#The other legendaries do it sometimes but when you recruit them I believe it switches to normal text

[pokemonfrommemory]

I’m sorry

[2manyfandoms2count]

Poisson d'avril

Here, have a half-baked April Fool’s Day fic my brain decided to wake me up for. For context, one of the most popular jokes for April 1st in France is taping paper fish to each other’s backs, the more original the fish the better (my childhood is filled with trying to sneak behind teachers' backs to tape one on them; they were very chill about it, tbh). Poisson d’Avril is also what you say at the end of a joke on that day (think "sike", but festive). More about this great tradition that apparently dates back to at least 1466 here.

Hope you enjoy!

Read on AO3

---

Marinette loved April Fool’s Day at Françoise Dupont. The school was always buzzing with little pranks at that time of the year, the blooming spring giving a wonderfully cheerful backdrop to the shenanigans the collégiens were up to.

These were all very light-hearted, if sometimes a little elaborate.

As usual, some students had been found early in the morning in the classrooms, thwarting their attempt to recreate the legendary horizontal fiasco of 20XX, where everything had been set up to look like the rooms had been flipped by 90°. Mr Damoclès had let them go mercifully, thankful that the students hadn’t been tempted to glue everything to the ceiling in an effort to one-up their predecessors. Somehow, he wouldn’t have put it past Kim and Alix to try and coordinate the project, as a last hurrah before heading on to lycée.

There were also seemingly well-meaning classmates offering chouquettes or donuts in the courtyard, which Marinette knew to stay well away from, knowing the former were likely sprinkled with coarse salt, and the latter filled with the likes of mayonnaise instead of jam. She’d been in their shoes a couple of years prior, building her classmates’ trust by bringing them the sweet delicacies every day for a week, and switching on April 1st as a joke.

Heading to class, she heard a lot of laughter, people telling jokes, or trying to see how far they could take a story without it being called out on it (this year, Nino had Kim panicking over a brevet exam part they supposedly had, which was a step down from the previous year, where he’d convinced him that everybody needed to come in dressed up in medieval costumes, and that he’d landed the court jester role; his friend had turned up the next day in a full outfit, complete with bells on his hat and shoes, and upon discovering the deception, had decided to make good use of them and make the joke everybody’s problem).

However much she enjoyed those kinds of pranks, though, Marinette’s favourite remained the classic poisson d’avril: taping paper fish to people’s backs. It was something anyone could take part in, as a predator or a prey, with or without premeditation. You didn’t necessarily need scissors and tape, if you managed to steal some from somebody else’s back.

Marinette liked to take it seriously. Done right, the exercise demanded stealth she’d had even as a little kid, and had honed ever since being chosen to become Ladybug, as well as creativity she had piles of. She’d stayed up the previous night, making plenty of fish varying in size and colour, some tailored to her friends, like the Rena Rouge and Carapace ones that were intended for Alya and Nino respectively. She’d of course also made the rest of the Miraculous team, as well as some other designs based on Kitty section, her classmates, or celebrities.

As always at the end of the day, Rose walked around with a whole school on her back. It wasn’t clear if she was completely oblivious to it, or if she knew what was going on but enjoyed the giddy giggles of the people who managed to add an extra fish in, or take one off.

The only person who’d managed to escape the prank so far was Adrien, and it wasn’t for lack of trying. Kim, Alix and Nino had gone to great lengths to get at least one fish on his back, even recruiting Markov to sneak behind him, but the boy seemed to have a sixth sense.

No sooner did he hear the faintest of ruffles, that his head would jerk up, eyes darting around to figure out where the sound had come from, thwarting any efforts, no matter how elaborate they’d been.

Marinette had been reluctant to target Adrien, despite having a special fish for him, complete with his stripes and an orange-tipped tail, but as the day went by and more people joined the challenge to trick him, she felt the urge to compete rise in her chest and started unwillingly tracking his every movement, trying to find a breach in his focus.

It was a fastidious process, even for someone who enjoyed watching Adrien happily live his life, but it paid off around the end of the day, just after the last bell.

Marinette noticed that Adrien’s shirt looked a little rumpled around the back as they were retrieving books from their lockers, and approached him calmly.

“Adrien?” She announced her presence when she was right behind him, surprised that he hadn’t turned around yet. He almost jumped out of his skin at the sound of her voice.

“Marinette!” He yelped, a hand flying to his heart. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you approach.” He chuckled nervously.

“No, I’m sorry I scared you!” Marinette looked down, apparently sheepish. In truth, she was cursing inwardly at the missed easy opportunity. Adrien had been at ease with her coming closer, which she assumed was because it was the end of the day and he’d started letting his guard down; she could have gone about her business and he would’ve been none the wiser. She shook her head; it didn’t matter, she’d just go on with her original plan. “It’s just that… well, it’s stupid, but the back of your shirt is a little creased, and I know how important your appearance is to your family so… Do you mind if I fix it?”

“Thanks Marinette, that’d be awesome.” He smiled at her in a way that would have made her lose her cool, had it been any other day. But she was on a mission, and there was no way she was letting the opportunity of pranking Adrien when nobody else had managed the feat go by.

“Okay, let me just…” Marinette reached into her purse and took the first piece of paper she felt, before gently taping it to Adrien’s shirt, making sure to smooth the fabric at the same time so he wouldn’t realise what she was doing.

“There, all done!” She smiled when she was satisfied the tape had adhered well enough.

He smiled back at her, but was interrupted in his thanks by Nino and Alya calling for them to hurry up.

“Today was really fun, I’m so glad I got to experience it first hand,” Adrien beamed as the group walked out of the building, Nino and Adrien a little ahead of the girls. “And I’m really proud that I survived it without getting pranked!”

Marinette bit back a laugh, eyes darting to his back.

“I wouldn’t be so confident, Sunshine,” Alya replied, untaping the fish from his back and handing it to him.

“What…” Adrien stopped in his tracks, looking at it, and particularly Marinette’s signature on the back of the piece of paper, in disbelief. He turned around with a look of mock betrayal. “I can’t believe you’d do this to me!” He pouted.

“I couldn’t just let you off the hook,” she shrugged with a small smile, making a mental note to reuse the phrase with Chat Noir when she saw him later. He’d enjoy the pun.

Adrien let out a small chuckle as he turned the fish around, but the sound died as he saw the pattern. The colour drained from his face and he froze as he took in the black and green colour scheme and the fish’s whiskers.

“Adrien? Is everything okay?” Marinette frowned, noticing his change in body language.

“Yeah, um… Can I talk to you for a second?” He looked up at her.

“What a great idea!” Alya pushed Marinette towards Adrien before hooking her arm through Nino’s and starting to go down the stairs. “We’ll see you guys tomorrow!”

Marinette thought she heard her add “Can you believe they might get together over an April Fool’s joke?”, as she waved them off absentmindedly, but her gaze met Adrien’s troubled one and she decided she’d deal with her best friend later.

“What’s up?” She asked, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks; the adrenaline from succeeding her challenge was evidently starting to wear off.

“What’s this?” Adrien asked cautiously, handing her the fish.

Marinette took it cautiously, saw the pattern, and smiled. “It’s a poisson-chat noir,” she said proudly. It was a bit of a shame she’d picked that one for Adrien, but she guessed she couldn’t have kept it for her partner anyway, given that she’d signed it. Still, she thought he would have liked the joke. Especially if it came from Ladybug.

“How did you know?” he murmured, looking at her incredulously. She tilted her head, raising her eyebrows at his cryptidness. He explicited his thoughts. “I saw the fish you gave Alya and Nino, and the one you managed to pin on Chloé; they were all references to their superhero selves. And now you get this one right as well… How did you know?”

It was Marinette’s turn to freeze and feel the colour draining from her cheeks. “I… I didn’t. I picked one randomly when I saw an opening.”

“Oh.” She saw the cogs turning in Adrien’s brain while she felt her own shut down, still processing one important piece of information.

“Adrien… Are you Chat Noir?”

“Um… Poisson d’avril?” He ventured.

“Adrien.” She repeated sternly.

“Okay, fine, you got me.” Adrien huffed, raking a hand through his hair. “Please, don’t tell Ladybug.” He pleaded.

“Too late, I’m afraid.” She dug out her poisson-Ladybug and taped it to herself. She saw Adrien’s eyes grow as wide as his smile before being engulfed in a hug and feeling his lips on her forehead. “Kwami, we really might get together over an April Fool’s joke,” she muttered against his chest. If the heat she felt at the tip of her ears said anything, she probably was as red as Ladybug’s costume, and it probably wouldn’t go unnoticed.

