#having our cake and eating it too am i right

[underfaller]

in his house of mind, dead cipher waits dreaming

Chapter 1: On Your Mind Rating: T Synopsis:

You really think you won that day/You packed your bags and sailed away/You think you left your past behind/But trust me/I'm still on your mind

A year has passed since Weirdmaggedon and the Pines family, victorious in the end, are happier than ever. Stan and Ford are adventuring at sea, making up for lost time. Dipper and Mabel are now freshmen and are ready to take on high school-- geometry, bullies, (student eating?) clubs, and all! However, things take a turn for the worst when Dipper and Mabel receive of horrific message from Ford:

Bill is back.

You wrote a page about me in my own book so allow me to make this tiny addendum over your dull ramblings. 

Stanley Pines,

I've been on your mind. 

Are you surprised to see me? You must be confused so allow me to explain, slowly, in small words: 

If memories could return so easily, why couldn’t I? 

You really thought you won that day, huh? It’s painfully pathetic how naive you are. 

Aw, don’t look so distraught! You can’t have your cake and eat it too, Stanley. You may have lied and cheated to get your way for your whole life, but you can’t elude simple logic-- no matter how desperately you try! 

Still there? Of course you are! There’s not much else for me to say and I’ve got a very busy schedule ahead of me so I suppose I’ll end things here. However, before I leave you to the endless void and your growing insanity, I’ll let you in on a little secret-- Don’t ever say I’m not a generous guy!

Here it is: 

I see myself in you.  And that’s not because I’m literally possessing your worthless skin puppet. You and I are quite similar-- always scheming, constantly caught in our own web of lies, conning the world until we can’t tell what’s real and what’s fake anymore. A spectacular guy like myself should be thrilled at our similarities! I mean, the more “me” in the universe, the better, right? 

We should be getting along better than bleach and ammonia! 

…But I’m not thrilled. Far from it. Am I upset? Upset would be an understatement. No, your dimension’s vernacular can’t even begin to describe my resentment of you. 

I hate you, Stanley. I detest you. I despise you.

I can still see through the eyes of everyone I’ve ever possessed. I’ve seen your past, your present, and your very near end. You’ve spent your whole life screwing up and you will die no differently. You’re a loser. A blight on this already tedious world. A waste of space. You shouldn’t exist. 

So how? 

So how could you have beaten me? How could a lowlife, fat-headed, braindead, absolute failure of an existence possibly beat me? 

…And how do you have everything that I don’t have? 

Your dimension is safe, drifting peacefully in chaotic, infinite chaos while mine has been obliterated, erased from existence as we know it. Even the last atoms of my universe are gone-- decimated by your brother during our little Weirdmageddon spat. 

You’ve done nothing to contribute to your world and yet, when I only wanted them to see the stars, I was met with ultimate destruction. 

How is that fair? 

Your brother adores you. Your brother once adored me too. Has he ever looked upon you with pure, unadulterated hatred? We both ruined his life but only one of us is forgiven.  

And your mother. Your mother still thinks of you. She keeps your photo on her bedside table. She looks at them every night. She misses you. 

My mother is dead. 

How is that fair? 

Now I am you and you are me but why do only you are rewarded. Why is it that I get nothing? What makes you so special? 

I am the only one who sees you for what you are and I hate you. I hate every molecule of your being. I hate everything you have that I don’t. I hate, hate, HATE you, Stanley Pines. 

You don’t deserve what you were given. You aren’t worth even a sliver of it. 

So I’m going to take it all away-- Take what’s rightfully mine. There’s nothing you can do. No more cheap tricks, no more cons, no more last minute plans-- your luck has run out. Your time in the spotlight is over-- Time to show you how a real star performs. 

Better luck next time, bootleg Sixer.

When you awake, you will find yourself in utter, pitch black darkness. You will soon realize that your arms and legs paralyzed, unable to even struggle. You’ll be suspended in a limbo where you are neither awake nor asleep. 

Can you fathom my pain after you erased me? Can you imagine the torture? Your smooth brain would implode on itself if you even tried to grasp it-- And now you will experience it yourself. 

How do you like that, huh? 

HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT? 

You enjoyed your little victory but in the end, it’s me who won. 

Ha! Ha! Ha! 

Goodbye, Stanley Pines, and good riddance. Your pitiful existence will not be missed. 

Don’t worry too much, I’ll take good care of your family. 

It seems like an eternity since we've returned to sea but the Stan-o-War II is back. We left Portland at 21:00 and headed to Point Nemo. My research has led me to believe that the pole of inaccessibility is a magnet for weirdness, much like Gravity Falls-- There may even be ruins of a long lost civilization in its underwater bowels. I would like to test my hypothesis. Stan is fine with our expedition as long as there are “hot Atlantis chicks” to flirt with. I will keep his sentiment in mind. 

We’ve grown closer this year than we have in three decades. It’s… nice to be back with him. 

Despite my excitement for our adventures, I enjoyed our short break in Gravity Falls. It's always a delight when the children come to visit. Everytime I see Mabel, I swear she's grown at least an inch taller. At this rate, she'll be towering over me! Dipper is growing into a bright, young man-- it is impossible for me not to notice our similarities when I was his age. He recently mentioned that he plans to take honors geometry next year. I replied that if he ever needs tutoring then his ol’ Grunkle Ford is more than happy to help. 

It's been almost a full year since Weirdmageddon yet I still occasionally think of Bill. I am prone to anxiety and occasionally find myself irrationally fearing his return. That's impossible, though. I remind myself of that more times than I care to admit. Bill is gone and the moss covered statue in the forest proves it. We erased him. He can't hurt me anymore-- and he certainly cannot hurt my family. 

Stanford closes his journal, before blowing out a flickering candle and standing up, yawning. He looks at his watch. 3:33 AM. Old habits die hard and Ford still finds himself procrastinating on sleep, slightly fearing what will happen when he loses consciousness. He sighs, pushing past memories from his weary mind.. He'll need at least two cups of black coffee tomorrow morning if he has any hope of getting up on time. 

As Ford lays in his rickety cot, the Stan-o-War II shudders and creaks as it rocks against rolling waves. Usually, the familiar sounds of the boat lull Ford to sleep, but tonight, they keep him up, tossing and turning, each noise seeming to echo ten times over. 

It is one of those nights. 

Ford looks up at the ceiling, frowning. He used to have fantastic, imaginative dreams. After Weirdmageddon, however, his resting mind is always empty, dark like the ocean during a new moon. He misses dreaming. 

Though, Ford should be grateful-- there are much worse alternatives to a dreamless sleep. 

In the distance, Ford hears the rumblings of thunder. A summer storm isn't uncommon and it certainly isn't the ship's first experience with unsavory weather but for some reason, Ford feels uneasy. Perhaps he should sleep in the bridge tonight, just in case something goes awry. 

Ford’s thoughts are interrupted when his cabin door creaks open slightly. Ford grins, aware of his twin’s antics. 

“Very funny Stan. Aren’t you a little too old to be afraid of thunderstorms?” 

Familiar, cackling laughter rings across the room. 

“Oh Sixer, I’m not the one scared right now!” 

It can't be. 

Time stops. Stanford violently sits up, scanning the seemingly empty room. 

Click. 

Lightning cracks. Stan is sitting atop his brother, shotgun pressed against Ford's chin. Ford looks up in horror seeing Stan’s eyes bright yellow and glowing in the darkness. 

“Not so fast, unless you want your pretty brains all over the headboard,” Bill teases. He examines the shotgun in his hands. “Can you believe the old guy sleeps with this thing? Talk about a safety hazard!”

Ford freezes, his blood turning to ice. He can hear his heartbeat racing in his ears. His usually rapid firing mind has slowed to a complete standstill in his terror. His mouth is dry as he struggles to speak. 

He must have fallen asleep. He’s sleeping, he’s sleeping, he’s sleeping-

“This is a dream,” Ford stammers. “You’re not real; you’re dead-” 

Stanford Pines does not dream.

Bill howls with laughter. As he does, Stan's mouth contorts into an unnaturally large grin. 

“Oh Sixer! You can’t kill an idea or a god and certainly not both!” Bill replies. He giggles. “Did you miss me?”

Ford tries to answer but Bill cuts him off. 

“Oh, I already know your answer-- of course you missed me!” Bill chatters on. “And now that your inferior twin is outta the way we can head back to Gravity Falls and finish what we started!”

“Why did you come back?” Ford says through grit teeth. “Your henchmen are gone, the rift is sealed-- there’s nothing left for you here, Bill.” 

“Nothing left for me, hahaha!” Bill shakes his head, smirking. “Man, that idiot's stupidity is rubbing off on you! Have you forgotten?” 

Ford doesn’t answer. Bill leans closer, lowering his voice to a drawl. 

“We made a deal, you and I. You’re my partner from now till the end of time.”

Ford looks into his brother’s yellow eyes and is filled with fury. Seeing Bill using his twin like this while having the audacity to expect him to continue their partnership-- it’s laughably, outrageously, enraging. Ford can’t help but give a low chuckle before glaring at the demon. 

“Go fuck yourself, Bill.” 

Lightning flashes once more, illuminating the two adversaries. Bill sighs, clicking his tongue. 

“For some reason, I knew you’d say that.” 

Bill grips the shotgun and shoves the barrel down Ford's throat. Ford’s eyes widen, threatening to pop out of his skull, and he gags, tasting metal and sulfur. Bill grins, obviously amused by Ford’s discomfort. 

“Well, if you’re not going to be of use then you can join the rest of your family in the afterlife.” 

The kids. He’s going to come for the kids. 

Bill pulls the trigger. 

Click. 

Silence.

“Seriously? Who keeps an unloaded gun by their side!” Bill shouts. 

It seems his luck hasn’t completely run out. Now, it’s Ford’s turn to slightly grin. He looks up at Bill.

“Alright, my turn.” 

Sorry Bro. 

Stanford lifts his right leg up and kicks Bill in the balls. Hard. Bill cries out in pain and keels over, clutching between his legs. 

“Goddamnit! Curse human body weaknesses!” He yells.

Ford roughly pushes Bill off him and races out of the room, making a break for the bridge. The storm is much closer than he initially thought, violently rocking the tiny vessel against angry waters. 

I have to warn Dipper and Mabel before it’s too late. 

Ford whips around the corner, jumping into the bridge. He quickly locks the metal latch behind him and barricades the door with a piece of wood lying to the side. That’ll stall Bill just enough. He rips open drawer after drawer until he finds a small handgun. This one is certainly loaded-- Stanford always made sure his weapons were. He hesitates at the thought of potentially wounding his brother. 

Anything to stop Bill. 

Stanford checks the ship’s communication radio, flipping switches and dialing to station 618. 

“Transmitting from S-O-W- 0-2. S-O-W- 0-2. This is Stanford Pines.” 

Before they’d left, Stanford gifted the twins a radio and scanner to communicate with them while they were out at sea. With a few tweaks and some borrowed alien tech, Ford had made sure that its frequency range would reach wherever they were in the world. He imagined it would be used to regale the children of their fantastical adventures. Never would Ford have thought he’d use it for this. 

But even if they were near the radio, the kids are likely fast asleep at this hour. Still, he speaks into the mic. 

“Bill is-” 

There’s a thunderous boom and the ship suddenly lurches to the left. Stanford stumbles, gripping onto the edge of the table to keep himself from falling. The light bulb above him swings violently above him, threatening to fly right off its wire. Stanford steadies himself.

“Bill is back. Do not engage. Do not answer.” Ford hesitates before adding, “We love you two. Please keep safe-” 

Ford is knocked to the ground. His gun skitters across the slippery floor. For a moment, he can only see stars. He groans, his face radiating red hot pain and ears ringing from the blow to the side of his face. Bill holds the empty shotgun like a bat, grinning like a madman. 

“Who were you talking to?” 

Bill looks at the radio, slapping his forehead and cackling. 

“Aww… Don’t tell me you were talking to ol’ Pine Tree and Shooting Star! You’re so impatient-- I’ll get to them soon!” 

“No, don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare-” 

Bill strikes him again with the butt of the shotgun. Ford tries to crawl towards his gun but Bill steps on it, kicking it even further before kicking Ford in the stomach. The air is instantly extinguished from his lungs and Ford gasps in pain. Bill looks down at him in disgust. 

“Shut the fuck up, IQ. You’re in no position to tell me what to do. I’ve given you chances over and over but since you’ve obviously got a death wish, you’re gonna die like a dog just like your brother,” Bill narrows his eyes, pursing his lips. “I used to think you were different, Stanford. Special . But now I see. You’re trash just like every other member of your damned family. You’re pathetic. ” 

Suddenly, Bill starts laughing as he kicks him again. Over and over. 

“C’mon, Fordsy!” Bill spits. “Aren’t you gonna play the hero? Where’s all that fight in you gone? Or are you too scared to hurt me in this body?” 

Bile rises in Ford’s throat as he is repeatedly assaulted. Pain numbs his mind and his body curls up, mind desperately trying not to black out. Bill’s foot strikes his face and Ford hears his nose crack, blood filling his nostrils. 

Then Bill abruptly stops, bored that his attacks aren’t getting a rise from his former partner. He clicks his tongue, standing over Ford, watching him writhe, gasping for air. Bill shrugs. 

“Well, if you’ve already spoiled the surprise, allow me to say a few choice words.” 

The demon bounds for the radio, grabbing the microphone, twirling the cord in his fingers as he speaks. 

“Hey Shooting Star! Hey Pine Tree! This is your Grunkle Stan! I’m about to paint these walls red with my brother’s guts and turn this shitty tin can around back to the mainland! Don’t be too upset though guys! You’ll be joining him VERY soon! OVER!”

Bill rips the microphone from its wires, throwing it across the floor. 

