rereading the ancient nanowrimo novel that brulvundojn is actually from, i was like "oh noktigo is great" so i guess in this continuity he would be one of the rare true chimeras to come out of the breeding program, & his response was to immediately get the fuck out of there. i'm not sure if brulvundojn is 'from there' in the sense of being some offshoot of a royal lineage, or if he's from there more broadly as in he was once a peer to one of the lineages that got fixated on breeding themselves out into the world & he got out before anybody started worshipping him. the thing with the great beasts is that they are less, like, physical animals that are big and weird, and more like a physical embedding of a physical rule or structure. well, 'the new hive' is an extremely low-fantasy take on things so nobody in that really has magical powers. but in general. brulvundojn embodies the principle that those who trespass boundaries are doomed to death for their violation of the natural order & he doesn't really like being that very much. usually when a great beast breeds w/ a human you just get like, a human with some claws. whatever. sometimes you get another great beast, who is less a separate individual and more a different facet of the great beast's concept. a true chimera who has some of the conceptual nature is very rare. they're also very dangerous b/c great beasts are kind of circumscribed in their capacity for free action by the strictures of their concept, & chimera don't have that. they just have spooky powers and the capacity to do whatever they want with them. anyway some of the older lineages of great beasts are no longer living in a mesa-temple with their families so much as they are unweaving the conceptual boundaries of reality and reweaving it into something more aligned with their conceptual judgment. you can think of it as a pocket dimension if you like. or like the oblivion dimensions in the elder scrolls.

the walled oasis cities! they're also in the middle of the great desert, maybe a little on the northwestern-ish expanse. these are the most dark sun aspect of the setting really. ancient mages, maybe responsible for the ruin of the world, decide to set up a civilization to serve them. the big capital city-states all have the mage's domain (big tower, w/e) at the center, & the entire industry exists essentially to serve them. over time they've allowed lesser mage families to spring up (they need somebody to do the weak magic, after all) and those sometimes establish smaller cities with their own mage towers at the center. most of the original mages have retired from public position as official dictatorial mage-emperor for life, b/c they're perfectly capable of keeping the society tuned to their needs without also having to do any of the actual work of running it. meanwhile, all the citizens in the cities are like "wow we sure are lucky to be born in the only true, free society!!" while they are busy having their labor exploited and having their unions crushed by mage-knights and dying young of poverty and sickness. i feel like it's a little too on-the-nose tbh. architecturally they're very persian-influenced oh yeah so a few centuries ago a mage constructed some helper workers in the form of chesspiece/chaturaji golems. pawns to do simple menial labors, and then rooks/boats for building, knights for scouting, elephants/bishops for simple magic and the management of other golems, and then finally royals to create new golem pieces. then the royal pieces killed him because he was the last remaining inefficiency in the perfect automated world he had built for himself. that's how the cautionary fable goes, at least; maybe their true motives were different. anyway now there's a whole subspecies of chesspiece golems & i have a big gay romance outlined between a black knight & his childhood friend. they lived in some outlying mage-compound that ended up collapsing & most of the servants escaped and became outlaws. theyre gay fantasy cowboys.

there was at one point an empire of the frozen phoenix, though its lands have receded extensively & its former lands are mostly a few handful of former-peasant tribes picking out a rough existence in the ruins of former cities. only a handful of their cities remain, with more splintering off into rebellion each day. in the remixed version of 'the new hive' the defecting soldiers will probably come from here, which is maybe a problem b/c in my docs i only really have about one line about them, like: 'phoenix empire: former empire, decayed/decaying.'

one of the eastern borders is a land of unstable ground where fissures that ooze blood and rotting meat break open. sometimes acid springs seep fumes down into raw meat and send up charred fumes. there are small, scattered villages of rot-fishers, who live on the edge of the more stable fissures and fish up chunks of meat. they're pale and red-eyed and frequently have bizarre bloated deformities. a lot of people consider them to be harbingers of plague and pestilence. sometimes instead of growing old they metamorph into sinewy flesh monsters with intense psychic powers. i'm sure it's fine.

another one of the eastern borders is a land of perpetual sandstorm, kept going by spells from an order of witches, to hide away their lands from outsiders. how mysterious. wonder what they're up to.

there are moon-rabbits who say they came from the black moon. they live in warrens in the hulls of ancient machines that are strewn across the wasteland, and almost never leave. they're very nervous and conflict-averse. they have a prophecy about the end of the world they've read in the movements of the planets. there's a splinter race of jackalopes who are bigger and much more likely to travel outside. also, they have horns. occupations: engineers, glassblowers, astronomers, artificers.

the northern foothills of the western mountains are sparsely covered with vegetation and sometimes broken up into karst mesas, and clinging to the tops of some of them are the remnants of old forests. they're inhabited by remnants of some druidic order, mostly goatmen and humans, and they mostly stay to themselves and aggressively attack any outsiders

the western mountains proper are the eastern edge of some vast and sprawling orc / ogre empire. there are small outposts on the mountains themselves, and vast machine-cities on the far foothills over the main mountain ridge. the springs on the western side of the range seep black oil instead of water, & there's a sea of ichorous oil even further west, beyond the mountains

there's some cenote-cities along the mountains too, probably in the southwest expanse as it peters out for the descent down to the plains of the acid sea. natural cenotes of lightly brackish, highly mineral water have been expanded and cultivated into tiered cenote-cities, mostly inhabited by reptile-people. maybe a bridge to the underground. like the underground with the gheist in it?? we'll see how things shake out

these get shorter and shorter as i go further b/c i want to be closer to the end of this post. i haven't even touched on whatever astau is. anyway.

broadly speaking this is a world where the vast majority of it is rocky, dusty inhospitable wasteland, with scarce outposts of habitable land. travel between the regions is uncommon, though it does happen, and large-scale travel, like with an army, is pretty much unheard of due to the lack of supplies. it all comes back to logistics.

anyway this is the setting/project that a lot of the things i've been talking about over the past few, uh, years have been about? or at least circling around. guess why i was trying to work out medieval crop yields in the first place. i want some numbers here for population and arable land!!