“What was that?” Adrien pulled out a little from their hug to look at her.

“Nothing.” She smiled, and took his hand. “Now come on Chaton, we have some things to discuss, and we should probably go somewhere more private.”

“You know I’d follow you anywhere, my Lady.” He picked their entwined hands and kissed hers.

Really, she thought as they made their way towards her parents’ boulangerie, she loved poissons d’avril.

[dreamonhunters]

and i can tell just what you want, you don’t want to be alone

no trigger warnings!

my half of a trade with the legendary @fakenewsies ! dylan i literally love you with all my heart and i really hope you enjoy angsty yearning new misfits redfinch because i sure do!

read it here on ao3!

The room is silent, aside from the sound of someone clicking away at a keyboard. Finch likes to work in the dark. There’s a soft turquoise glow beneath his hands, occasionally blocked out by his fingers flashing across the keys. Artificial light from his monitor acts as a primary light source. Albert always scolds him, tells him he’ll strain his eyes. End his own career before he hits twenty-one. Finch ignores him.

“Hey, asshole. It’s 2am. Go to bed,” a bleary voice mumbles from somewhere behind him. Finch lifts his head just a little, enough to indicate he heard. He doesn’t reward his visitor with any kind of verbal response. Maybe if he stays quiet, the other boy will drop it and go back to bed.

Instead, there’s a quiet sigh from behind him. Footsteps. The chair next to him is now occupied by a taller boy, ginger hair gleaming dully in the blue light. His whiskey-coloured eyes flicker over Finch’s work in vague interest, but they both know he doesn’t understand the lines of code covering the screen.

“Go to bed,” Finch murmurs, eyes flicking between his screen and Albert’s face.

The screen illuminates the high points of his face, making those sharp cheekbones seem all the more dangerous. Albert’s eyes linger for just a little too long.

“Ain’t that what I just told you to do?” he teases, although there’s no real heat in his voice. If you listen close enough, there’s maybe a note of concern.

Finch doesn’t know why Albert acts surprised. He doesn’t sleep at night. It’s the most productive time of day. That’s something he’ll maintain until the end of time and nobody could convince him otherwise. No distractions, aside from the one sitting beside him right now.

“I got work to do,” Finch answers simply, taking another sip from the can beside him. One of those ridiculous energy drinks Albert got him hooked on. If they didn’t help him work so well, he might find it within him to be annoyed. “You gonna sit there all night?”

Albert yawns, stretches his arms about above his head. Shifts in the chair. That trademark smirk curls his lips upwards. “Sure,” he answers. “Why not?”

“Don’t you have work tomorrow?” he tries again. He’s not really trying to get rid of Albert. Not properly. There are much more effective methods for getting people out of his workspace, and those often involve the pistol strapped to his hip. Finch doesn’t take interruptions very well.

“I do. But I don’t have anything important planned. You know how it is,” Albert supplies. Drawls a little on the word important. “So I can afford to stay up a little.”

With a heavy sigh, Finch finally turns away from his work. He doesn’t shut off the computer just yet. Keeping up the pretence Albert is actually going to leave is another thing Finch won’t address. But it’s impossible to concentrate with the boy by his side, and he knows Albert won’t let him anyway.

“Fine. Whaddya want, idiot?” Finch relents, although his tone lacks any venom.

“You,” Albert answers, simple and quiet.

They play this game every day. Albert disrupts Finch’s work, that intention is clear as day, but they don’t really talk. Albert has a million people he can go to for a quick chat, and Finch isn’t one of them. Never will be one of them. There’s a little exchange back and forth, and Finch is kissing Albert, biting him, and Albert just grins against his lips. Takes whatever he can get. The next day, it’s the same. Nothing ever happened. Just part of their daily routines, a rite of passage they can’t rid themselves of. Finch can’t say he doesn’t enjoy it.

“That’s what you always say,” he snarks back, rolling his eyes. No fun if he doesn’t put up a fight, Finch always says.

If Albert hears him, he doesn’t grace that comment with a response. Instead he changes the subject, the ghost of a fond smile tugging at his lips.

“You remember when we met?”

Of course he does. How Finch could forget is a better question. But he can’t answer too quickly, because then Albert will know he thinks about him, and that ruins the whole illusion. So the resulting silence is prolonged, while Finch pretends to mull over the finer details.

Albert’s been part of the New Misfits movement far longer than Finch — sometimes he jokes about being born into it, having no other choice in life. His father has been Head Engineer since before the boy can remember. It only makes sense for his son to follow in his footsteps, and be handed a job as soon as he’s capable of building the required tech.

Finch, however, didn’t really know about the movement until he turned eighteen. Every child in Eastgate is fed the regulated propaganda throughout their school lives, even though Finch has always been just a little suspicious of how the most impoverished city in the country was now home to the most cutting-edge technology. Something is just a little too good to be true. There’s an ulterior motive somewhere.

Nobody questions it, though. To go against Cyber Mind Corporations is essentially treason.

Some kids get lucky, though. The job of the New Misfits’ recruiters is simple — shatter the rose-tinted glasses placed over their eyes, and hit the youngest, most impressionable members of society with a large dose of reality.

Finch feels like he cut himself on the glass. To this day, he credits a certain Jack Kelly with saving his life. The young boy makes him understand, promises him something better. Cyber Mind’s need for totalitarian control leaves no room for individuality — or even free thought. It was mind control, Jack tells him, and Finch can’t find a reason to argue back. The evidence is damning.

He accepts the invitation in a heartbeat.

When he first arrives, Jack explains something about moving him into a new building. State-of-the-art, completed shortly before Finch’s arrival. He isn’t really listening, though. He doesn’t care, truthfully, so long as he has somewhere quiet to work, as promised.

Albert more or less stumbles into his life three days later.

Originally, the young technician is sent over to help fix up his office. Someone else called out sick, and Albert’s the only person available. Other excuses in that vein. As ever, he doesn’t really listen to the string of apologies and explanations. Patience is a virtue that simply evades Finch. If it were up to him, this would have been done days before.

Even despite his best efforts to ignore it, Finch is drawn to him. He’s like a breath of fresh air compared to everyone else he’s met. Bright ginger hair, eyes that sparkle when he laughs, broad shoulders. Finch wants to hate him. Wants to slap that stupid smile off his face. He also wants to know how those hands would feel wrapped around his neck, just a little too much pressure. Albert works quickly, a cheeky grin plastered across his face as he cracks the occasional joke with enthusiasm you couldn’t possibly fake. He really isn’t the type of person Finch actively seeks out, and yet it’s simply impossible to deny the connection when you first encounter your soulmate.

(If you believe in soulmates, that is. Finch doesn’t.)

That’s how Finch eventually finds himself here, curled in an oversized chair with multiple brightly-lit monitors surrounding him, and the sound of another person breathing beside him. It’s quiet, almost serene, and he likes it that way.

Gradually, hushed conversations turn into fleeting touches and stolen kisses. They both pretend like they don’t want it, they’re not interested, they don’t need it, but there’s something addictive in the way their bodies press together in a darkened room. Albert’s lips are always slightly chapped as he kisses Finch. Strong hands on his waist. Warm. Inviting. He stays up through the night just to be beside the hacker. Finch can never bring himself to make Albert leave.

Most nights, they simply lay beside each other. Albert’s arm drapes lazily over Finch’s torso, tracing nonsensical patterns across pale skin. There’s a strange intimacy in simply lying beside someone, feeling the rise and fall of their chest. The sound of his heartbeat softly thudding when Finch lays his head down on his sternum. Albert’s fingertips are just a little calloused.

Sometimes Albert takes him apart, however he damn wants, while Finch whispers his name over and over like some sacred mantra. Funny, because Finch never really saw the point in religion. The boy above him could be one, though. Those nights are few and far between, nothing more than a carnal need, and the next day it’s almost forgotten. Almost. Those events are eternally emblazoned into both boy’s memories. Dark marks on Finch’s hips and shoulders and neck serve as a more visual reminder. There are some things you just don’t forget.

More often than not, they just sleep. Pure and simple as that. Finch wakes up the following afternoon alone, but that suits him just fine. Albert has his own life. The world doesn’t revolve around Finch.