“As I was saying-” 

Ford grabs Bill’s leg and violently pulls him down. Bill yelps in surprise and falls to the ground. The two wrestle, punching, kicking, scratching at each other like mad men, vying for dominance. Ford spies his handgun, dangerously close, and lunges at it, grabbing the weapon. 

The gun goes off. Bill jumps away like a rabid animal before straightening up. He gently touches his cheek, looking at the blood smeared against his fingers. He chuckles.  

“Wow Sixer, real gutsy pointing that thing at me but we all know you love this meat puppet way too much to actually kill me.”

Ford narrows his eyes, once again pointing the gun at Bill. His hands are trembling. 

Stanley wouldn’t want to be used like this. He wouldn’t want to hurt me. He wouldn’t want to hurt the kids. It’s because of that, that I- “You’re wrong Bill,” Ford says, quietly. “It’s because I love him that I will.” 

Bill’s body shudders. He convulses, gagging before he shakes and closes his eyes. When he reopens them, they aren’t yellow. Stanford lowers his gun slightly. 

“Stanley?” 

Stanley stands in front of him, wide-eyed and terrified. 

“Stanford?” 

His body spasms once more. The yellow eyes return and Bill lunches at Stanford. There is one last crack of lightning. 

The gun goes off.

[tesser-rp]

I believe both sides, both endings are true simultaneously, the same way that so many other things have been true about him at once. Bill Cipher's canonical self had to be condemned, so that his conceptual self could transcend.

[pegasusdrawnchariots]

the eternal question: is scheduling w friends as an adult That Hard or am I just bad at it

[atrirose]

͏͏𝒗𝒊. ͏MORE THEN JUST FRIENDS ! enha ͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏— ͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏ ͏& ͏ ͏𝐢

bsf(?)enha x f!reader. warning. none, kissing in jake’ + fluff wc.0.9k 🐰 seiu?!: after a century i’m writing hcs again yayy

— HEESEUNG LEE

let’s you bite him, very weird behavior but he has grown used to it, at first he was all confused as to why you feel the need to bite him like a chew toy but it’s okay your best friend(?) get you now, his biceps nom nom, but due to all this he has bite marks all over him which he is least bothered about but he does get asked if he is dating someone a lot which is confusing because why would people just assume he is dating out of the blue “yn you know i have been asked three times today whether im seeing someone and it’s all because of the bite marks you leave, people would think we are dating”

“do you want that to be a reality” he looks at you with wide eyes “are you hearing yourself” — “i am heeseung”

— JAY PARK

wears your hair tie which very bf coded and i wonder why he hasn’t asked you out yet? like which bestie goes around wearing a girls hair tie when he obviously is in the market? wearing it just makes you thing he is taken “do you love my hair tie that much you can’t even return it to me? YOU CANT RETURN MY OWN HAIR TIE TO ME” shoves a piece of cake in your mouth to shut you up “is it bothering that much, i will buy you more” which is weird because why not just return the one he has on his wrist, at this point he just wants be a wife.

“keeps me away from girls you know” oh so now he is just using you as an escape mechanism “keeps me a step closer to you” your ears turned red “so you wanna date me?” you ask

“that’s very multifaceted question” you hit his shoulders “big meanie” he giggled knowing damn well he is down right bad for you

— JAKE SIM

don’t at him but he has kissed you, like a full blown kiss not just a peck, for training purposes right? yes for training purposes so you both don’t seem like complete losers with no experience when you start dating someone, you can at least put each others name on the resume “do you wanna kiss?”

“no” jake looked at you with puppy eyes “why not” just because this is not WHAT NORMAL FRIENDS DO MR.HOT AND GENIUS BESTIES “your breath smells bad” eyes out like that sad hamster on tiktok with violin bg playing “UGH WHATEVER” you kiss him as he smiles between the kisses, knowing you can’t resist him (damn hot mf) “love ya see you after the match”

— SUNGHOON PARK

takes you on dates, and i get that it’s normal but it’s not normal when he is taking you out alone with him every other week to ‘treat you’, because normal friends totally don’t eat at a fancy restaurant together or go on a late night drive without romantic feelings like girl who are you kidding? “don’t you ever think all this dates we go to without our other friends who you reject because you only want to be with me is the reason why people think we are dating”

“yes” he said cuddling you on his bed “and like this is not normal too you cuddling me, WAIT WHAT YES?” he kissed you forehead “yes but we aren’t just friends either you know” butterflies

— SUNOO KIM

cuddles all the time, whether it is out, in school or hanging out at each others houses, you both are all up each others, which has been pointed out so many times but sunoo really doesn’t care, he would rather feel your soft cheeks next to his than hear people about how this can be a whole scandal and lower the chances of you both getting any partners because people think you both are dating “sunoo can i get some water please i’m dehydrated” you try to wiggle out of the sofa you both were cuddling “nooo i will be cold”

“no you won’t be ugh get off me big baby” you try to push him as he gets up “so now you hate me” obviously he is faking it but you feel bad “im not i’m sorry sunoo what do you want me to do”

“date me”

— JUNGWON YANG

unusually long eye contact, and not the staring contest kinda way, but a loving and soft way, like he is expressing how much he loves you by staring at you, even when you are not looking at him he is always admiring you, asked at multiple occasions why he was staring at you and he just replies with ‘can’t i look at my best friend’ like sure so normal for a bestie to look at his bestie with love doe eyes. so the way he looks at you with undivided attention you might think he is listening to everything you are saying but no you got him wrong.

he humming at you talking about some dog you found cute on tiktok but he isn’t actually really listening and registering anything you are saying, he too busy admiring your plump lips that he would give anything to kiss right now “and then a blue cat said heya bro” he still looking at you “hmm that’s cool”

“YANG JUNGWON YOU ARE NOT LISTENING TO ME” you said shaking him “i guess not, it’s hard to control myself from kissing you and still listen to you, i can’t multitask like that”

— RIKI NISHIMURA

has your face as his alternate face lock id, also lets you use his phone, you want his phone real quick okay have it, you want to see through his photos okay have it, you want to use his insta okay use it, the only thing you are off limits is the boys gc because shady business goes down there, people really think you are dating your bestie and how he is the most honest and trustworthy bf ever? like no he has thousands of feet pics in his camera roll and you haven’t heard any explanation from him yet? how is he honest.

“you are going through my dms?” riki asks as you play around with his phone “yeah and if that bothers you don’t worry im texting this pretty girl who slide in your dms, soon you would have a cute girlfriend all because of my rizz” he snatched his phone from your hands “what the hell i thought i blocked her? yn why are texting her-”

“why? did you get offended? i’m sorry i shouldn’t have, no matter how close we are” he face palms like an old man done with everything “i’m not offended because you texted her, i’m offended at the fact that i have such a dumb friend who can’t see i want her more then just friends” there star struck aren’t you

[doctorwhoandfairytaillover]

Loving Arms (2)

Summary: The children of Viserys I from his wife Alicent Hightower had always been lacking in affection from their parents. They simply didn't realize how much until their widowed aunt was brought into their lives. (AU where Alicent has an older sister and her kids get the love that they deserve, takes place some time after the Driftmark event)

Part II: Family Dinner

A/N: No pairings as of right now as I want to focus on the familial and platonic relationships with Greens when they're still quite young. (credit for the divider goes to @kawaii-lau)

The royal family were not ones to eat a meal together often; typically dinner consisted of Alicent, Helaena, and Aemond. Or Otto and Alicent, even simply Aemond and Helaena. But rare was the occurrence that Aegon would sit at the table to dine with his family and that all members, apart from his Majesty the King Viserys, would choose to eat with one another.

Of course, the elder Hightower daughter was unaware that it was solely due to her arrival that all were seated at the table.

The meal itself was sumptuous; fresh venison on a bed of roasted vegetables, bread straight from the oven, a hearty stew, and a variety of sweet cakes and treats. All things that (Y/N) did not hesitate to eat from her plate, famished from her weary travels.

It was quiet, save for the occasional scrape of knives and the clink of forks or spoons.

"Well," Alicent smiled. "Isn't it lovely that we can all come together and eat as a family after so many years apart. If only Gwayne was here as well, then it would be similar to our youth, don't you think (Y/N)?"

Her older sister offered a tense smile, "I suppose it is a bit like our childhood. I am surprised you still remember any of it since you were quite young at our last family gathering."

"It comes and goes, because as you say, I was quite young when... when our mother passed," Alicent smiled at her children and all three straightened. "But I am reminded of it when I spend time with my sons and daughter."

"Then I am sure she barely remembers then," Aegon muttered and earning himself a kick to leg from Aemond.

"Behave!" the younger scolded.

Otto cleared his throat and the boys sat up in their chairs once more.

"Let us move past all this," the Hand said. "No need to trouble ourselves with the nonsense of remembering bygones and look to the future. Keeping our family strong and well established.

"Hear, hear!" Alicent agreed while lifting her chalice in agreement.

His oldest daughter couldn't help but laugh at her father's words and shook her head.

"Did you find any humor in my words, daughter?" he asked.

The tone in which he spoke, seemed to trigger something in Alicent as she shrunk back in her seat and looked to the meal in front of her. Her older sister, on the other hand stared straight ahead to their father.

"I find it amusing that you say that, Father" (Y/N) said while cutting into her venison. "You didn't seem to find the notion of family all that important when you left behind two orphaned children in Oldtown for your elder brother to deal with."

A sweeping silence fell over the table.

"Or am I wrong?" she asked. "Mother had recently passed when you left Gwayne and I behind at Oldtown, taking only our dear Alicent with you. She was your favorite after all."

"Do not start with me, (Y/N)!" Otto scolded. "You know your brother was being raised to someday lead Oldtown in my stead."

"What about your recently disfigured daughter? Why was she left behind?" she asked. "Or were you too ashamed that my face would make you a laughingstock. When as your oldest daughter, I should have also been allowed to accompany you to find an advantageous marriage as well."

"Do not speak nonsense, (Y/N)." Her father grumbled, "It was to your benefit that you stayed behind, otherwise you would have never been able to marry your husband. I have always looked to ensure our family would be well off."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, a soft frown marring her features. Her father's response seemed to aggravate her more than she let on, as she stood up from her seat, scraping it heavily against the floor.

"I think I will retire to my chambers for the evening," she turned to smile softly at her nephews and niece. "I will see all of you early tomorrow morning, I have a few things that I brought you three from Dorne."

She turned stiffly to her younger sister and father, "Good night!"

The clicking of her heels against the floor echoed as she left the room, and the Targaryen siblings looked to one another before turning their gaze to their mother and grandsire.

"May we be excused, Mother?" Aemond asked politely.

Alicent looked to be apprehensive, but her father wanted to have a word with her and waved the trio off. Muttering to himself in annoyance over his eldest daughter's words and behavior that evening.

Aegon was quick to pull his younger brother and sister from their seats, hoping that he could avoid either of the adults minds from allowing them to step away. Knowing that they would attempt to stop the siblings if they knew that they would chase after their aunt.

"Come on, come on!" Aegon urged with a giggle, hurrying to catch up with (Y/N).

Something soft bubbled beneath Aegon's chest and he could not remember a time he had felt this way since his childhood had been marred by maltreatment, neglect, and unkind words. But seeing his own aunt stand up for herself, not letting his grandsire excuse himself for his callous actions of the past, it lit a small feeling of hope that perhaps someone could understand.

And he didn't want to let that feeling go.

Aemond was struggling through his own internal torment and insecurity. He did not want to get his hopes up that his aunt would understand his feelings about feeling othered and scorned for his appearance that was he felt was no fault of his own, but he knew that he truly wanted to know.

No, he needed to know if there was someone else like him.

Helaena, perhaps did not feel as conflicting emotions as that of her older and younger brothers, but she also felt that things would soon change with the presence of their outspoken aunt. Words had often failed her, those closest to her rarely were able to understand the young princess even when she was direct with her words. But now... now here was this woman, that was clear and did not mince her words and let her thoughts be known.

She wanted to learn from this woman that was not afraid to be herself.

And there, standing alongside her sworn guard was (Y/N) as she intended to ready herself in her chambers.

But almost collectively the three shouted, "Muña!"

She turned to them and as soon as her soft eyes fell on their figures.

She smiled.

And it was then, the three were absolutely certain that they needed her to be a permanent fixture in their lives.

A/N: And that concludes part 2! 🥳 Please let me know what you all think, I am honestly super pumped to continue this series.

PS. If your name doesn't show up highlighted, I am not able to tag you properly for some reason.

Tag List:

@minaxcarter, @hotleaf-juice, @pikomin, @deltamoon666, @cococrazy18, @firefairy, @dracaryxzs, @snowbunny58, @lacherrysouldy, @only4thefics, @queen-luna-007, @ambrivertenergy, @kayllineb12, @minejungwoo, @delaynew, @agustdeeyaa, @hueanhdang

[holybibly]

My sweet bunnies, I am here to spoil you.

Unholy thoughts of the day: A feline pride of 5 luxurious predators is moving into the house next door, and perhaps a little sugary lamb is just what they crave for dinner.

You were never afraid of feline hybrids, despite their aggressive and overbearing behaviour. Or so you thought. When a pride moved into the house next door as a good neighbour, you decided to welcome them as warmly as you can. You even baked a cherry cake for their dinner, but who knew they'd want to eat a different kind of "cherry." And that's how your innocent, sweet "welcome" turns into a predatory hunt, where you are the prey and they are the hunters. And when they catch you, you will be their dessert.

You shouldn't be afraid of them, you proud little lamb; you're not afraid of anything, but the way they circle around you, towering over you and looking at you as if they'd never seen anything more delicious, fills you with pure terror.

"I-I think I should go... I just wanted to say hello." You bleat softly as a beautiful red-haired cat leans in so close you can feel his hot, wet breath on your neck.

"You look delicious." His tongue flicks out just long enough to lick your skin, and you squeal, stepping back and bumping into another guy—way above the one who just licked you.

"But we haven't met yet, have we? It's not polite to leave so soon after we've opened our doors to you, little lamb." The tall cat purrs softly and squeezes your shoulders with his big hands. His deep, husky voice sends a noticeable chill through your skin.

"Now, now, be gentle, Mingi; the baby is obviously used to being treated like a princess, am I right? Look at that beautiful long hair; I just want to run my fingers through it and squeeze it in my fist." Another guy leaned in until his handsome face was level with yours. "You have a beautiful mouth too; has anyone told you that, Princess?" He ran his thumb over your lower lip, purring sweetly as he felt it tremble.

"I... I was never told that..." You barely whispered.

"What a shame, but we'll fix that. I'm Wooyoung, by the way." But before you can answer, two other guys push him away and appear in your field of vision.

"Don't be afraid, honey, we won't bite." The taller one, with luxurious sensual lips, whispers softly. "You'll like it with us."

"Oh, we'll take good care of you, darling. How did you know we like cherry?" The blonde says, his eyes sliding down your body.

"I didn't; it's... it's my favourite flavour." You stutter as you feel Mingi press his hips against your ass, his hands sliding down your shoulders until they find their place just below your breasts. His touch is hot and possessive, as if you already belong to him.

You gasp loudly as you feel a thick, soft tail wrap around your thigh as you look from one boy to the other. Your eyes widening in fear as you see the predatory grin on the red-haired boy's face. He silently repeats "delicious,"  lewdly running his tongue over his lips, leaving them wet and shiny.

You almost want to beg them to let you go when the blonde in front of you catches your attention.

"How fortunate that it's our favourite too. Welcome home, dear. I'm Hongjoong, and this is my pride: Mingi, San, Wooyoung, and Seonghwa, and we are so happy to meet you."

[xxspringmelodyxx]

Why Her and Not Me?

Gojo Satoru x F!Reader (Angst)

I’m back with the angst everyone! I think I am planning on making this a multiple series…because I have a few ideas! Please let me know what you all think! I love hearing from you :) Anyways, onto the story!

Part II

I stared in the oven, watching the strawberry cake slowly come to a rise. I looked at the time and saw that there were only 10 minutes left before I could take it out, so I took this opportunity to start filling my mochi. I grabbed the rice dough and flattened it out, grabbing my freshly made whipped cream and Zunda.

I loaded up the dough with zunda, adding the whipped cream right after. Carefully, I folded the dough up into a cute little ball, setting it down on a plate next to me. One by one, I arranged them in a neat row on the plate, their green pastel colors and smooth surfaces creating an inviting display that begged to be sampled.

There were exactly 10 balls, all for a special someone.

Just as you finished, you heard the back door of your shop open up. You looked over to see Utahime. I smiled in her direction, greeting her.

”Hey Hime! What brings you here?” You asked, hearing the ding of your oven go off.

“I wanted to see if that idiot was over here bugging you.” She said, looking around for Toru. I smiled softly at the mention of his name, seeing her give me a look of disgust.

”Ugh, out of all the boys you could have fallen for, why did it have to be him? Can’t I persuade you to fall in love with someone else? Literally anyone else.” She said, looking at all the sweets I made. I turned the oven off, grabbing the cake and placing it on the counter to cool off.

“Oh come on, Hime. He’s not that bad. He’s actually very sweet once you get past his cocky facade." I defended, my voice softening as I thought about the moments of genuine kindness I had witnessed from him.

”Are you sure we’re talking about the same Gojo Satoru?” She asked, grabbing a cupcake from the plate.

”Cut him some slack, Hime. Hes got so much pressure on him, it only makes sense for him to act the way he does. I know I would’ve gone absolutely insane if I were in his position.” You said, snatching the cupcake from her hand as she was about to eat it.

”Hey! I wanted to eat that.” She whined, making you roll your eyes at her.

”these are for my customers.” You said, placing the cupcake back on the plate.

“Besides, I already made a plate for you next to the fridge.” You said with a smile, placing the cupcakes in a box for pickup. Hime looked over to the fridge to see a pile of various treats, making her eyes sparkle and mouth salivate.

”Y/n, you are literally the best person in the whole wide world!” She said, grabbing a strawberry muffin.

“I know.” You said, going back to check on your cake.

As Hime stuffed her face with the muffin, she looked over to see the kikufuku neatly displayed on a plate.

“Y/n, when are you going to ask him?” She said with her mouth stuffed. You looked over to her with a confused face.

”What are you talking about?”

Now it was her turn to roll her eyes.

”Oh come on, Y/n. When are you going to finally confess your feelings to Gojo??”

You looked back down at your cake, a frown making its way to your face.

”I…I don’t know, Hime.” You said.

”If you don’t do it soon, it could be too late. Y/n, I am only telling you this because I know how much you love Gojo…even though I find it hard to believe that a sweet girl such as yourself finds someone like him irresistible.” She said, walking up to you. She placed a hand on your shoulder, making you face her.

”What if…what if he doesn’t see me that way? What if I confess to him, only for him to reject me and ruin our friendship? I don’t want that…” You said, looking into her eyes.

She scoffed.

”If Gojo doesn’t see how lucky he is to have someone like you fall in love with him, he’s more of an idiot than I thought.” She said, trying to hype you up.

”You two are inseparable. I swear, anytime I see Gojo without you, its like his whole day is ruined. But the moment you show up, its as if he saw a miracle appear right before his eyes. You quite literally make his day better, Y/n.” She said sternly.

”You really think so?” You asked, starting to feel hopeful.

“Absolutely! There is no way anyone could deny that. Honestly, its kind of sickening how cute you two are together. It almost makes me jealous because you're my best friend.” She said, making you laugh.

”Hime, I never you took you as the jealous type~” You teased, making her smirk.

”Shut up. All I am saying is when you two do become a couple, you better still make time for me. I don’t care if Gojo gets mad, I will steal you away if you don’t hang out with me for a long time.” She said

”you’re starting to sound like Shoko, now. She told me the same thing not too long ago” You snorted.

”well she’s right. We had you first. Gojo was the last to have you, so by common knowledge, your besties get your time first before him.” She said, making you smile at her.

”Oh, Hime. If Toru and I do actually become a thing, I promise you I will never abandon you two. Honestly, if it weren't for you girls, I would have never gotten this close to Toru. After all, chicks before dicks.” You joked, copying what Shoko said the other day.

She chuckled, hearing the back door open once more.

”Sup bitches.” Shoko said, making you both shake your heads at her.

”Nice of you to show up, Shoko. Y/n is about to confess to Gojo of her undying love for him.” Hime teased,making you tense up.

”What?! When did I say that?!” You asked, whipping your head around towards the two of them.

”Fina-fucking-Lly. It’s been like five years and you two still haven’t gotten anywhere. I feel like I’m going insane just watching the two of you, especially with the sexual tension going on between you two.” Shoko said, making your face heat up.

”S-Shut up Shoko! You have no idea what you are talking about.”

”So how are you going to confess to him?” She asked, smirking at your face.

”Easy, she is going to go straight up to him with the kikufuku in her hands and look him I straight in the eyes. Then, she will hold onto him desperately and confess her love for him.” Hime said, teasing you a bit.

”Oh, Toru~ I love you so much I can’t think straight! I need you so bad in my life~” Shoko continued, mimicking your voice.

”Then come here baby and lets make love alllll night~” Hime said with a deepened voice, mimicking Toru.

”I do not sound like that, Shoko.” You said, making them both laugh.

“Plus…a part of me still has a bad feeling. I don’t know if he thinks of me that way.” You said, your grip on the counter tightening.

Shoko and Hime suddenly stopped and walked towards you.

”Hey, look at me.” Shoko said, forcing you to look in her direction.

”It’s going to be alright. I already told you last time, there is no way he thinks of you as just a friend. He literally talks about you all the time that even I get tired of hearing about you.” She said.

”Yeah, and the way his eyes light up even more just by the simple mention of your name? Its so obvious he likes you.” Hime followed.

”But…maybe that is just him being…well himself.” You said, trying to come up with excuses.

”Y/n, there is no doubt in my mind that he is head over heels for you just as you are for him.” Shoko responded.

Suddenly, you heard the bell ring from the main entrance of your bakery shop.

”Y/n! Come out here, I need to ask you something.” You heard a familiar voice yell. You felt your heart race at the sound of his warm voice. Your body tensed up even more as you felt your body basically freeze.

”What are you waiting for!?” Shoko asked. Hime grabbed the Mochi you made for Toru and placed them in your hands.

“Go out there and tell him! This is the perfect chance!” They both saiid, pushing you out to the front.

You tried to go back in, but they locked the door, forcing you to stay out there.

“Y/n?” You heard his voice once more, making you freeze again.

“Is everything alright?” He asked, one of his eyebrows rising.

You slowly turned around, finally coming face to face with the tall white haired man.

He looked down at you, his confused face slowly turning into one of happiness as he saw the kikufuku in your hands.

”Is that…what I think it is?” He asked, almost salivating at the sight of it. He loved your baking, no matter what it was. But when you made him his favorite snack, it was something different.

”Uh, yeah! I did. I figured you’d want some since it had been a while since the last time I made it.” You said, walking around the counter, making your way towards him.

You placed the dish in his hands, feeling his fingers brush against yours. You quickly pulled your hands back, almost dropping the dish. Thankfully, Toru had quick reactions and caught it before it fell.

”woah there, no need to be so nervous! You know I love your baking!” He said, instantly stuffing his mouth with one of the mochi balls.

”Mmmm. They are perfect! You even made them with the perfect amount of filling!” He said, making your heart flutter at his reaction.

”I remember you complaining about another shop putting too much in. I wanted to make sure it was just right for you.” You said sheepishly.

”You mean you actually listened to me?” He asked, chuckling at you.

”Of course. I do actually care about what you say, you know.” You replied, looking up at him.

”Oh I’m touched.” He teased, setting the plate down on a nearby table.

“So what was it that you wanted to ask me?” You asked

Suddenly, his whole demeanor changed after you asked. It was weird.

He looked down at you and fidgeted with his hands, making you look up at him with concern.

”Toru?”

“Y/n…do you know what it feels like to…love someone?” He asked, making you blink your eyes up at him.

”Well…I mean…yes…yes I do.” You said, making him look you in the eyes.

”Then maybe you can help me.” he said, making you look up at him confused.

”help you?”

He sat down at the table near him, you following suit.

”There is…this girl. And every time I am around her, I feel nervous. It’s like my hands get clammy and I feel my heart skip a beat just from the mention of her name.” He said.

After he said that, you started to feel your heart race again, heat rising to your face. Was he…was he talking about you?

”Just looking at her makes me feel all tingly inside…and I always long to be around her…” He finished.

”Is…is that what it feels like to…be in love? Feeling like you want to be around that person all the time? Feeling excited every day because you get to see them?” He asked, making you smile a bit. You nodded your head.

”Yes…it is. At least, to me it is. After all, that’s how I feel about y-“ You started, but quickly shut up, not ready to confess to him just yet.

“Hmmm.” He said, lost in thought.

”Toru? Are you okay?” You asked, feeling hopeful. He looked deep into your eyes and a small smile slowly formed.

”Yeah…I am. I…I never thought it possible, but I think I may have feelings for her.” He said, mumbling a bit.

”Oh?” You asked, hoping this was the part where he confessed everything to you.

”You remember Osaka? The girl who just moved here and joined us?” He began, making you come out of your senses. Osaka moved in from a small village hundreds of miles from here. It had been almost a year since then and it was needless to say that her and Toru hit it off really well…but you figured it was just him being nice to her…

”Yes…why?” You asked, not liking where this was going.

”Well…because I think…I think I might like her…” He said, a small smile making its way towards his face. However, while he was thinking of Osaka and feeling his heart beat faster, you felt yours shatter.

“You…like…Osaka?” You asked, tears starting to fill up in your eyes. He looked up at you, not noticing the water beginning to form in your eyes.

”I…I think so…no. I know so! I mean, just hearing her voice…it makes me crazy. I’ve never felt this way before. It feels…nice.” He said, getting lost in his mind.

”I see.” You said, swallowing hard. It hurt so bad. It felt as if you were swallowing nails and sharp razors down.

”I think I am gonna go and talk to her…see what she says.” He said, confidence filling up inside of him.

”T-talk to her about what?” You asked, your voice breaking a bit.

”Talk to her about how I feel, silly. I mean, I’m pretty sure she feels the same way. I don’t think anyone could love me as much as she does.” He said.

”I do…” You thought as he said those words. He quickly got up, pride and excitement filling up inside of him.

”I’m gonna go do it! I’m gonna go tell her everything. tell her how I feel for her! How much I long for her!” He said, quickly leaving.

“Thanks for the talk, Y/n! You really are a good friend!” He said, quickly leaving. You just sat there, staring at the plate of Kikufuku you made for him. Tears piled up in your eyes and you couldn’t hold it back anymore. You quickly got up and ran to the back, letting it all out. Shoko and Hime ran towards you and caught you in their arms as you fell towards them.

”Y/n! What happened?” Shoko asked with worry.

”I knew it…I was such an idiot for thinking he would ever love me.” You sobbed quietly.

”W-What?” Hime asked, confused.

”He…He doesn’’t…He doesn’t…fuck!” You whispered as you felt yourself begin to hyperventilate

“Breathe, Y/n. Hey look at me. Breathe.” Shoko said, breathing in and out with you, trying to get you under control.

After a few minutes of that, you were able to get yourself under control…however, you still felt awful. You felt like life just got sucked out of you. Shoko and Hime were by your side the entire time, hugging you as you calmed down.

”He…He said he fell in love…but with someone else.” You whispered, broken from the memory replaying in your head.