Finch wouldn’t say he’s in love. Love is too complicated for such a simple arrangement. Words like that have a tendency to ruin. He just enjoys having Albert around. Maybe that’s the answer he finds himself searching for when he rolls onto the cold side of the bed in the afternoon sunlight. Thinking too hard makes his head hurt.

On that note, he’s been thinking too long. He should answer Albert’s question.

“Yeah. I do.”

There’s a smile on Albert’s face when Finch finally refocuses. Familiar. “I’m glad.”

Finch snorts. “You’re fucking weird.”

“Just the way you like me,” he answers. Always has a quick remark resting on the tip of his tongue.

“Who said I like you?” Finch challenges, bringing his long legs up to cross them beneath him. He considers switching the monitor off. No, not yet — that would fuel Albert’s ego just a little too much.

Albert just smiles. The fondness travels right to those damn eyes, the colour of honeyed whiskey when the light hits them just right. “Call it a sixth sense,” he replies. Finch can’t decide if he wants to slap him or kiss him.

Finch settles for rolling his eyes, shifting again to get comfortable. “What made you ask that?”

“Been two years today since you got here,” Albert explains. “Thought we should celebrate.”

Two years? Had it really been that long? Finch doesn’t bother to keep track of things like that. Anniversaries are far too sentimental. They’ll ruin a perfectly good day when those events inevitably become twisted by trauma.

“Damn,” he laughs, although the small smirk twisting his lips upwards betrays him. “Didn’t think I'd last that long.”

“You shut up,” Albert groans, reaching out to swat Finch’s hand away from the keyboard. Maybe he’ll stop working. “Shut the fuck up. Such a fuckin’ attention whore.”

“Any excuse to call me a whore,” Finch answers breezily, finally leaning forward to shut off the monitor. A silent invitation. He’s grown bored of the small talk, in that way he so often does. The sudden darkness makes Finch’s breath catch in his throat.

It’s practically pitch black, aside from a few coloured lights that glow dimly, to indicate the machines surrounding them still work as they should. Not quite enough to see properly, mind. He hears shifting from beside him.

Albert’s hand comes to rest on his hip, pulling Finch closer. “C’mere,” he breathes, and Finch doesn’t resist. He lets Albert guide him into his lap, those calloused hands on his body, straddling his waist. Lips press hard against his own, and suddenly Finch can’t focus on anything but the way Albert grips his waist, how their lips slot together messily.

“Mm, Al,” he mumbles, pulling away slightly. Their foreheads rest together, and Finch’s eyes glisten with something incomprehensible in the low light.

“Yeah?” Albert whispers. His lips ghost over Finch’s again. It takes everything not to pull him back in again, kiss him with a desperate passion that burns somewhere deep within Finch. He likes keeping Albert at an arm’s length, always on his toes. Doing that would only provide him with the answers to questions Finch would never hear.

So instead he rests his head on Albert’s shoulder, face tilted slightly so he can mouth at the boy’s throat. Normally he’ll bite, sink his teeth in until he can taste the first hint of blood on his tongue. Likes the way Albert’s skin tastes. Albert groans, and Finch feels the vibrations in his throat. Feels good. Brings him back to the reality of the situation. It’s the only answer he’ll provide, because he doesn’t want to think up a verbal response.

“We should head to bed,” Albert suggests, although any sense of urgency is lacking. They’re both happy to remain here a little longer.

“Whatever you want.” Finch replies sleepily, nipping at the column of Albert’s neck. He makes no movement to leave, and Albert doesn’t seem inclined to, either.

The silence drags on a little longer, and he listens to Albert’s heartbeat. Feels the way he breathes, how his fingers instinctively trace the sharp ridges of Finch’s spine. Neither boy moves.

“Do you love me?”

That question startles Finch, although he doesn’t make it obvious. If Albert was paying enough attention, he might notice the way Finch’s breath seems to falter a little. It’s unlikely he would.

“I dunno. Love’s weird.”

It’s not the answer Albert wants, but it’s the answer he’s getting. This is not the time for soul-searching, or trying to find answers Finch isn’t sure he wants to hear. Love is complex and messy and ends in flames. He’s never seen the point in labels.

Albert hides his reaction well. Doesn’t even flinch. Honestly, it’s almost impressive.

“Is that a no, then?” he asks, and if he’s trying to cover the hurt in his voice it’s slightly less successful.

“Did I say that?” Finch responds. No, he didn’t. “I said I don’t know. Not really an easy question, is it?”

“S’ppose not.”

The silence isn’t awkward, but it’s not as comfortable as usual. Finch shifts a little, loosens his grip around Albert’s neck. He doesn’t pull away completely, because that would send all the wrong messages, but he raises his head enough to meet those irritatingly beautiful eyes.

“Are you mad?” Finch asks, after just a few moments too long. The question lacks any kind of concern, because he can work that answer out for himself.

Albert hesitates. “Why would I be mad?”

“Because you’re in love with me.”

“I never said that.”

“Love is stupid.”

“You’re so full of yourself.”

Finch laughs, and pulls himself upright. Slots their lips together. It’s not love, it never has been, but it’s something close. Albert reciprocates, because he always does.

“Don’t love me,” Finch whispers. “There are better ways to waste your time.”

Albert smirks, spotting the challenge in Finch’s eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself too much. That ego’s gettin’ too big for you.”

And just like that, the moment is gone. Albert blinks, and the weight on his lap vanishes. Finch stands right in front of him, a cocky smirk playing at his lips. Albert could kill him.

“Bedtime,” he instructs, the lilting quality of his voice akin to laughter. Finch doesn’t laugh very often. It’s the best Albert can get. “Don't want you oversleeping tomorrow.”

When Finch decides to play difficult, Albert surrenders. It’s the one battle he can’t win. So he relents, gets to his feet. Sitting in the same position for so long only rewards him with cramped muscles. Absently, he wonders how Finch copes. He stretches.

“Who’s place?” he asks. Finch doesn’t bother looking over his shoulder, already thumbing through a colourful keychain for his room key. It’s a slim plastic keycard, black with turquoise trim, the most easily distinguishable key on the whole keychain. Honestly, he’s fiddling with the keys to waste time.

“Mine’s closer.” Finch says. Albert doesn’t say anything, just follows close behind. Part of him wants to put his hands on Finch’s hips and draw the boy back, nipping at the nape of his neck. Biting. See what sounds he can draw from him.

But he doesn’t. He lets Finch walk away, and for a few moments he just stands there. Watches. That boy is a force to be reckoned with, in more ways than one. Albert loves that.

“You just gonna stand there?” he challenges, glancing over his shoulder to smirk at Albert with a cocky glint in his eyes. He’s got the upper hand now, and he knows it. That’s the thing with them. It’s like a constant power struggle, although nobody ever truly puts up a fight. Maybe it’s more like an involuntary exchange of power.

Albert just smiles back at him, no teeth, and lets Finch lead him into the darkened corridor. Most people would be asleep by now. Normal people would be asleep by now. In fact, they’re probably the only people still awake in this area of the complex. It’s nice.

Finch’s apartment is close to his office, located just round the corner towards the right wing of the building. Their hands brush against each other every so often as they walk, shoulders bumping together playfully. Albert doesn’t talk, and Finch has nothing to respond to. The silence is comfortable.

“Hey,” Albert murmurs, as Finch slides the card into the reader. It buzzes softly, and the lock clicks open.

Finch hums his acknowledgement, hitting a switch by the door as he enters and letting the bright, artificial lights sting his eyes. Takes a moment to adjust. It’s a small apartment, really — every member’s quarters were designed to accommodate their every living need, and little more than that. He’s not a man of material things, though, and minimalism suits him just fine.

Albert lets the door close behind them, automatic lock sliding into place. Listens to the little click. He didn’t expect a verbal answer, really. So he continues, “Are you happy here?”

“Loaded question,” Finch murmurs, keys clattering onto plastic as he passes a side table. Dark eyes are now fixating entirely on the neon cityscape visible through the obnoxiously large windows dominating the outer wall of his apartment. He won’t look at Albert. “Define ‘happy’.”

“Okay.” Albert smirks, leaning against the nearest wall. He observes the way Finch’s eyes flicker from building to building, taking in the lights. Eastgate always looks prettier by night. “Fulfilled, I guess. Like you’re doin’ something useful.”

Finch seems to consider those words, then nods slowly. His eyes never leave the window. He misses the stars, bleached out by the brightness of the city below. “It’s pretty obvious we’re doing something useful. Isn’t this whole thing about freeing people?”

“Well, yeah, that’s the whole point, but you’re…” he trails off, searches for the right words. “...difficult to read.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Finch mutters, but he does. Vulnerability is a weakness. So he builds his walls high and answers everything with the same set of generic responses, and it keeps people off his back. They can think what they like of him, truthfully, because Finch doesn’t care. Opinions get you shot.

Albert lets out a soft sigh, resignation colouring the sound. If Finch doesn’t want to talk, he won’t. There’s no way around that. “We should sleep,” he suggests, completely changing tack.

Finch doesn’t respond until a pair of arms wrap around his middle, the weight on his shoulder familiar as Albert rests his head there. It’s almost enough to tear his eyes away from the world outside. He leans into that familiar touch, exhales slowly. Albert’s chest is warm against his back.

“Do you trust me?” Albert asks.

In another time, maybe trust is a substitute for love. Finch isn’t too sure. There’s a strange feeling in his chest, a dull ache but a bright warmth at the same time. It’s only ever present when Albert is there, but Finch could never tell him. He doesn’t admit to things like that, not when there’s no good reason to.

“Almost.”

It’ll do, for now. It’s been two years, and still Finch hasn’t let his guard down entirely. He’s not sure why Albert’s surprised.

“Alright.”

And then the moment is gone, and Finch changes the topic with practised ease. “Come to bed,” he murmurs, hand slipping easily into Albert’s. It’s almost unfair how well their hands fit together. He wishes he didn’t like it so much.

He lets the smaller boy lead him to the bedroom, pulling his shirt over his head as he does so. Finch does the same, and when Albert turns around there’s a pair of lips pressing hard against his own. Thinly veiled desperation. Hands fall to grip his waist, and Finch’s arms loop around Albert’s shoulders.

When they break apart, Finch’s eyes are shiny and his lips are swollen. “I don’t love you, y’know,” he whispers, and Albert drops his head to nip at the column of his neck.

“I know,” Albert breathes, hot breath ghosting against his skin. “I don’t care.”

A soft, short laugh escapes Finch, and he lets Albert push him down onto the bed. He can taste skin between his teeth, the slight saltiness of sweat. Strong arms tangle around his slim waist, teeth painting dark stains across pale flesh. Albert holds him tight, the way he always does, and Finch feels a strange sense of completion.

It’s not long after that he falls asleep, head resting on Albert’s chest and one of the boy’s strong arms wrapped tight around his waist. The gentle thud of a heartbeat, the sound of somebody breathing, the occasional rustling of movement in his sleep.

Strangely intimate.

When Finch wakes up, the afternoon sunlight is streaming through the cracks beneath his door. He never closed the blinds. With a yawn, he rolls over, onto the cold side of the bed. He’s alone again.

[ethxndolan]

Grayson Dolan Must Die (G.D.) Part 10

Summary: Grayson Dolan is known as the schools womanizer. His ability to make a girl fall in love with him, and drop her within a week is legendary. When a series of events peaks Grayson’s interest in Y/N, she is recruited by three of his exes to break his heart in a very public way and exact revenge for all the pain he has caused. However, nothing goes according to plan… and Y/N may be in way over her head navigating the whit and charm that is Grayson Dolan.

A/N: OMG THIS IS THE LAST PART thank u so so so so so much for reading it all i love u so much for it i hope u like the ending this def could have been like three parts but whatever THANK U AGAIN also writing this might be why im swerving into grays lane? but its fine im fine 

Word Count: 4,147

Warnings: probably typos but if you’ve read up to this part im sure ur super hip to that already 

MASTERSLIST

Everyone was piling into the bleachers for the homecoming pep rally. I nervously took a seat as close to the stairs as possible, just in case our plan didn’t work and I had to get the hell out of there. I was completely engulfed in anxiety as I waited for the pep rally to start, knowing there was absolutely nothing I could do now. Either our plan worked, or it didn’t. I desperately wished that I could be with Gray right now, but as the captain of the football team, he had to be with the team on the field.

After everyone was settled, the principal finally stepped up to the microphone and started some speech about how wonderful our school was and how our football team was going to lead us to victory tonight. I didn’t hear a word of it.

My mind was all over the place, my eyes searching for every possible point of escape, should it be necessary, until Grayson stepped up to the microphone. He looked calm and collected, but I could tell by the way his fingers were twitching that he was anything but. I wondered if that had to do with speaking in front of our whole school or if he was nervous for the exact same reason I was. I wasn’t sure which option would make me feel better.

“Hey guys,” he said into the microphone, “You all better show up to the game tonight because we’re going to destroy the Herndon Falcons! I promise, as your captain, your quarterback, your favorite Dolan twin, and winner of dreamiest senior, that I will lead us to victory!” I couldn’t help but laugh a little at how ridiculous he was. “GO, BRONCOS!” he yelled. Everyone in the stands repeated his chant.

Next up to the microphone was Sabrina, the captain of the cheerleading team. Everyone seemed confused as to why she was up there, normally the cheerleaders never said anything at pep rally’s… they just cheered. Nerves and anxiety raced through my body because I knew what this meant.

I had trusted Grayson with so much, and I so wanted to believe everything he said to me, but there was a small, okay big, part of me that doubted him. There was just so much that could go wrong and he had been so vague about what he was going to do.

“Broncos!” Sabrina yelled, “A few girls and I have put together a special video to get us all hyped up for the game!” She nodded at Rachel who was standing off the side. My heart stopped beating as I watched Rachel press play on her laptop, which was hooked up to a projector. I held my breath as I waited for it to start. My body was tense and ready to bolt at any second.

As soon as I heard the moaning and heaving breathing, I let out a huge sigh of relief. Grayson had done it. He had switched the video on Rachel’s phone and convinced her that showing it at the pep rally was the best way to get back at me. Except the video wasn’t of me, it was some old cheesy porn from the 70’s.

My eyes searched out Grayson’s on the field, and when I finally found him, his huge grin was mirroring my own. He caught my eye and winked at me.

Chaos ensued right after the video had started. Rachel, Sabrina and Megan were all yelling at each other in complete shock. The Principal was sprinting towards them screaming at the top of his lungs for them to turn if off. The entire student body was cracking up when in the video a pizza delivery guy knocked on the door and asked to join the couple vigorously having sex on a coffee table.

Rachel's eyes zeroed in on me. “What the hell did you do?” she yelled, storming over to me. She was so angry her face was turning redder by the second.

I shrugged nonchalantly. “I didn’t do a single thing.”

“You fucking bitch,” she said pointing at me, “If you think this is the only way I can ruin your life, you’re dead wrong.”

I stood up from my seat and walked down the steps to face her. “Rachel, all your plotting and scheming in the world isn’t going to help you get Grayson. I know you went to him and told him all about the GDMD plan, do you know how pathetic it is that you had to orchestrate this crazy plan just to get a guys attention? Even with your psychopathic tendencies, I’m sure there’s some guy out there who can put up with you. But as for Gray? He’s mine.” Claiming Gray as mine was definitely not true, but she didn’t need to know that.

Her face twisted in rage as she let out an ear splitting shriek. She opened her mouth and was just about to say something as school security approached us. “Miss?” they said to Rachel, “You need to come with us.”

She shot me one final death glare before following after them.

Someone was finally able to pull the plug and the big screen went black, ending the wild 70’s porn. The students groaned in disappointment. Sabrina, Megan and Rachel were being escorted off of the field by school security, no doubt on their way to face punishment.

The Principal walked up to the microphone, looking extremely flustered and unsure what to do. “Well, uh…” he started, “That was… Well, I don’t really know what that was, but everyone involved will be expelled immediately. Um, GO BRONCOS… and go home.” Everyone started to stand up in the bleachers, “But come back for the game!” he quickly added, but it was mostly lost over the loud chattering over the students leaving.

I walked out to the field desperately trying to find Grayson. The principals threat about everyone involved being expelled made me nervous, I wasn’t sure exactly how involved he was. He didn’t tell me much about his part of the plan, just assured me that ‘he had it covered’.

I finally found him and his face broke out into a huge grin when he saw me. But, finding him was the easy part, getting to him was another task entirely as it seemed everyone wanted to wish him luck. I stood off to the side and waited as person after person approached him. The more time passed the more unsure I became. Did he want me to wait for him? Was whatever weird friendship we had formed done now because everything was over? I really didn’t want it to be.

A few minutes later he finally managed to get away and my favorite crooked smile was on his face made all my fears disappear, . “Hey,” I said.