”Who?” Hime asked, baffled that Toru would pick someone else over you.

”Osaka…”

”Osaka?? You mean that new girl who just joined us?? There is no way-“

”It’s true, Shoko. You think I would make something like that up??” You asked, staring at her through your watery eyes.

”Y/n…I am so sorry.” Hime said, completely in disbelief.

”I didn’t think he would be that much of an idiot.” She said, hugging you tightly.

“I can’t believe it…he constantly talks about you during our missions. It doesn't make any sense.” Shoko said, hugging you as well.

”And he constantly flirted around with you, too!” Hime said.

You were completely heartbroken, feeling nothing but emptiness. However, Shoko and Hime were livid. Satoru Gojo had hurt their best friend…and what worse is he was totally leading her on!

“Come on.” Shoko said, pulling you up to your feet.

Hime went out to the front and closed the shop early.

”What are you doing?” You asked softly.

”We are all going out. We need to get your mind off of he who shall not be named.” Shoko said, turning everything off in the kitchen and bringing you your jacket.

”I don’t know Shoko. I’d rather just go home.” You said.

”That’s okay. We can go to my place and just hang out. We can have a girls night and watch movies, eat all sorts of food, all that fun stuff!” She suggested. However, you shook your head. You pushed yourself away from her, grabbing your keys.

”No Shoko…I…I just need to be alone…please.” You said, not wanting to argue. Shoko looked at you with worry. She didn’t want to leave you alone, not like this especially.

”Y/n, we-“

”Please, Shoko. I need you to understand…I…I need to be alone for right now.” You spoke, opening the back door and walking out.

Shoko tried to go after you, but she stopped in her footsteps. She knew you wanted to be alone, but she didn't want to leave you alone. But she also knew that you needed it to collect your own thoughts.

Hime came back and asked Shoko where you went. She explained everything and Hime understood.

”Let’s give her a couple of hours, then we will go to her place.” She suggested, making Shoko nod.

——

You drove towards you house, tears falling down your eyes as quiet sobs slipped from your mouth. You never imagined heartbreak could be this bad…you never imagined the day where you would get your heart absolutely crushed. It hurt so much to the point where you felt pains in your chest. It stung so bad, almost like someone was snipping each string in your heart.

thoughts of Toru and Osaka began to pop up in your head, along with questions.

What did she have that you didn’t? Was it her face? Her hair? Her personality? Her strength? Her charisma? What was it??

All of these questions rushed through your head, yet you could never come up with a proper answer…not unless you asked Toru himself…though that was the last thing you wanted to do. For the first time in your life, you found yourself wanting nothing to do with him. You didn’t want to hear his name, his voice, nor did you want to see him. It would just hurt too much.

You noticed the weather beginning to change. Clouds began to circle above you, getting ready to start dropping rain.

Damn it!

You tried to get your emotions under control, but no matter what you did, the tears wouldn’t stop. The heartache wouldn’t stop.

You knew you couldn’t do anything about it, thus rain began to fall…and hard.

———-

You finally made it back to your house. You quickly ran inside and ran to your bedroom. You flopped onto your bed and let it all go.

The rain outside just fell harder and faster, causing people to rush either to their cars or back to their homes.

Your puppy ran up to you and began to lick your face, noticing something was wrong.

You looked down at him, seeing him look up at you with a tilted head.

You patted your bed, inviting him to come cuddle with you.

He snuck his way under your arm, snuggling up to you. You began to hold onto him tightly. The warmth and softness of his fur felt good against your skin, causing you to slowly drift away to sleep.

though, while you felt yourself succumb to the sleepiness, one thing lingered in your mind as you closed your eyes.

”Why her…and not me…”

_____________________

Part II??

Taglist?

[bedoballoons]

Could I request a reader who makes and gives Ayato, Neuvillette, Childe, Wriothesley, and Kaeya cute chocolates, sweets, and cakes for Valentine's Day?

This perfect request is just in time for valentine's day so to everyone who's reading this happy valentine's day!!

P.s. I hope you don't mind but I added Gaming as well cause I really wanted to write this one with him as well!

─⊰💕𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰💕─

{༻~Will you accept this gift~༺}

CW: GN! Reader, Fluffy and sweet!

(Includes: Gaming, Ayato, Childe, Neuvillette, Wriothesley, and Kaeya!)

𑁍༄Gaming:

You held up the box of fresh melon cake, your face blushed red and your heart racing, "I made this melon cake for you, I hope you like it! I tried my best to shape it into a heart, but I'm not sure if it turned out right...Happy valentine's day Gaming!"

He smiled happily, his cheeks flushing as he accepted your gift, "It's perfect, thank you and happy valentine's day to you too!" He wrapped his arms around you tightly and kissed your cheek, feeling like he was the luckiest on this special day.

𑁍༄Ayato:

You watched excitedly as Ayato unwrapped your gift, his delicate hands reaching into the box to reveal a bag of sweet tapioca pearls, "I handmade them and I thought that we could spend some of today shopping for tea and making our own boba drinks. If you'd like of course!"

He looked at you with adoring eyes and a soft smile, "I would love that my darling. I'm sure they will be delicious."

𑁍༄Childe:

Childe intertwined his fingers with yours, taking a bite of the sweet cake you'd made for him while reminiscing about the first time he'd met you. Of everyone he'd ever had the pleasure of meeting, you were the only one who'd ever truly caught his eye and as a harbinger, he'd figured his chances with you were pretty low. Now here he was, enjoying valentines day with the most beautiful person in the world.

"You know, you should take up baking as a hobby. I'll eat everything you make and give you a kiss as payment."

𑁍༄Neuvillette:

Neuvillette had been staring at your handmade candies for almost a full minute now and you were internally starting to panick, wondering if maybe he didn't like them...or if he would have preferred chocolates, "Neuvillette...are you alright? It's okay if you don't like them-"

"No no, my apologies. I enjoy them immensely, in truth I'm having a hard time expressing exactly how overjoyed I am to have received such a beautiful gift from you. I'm not the greatest with words...so please accept my I love you instead."

𑁍༄Wriothesley:

You kissed Wriothesleys cheek, setting your box of chocolates in his lap and sitting on his desk with a light blush, "Happy valentine's day Wrio~"

He smirked at you and leaned up from his chair to kiss your lips, "Homemade chocolates hmm? I'm flattered and spoiled...but if it's alright with you, perhaps I could have something else for dessert and enjoy these with you after~"

𑁍༄Kaeya:

You handed Kaeya the bag of chocolates you you'd made, each one as perfect as you could make them and a true representation of how you felt about him. "I hope you like them...this is the first time I've ever made valentine's chocolates and I did my very best. I love you and happy valentine's day Kaeya"

He chuckled softly and leaned in to place a kiss on your forehead, finding you so adorable and sweet, "They are beautiful to say the least and I'm truly flattered to receive your first set of valentine's chocolates. Let's share them over a cup of wine, what do you say?"

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Happy valentine's day!~*⁠.⁠✧

[sameschmidtdiffname]

Sweet Delights

Peeta Mellark x AFAB!Reader

Summery: It's a slow work day in District 12. With rain pouring down outside, who can blame you for wanting to indulge a little? Everything's fine so long as no one walks in... right?

Tags: Pre-established relationship, no use of y/n, pet names, reader has AFAB body/female pronouns, switch!Peeta, switch!Reader, edging, female fingering, teasing, count down, orgasm denial, blow job, face fucking, public sex, someone walks in, dirty talk, Peeta's a freak but he's sweet about it, praise kink if you squint, mentions of eating out, cum swallowing, cursing, post-Mockingjay but that's not really relevant, no reader orgasm this time around. Once again, I'm probably forgetting something.

Notes: I have to say, I did not expect Peeta to win the poll! And not to worry for everyone else, I'll get to all those characters eventually. (Derek girlies, I see you and I love you.) Thank you for your support on the last one, I hope you like this one too! Bon ABBA teeth.

•°《▪︎♡▪︎》°•

Peeta loves surprises.

Giving them, receiving them. If it's unexpected, Peeta is practically bouncing off his chair to figure out what to do with it.

It made everyday life sweeter. Slipping a note into his apron pocket when he wasn't looking for him to discover, finding a million more hidden in my apron. Little drawings hidden amongst everyday things, like the wildflowes Peeta likes to draw and place next to my powders and perfumes. But best of all surprises were the little pastries we would make when the days were slow and the other was watching the front of the bakery. Usually using scraps, because Peeta detests wasting food, but always delicious nonetheless.

The best innocent surprise, I should say.

Today was an especially slow day. Rain pounding down in District 12, making the roads thick with mud. It's a blessing for the hot ovens that fight against the cold seeping through the front windows. Although they're helping me more than Peeta, who's up front perched at the counter, insistent as always that someone needs to be watching the shop. "We won't hear the bell over the rain," he'd said.

I knew better than that. There were tells when Peeta wanted a surprise. He'd never just ask for something, always fearing rejection. Of course the minute I opened my mouth he was ready to do whatever I had even intrusively dreamed of so long as it meant love and praise. But to ask for himself? It's a whole different matter. So when he is insistent I work alone in the back, I understand that this is his own silent way of asking for some sort of surprise. And with the way his broad shoulders look in that pale yellow knit sweater, who am I to deny him?

I'm not one to deny him anything, quite frankly.

The best surprises of all are when we sneak up behind the other, always starting so innocently. Maybe while one of us is baking, maybe while one of us is simply dressing. With the quick slip of a hand, it doesn't take long before the other is panting and begging for release. Not that we always give it to each other.

Peeta liked sneaking up on me in private. Usually when I was in the back baking.

"What are you working on?" He'd usually ask.

"Custom order," I may answer with a smile. He liked my smiles, always said so.

"What are the details?" He'd ask. He'd put his hands on my lower back, rubbing soft enough to not disturb me while still working out some knots.

Then I'd prattle off details. This one is for so-and-so down on whatever-street-or-corner, they'd like a cake.

"For the Harvest Festival?" He'd ask. I'd nod, still focused on my task. "How many orders do we have for the Festival?"

"A good bit, it's our busiest time," I'd always say with a bright, soft tone to my voice. He'd chuckle, placing a small kiss on the back of my neck and pressing his hips against mine from behind, usually revealing his hard on.

"So, how many orders this year?" He'd ask. His hands would work at a knot, his breath hot on my neck, and his hips would roll ever so slowly against mine, taking his time to build both of us up.

"Ah, I think- I think 12?" I'd say, trying to focus on both him and whatever I was making. Cake. Right. Stir.

"12?" He'd ask. His cock would be deliciously hard, grinding against my clothed cunt just a bit harder as his hands would return to my hips, steadying me against him. "That's pretty good."

"Double digits," I'd say brightly, my voice breathy as I struggle more to focus. Cake. Stir. Hands, not hips.

But I'd always do hips instead, leaning back and tilting my head ever so slightly so he can see my enjoyment.

"You need to stir," Peeta would gently guide in my ear. My back would press against his front, his chin now resting on my shoulder.

"I know," I'd say softly. I didn't know shit.

He'd chuckle, one hand slipping to my front to cup one of my breasts.

"Need to get those orders out," he'd remind me. "You always seem so stressed about being on time."

"One of us has to be," I'd say. His hand on my hip would find the band of my pants, slipping past them and teasing me, sliding his fingers against my wet folds.

"Pick up the whisk," he'd instruct. My hands would shake as they obeyed, moving from being splayed across the marble counter to resume my task.

"Stir slowly," he'd say. His large fingers would slip over my entrance, coating himself in the thick lube now dripping from me. "You want to make sure the texture's correct."

It took such mental energy to balance the two things. Especially when he would finally sink in his middle finger, always going knuckle deep and twirling it around inside of me, making sure to leave no spot untouched. His other hand would pinch and pull at my breast, giving special care to make his fingers replicate the feeling of his soft lips wrapped around my sensitive nipples.

"What's the next order?" He'd ask. I could feel myself dripping down his hand, and I knew he loved this. Peeta would do whatever he could to make sure I was wet, even when he wouldn't go any further than simple teasing. I think he liked the idea of me always being ready. Not that he would assume. He always started out slow, and if I ever said no it was never a big deal. He'd simply continue talking to me and go on with his day perfectly fine. But if I was willing, he'd always massage or do whatever until he could feel my arousal himself. I think it's why he likes eating out best. Especially when I'd talk him through it, usually promising to cum down his throat while tugging his soft blond hair. His eyes would grow wide and soft at that, his whimpers increasing as he'd fuck me quicker with his tongue, grinding himself against whatever. It was a beautiful mess he'd turn himself into, desperate and begging silently as he clutched my hips.

"The what?" I'd ask breathlessly. I was tight around him, focused on how slow and sweet he was pumping in and out, twirling and wiggling his finger inside of me. His other hand slipping under my shirt, and his lips sucking gently at my neck, careful not to leave bruises.

"The orders, sweetheart," he'd gently remind me. "What's the next one?"

My lips would part, eyes fluttering shut as I tried to remember. His middle finger would pump out and then pump back in with the addition of his pointer finger, tearing a soft moan from my throat.

"Shh," he'd gently whisper. "We're at work."

He liked this little game. Ramping me up, forcing me to behave a certain way so to not tip off customers. If Peeta wouldn't immediately be arrested for it, something tells me he'd simply fuck me in the front room, bent over the register counter during business hours and just act like it's a normal thing. Such a sweet boy.

"I- ah- need to look at the book," I'd say. He'd roll my nipple between his two fingers, his other two fingers pumping slightly faster as his lips suck at the spot just under my ear.

"You have such a good memory though," he'd say. "You can remember. Just think."

That's a lie. I have a horrible memory and we both know it. But if I say I can't, he'll pull away. Sweet and gentle, he'll go get the book and place a million kisses on my cheek before leaving me to my work and dizziness.