“Hey? That’s it? We did it!” He exclaimed. He grabbed me and pulled me into a bone crushing hug. “I was so fucking nervous, I can’t believe that worked.”

As much as I was enjoying having his strong arms wrapped around me, I took a step back, a little worried the hug had lasted too long. “You’re not going to get in trouble or anything are you?” I asked.

He dramatically gasped and looked offend, “Y/N, of course I’m not. You’re lack of faith in me is truly disappointing, we’re really going to have to work on that,” he said. “But, seriously, every conversation I had with Rachel was in person, and I know for a fact there was a group chat between her, Sabrina, and Megan detailing their exact plans to post the video. I also made sure Rachel thought the whole pep rally thing was her idea. So, if something does come up they have no proof, and I’m confident I can talk my way out of any situation.”

I rolled my eyes at his cockiness. “You’re a regular criminal,” I teased.

“Are you coming to the game tonight?” He asked. I wasn’t sure if it was the lighting or what, but his eyes looked hopeful. I opened my mouth to reply that I wasn’t, but he cut me off already knowing what I was going to say. “Come on, partner. You have to come. How can I win if your not there cheering me on?”

“ ‘I’, isn’t it a team sport?” I asked.

“I mean, sure, I guess you could look at it that way,” he said, “But I play a very important role, a crucial role, one could say. The only role that matters, one could also say. So you see, the victory and pride of our entire school rests on your shoulders. Are you going to come or not?”

—

Naturally, Grayson led our team to victory. Throughout the whole game I was plagued with anxiety because I didn’t know what to do. As I was talking to Grayson after the pep rally, and he was staring at me waiting for my response about coming to the game or not, I realized I was in love with him. It hit me so hard and so fast I could barely breathe.

I was in love with his stupid crooked smile, I was in love with his laugh, his giggle, his wheeze when he was laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe, I was in love with his dumb cocky jokes, the way his hair was always falling into his eyes but he refused to cut it. Most of all, I was in love with the way he looked at me, like I was the only person in the world, like this was the only moment that mattered. I was in love with Grayson Dolan and I didn’t know what to do about it.

I had no idea if he felt the same. I mean, it kind of seemed like it? Sometimes? He was definitely flirty with me, but wasn’t he flirty with everyone? Wasn’t that part of his personality?
 During the whole game I was so conflicted on what to do that I barely paid attention to what was happening. My mind was racing as I kept imagining telling him how I felt and him rejecting me. I thought about how much had already happened today, and how I stood up to the GDMD girls and how good that felt, and I knew that I had to do it, had to take the risk- no matter the outcome.

So that was how I found myself standing on the sidelines waiting for Grayson after the game. I knew I had to do it now or I would lose my nerve and never be able to do it. I kept telling myself that his answer didn’t matter, that if he didn’t feel the same way it would be fine, because at least I tried. But that was such a lie.

I watched as he pulled his helmet off, revealing his sweaty hair, that somehow made him look even more attractive. My heart caught in my throat as he looked over at me and smiled. He took a step in my direction before he was swarmed by a mass of people wanting to congratulate him. I stood off to the side and watched girl after girl give him a hug, a kiss on the cheek, squeeze his muscular bicep, and I watched the same smile he always gave me on his face as he looked at them.

God, I was an idiot. Of course he didn’t like me back. I quickly turned and took off to my car as fast as I could without attracting too much attention to myself. There was no way Grayson looked at me as more than his lab partner. And even if in some remote universe he slightly liked me just a little, he clearly wasn’t into relationships as evidence by his track record with girls. That was the entire reason I got pulled into the Grayson Dolan Must Die plan after all.

I sat in my car for a moment and thought. I could tell I was on the verge of a total breakdown, so I could either go home and cry, or go to the giant field party and get drunk.

I decided getting drunk was way more fun.

—

By the time I made it to the field the party was in full swing. In typical field party fashion, there was a bon fire in the center and cars spread out everywhere with their headlights on to brighten up the dark night. Although it seemed like most people were avoiding the lights and taking advantage of the privacy of the shadows.

As I walked around, my phone started buzzing in my pocket for the third time that night. I knew without checking that it was Gray, he had been the other two calls. I ignored them, not wanting to have to face him tonight. He would probably just forget about me as soon as some other girl walked by anyway. I knew talking to him would only making getting over him worse, and I needed to move on form him. And his stupid chocolate brown floppy hair that I loved.

I made my way over to the keg and started to fill up my cup with whatever cheap beer they had. As I was concentrating on not letting it get too foamy, Connor walked up. “Hey, baby,” he said.

“Go away, Connor,” I replied dryly, not even bothering to look up at him. Just being near him made me feel uneasy.

I finished filling my cup up and started to walk away. Clearly Connor had a different idea, because he grabbed my arm and pulled me back to him. “Y/N, I know you miss me. Can’t we put the past behind us and let our bodies have the release they so desperately crave?” His words felt like a thousand bugs were crawling all over my skin.

I started at him dumbfounded, “Ew, Connor, what the fuck? That’s so gross. I actually think I just broke out into hives.” I started to check my arms for dramatic effect. I looked back up at him in disgust. “I genuinely have no idea what I ever saw in you.”

He leaned in close to my face, I could smell the cheap beer on his breath and it made me nauseous. “I was just the first guy to ever tell you you’re pretty. Your pants came flying off after that, easiest lay I’ve ever had.” Arrogance was clear across his greasy face.

I was just about to go off on him, when Grayson beat me to it. “Shut the fuck up, you prick. Leave her alone, you should feel special she even let you look at her.” He walked up and stood right behind me, his chest pressed against my shoulder. He was freshly showered and wearing his football jersey, the scent of his body wash enveloped me and immediately relaxed me.

Connor shook his head. “Oh, Dolan. You should really stay out of things that aren’t your business. Especially considering your reputation with the ladies.” Connor’s eyes shot to me, “This is the guy you want, Y/N? This douchebag? Oh man, I knew you were a slut, but I didn’t think you were dumb enough to fall for his antics, he’ll play you worse than I ever did.”

Gray stepped around me and grabbed Connor by the collar of his shirt. Grayson towered over Connor by a few inches, the hard work Gray put in at the gym was clear against all the drinking and partying Connor did. “I thought I told you to shut the fuck up,” Gray said.

“Hey man, I mean if you want my sloppy seconds, she’s -“ Connor was cut off when Gray’s fist brutally connected with his jaw.

“That was for calling her a slut,” Gray said before hitting Connor a second time, “That was for calling her sloppy seconds.” Gray hit him a third time, and the sound of bone cracking was audible as Connor fell to the ground. “And that was for that fucking pervy little video, you twisted fuck.” Gray’s voice was so deep and guttural as he spoke.

At this point we had definitely caught everyone’s attention as Grayson was standing over Connor, who was groaning loudly in pain. It was clear the dispute was about me as everyone’s eyes were staring at me, which made me extremely uncomfortable.

I turned and walked away, wanting to get as far away from this situation as possible. I chugged my beer as I walked and then tossed the cup somewhere on the ground. I started heading towards the line of trees in front of me so that I could be alone.

“Y/N!” I heard someone call from behind me. My body instantly tensed up as I recognized Gray’s voice. I ignored him hoping he would take the hint and go away, but he didn’t. He ran up next to me panting a little, “Y/N, what the hell? Why are you ignoring me? I couldn’t find you after the game, and then you ignore my calls, and now you’re literally ignoring what I’m saying right now.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me to a stop. “What’s going on?” His eyes were pleading with me to explain, but I couldn’t tell him the truth.

“It’s not a whole thing like you’re making it out to be, I just want to be alone right now,” I said. I was looking anywhere but at him, knowing that it would be too painful to look him in the eyes.

“Why don’t I believe you?” he asked.

I shrugged and started to walk away again, “I don’t know, maybe because you’re conceited?” I instantly regretted it after I said it. I knew how upset Gray was with the way people viewed him, and it hurt me to think he would assume I was just like them.  

He moved lightning quick and stood right in front of me so that I ran right into his chest. I tried to take a step back to put some space between us, but he only stepped towards me again. “Do you really think that?” he asked, hurt clear in his voice. “I know you always joke around about stuff like that, but that always seemed like a joke, and I… this doesn’t seem like a joke.”

I sighed. “No, I don’t think that, I shouldn’t have said that,” I muttered, “I’m sorry. Now if you’ll excuse me,” I tried to step around him, but again he stood in my way. “Seriously, Grayson.” My voice was a lot stronger as I was growing annoyed with him. Why couldn’t he just let this go? Why did he have to be so stubborn?