Next order. Next order. That's easy. It's a tart with cream on top. Cream. God, I'd like his cock in my mouth right now.

"Next order. Come on, pretty girl. I know you know it," he'd softly encourage.

"I know it," I'd moan, my head tilted back and resting on his shoulder, fucking his fingers instead of working on the cake. He feels so good, so warm and protecting. Simply smelling the traces of dill and cinnamon baked into his skin made my mind shut off, my eyes growing tired from the feeling of safety.

"I know you know it," he'd say so sweetly. "You're smart, pretty. And you've got a delicious cunt I'd love to fuck over and over if I could," he'd say softly, placing warm kisses on my neck between each point. I was panting openly now, squeezing my eyes shut as I tried desperately to remember who ordered what.

His fingers curled inside of me, making rapid 'come hither' motions fast enough to steal a soft, sudden cry fron my lips. Peetas mouth found mine, swallowing my moans and giving me some of his own.

"I may have to count down, sweet girl," he'd warn me. His fingers had found my g spot, hitting and rubbing it at rapid speed. The cuff of his sweater is soaked from me, his hand sticky and coated. I shake my head quickly, moaning and gripping the counter as best I could to keep myself standing.

"I can remember," I whimpered. Peeta laughed softly.

"I know you can, sweet girl. But look at you, you're a total mess." His voice is sweet and kind, his eyes taking in my current state. "I can't have you all dumb back here during work hours."

He's sweet but he's cruel. God, he's cruel!

"I think there's berries in it," I stammered.

"Ten," he's start patiently, his teeth tugging at my earlobe.

"N-no, wait! There's- There's berries and there's..." I'm completely making this up. I have no clue what's next.

"Nine," he continued, knowing this.

"That's not fair, you started low on purpose!" I whined.

"Eight." He wouldn't argue. I was right.

"It's got- got cottage cheese frosting." I'm so close, so awfully close. I can feel myself clenching around him rapidly, my pussy swallowing his fingers quicker and quicker as I climbed closer towards the edge.

"Seven." Oh, God. This motherfucker.

"Six. Come on, good girl. You can do this," he'd encourage sweetly, kissing my cheek and trailing to my collarbone with said kisses.

"They wanted flowers on the top. Violets, I remember that!" That detail is actually true, surprisingly. The candy violets were always easy to remember because I loved them so much.

"Five." His other hand kneeded my breast, admiring the soft flesh and running his thumb over my stiff, aching nipple repeatedly. "Four."

"You're speeding up," I whined. "This isn't fair."

He let out a soft 'aw,' apologizing and speeding his hands to bring me closer to the edge.

"If you can come before one, I'll fuck you right here," he promised. "You can come before one, can't you?"

I nodded stupidly, moaning and panting as I sped up my hips, slamming down on his hand repeatedly. Cake details be damned, this is my mission now.

"Three." I'm so impossibly close.

"Two."

"Wait a minute, slow down-"

"One."

With one final, cruel, hard thrust of his hand he slips away, leaving me to almost crumple to the ground and opening my eyes to blink stupidly, trying to process what just happened.

"You okay?" He asked softly, his dry hand cupping my cheek and looking at me carefully with his sweet, hazel eyes.

A long, soft whine escaped me, batting my lashes as I lean against him and whisper as many 'please's as I can, pressing a dozen kisses all over him. He laughed softly, returning the kisses with whispered 'I love you's.

"Let me go get that book," he'd said. And that was that until that evening when he made up for it like he always did.

Now I was carefully removing a tiny apple pie made from leftovers meant specifically for Peeta. The rain was as bad as ever as I entered the front room, Peeta leaning on the palm of his hand while he struggled not to doze off. His long lashes flutter softly, his lips pressing against each other and his jaw a bit tight.

"Hi sleepyhead," I whisper, sneaking up behind him. He started a little, turning to look at me with the sweetest smile he has.

"Hi," he says cheerily, his voice just a touch gravely. His eyes glance down to the small treat in my hands, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Is that for me?"

"Of course it is," I say, placing it in front of him. "Figured you could use something to warm you up. It's freezing up here."

He chuckles. "It's not that cold," he says as he picks up the fork I'd placed next to the tiny pie and began scooping some up.

"Liar," I teased. "You're shivering."

He shifts in his seat slightly. "Not from that," he says, a small blush growing on his cheeks. He takes the first bite, then another, smiling and leaning his head against my shoulder.

"Thank you, dear," he says softly. He leans in for a kiss to which I happily oblige, cupping his jaw with my left hand. His lips taste sweet, the sticky apple and cinnamon tasting delicious on him. I swipe my tongue across his lips, stealing a soft moan from him as he allows my tongue access to his mouth, melting in my hands. His hand dropped the fork, accidently missing the pan and instead hitting the counter, but neither of us care. His hand comes up to the back of my neck, pulling me closer to silently ask me for more.

My other hand trails down to his lap, finding one of his hands already there, palming his stiff, clothed cock through his pants.

"Is this what you were doing when I came up?" I ask softly, pulling away from the kiss only a bit. He chases me, biting at my bottom lip to drag me back to him. That's a yes, then.

My tongue explores his warm mouth, tasting him while my hand traces the outline of his dick, pressing and flicking against the tip. He whines, bucking softly into my hand, desperate for more.

"Can you stay quiet?" I ask him, pulling away again. This time my hand on the back of his neck grabs his golden locks, holding him still as I look into his eyes. His cheeks are red as well as his lips, kiss swollen and damp. His breathing is heavy, his eyes blown out. Barely touched and already a beautiful mess.

"Huh?" He asks, his voice higher than usual as he tries to focus. His hand grasping my wrist, making sure to keep my hand where he can buck against it.

"If I asked you to, would you stay quiet?" I repeat gently, teasing him with kisses by leaning forward and pulling away. We both liked this.

"Yes," he said quickly. "Anything."

"Anything?" I ask, raising my brows.

"Anything."

Alright.

I press a quick, admittedly sloppy kiss to his lips once more before dropping to my knees and slipping under the counter. His brows furrow in confusion before he realizes what I'm doing.

"You can't!" He whispers frantically. "What if someone walks in?"

"That's why I asked if you could stay quiet," I say patiently. "Can you?"

He bites his lip, obviously unsure. His eyes dart between me and the shop door, thinking.

"We can wait," I offer genuinely. This seems to be the deciding factor.

"I'll be quiet," he promises eagerly. "I've got a pie I can shove in my mouth if I can't, right?" He jokes, his smile crooked and eager as his hands work quickly to begin freeing himself. He's excited alright.

"Right," I say, taking his hands away and undoing the buttons on his pants myself. "Just keep watch of the shop, alright sweet boy?" He nods, placing his arms on the counter and trying to resume his position.

I slip his cock from the confines of his clothes, pressing a soft wet kiss to the underside along a thick vein. A quiet whine escapes him, his hand covering his mouth. I'm not truly worried about him being quiet, no one is going to come in here during such bad weather. It's just an edge to help work him into a frenzy, knowing full well he never stays quiet. I'd thought I was vocal when we started our relationship, but Peeta easily takes the cake.

His cock is warm, half hard against my lips that trail his veins. My tongue slides from his tip to his base, barely any pressure on his skin. Grazing always works best to start out with. When I reach his base I lap at his skin, blowing soft, cold air against the wet spots to make him squirm in his chair. I focus on his base for a while, sucking, licking, blowing. Ever so gently I even bite just the tiniest bit, enough for him to notice the edges of my teeth along his red, pulsing cock. His voice is soft, panting quietly.

My tongue trails slowly up his cock, exploring different ridges and spots that make him whimper quietly, working my way back to his tip which is soaked with thick, warm precum. I wrap my lips around him, swiping the moisture away with my tongue in one round sweep. I relish in the cry it tears from his throat, the dozen little apologies he whimpers immediately after. His hand covers his mouth, and the other trails down to gently cup the back of my head. I smile around him, swirling my spit around his tip as I suck gently, pressing my tongue against the underside of his dick.

His fingers play with my hair, unintentionally tugging it and apologizing as he does. I simply squeeze his thighs and begin lowering myself, taking him until his tip hits the back of my throat, taking deep, even breaths to fight off the gags that threaten to escape me.

It's when my nose buries in his soft, curly hair at his base that the bell of the front door rings.

"Hi!" Peeta says a little too quickly, a little too brightly. "Welcome to Mellarks Bakery. How may we- I help you today?"

I'm frozen, his hand gripping my hair out of anxiety. If I pull away, we'll be done. If I stay here, Peeta may very well have to make good on his promise.

Although, acting has never been a challenge for him, has it?

The customer is describing a custom tart she wants made, then pulling out a long list and prattling about this, that, and the other thing. Her accent clearly shows her as a Capitol transfer, and these orders always take forever given that they still have a hard time releasing the concept of not over indulging. But this time I don't plan on complaining.

My tongue begins to move slowly, rubbing carefully along the bottom of his cock while I watch his face carefully. He's smiling at the woman who's still going down the list, his eyes glancing at me to confirm this is what we're doing. With a small nod from me, his hand casually covers his mouth once more and he resumes focus on the woman, his other hand now guiding my head slowly, carefully.

He pulls me to the tip of his dick, working me back and forth slowly on just that spot. My tongue works quickly, my lips wrapping around him tightly to help create proper suction around him while I suck.

"Do you have pumpkin?" The woman asks.

"W- what?" Peeta asks, clearing his throat. "Oh, pumpkin. I'll admit I'm running a little low, it's been a popular request since we don't grow them locally. I've requested more but I don't know if they'll be in in time, so if you want something that uses it you'll have to get it-" his voice cracks as I deepthroat him again, swallowing around him quickly before returning myself to his tip. He clears his throat. "You'll have to reserve it right now," he finishes. I can see him quickly scoop up some of the pie, shoving it in his mouth and trying to hide his blush. It's lucky for us how oblivious Capitol born citizens are.

His hand guides me faster, focusing on fucking his tip near the back of my throat since we both know full well how hitting the back of my throat isn't an option. We can't risk any noise gagging may cause since it may not be covered up by the soft music playing on the shop speakers, a gift from Beetee for the reopening.

His pace is fast, faster than it should be. He's close, smiling at the woman and acting as though everything is normal. His large vein throbs, precum spilling out of him with each new thrust into my mouth. My hand reaches to press two digits against the soft spot behind his balls, a sensitive spot that makes him cry and squirm.

His jaw tightens as I do this, his eyes darting down daggers quickly. I can hear coins on the counter, Peeta accepting the list and opening the register. With the loud 'clank' springing forth from the older device, he takes the chance to slam my face down fully on his cock, his fingers making the coins loudly shift around as he gives the customer her change. Tears spring to my eyes from the sudden force, swallowing around him as I focus on my breathing to recover. He promises the woman he'll do what he can and wishes her a good day, and she coos sweetly. She reaches across the counter, patting his cheek and calling him a sweet boy before turning and walking out of the bakery, the bell chiming at her exit.

Peeta looks down at me, smiling brightly. "Hi," he says with a newfound excitement.

I moan around his cock. He gets it.

"You okay?" He asks, his hands moving to cup my cheeks. I make an affirming noise, trying to smile. "I wasn't too rough, was I?" He asks, his thumbs swiping away the small tears dangling from my bottom lashes. I shake my head, swallowing around him. He moans softly, his grip tightening.

"Yeah, I kinda forgot you like it when I am, don't you?" He asks, beginning to slowly pump his dick in and out of the back of my throat. I moan happily, taking him as easily as I can.

"You know how hard it was not coming down your throat with that lady in here?" He asks. "I had to edge myself so that it wouldn't become known how much I like fucking your throat."

My cunt throbs at his words, his closeness making him willing to be more rough. He starts fucking my face in earnest, tearing noises from both of our throats as he loses himself.

"Can't do that again," he pants. "Next time I'm just taking you. I don't care who walks in." He's moaning openly now, his cock abusing me. I can feel him throbbing, twitching. There's enough precum it's all I can do to focus on swallowing and breathing.

"Show this whole District how much I love you," he babbles. "I'll eat you out on this fucking counter, I don't give a fuck."

I press my heel against my clit, grinding into it to relieve some friction as my hands steady my body against his thighs. The chair underneath of him creeks horribly. If anyone walked in now, I don't even think we'd have a small second to hide what we're doing.

"I love your fucking pussy," he rambles, his eyes beginning to flutter shut. "Love your fucking mouth. You take me so well. So eagerly."

I moan around him, spit dribbling from my mouth, hair stuck to my face. His balls slam against my chin, his wet curls pressing against my nose as he face fucks me like a rabid animal.

"I'm gonna cum down your throat," he announces. "Then you're gonna cum down mine. Again," thrust. "And again," thrust. "Until we don't even have to make dinner from how full we'll be." Goddamn, he's close.

His hands are rough, gripping my face. "Rub your tongue harder," he commands. I do, putting as much pressure as I can on his throbbing vein. He moans loudly, leaning forward and clutching my head.

"I'm coming," he pants, his voice high and tired. "Fuck, I'm coming-!"

His warm, thick load shoots down my throat, filling my mouth so much I cant breathe if I want to swallow it all.

"Such a sweet girl," he praises. "So sweet and good, eager to make me cum." His face is pressed against the cool counter, his chest heaving as he recovers his breath. His thumbs stroke my cheeks at different paces, small whimpers escaping him as I milk him dry with my mouth, making sure not a drop is left behind. When he's fully softened, I place a small kiss on his tip before tucking him back in, rebuttoning his clothes and patting his thighs one more time.

It takes a moment for me to rise, my joints stiff and my mind scrambled from the abuse it had just suffered. I stumble a little as I stand, Peeta's weak arms collecting my body and bringing me into a warm embrace.