“Seriously, Y/N, tell me what’s going on. I get if you’re upset about what Connor said, but I don’t get why you blew me off after the game.” His tone hinted at his anger, and his eyes were piecing into me as he silently demanded an answer.

“I didn’t blow you off, you were busy,” I shot back, bitterness clear in my tone. I hated how dramatic and petty I was being, but all I wanted was to be alone and he was clearly not giving up.

“I was trying to get to you, I thought you were waiting, and then I looked all over the place for you, but I couldn’t find you. Can you please just tell me the truth?” he begged, his voice and eyes growing softer. I knew I couldn’t lie to him, he would see right through it, but the truth wasn’t an option.

“It’s nothing, okay? It’s stupid, I’m stupid.” I was growing antsy, desperately wanting to get away from him. This conversation was far too painful and I was far too sober.

He firmly grabbed me by the chin and made me look at him. His eyes were intense as he said, “You’re not stupid. You’re anything but stupid, you’re the smartest person I know.” His voice was so confident that I almost believed him.

“Yeah, maybe at school stuff, but not at this…” my voice trailed off.

He dropped his hand from my chin and I instantly missed the contact of his skin on mine. “At what?” he asked, his face scrunched up in confusion, one eyebrow raised slightly higher than the other highlighting the scar between them.

I motioned between us. “This.” His eyebrow raised even higher in silent question. “This, relationships, people… and I’m not talking about Connor,” I elaborated, hoping he would understand without me having to admit it.

“Yeah, I still really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I cursed under my breath, why couldn’t he just let this go? I couldn’t look him in the eyes and I said, “I’m stupid because I thought there was something between us, but it’s irrelevant because I’m aware there’s not so we really don’t have to talk about. If you still need help in chemistry I’m more than happy to keep tutoring you, but that’s it. Just tutoring.” The words came tumbling out of my mouth like I had lost all control.

“Do you want to go to the homecoming dance with me tomorrow?” he asked. My eyes shot up to his in surprise.

“What?” I asked, completely dumbfounded. My mind was blank as I stared at his sparking eyes, unable to come up with a logical reason for his question.

“I meant to ask you sooner, I just didn’t want to do it while you were nervous about the whole video thing. And I tried to do it after the pep rally, but so many people were around, and then I tried to do it after the game, but you took off… So, will you go to the dance with me?” His eyes were searching my face looking for an answer that I didn’t have. I could have sworn he looked a little nervous.

“I feel like I’m missing something here,” I said.

“You’re not missing anything, you’re not stupid,” he said. He took a deep breath before continuing, “Y/N, i’ve liked you since school started. You’ve interested me since freshmen year, but I can’t say I liked you then because I didn’t really know you. But I would always see you in the library, or reading at lunch, and I thought you were absolutely breathtaking and all I wanted was to get to know you. So when I found out we had chem together, I talked Mrs.Tyler into making us lab partners. I kept asking to copy your homework because it was the only way to make you talk, everything else I said you would pretty much ignore, but asking to copy your homework always got you fired up.” I stared at him in complete disbelief, and when I was just about to protest he cut me off, “I know Rachel and all them made you change and dress different and stuff, and at first I liked it because suddenly you seemed to be interested in me, but it doesn’t matter what you wear or how you do your hair, because I like you, Y/N. I more than like you, but i’m really not trying to freak you out right now and you’re wide eyes are really starting to freak me out right now because I’ve never given one of these speeches before and so I’m kind of nervous, I’m not really sure what happens now.” The honesty in his voice and the vulnerability in his eyes as he watched me intently, made me believe him.

“I’m in love with you,” I blurted out super quickly. He probably couldn’t even understand what I was saying it came out so fast and jumbled. I didn’t even know what I was saying.

“What?” he looked as shocked and surprise as I felt.  

I didn’t hesitate for a second as I clarified. “I’m in love with you,” I said slower, making sure each word was clear.

A huge smile spread across his face, his eyes lit up in the moon light. “I love you, too,” he said. He stepped forward and closed the gap between us, placing his lips lightly on mine. I wound my hands into his jersey and pulled him even closer and intensified the kiss. It was everything I ever wanted, my toes were tingling, I swear the forest animals were singing, and I about died when Gray’s hand slid up under my shirt to rest on the bare skin of my back.

I whimpered a little when Gray pulled back a hair. He laughed and quickly kissed me one more time. “So, will you go to homecoming with me?”

I stared longingly into his eyes as I replied, “Yes.”

THE END

[pokemaniacal]

Pokémon Moon, Episode 12: In Which I Infiltrate A Gang Stronghold

Once I’ve stopped shaking uncontrollably, and the Rotomdex has reassured me that the horrifying undead Pikachu I just fought is only another Pokémon (a Ghost/Fairy-type called Mimikyu), Acerola offers me some suggestions on what to do next. Although my success in her trial was in some respects debateable – I was, she reminds me, only supposed to get a photograph of Mimikyu, not give its lair a new back door – I did basically achieve its fundamental objectives, so she presents me with her crystal, the Ghostium-Z.  As Ula’ula Island has only two Captains, that means I now have the right to challenge the island’s Kahuna.  Acerola declines to explain who or where the Kahuna is right away, though, and invites me back to Aether House to talk it over there.  Unfortunately when we get there, with Hau just a few steps behind, someone who is definitely not the Kahuna is waiting.

“Back so soon, hmm?”  Plumeria, Team Skull’s self-described ‘big sister,’ is parked in front of Aether House with a couple of grunts.  “I wasn’t expecting you just yet,” she says to Acerola.  “I heard you were supervising a trial, and-” she stops mid-breath as she catches sight of me.  I flinch and quickly sidestep behind Acerola.  “You!?”  I swear under my breath. “…hi there, uh… Plumeria, right?  Good to, uh-” “What did I tell you about messing with my little brothers and sisters, jerk?” “I don’t… remember exactly?  But I’m sure it wasn’t good.  Um. D-do you think we could talk about th-” She laughs out loud. “Give it a rest, kid; I’m messing with you.  You’re on the level.” “…oh. Um… really?” “Yeah – now make damn sure it stays that way.”  I gulp nervously, drawing a smirk from her.  Acerola looks back and forth between us like she’s following a tennis match. “…what on earth are you two talking about?” “Nothing that concerns you, Captain,” Plumeria tells her icily.  Her gaze flicks back to me.  “Now.  It takes these dumb grunts way too long to deal with you kids… so I guess it’s my turn!” “Wait!” I protest.  “I thought we were cool!?” “That was personal.  This is business,” Plumeria clarifies.  “I told you before… next time you get in our way, I’m not holding anything back!” With a flick of her wrist, she directs her grunts to engage Acerola and Hau, then summons her own Golbat.  I respond with my Toucannon, and Beak Blast it right out of the sky.  When Plumeria turns to her partner Pokémon – now evolved into Salazzle – I switch to my Raichu and fry its brain with Psychic.  As at our last meeting, Plumeria (in stark contrast to Guzma) barely acknowledges the loss.  “Hmmph. Guess you are pretty tough.  Now I understand why my grunts waste so much time battling kids.” “Well, that’s part of the reason,” I say slyly, then suddenly remember my sense of self-preservation.  “Uh.  I mean.  Yeah.  That must be it.”  Plumeria glares at me, and I swear I can feel a hole being drilled through my skull. “If you want us to return the Pokémon, then you’ll have to come to us.  Alone.” “Wait, what?  Pokémon? What do you-?”  She just keeps talking over me. “The boss is just dying to meet you, hmmph! See you at our base in Po Town!” With that, she and her grunts are gone.

Inside Aether House, the gravity of the situation soon becomes apparent.  Lillie and Nebby are both miraculously untouched, since Lillie of course chose to save her own treacherous skin the moment danger reared its head.  However, the Yungoos belonging to the little girl I met here just a few hours earlier has been kidnapped.  If Plumeria is to be believed, it will be found in Po Town, on Ula’ula Island’s northwest cape, and Team Skull is expecting me – and only me – to come and retrieve it.  Acerola explains that Po Town is Team Skull’s “private playground,” a whole settlement that they’ve taken over and run (or rather, fail to run) to serve their own random whims and instant gratification.  This is clearly an obvious trap and a terrible plan, and will more than likely lead to my murder in a dark alley.  There is, of course, no way for me to get out of it.  Damn it, the kid is standing right there; I can’t even argue about it without seeming like a total monster.  Why can’t she just grow up bitter, angry and emotionally unstable, get a new Pokémon, and hunt them all down for revenge years later?  It worked for Hugh!