"You're wonderful," he whispers, resting his head against my chest. I chuckle softly, placing a soft kiss on the top of his messy hair.

"So are you," I say.

He looks up at me, flushed and smiling at me with the most wonderful, lazy look on his face.

"Your turn," he says, finding a new wave of surprising strength and placing me on the counter.

"Peeta, we're still open," I giggle, batting his hands away.

"I know," he says. "Did you think I was joking?"

He stares at me, smiling and eager as he begins to part my legs.

This is going to be a long night.

•《♡》•

Whoever gets second place on the poll is who I'm writing next. Feel free to send in requests for characters/scenarios! See you next time, you degenerates <3

Masterlist

[starkwlkr]

can you please do a part 4 where ruby’s finds about pregnancy and become jealous, but charles and yn only notices when one night charles is kiss and talking with yn’s belly and without them notice she’s going to her room and do a suitcase, when she returns with them she having tears in her eyes and tell them she going to live with her grand mere since them don’t need and want her anymore now they have another baby, and them become all fluffy with charle’s and yn talking to her and ruby’s being the biggest daddy’s girl

sorry abou my english, i hope you understand

jealousy, jealousy | charles leclerc

ruby is so real for this because i almost did this when i was younger (tbh i still get jealous when my mom praises my other cousins because her and i have a complicated relationship ENOUGH TRAUMA DUMPING SORRY)

When Ruby was told she was going to be a big sister, it didn’t go as planned. She was pretty straight forward about it too.

“Why do you need another baby?” She asked her parents one night during dinner. Charles and Y/n were confused. Ruby always talked about all the kids in her class having siblings. “You have me.”

“Ruby, we love you very much, the new baby isn’t going to change that.” Charles spoke to his daughter.

“Okay,” she wasn’t quite convinced yet. She looked at her mom and noticed her stomach was bigger. “Why is your belly big? Did you eat a lot?”

“Ruby Jules, that’s not a nice thing to say.” Charles sighed. He always wondered how his mom managed to raise three boys, he was having trouble with just Ruby. He made a mental note to thank his mom for everything she had done. “Mama’s belly is big because that’s where your baby brother or sister is. You were in mama’s belly too.”

“No, I wasn’t. Uncle Arthur told me I came from the hospital. I saw pictures of mama and me.” Ruby said, grabbing her juice box from the table and drinking from it.

“Yes, we were in the hospital but before that you were in my belly.” Y/n added.

“When does the baby get here?” Ruby wondered. “Do I have to share my room? I don’t like sharing my toys with a baby.”

“The baby isn’t going to stay in your room. They’re going to stay with mama and daddy. They’re going to be too small so we have to take care of them.” That’s when Charles made a mistake.

It took almost three whole years for Ruby to actually stay in her own room. When Charles would put her to sleep, Ruby’s little legs would take her right back to her parent’s room. Ruby wasn’t afraid of the dark or the ‘monsters’ in her closet, she just wanted to hug her daddy while she slept.

“Why does the baby get to sleep in your room? Why can’t I?” Ruby asked.

“Ruby-”

“I’m leaving.” Ruby mumbled and got down from the chair. She angrily stomped away then a few seconds later, she reappeared just to grab her unfinished juice from the table, then she finally left.

“I knew we should’ve waited until tomorrow. We could’ve gotten her a cake or taken her to the park. She hates us, Charles.” Y/n frowned. She picked up Ruby’s plate and walked over to the sink. She started washing the dishes when Charles came up from behind her, wrapping his arms around her small, but visible bump.

“She doesn’t hate us, mon amour. She just doesn’t understand. A couple years from now, her and the baby are going to be best friends.” Charles kissed Y/n’s cheek.

“I hope you’re right.” Y/n put down the washed plate and turned around to face Charles.

“I am right and I’m also right about this one being a boy. He’s going to be a strong, smart boy like his dad.” Charles bent down to place a kiss on Y/n’s belly.

“Really? Because I remember you calling yourself stupid.” Y/n teased. Her hands started playing with Charles’ hair. “And what makes you so sure that baby leclerc is going to be a boy?”

“I just know. We already have a daughter, having a boy would complete our family.” Charles smiled at his wife. “I love you already, baby leclerc.” He looked back at the bump.

Ruby watched from a distance as her dad kissed her mom’s belly multiple times. It broke her heart hearing them call the new baby ‘baby leclerc’. Why couldn’t they name it differently? That’s was her nickname. The baby wasn’t even here and they were already stealing from her. That’s the moment when Ruby decided she wasn’t wanted anymore, not when there was a new baby coming soon.

The four year old walked to her room and started going through her closet, looking for her small princess backpack. When she finally found it, she unzipped it and began to pack her some clothes along with a stuffed animal, her doll, two euros and a book with bedtime stories.

If her parents weren’t going to love her then she was going to the one person she knew would love her no matter what. Pascale lived right across the street from them so Ruby knew exactly where to go. She put on her backpack, grabbed her stuffed animal and walked back to the living room where she found her parents cleaning up before going to bed.

“And where are you going, little one?” Charles quickly noticed the girl with the backpack.

“I’m going to grand-merè house because you don’t love me anymore. She loves me, she gives me ice cream.” Ruby said in a low voice. She didn’t think she was going to cry when she told her mom and dad she was leaving, but here she was, tears coming out her eyes as she stood before them explaining why she was leaving.

“Baby, we will always love you. The new baby isn’t going to replace you. Come here,” Y/n grabbed her daughter’s hand and led her to the sofa so they could have a proper talk. “We love you and the new baby isn’t going to change that. What made you think we didn’t love you anymore?”

Ruby wiped away her tears. “I heard papa call the baby my name. And they’re going to sleep in your room.”

Y/n brought the crying girl into her arms for a hug. “I’m sorry if you felt like we didn’t love you. We love you so much, my pretty girl.”

“I’m sorry for calling your brother or sister baby leclerc. If you want, you can name them. What do want to call the baby?” Charles poked Ruby’s cheek, making the girl laugh.

“I want the baby to be called Steve!” Ruby said confidently.

“Steve? Like the guy from Blues Clues?” Y/n asked.

Ruby nodded. “He’s funny and we sing old macdonald had a farm together!”

“Okay, baby steve it is.” Charles chuckled as he took the girl from his wife’s arms. “I love you, Ruby Jules. You’re my special girl, but don’t tell mama or else she’s going to get jealous.” He whispered to her.

“Okay, daddy.” Ruby nodded, giggling as she did so. “I love you too.” She hugged Charles, her giggles getting louder as Charles tickled her sides.

“Say goodnight to mama … and baby steve. It’s bedtime, baby leclerc.” Charles said.

“Goodnight mama, I love you. Goodnight baby Steve, you’re okay.” Ruby kissed her mom then copied Charles’ actions from earlier and kissed her mom’s belly.

“Goodnight, my pretty girl. I love you too.” Y/n kissed Ruby’s cheek and watched as Charles took a laughing Ruby to her room.

Y/n sighed and looked down at her belly. “Baby Steve.” She chuckled at the name. “Come on Steve, it’s bedtime.”

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

baking Wanda's favorite dish because she spoils you so much you wanna do something nice for her (it can end with her fucking you on the kitchen counter or with you burning something)

i am a GOD at cooking and baking so i would NOT be burning anything in that kitchen and Wanda would be so pleased with my surprise food that i made her

@lizziesribbons i could cook for you any day bby just lmk when ♡

SORRY i had to flirt with my wife rq anyways back to our regularly scheduled programming...

"Oh detka, this smells amazing," Wanda says, her soft voice surprising you.

You don't have the chance to turn around before her arms are wrapping around your stomach, her chin resting on your shoulder as she looks at the dessert you've made.

"They're Russian Tea Cakes, I know they're your favorite dessert," you say, setting down the powered sugar you'd been sprinkling over them. You manage to twist your head slightly, catching Wanda's wide green eyes with your own.

"Darling," Wanda begins, her eyes getting slightly misty. "That's the sweetest thing you could've made for me."

You turn fully, wrapping Wanda in a hug. You knew how hard it was for her to feel connected to Sakovia sometimes, so you'd been on a mission to make as many Slavic foods as you could, just to remind her of her home. There was still some leftover борщ in the fridge, and you didn't care about how many hours it took to perfect each dish. As long as Wanda was happy and smiling, you were satisfied.

"I love you," you whisper in her ear, feeling her press a light kiss against your neck in response.

"As delicious as these smell," Wanda begins, pulling away. Her pupils are dilated, and you tilt your head slightly in confusion. "We should leave them to cool for a bit, why don't you join me in the bedroom in five minutes?"

Wanda doesn't have to say much more, her finger closing your mouth when your jaw drops in excitement. You can hear her low chuckle as she walks towards the bedroom, and force yourself not to remove your apron too quickly, the strings getting tangled with your hair.

You glanced at the desserts sitting innocently on the counter. Eating one wouldn't hurt, right? That way, Wanda could taste it on your lips. You smile, making up your mind as you eat half of one, bringing the other with you to the bedroom.

Smiling, you slowly entered the room to find Wanda seated nude on the bed. Fuck, she was drop-dead gorgeous every time you laid eyes on her. You were already planning the next dish you could make for your beautiful, perfect wife.

"Don't keep Mommy waiting..."

[archiveikemen]

Harrison Gray 2nd Birthday Campaign: Story (2024)

Chapters 1-3

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Warnings and FAQ

1st Birthday Campaign Story

I opened my eyes to the feeling of warm sunlight hitting the back of my eyelids, and saw Harry’s sleeping face.

(We fell asleep without getting dressed. Both of us have been really busy lately and haven't spent much time together, so we got a little too carried away last night…)

We finally had some quiet time last night and spent it together, but— 

Harrison: Mm…

Kate: Good morning, Harry.

Harry, who had woken up once, frowned and shut his eyes again.

Harrison: … Good night.

Kate: It’s morning already. Please wake up.

Harrison: It’s my day-off today…

Kate: Harry! Wake! Up!

Harry finally opened his eyes when I yanked the sheets off to cover my body.

Harrison: You look amazing this morning, trying to seduce me? 

Kate: I-I’m not!

Harry, groggy from being woken up, planted a kiss on my cheek.

Harrison: Sure looks that way to me, though.

Kate: Mmph, Harry!

He distracted me with a kiss on my lips and reached for the sheets covering my body.

Kate: N-No! 

Harrison: … Is it because I went too hard on you yesterday?

Kate: That’s not the case. 

Our interactions since morning filled my heart with both joy and embarrassment, but—

Kate: We made a promise to prepare for your birthday together this year! 

Today's date is the 29th of May, a day before Harry’s birthday.

I tried to secretly plan a birthday party for him last year, but…

= Flashback Start =

Harrison: You’ve been avoiding me all day because you’re planning a surprise birthday party for me, am I right?

= Flashback End =

(The cake remained a surprise, but he easily found out about the party.) 

I thought about how to go about the birthday party preparations this year, and decided that we would prepare for it together. 

(Avoiding Harry while preparing for the surprise party made me feel guilty, so I’m glad I don’t have to do that again this year.) 

(Moreover, Victor gave us two days off. That means we can be together throughout.)

Harrison: Where do we start?

Kate: First of all—

…

Kate: We’re baking the cake together this year! 

After arranging the ingredients and equipment on the counter, Harry picked up the cake mould.

Harrison: … Isn't this too small?

Kate: I think it's enough, but would you prefer to have a bigger cake? 

I baked a five-tier cake with Crown’s help last year, but we’re baking a single tier cake this year. 

(Harry loves sweet foods, so he probably wants more cake to eat.)

Harrison: Knowing you, you definitely put a lot of thought into choosing this size for the cake. 

Kate: Huh… 

Harrison: I’ve never baked a cake before, so I guess this might be the right size. 

I felt a wave of affection wash over me as I watched him put the mould back and think with his hand on his chin.

(Harry is always respectful of my thoughts.)

I tried my best to keep myself from smiling while reflecting on the kindness my lover always treated me with.

Together with the rather adorable Harry whose hands were unfamiliar with baking—

Kate: It’s done!

Harrison: My arms are sore from whipping the cream.

Kate: You were the one who decided to make so much cream because you wanted more to eat…

The cake with a generous amount of fruits as toppings looked good enough to be displayed at the storefront of a bakery. 

Harry scooped up a mouthful of the leftover whipped cream from the bowl with a twinkle in his eyes.

Harrison: Open your mouth, Kate.

Kate: Yes? Mmph.

He shoved the whipped cream into my mouth, some of it getting onto the tip of my nose.

Harrison: Pfft… 

Kate: Goodness! Don’t just shove it in my mouth like that all of a sudden!

Harrison: Haha… my bad. Here.

Harry’s face drew closer and he licked the cream off my nose.

Harrison: Mm… sweet.

Harrison: So? What are we doing next? 

…

Kate: Next, we’re picking out a present for you!

I walked briskly through the shopping street, pulling Harry along behind me by the arm.

Harrison: We don’t need to rush. It’s not as if anything’s going to run away.

Kate: But what if the item you like gets sold out? 

Harrison: What do you think I’ll choose as a present?

Harrison: … You’re being especially energetic this morning.

Kate: Of course I am. Today’s the day before your birthday. 

Harry stopped walking and gave me a wry smile.

Kate: … Are you going to laugh at me?

Harrison: Yeah. 

Kate: It’s been a while since we last went out together like this. We rarely get the chance to spend full days together, you know? 

Kate: Even though this is to celebrate your birthday, it also feels like a reward for myself… 

Despite living in the same castle, I knew from before we started dating that we wouldn't always get to be together. 

(Harry’s missions and his job as a proofreader have been keeping him busy…)

Moreover, we’re total opposites of each other, so we often did our own things separately even on our off days.

We had a relationship where we respected each other’s likes without restricting our actions, and it suited us perfectly.

(But, still, spending time with Harry is my ultimate favourite.)

I stole a glance at Harry next to me and saw him frozen in place with his mouth opened, but he soon snapped back to reality and sighed.

Harrison: … That’s fine, no?

My cheeks started to burn when I noticed that his ears were red although he tried to hide his face.

Harrison: What are you turning bright red for?

Kate: P-Pardon me. 

Harry took my hand with his usual carefree smile, our fingers intertwined.

Harrison: … Being with you makes me happy too.

Kate: What…

Harrison: Was that a lie or the truth?

Kate: … It’d be nice if it were the truth.

Harry pulled the hand he was holding.

Harrison: Then enjoy yourself to the fullest without worries. I’ll do the same. 

We spent our date looking at clothes and going to a cafe, but…

…

Kate: Are you sure that’s all you want for your present? 

The book in Harry’s hand was a recently published mystery novel.

Harrison: Yeah this is what I wanted the most. Thanks.

(As expected, he chose something that doesn't cost much.)

He seemed to notice my disappointment that he chose an inexpensive present. 

Harrison: Isn't it the sentiment that counts, and not the price? 

Kate: That’s true, but… 

Harrison: All that matters is that you bought it for me. 

Harrison: Besides… I’ve already received more than enough from you.

(What does he mean by that?) 

When I cocked my head in puzzlement at Harry’s words, he stroked my hair fondly.

Harrison: Give it a good thought, okay?

He took his hand off my hair and held my hand.

Harrison: Alright, what’s next?

Gazing at Harry’s profile under the light of the setting sun, I took a deep breath.

(It’s okay, he hasn't seen through my “lie”.)

(I hope this lie remains hidden from him for the rest of the remaining hours.)

…

Afterwards, we enjoyed the dishes Victor prepared for Harry’s pre-birthday celebration.

…

Harrison: We’ve been out and about all day. 

Kate: Are you exhausted?

Harrison: A little, but it's not too bad. 

Kate: Fufu… I feel the same.

Kate: I’m looking forward to tomorrow.

Harrison: Yeah. 

Kate: Eh…

Harrison: What’s wrong?

Kate: Nothing… I was just surprised to hear you say that you’re looking forward to it…

(Harry has always been one to think that he doesn't deserve to celebrate his birthday.) 

No amount of imagining how his past birthdays must’ve felt like to him would make me truly understand.

Last year, I tried my best to make his birthday special without having to lie to him,

(But he didn't say that he was looking forward to his next birthday.)

Knowing Harry now thought of his birthday as something to look forward to filled me with so much joy, I felt a twinge in my nose.

Harrison: … Sorry to interrupt your emotional moment, but can I have what I want the most?

Kate: Whoa!

Harry suddenly pulled my arm, making me lose my balance and fall onto him.

He gently caressed my waist as he held me close enough to hear his heartbeat. 

Harrison: … I want you. May I?

I nearly nodded in response to Harry’s whisper in my ear,

Kate: N-Not yet! 

Harrison: … You're hiding something from me, aren't you? 

Right when I thought I was in trouble, there was a knock on the door.

Kate: Be right there!

Harrison: Huh…?

I swiftly got out of bed and went into the hallway where a maid handed a tea trolley to me.

I expressed my thanks to her before pushing the trolley into the room and parking in front of Harry, who stared wide-eyed at it from the bed. 

Kate: Harry! Happy birthday!

Harrison: What’s with that cake? 

His eyes fixed onto the six-tiered cake on the tea trolley with the cake we baked together at the very top. 

Kate: … I’m sorry, Harry. I lied to you.

I raised a finger.

Kate: The truth is, I had Crown bake the other five tiers.

Kate: But I knew that if we did the same thing we did last year, you’d figure it out.

Kate: That’s why, this year, I decided to make a cake together so that you wouldn't find out about it. 

While Harry remained astonished, I pulled out a refined black box I had kept hidden. 

Harrison: … What’s that? 

Kate: There’s one more thing I hid from you. Actually, I’ve already bought you a birthday present.

I opened the box to reveal a mint coloured fountain pen.

Kate: I knew you wouldn’t choose something expensive for your present.

Kate: … But I wanted to give you a proper present.

Kate: I thought that if I had everything prepared in advance and did the same things with you, you wouldn't realise it.

Kate: Looks like I succeeded! 

Harry’s lips curled into a smile as he gazed at my triumphant expression.

Harrison: You really are something else…

He caressed my cheek with his palm. 

Harrison: … You’re always surpassing my expectations. 

Harrison: I did think you were hiding something from me, but…

Harrison: If you were to do the same thing again, I wouldn't be able to figure it out just by looking into your eyes. 

Despite his words, Harry looked happy and I held the hand stroking my cheek.

Kate: Let’s dig in, Harry. 

I fed Harry a piece of cake with a fork, and he placed a hand on the back of my head and pulled me in for a kiss.

Kate: Mm, why?

While I was distracted by his non-stop sweet kisses, I felt his hand untie the ribbons on the back of my blouse,

Kate: Are we not eating the cake—

Harrison: We’re eating it together now, aren’t we?

Kate: This isn’t eating!

Harry was being more impatient than usual and I felt like I was going to drown in the sweet moment,

(But I must say it to him.)

Kate: P-Please wait a minute! 

Harrison: … What? 

He wore a dissatisfied look, but I straightened up and spoke.

Kate: Happy birthday. I’m glad I could spend it together with you again this year.

Kate: … What do you think of my lie?

After blinking in silence for a brief moment, Harry pulled me into a tight hug.

Harrison: … I used to think that someone like me didn't deserve to have his birthday celebrated properly. 

Harrison: The lying fox’s fated ending isn't a happy one. No matter which fairytale, the fox is always the hated one. 

In fairytales, the fox was a symbol of deceit.

I was well aware that none of the tales had happy endings for the foxes.

Harrison: … But all of that changed when you came into my life.

Harrison: There’s no one who would be happier about my birthday than myself, except for you. That’s why it doesn't feel bad to have been lied to.

I felt Harry chuckle on my shoulder and narrowed my eyes.

Kate: I’ll still be here to celebrate your birthday with you next year, and every year after. 

Harrison: Any birthday with you by my side is the best birthday of all.

Kate: Really…?

Harrison: You’ll find out from now on, whether that’s the truth or a lie.

Harrison: … You’ll still be by my side next year and every year after, right? 

I intended to remain by his side to find that out and be the first person to celebrate every one of his birthdays from now on,

Harrison: I told you, didn’t I?

Harry removed his shirt and his lips drew close— 

Harrison: — Any birthday with you by my side is the best birthday of all.

Kate: Ah… 

Last year, I wasn’t able to truly believe those words.

(I wasn't confident that my presence alone would be enough to make his birthday the best one ever.)

(... But I understand it now.)

This is the truth from you, a person who always lies. 

[teshadraws]

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

[Chapter 59]

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-

Tobias and Nia head to Kaleido Bay to find Dismas.

-

Toby dips his fingers into cold yellow paint, taking a moment to wiggle them around and savor the sensation. He smiles. It’s not often that they get paint from the market instead of their homemade stuff, but there was a sale when Mama dropped in at the market yesterday to drop off the mail. This yellow is brighter than the kind they make at home, and thicker too.

Carefully, Toby lifts his fingers and smears paint on the rough rock wall of the cave, right where the sunlight shining from the entrance stops in a hard line of light. He’s working small right now, trying to put the finishing touches on the picture he’s been working on for forever.

Or an hour. Same difference, really.

Chipper humming accompanies him as he works, from his left. Vivi’s piece is a lot more…what was the word Papa used? Abstract. A lot more abstract than his. She seems to be working totally on instinct, barely pausing to wipe off her hands before jamming them into a different color to slap onto the wall. He can hear her tiny claws catch against the gritty rock every once in a while.

Toby uses careful fingers to paint the next part of his picture, one of the most important parts: the fire. He starts at the base and winds his fingers up to make trails of flames. Then he does it again, to thicken the yellow and help it stand out.

He leans back, hands tacky with drying paint, and tilts his head to consider his work so far.

Four charizard fly across the cave wall, close together in a diamond formation, their wings spread wide. Some of them look a little…lumpy. But the orange paint Papa made by mixing red and yellow stands out bright and warm against the tan of the rock, and he still thinks it looks nice. He even got the right eye colors. Blue for him and Mama, and green for Vivi and Papa.

“That looks good,” their papa says from behind them, where he’s been chipping away at a new instrument for someone, alternating between using his tools and his own sharp claws.

Toby turns his head. “Really? We don’t look too…lumpy?”

Papa rumbles a quiet laugh. “I am kind of lumpy, so I think it looks great. Why are my eyes blue?”

Toby frowns, looking back at the picture. “That’s me!”

“You’re going to be even bigger than me and Mom?”

“Well yeah,” Toby says. He crouches to dip a claw into the red paint, then adds it to the center of the flames at the charizards’ tail tips. Perfect. “Mama says we have to eat all our berries and veggies to get big and strong and you don’t eat all of yours.”

Toby can feel his father’s dry look on his back. He refuses to turn around, biting back a smile.

“Yeah,” Vivi chimes in, eyes still locked onto her colorful, blobby mess. “Why do we have to eat our greens if you don’t?”

“Because I’m already big and strong,” Papa says, laughter in his voice.

“But did you eat your veggies when you were a charmander?”

“…Yes.”

“Are you lying?” Vivi asks, turning with a suspicious expression. Her hands and arms are caked in different colors of paint, some dry and some fresh. She’s not wearing her oversized red scarf, for once. Papa convinced her to take it off earlier so she wouldn’t get paint on it.

“…No.”

“You are!” She says with an accusatory point, delighted.

Toby laughs, then sing-songs, “Mama says it’s bad to lie, Papa!”

Nobody answers Toby. The cave is suddenly silent. Somehow, the space feels emptier than it should.

Confused, Tobias turns. Papa is…gone. And so is Vivi.

Panicked, Tobias turns around, but no one else is here. Instead, the cave is dark, heavy clouds and distant rain dimming the light of the sky.

He’s alone.

Tobias backs up and trips over one of the paint bowls, catching himself on the wall. He freezes when he sees the hand that caught him, covered in red. He…he didn’t get that much red on his hand, he knows he didn’t. He was careful. But it has to be paint. It can’t be anything else.

Where is his family? Vivi? Papa? Mama?

Why is he the only one left?

Tobias jerks awake, nearly falling right out of the shelf he’s sleeping in. He stops himself just in time, and stares at the hand that he caught himself with. Dry and its usual orange color.

It takes him a few moments to recognize where he is once he looks up, panting.

It’s a quiet, dim room. Fairly spacious. Gray dawn light is just starting to leak in through the closed curtains. A fire pit sits in the middle of the space, only a few embers still glowing from the fire last night. Most of the alcoves set into the opposite wall are dark and empty.

Right, he’s…at the inn. At the human settlement. In one of the sleeping alcoves.

Tobias glances to his side, used to Nia sleeping right next to him. But they’d taken separate, smaller shelves when they first arrived here. Junie is probably snuggled up next to her still fast asleep. The room is silent, so it doesn’t seem like he woke anyone else up, either.

Tobias takes a deep breath, heart still fluttering in his chest, and rubs at his eyes, damp with tears. Ugh.

Tobias slips out of the alcove, glancing over his shoulder as he makes his way to the door. Nia is indeed curled up beneath a blanket in her own shelf, pointed ears just barely visible as they poke out of her cocoon. Junie is likely close by. Clara the innkeeper and a togedemaru who came in late last night are also sound asleep in their own little recesses.

Relieved, Tobias goes outside and closes the door softly behind him. Then he moves to the wall surrounding the town, standing atop the step at its foot so he can see over the barrier and into the valley below. The town is quiet at such an early hour.

Tobias closes his eyes and takes another shuddering breath, bending to press his forehead against the stone. He hasn’t had a nightmare like that in…a while. They do tend to surface more when he’s thinking a lot about the outlaw trio, though, so it makes sense.

Doesn’t mean he doesn’t hate it. He can still smell blood and rain.

Tobias hears the quiet flutter of the inn’s curtains behind him, then an equally quiet flutter of wings. He turns his head just enough to give Junie a tired glare.

The rookidee settles on the wall by his arm.

“Is Nia awake?” Tobias asks.

“Ha. No. She sleeps like a rock. I, uh…heard you.”

Tobias stays silent.

“Did you have a nightmare?”

Tobias grunts an affirmative, too tired to feel embarrassed. He looks out over the trees in the canyon instead. The sky is slowly lightening from black to gray, bringing definition back into the world.

“Do you want to, uh. Talk about it?”

Tobias snorts. “No. Do you?”

“Not really, but I thought I’d check.”

They both fall quiet again. The breeze carries voices their way from farther into the settlement. Tobias can faintly hear someone calling to the baker to put the next batch of rolls in the oven.

“Hey,” Junie finally says, hesitant. “Are you gonna be okay, today? Talking to that jerk in the jail cell?”

“Probably not,” Tobias admits. “But I don’t really have another option. I need answers, and he has them.”

“Fair. Just…good luck, then.”

“Aren’t you coming with us?”

“Nah. I think I’m gonna stay here until you guys get back.”

Tobias frowns, finally looking at the rookidee head-on. “Why?”

Junie shifts on her tiny feet. “Well…this seems like an important thing. To you. A, uh. Private thing. I didn’t think you’d actually want me there.”

Tobias is surprised she’s being so thoughtful. And for a moment he wants to agree. He remembers—vaguely—what he did at the crobat’s grave in the desert. He can’t imagine this will be much better.

But then he remembers what Junie said yesterday while talking about her parents, voice light with forced levity:

“They think I’m too annoying.”

“You can come,” Tobias grumbles, pillowing his chin on his arms again. “Just can’t promise it’ll be a fun trip.”