As I leave, Acerola points me to “this guy on route 15 who’s wearing a kimono” for help crossing the nearby bay to reach Po Town.  At first I am sceptical of her attribution of useful transport expertise to random strangers on the basis of overly formal dress sense, but it turns out she has a point: “this guy” is none other than Grimsley of the Unovan Elite Four. After a brief exchange of small talk, Grimsley presents me with a bet. “Tell me. Uncle Grimsley is going to flip a coin. Will it be heads or tails?”  I think for a minute.  Grimsley is obsessed with luck, but part of his philosophy is that luck can sometimes really be a matter of decisions made behind the scenes: how you play your hand is much more important than the cards you draw.  And I’ve heard him talk about coins before… something he said on Black and White?  “A flipped coin doesn't always land heads or tails.  Sometimes it may never land at all...” “Neither,” I tell him with a sly grin.  He looks at me curiously, then flicks his coin up into the air and catches it. “…astonishing,” he says, shaking his head.  “I had indeed been planning to have Skarmory snatch it out of the air as it spun in the sky.”  I laugh. I guess sometimes “making your own luck” means cheating so outrageously that your opponent is forced to respect your ingenuity.  In any case, my prescience has earned Grimsley’s respect, and apparently the right to call one of his Pokémon with my Ride Pager: Sharpedo, who can carry a rider across the water like Lana’s Lapras, but can also shatter boulders like Hala’s Tauros, getting me safely across the rock-strewn bay on the west coast of the island.

On the north side of the bay is a small white prefab building that I recognise as one of the Aether Foundation’s field labs – run, strangely enough, by Left and Right.  Are they just… doing odd jobs for the Aether Foundation while they’re on holiday?  Or are they manipulating the foundation into serving their own dark and mysterious ends?  It seems like the answer may be the latter, as the lab houses a large multi-coloured crystal that, according to the Kalosians, can induce Zygarde’s scattered cells to reform.  I’ve collected quite a few cells since meeting them in Heahea City, enough to embody one of Zygarde’s dog-like lesser manifestations, as well as two cores.  Each core apparently contains the knowledge of one move that can be included in Zygarde’s moveset – the cores I currently possess know Thousand Arrows and Dragon Dance.  Left and Right are pleased by my progress towards resurrecting their god. Their cult’s recruitment numbers are on the rise, and even a lesser manifestation of Zygarde’s power will go a long way towards winning the hearts and minds of the Alolan heathens. Another dozen cells, and I will have reassembled enough of Zygarde to summon its giant cobra form, and any who still doubt Zygarde’s power will be brought to heel by the might of the World Shaker! “…and your enlightened theocratic rule will bring an end to strife and disunity in Alola, right?” I ask. “C’est ç’la, oui, oui,” Left says, turning to Right and starting a rapid back-and-forth in Kalosian about something that neither of them cares to explain.  I guess they’re done talking to me.

North of the lab, the road leads through Ula’ula Meadow, another Oricorio habitat. The ones in this area feed on nectar from deep crimson flowers that gives them Fire-type abilities.  There are no other new Pokémon here, but there is a trail off the east of the main road that leads to a truly spectacular ruin – a vast circular dais, surrounded by stone fortifications, on an island in the middle of the Lake of the Sunne.  The complex seems completely abandoned, but almost certainly serves some kind of ritual function, and if I were a betting man I’d say that the dais was built for summoning a legendary Pokémon.  Maybe this is where Lillie will perform whatever dastardly blood ritual is necessary to call Lunala and begin her destruction of the Alola region…

Once I clear the meadow, I’m on the outskirts of Po Town.  As promised, there are plenty of Team Skull members here, but just like those in the desert settlement, they don’t seem to have aggression on their minds.  One straight-up admits that he’s rubbish at battling and relies on his Team Skull brothers and sisters for protection; others challenge me, but are perfectly cordial. The only hint of anything more sinister is the police station on the side of the road – abandoned and overrun with Meowth.  Po Town itself is completely encircled by a stark, forbidding concrete wall, its only gate guarded by a pair of grunts.  I try for negotiation at first, but the conversation quickly takes a sour turn when they notice my Z-Ring and Island Challenge amulet.  This is for one very simple reason: Team Skull is apparently made up entirely of people who failed the Island Challenge.  Funny how no one mentioned that before.  It might have been useful to know, Kukui. My attempts at talking my way inside only deteriorate from there, and end with the grunts retreating inside. Well.  I suppose I could try and get my Toucannon to blast a hole in the wall… “You there. Boy,” says a voice from behind me. The speaker is a haggard-looking older man wearing bits and pieces of an Alolan police uniform.  “Seems to me you’re trying to get into Po Town.  You sure you’ve thought this through?”  I shrug. “As far as I’m likely to.  What’s it to you?” “Hmph. Kids.”  He walks toward the gate.  “You’d better be ready if you’re thinking of coming in here.  Ready to live as Team Skull… or ready to take on Team Skull.”  He turns back to me and looks me right in the eyes.  “You really think you’re ready for that?”  I narrow my eyes and stare back. “No, really, what’s it to you?  You’re the only person I’ve seen out here who’s not with Team Skull.  What’s your deal?” “My deal is keeping people safe, kid – whether they care or not. Now I’m gonna ask you one more time: you ready for this?”  I roll my eyes. “Ready for Team Skull?  Sure. They’re not as dangerous as people think.  There’s good in them.”  I pause for thought.  “Some of them, anyway.”  The man looks surprised. “I guess everyone has their own reasons.  Maybe yours and mine aren’t so different.  I’ll have them let you in.”  He raps on the hard metal door, than turns to me and says, almost as an afterthought, “If you don’t make it, I’ll be sure your remains at least get back home.” “…wait what.”

Po Town is… well, it’s definitely something.  The high, enclosed walls have created a local microclimate dominated by heavy rain.  The town itself looks like it was once a very nice, upper-crust sort of area, with pretty little houses and neat gardens, the sort of place where sitcom families live their nauseatingly ideal lives.  Team Skull’s influence, though, is palpable.  Every available surface has been tagged with spray paint, most of the buildings have at least one broken window, and even the Pokémon Centre is barely operable.  The Team Skull members running the place are happy to heal my Pokémon, but explain regretfully that they have to charge a small fee to keep the lights on.  The Alolans really have just left them here to rot. I make a mental note to give Kukui a good chewing out when this is all over.  Battling or evading grunts as I go, I navigate around the barricades on the main road and head for the back of the town, which is dominated by an opulent mansion that has seen better days.  This, I can only surmise, is “the boss’s crib.”  Guzma isn’t exactly subtle; he’s bound to be in the most extravagant accommodations available.  The front door seems to be unguarded, so I creep up in the shadow of a hedgerow and quietly slip inside.

The inside of the mansion is as much a bomb site as the rest of the town.  The walls and floor are covered in crudely painted designs, overturned furniture is scattered around the lobby, and a massive gilded chandelier is blocking one arm of the grand staircase.  I don’t make it any further than around the first corner before someone grabs me by the arm and drags me into an alcove. “What are you doin’ here, homie!?” a voice whispers.  I blink. It’s B, his face a mix of anger, surprise and… concern?  “Don’t you even know what the boss’d do if he caught you!?”  I blink again and yank my arm away. “I’m here to see Guzma,” I hiss at him.  “He stole a Pokémon from a friend of mine and I am here to get it back.” B’s eyes widen. “You don’t gotta do that, yo!  That ain’t your fight!  The boss is gonna flip!” “Someone has to, and I don’t see anyone else around here who’s going to stand up to him!”  I step out of the alcove and into the middle of the hallway.  “Now are you going to help me, or get in my way?”  B clenches his fists and yells in frustration, wrenching a Pokéball from his belt. “Argh! If I gotta put up a defence to make you see some sense, then let’s drop this pretence, yo!”  B has expanded his roster since we last fought, adding a Gastly and a Salandit to his Golbat, but all three are Poison-types and none are a match for my newly-evolved Slowbro’s psychic powers.  Our battle is over quickly, and he slumps into a battered old chair, looking despondent. “What’s the use?” he says.  “I’m never gonna be strong like you.  I’m an incomplete grunt; this is the only place for me in the whole world.”  He hangs his head and lapses into silence.  I sigh and sit down on the floor, my back against the wall. “There’s more to being strong than winning battles, B.”  He says nothing, but cocks his head at me.  “Guys like Guzma think being strong means beating other people down, making them do what you want, crushing their potential.  It’s not.  Being strong is about building other people up.  That’s why we train Pokémon, right?” “Easy for you to say,” B mutters.  “Your Pokémon are strong.”  I chuckle. “Weren’t always.  It takes training, patience… you have to see the potential in them, everything that they could be.  Guzma… he’s a Bug-type specialist; he ought to know that better than anyone.  If he treats his Pokémon like he treats all of you, I don’t know how he ever got his Golisopod to evolve.” “He’s been havin’ us hustle all the Buginium-Z crystals in Alola,” B muses thoughtfully, “so’s no one else can be a stronger Bug Pokémon trainer.” “See! That’s exactly what I mean!  He thinks being strong is about keeping your rivals weak.”  I shake my head.  “Izzat really what you want Team Skull to be about?  The way Plumeria talks, she makes you guys sound like a family.”  He’s silent for a few beats. “We are. We take in trainers who’re… incomplete. Give ‘em somewhere what they can call home, when everyone else’s given up on ‘em.  Just like me and Zubat.” “After you failed your island challenge?”  B looks up at me sharply.  “I heard that’s how a lot of Team Skull got started.”  He frowns. “…that’s complicated.” “I bet it is.  And I bet the Captains and Kahunas didn’t have time for ‘complicated,’ right?”  He doesn’t answer.  “You don’t have to tell me the whole story now.  Just… look, just help me get to Guzma.  You don’t need to help me fight him.  But one day, you’re gonna. And you’re gonna win.”  B stares at his feet for a moment. “Sometimes I want to smash the world, but I’m always afraid of it.”  He breathes out slowly, then clenches his fists. “All right.  Follow me.”

B leads me upstairs, past more trashed rooms and hallways, and out to a balcony where a Team Skull guard asks him for a series of passwords: Guzma’s favourite move (Beat Up), Pokémon (Golisopod) and drink (Tapu Cocoa).  When asked if he’s sure about his answers, B yells “no!” and we’re let through – apparently Guzma likes his minions to have a contrarian streak.  Climbing out over the roof, B shows me through a broken window and into the building’s east wing, the part blocked off by the chandelier on the stairs. Finally, we reach a closed door. B raises his hand to knock, and then stops. “It’s okay,” I tell him.  “You got me this far.  I’ll handle the rest.” “…you sure, homie?” “I’m sure. Just remember what we talked about, okay?”  He furrows his brow, but nods. “Be careful, yo.”  I grin. “I always am, aren’t I?”  He rolls his eyes, but dashes off.  I turn and knock on Guzma’s door. 

Guzma’s room is just as messy as the rest, and a fancy landscape painting on the back wall has been thoroughly defaced with a Team Skull logo in purple spray paint. A huge chest full of yellow-green Z-crystals sits in the corner, where a grunt stands guarding the kidnapped Yungoos. Guzma himself is lounging on a big armchair set up on a low stage like a throne.  He stands as I come in, and looks down at me curiously. “I don’t really get you, kid, but at least this is a change of pace,” he tells me thoughtfully – or at least, what passes for thoughtfully with Guzma.  “It’s not every day someone comes straight to me for a beating!”  I sigh. “Look, dude… I honestly wouldn’t even be up for this most days, but I do kinda have something to prove here, so listen up.  I’m here for the Pokémon you stole.  Beatings are 100% optional, but are absolutely on offer.”  Guzma laughs. “What, Yungoos?  How sweet of you to help out a sad little girl.  Can’t you just watch out for your own Pokémon and stay out of other people’s business?!”  I sigh again, more theatrically this time. “Seriously, I hear you, I do, but again: something to prove today.  There’s someone on your team who needs to see that you’re not worth being scared of, so we can do that the easy way, or the way where you spend the next six weeks tracking down bits of your spinal cord all over Alola.”  He stares. “You’re one messed up kid!” “Well, I mean, I prefer to think of myself as creative, and I guess I do have an overactive imagination, but-” “You wanna know what I do when some machine messes up?” he talks over me, raising his voice.  “The first thing I do is give it a nice hard smack!” “I guess this is happening now,” I say with another sigh, then hastily sidestep the Golisopod that is suddenly barrelling towards me, and send out my Decidueye. Golisopod leads with its devastating First Impression strike, and takes little damage from Spirit Shackle. Looking for breathing room, I tell Decidueye to heal off the damage with Synthesis – and then the bloody thing uses Swords Dance.  This… could seriously go south quickly.  I pull out Decidueye’s unique Z-move, Sinister Arrow Raid, a devastating barrage of spiritual arrows that doesn’t quite knock out Golisopod, but does weaken it enough to trigger its Emergency Exit (which apparently bypasses the magical anchor created by Spirit Shackle), causing Guzma’s Ariados to pop out.  Ariados opens with a nasty Sucker Punch that takes Decidueye completely off guard, then finishes him with Shadow Sneak when we try to heal again.  Still, both of Guzma’s Pokémon are weakened now, leaving him open for a clean sweep from my Salazzle, who torches them both with Flame Burst.  Guzma, to his credit, takes the loss gracefully and congratulates me on an honourable victory.

…nah, I’m just messing with you; he totally flips his lid and storms out of the room while shouting obscenities at literally everything and everyone in his path.

The Yungoos immediately flees the house.  I assume it can find its own way home; after all, Yungoos are supposed to be smart… ish.  Right? I take a moment to look around Guzma’s room and swipe a Buginium-Z from his chest, and am then compelled to try sitting in his chair.  It’s… soft, relaxing, luxuriant… as I sit back and enjoy it, the door opens and a grunt rushes in. “’Scuze me, Bo-”  He stops and stares at me. “What?” I ask irritably. “B-b-but you’re not the boss?!” he cries. “B!tch I might be,” I retort. “What’s the deal, homie?!  You’re not the boss of me?!” the grunt protests. “Izzat not how this works?” I asked.  “I whooped his ass; doesn’t that make me the boss now?”  He just stares at me like his whole world is collapsing around him.  I wave a hand dismissively.  “Whatever, just… just go, I don’t care.”  The grunt huffs indignantly and leaves.  Well… can you blame me for trying? 

Back outside, the man who let me into Po Town is waiting for me, along with the kidnapped Yungoos and Acerola (oh, sure, now she turns up to help).  The run-down old man, Nanu, is apparently Acerola’s uncle, and the only police officer crazy enough to live anywhere near Po Town – because, he says, “the rent’s cheap,” though Acerola insists that he has a heart of gold and is doing it to help Pokémon.  I… kinda love this character; he’s the bitter, cynical, misanthropic bastard I’ve always longed to be.  We’re basically done here, so Acerola heads back to Aether House with Yungoos, Nanu goes back to moping in the rain, and I summon Kiawe’s Charizard for a ride back south. Guzma is beaten once again, and all is right with the world. 

When I return to Aether House, Lillie is gone, Hau is panicking, and Gladion is there, in the process of completely losing his $#!t.

Oh good.

Ridiculous quote log:

“I might really go to paradise now that I’ve lost!” …I’m not going to kill you; jeez.

“OH EM GEE! Please don’t tell me that’s my Skull Tank you’re wearing?” “Ohhh, no wonder it stinks!  It’s the same design though.” “It does not stink!  That’s a lovely aroma!  Anyway, we should write our names on them so we don’t mix them up.” “Uhmm, hello!  Our names are all Grunt.  What’s the point?” Well, I suppose this explains Team Skull’s lack of administrative nous…

The team:

Tane the Decidueye Male, Timid nature, Overgrow ability Level 38 Steel Wing, Razor Leaf, Synthesis, Spirit Shackle

Rhea the Toucannon Female, Lax nature, Keen Eye ability Level 38 Screech, Roost, Beak Blast, Brick Break

Ashley the Psychu Female, Timid nature, Surge Surfer ability Level 38 Discharge, Hidden Power (Ice), Nasty Plot, Psychic

Hypatia the Slowbro Female, Hardy nature, Own Tempo ability Level 37 Psychic, Yawn, Slack Off, Scald

Joanna the Salazzle Female, Timid nature, Corrosion ability Level 38 Flame Burst, Nasty Plot, Sludge Bomb, Toxic

Sigourney the Golisopod Female, Careful nature, Emergency Exit ability Level 37 Brick Break, Payback, First Impression, Leech Life