Junie doesn’t answer for a long moment. “Actually, I was thinking I’d stick around here anyways. You still don’t trust Will, right?”

Tobias frowns, looking at her from the corner of his eye. “…Right.”

“I could be your little spy on the inside. Hang around to make sure him and Rosalind don’t do anything suspicious while you’re gone.”

“You think Will’s suspicious?”

“Well…not as much as you do. But if Rosalind is so cautious, that’s kind of a red flag, isn’t it? And no one would suspect me of all people to be doing a little espionage. Might be good to see if I can notice anything weird going on.”

That’s…a surprisingly good idea. “Wish Nia thought the same.”

“Yeah. She’s not dumb, but she can be pretty dumb about this kind of stuff, huh?”

“Desperate is more like it,” Tobias mumbles. “She wants to go back to the human world so badly that it’s like she’s blind to anything that’ll get in the way of that.”

“We’ll just have to be her eyes, then.”

Tobias makes a vague sound of agreement. He admittedly likes the idea of having someone here to keep an eye on things while they’re gone, but…

“Just be careful. I don’t think Will would do anything obvious, but…”

“Aww, is the big bad lizard worried about me?”

Tobias fights the urge to shove her off the wall again, rolling his eyes. “Nia would be upset if you mysteriously disappeared.”

“Suuurrre,” Junie laughs. She nudges his arm with her whole body, and he barely feels it, light as she is. “I’ll be careful. I’m pretty good at acting oblivious and talking my way out of problems.”

“More like you are oblivious and don’t know when to shut up.”

“Eh, same difference.”

Tobias’ mouth twitches as he fights off a smile. “Well. Thanks, I guess. Don’t die.”

“Same to you, Toby.”

Junie stays strangely quiet after that. Slowly, the sun rises and light starts to paint the valley, color creeping over the land. After a while, more doors open and close. More voices greet each other as the settlement wakes and begins the day.

Tobias peeks again at Junie. The rookidee is a puddle of blue and black and yellow on the warming stone, eyes closed and feathers blowing softly in the breeze. For just the briefest of moments, he thinks of his dream, of little hands covered in paint and a grinning orange face, so much like his own, next to him instead. His heart clenches.

Tobias takes a deep breath and looks back out at the canyon. He needs to wake Nia soon. She got to sleep in yesterday, but he wants to make it to Kaleido Bay by a decent time today.

They’d geared up already the evening before, packing enough food, hydration berries, and water for the short trip south. Nia had clearly been reluctant to leave the little settlement behind before getting to explore it fully, staring longingly at the tailor’s shop in particular. Maybe they could stop by there on their way back through, before heading back to the Haven.

They’d also bumped into Fidel in the evening, and had let him know about their plans. The zoroark had seemed concerned, probably guessing that their journey south had something to do with Rosalind’s private chat, but he’d simply wished them safe travels, letting them know that there would be a place for them to rest when they returned.

Tobias turns, looking back at the inn. “We should get going. You sure you want to stay?”

“Yup! I’ll wake Nia if you wanna grab breakfast. It’s funny seeing her flail around in her blankets.”

Tobias huffs a laugh, agreeing and heading towards the little bakery a few buildings down. Their front door is propped open, the smell of fresh bread wafting out, so Tobias hesitates for only a moment before going inside.

Luckily, the simisear and chansey running the place don’t seem irritated to see someone so early. They’re actually apologetic for not having more to offer, only honeyed rolls and toasted nuts finished and ready for the day. Tobias quietly assures them that the food smells delicious before accepting three servings, each wrapped in cloth.

Tobias skirts past a scizor as he leaves, then heads back to the wall in front of the inn. He’s about to lean against it to eat when a flash of color he hadn’t noticed the day before catches his eye. It’s…a mural, painted onto the side of one of the buildings.

Tobias hesitates, glancing around at the mostly empty walkway before grabbing the food and moving to get a better look. He doesn’t leave the wall, but stops when he gets a better vantage point, food momentarily forgotten.

The mural is…interesting. It’s a happy scene, with a group of what Tobias presumes are humans gathered in front of a strange-looking building. A house, maybe, though it seems rather large. The humans look like the drawings he saw at the convention in Ghatha: tall, lanky creatures wearing lots of clothing, with fur atop their heads. The fur color is different depending on the human, as are their eyes and even their skin tone. Some are larger than others, and some are clearly older or younger. Tobias looks at them with fascination, scanning their smiling, laughing faces and body language.

What did Nia look like, as a human? None of these humans have blue fur, but it’s hard to think about her in any other color. Were her eyes still red? What did she like to wear?

“Finally got her up!” Junie’s voice says from behind him.

Tobias jumps, holding the food closer to himself as he turns.

Junie is flying circles around Nia. The riolu is rubbing her eyes as she walks, clearly still half-asleep. Their satchel is looped over her shoulder, though, prepped and ready to go for the day.

“‘Morning,” Nia mumbles. Wordlessly, she holds her red scarf out to Tobias.

Tobias sets their food down to follow the unspoken request, and ties the scarf around his partner’s upper arm. Nia waits patiently, sniffing the air, as Junie watches with a smug grin that Tobias doesn’t feel like investigating.

“Here,” Tobias says when he’s done, shoving one bundle of food into Nia’s arms. The other he sets on the wall, untying it with a tug of his claw so the sides fall open. Junie trills a happy noise and digs in immediately.

“Oh,” Nia says, perking up as she unravels her own meal, plopping down right on the stone to eat. “This smells delicious! Thank you, Tobias.”

Tobias grunts, joining her on the ground and taking a bite of his own food. The rolls are delicious, warm and soft with a thin layer of honey coating the top. The nuts are smoky, satisfyingly crunchy between his teeth. He makes short work of the meal, hungrier than he realized.

When he looks up again Nia is finishing up her own roll, but her head is tilted to the side, gaze focused on the mural.

“Which kind did you look like?” Tobias finds himself asking.

Nia blinks, focusing on him. “Hm?”

He gestures vaguely in the direction of the painting. “Those are humans, right? Which one did you look like?”

Junie titters above them, which means he said something stupid. Whatever. He ignores her.

Nia giggles, much gentler. “Well…all of them, I guess? But also none of them.”

Tobias scowls at that vague, cryptic answer.

Nia laughs again. “Really! We all look kind of similar, at least in general shape. There aren’t any differences as big as, say…a riolu and a rookidee. But we all look a little different from each other, too. In the human world, I have glasses, and long hair. Otherwise, I’m just kind of average, I guess?”

Tobias frowns, glancing between Nia and the mural. “What color fur did you have?”

Junie chokes on her food.

Nia smiles. “My hair? It’s brown. My eyes are too.”

Tobias has a tough time imagining that. He’s so used to looking at Nia and seeing blue and black fur and bright ruby red eyes. It’s hard to think about her as anything other than a riolu. He tries for a moment to imagine what she’d look like as a human, but can’t quite pull it together, even as he glances again at the mural for help.

Before Tobias can say anything else, a high voice interrupts. “You’re up early today!”

Tobias blinks, looking past Nia. A lillipup is bounding over to them. It takes a moment for Tobias to place the young voice.

“Asher!” Junie cries, peering over the wall, clearly delighted. “Hey, little dude!”

Asher morphs back into his zorua self, sticking his tongue out at Junie. “I’m not little! I’m bigger than you!”

“Everyone is bigger than me, kid. It’s not a high bar.”

Asher growls up at her, playful, before getting distracted and sniffing the air, much like Nia had minutes before. “Ooh, they made honey rolls?! Those are my favorite!”

“They’re really good,” Nia agrees.

“If they have honey, they’ll probably use it for dessert tonight too,” Asher muses, tail wagging. Then he blinks, looking over the three of them with new eyes. “Wait, are you leaving already?”

“Nia and I are heading south to Kaleido for a day,” Tobias says.

Nia opens her mouth, then pauses, blinking first at him and then at Junie in question.

“I’m gonna stay here until you guys get back,” Junie says, much more confident than when she’d suggested the idea to Tobias earlier. “Someone’s gotta keep an eye on things around here while you’re gone.”

Nia frowns, clearly catching on to what Junie is implying. She looks at Tobias. He holds up his hands in return. “Don’t look at me. It wasn’t my idea.”

“As funny as it is to see you glare daggers at him, he’s right. I brought it up.”

Nia seems confused by that, but she doesn’t push, glancing at Asher’s curious gaze. “W-Well…all right. If you’re sure?”

“Yup! Just stay out of trouble since I won’t be there to bail you out, okay?”

“That’s our line,” Tobias snorts.

Junie kicks a nut at his head.

“If you’re gonna stay here, can we play?” Asher asks, bouncing in place.

“Sure, little man,” Junie says, grabbing her food’s empty cloth in a foot and fluttering over to drop it on Tobias’ head. He brushes it off with a glare. “I’ll even help you set up some sweet pranks if you want.”

Asher’s golden eyes shine. “Yes! I’m gonna go get breakfast, but then we’ve gotta plan, okay?”

The zorua takes off towards the bakery without waiting for an answer. They watch him go, amused.

Nia sits up, looking at Tobias. “Well, should we get going?”

The contentment in Tobias’ gut curdles as he remembers exactly where they’re going today. He takes a breath, then nods and stands. “Yeah.”

Nia gives him an encouraging smile, then turns to Junie, expression turning stern. “We’ll be back in a day or two. Do not give Will any trouble, okay?”

“Only if he gives me trouble first,” Junie says with a wink. She hops into the air, flapping to grab their food cloths like tiny flags. “You two be safe! Make sure you send a letter if you’re gonna be late.”

And with that, Junie is gone, following Asher towards the smell of delicious food.

Tobias leads the way out of the settlement right after. Slate the nidoking is on guard duty again at the front gate, and Tobias gives the scarred sentry a wide berth as they leave, picking their way down the rocky trail. He can feel the poison type’s eyes on the back of his neck until they’re out of sight.

The path is less treacherous when they can actually see where they’re setting their feet, but it still isn’t exactly smooth. Wiry roots snake in and out of the dirt, and rocks act like staggered steps, ready to trip them up. Scratchy, prickly plants edge into the path and grab at their ankles. The trail leads up and down and around, winding down the mesa like a great serpent. Overhead, the rising sun warms the world. There’s little shade to speak of, with the bulk of the trees sprouting away from the path.

It takes an hour for them to reach the bottom of the mesa, already breathing hard. They stop for a moment to eat some hydration berries and drink some water, then move on.

The journey is relatively quiet, both of them wanting to conserve their energy and likely thinking about the destination ahead. Tobias is, at least.

They take the same trail back through long grasses that they’d taken on the way into Will’s settlement, until they hit the wider, smoother dirt path of the main road.

It’s here that Nia speaks up.

“So…what’s the plan, when we get to Kaleido? Are we going straight to the prison?”

Tobias’ mouth twists. “I think so. We want to make sure we don’t miss visitation hours, and we can always check anything else out afterwards.”

Nia doesn’t answer for a long moment. The silence feels heavy.

“And do you…want me there? When you talk to him?”

Tobias stops and looks at Nia in surprise. “Yeah? Do you…not want to be there?”

Nia did have to physically hold him back last time they found out anything substantial about Team Zenith. And he can’t promise he’ll be any more composed during this meeting. He wouldn’t blame her for not wanting to witness that again.

Nia shakes her head, eyes wide. “N-No, I do! If you want me there. I just…didn’t know if you’d want to keep it private? I wanted to make sure.”

Tobias shakes his head. His face feels hot. The Tobias from a few months ago would be absolutely baffled by him willingly—gladly—sharing anything about his past. But this is Nia. The Tobias from a few months ago barely had a friend, let alone a best friend. “No, I’d…I’d like for you to be there.”

It’s easier to face something this terrifying with his partner at his side.

Nia smiles, something in her shoulders relaxing. Like she feels the same. He hopes she feels the same. He hopes he can calm her storms like she calms his.

Filled with renewed determination, the two of them continue down the path south, to Kaleido Bay.

To Dismas, and the answers he holds.

_____________________________________________________________

It’s mid-afternoon when they spot Kaleido Bay in the distance. They see the tops of the buildings first, white with rounded points like seashells, and it’s not long before they can see the city in its entirety. It’s a shimmering thing, sparkling white and silver with pops of bright color against the blue of the ocean.

“Whoa,” Nia says, stopping to take in the sight. “I thought Rosalind was joking. Is it really floating?”

Tobias squints, holding a hand over his eyes against the sun overhead. “Maybe?”

He hopes not—a city built on an island is bad enough as a fire type, but a floating one seems even worse.

Tobias grimaces, but moves forward again.

As they get closer to the city, they also approach the white sands of the beach itself. It’s a nice area even this late in the year. There are a few Pokemon walking along the shore or camped out for a picnic. A large group of younger ‘mon are chasing a ball down the beach, shouting to each other and making a game of it.

Despite the weight that has followed them since waking up this morning, Nia perks up, tail wagging slowly as she watches the scene. When they finally step off craggy rock and tough grass and onto soft, warm sand, the riolu takes a moment to wiggle her toes in it. Tobias waits for her to get her fill, silently following her lead. It’s a…strange sensation. But not awful.

The waves crash loudly this close to the sea, a constant and rhythmic shhSHHHshh…shhSHHHshh…shhSHHHshh. If they weren’t here for the reasons they are, it’d be soothing, Tobias thinks. He closes his eyes for a moment to let the cool, salty breeze wash over his skin and tries to let it soothe some of the tension in his gut.

Eventually, they get moving again. While there are ferry ‘mon carrying visitors to the city over the water, there’s also a single bridge leading there from the shore, for those poor enough to have to walk. Tobias heads for that.

As they get closer, Tobias sees that it’s a more complex design than he realized at first, white stone—concrete?—intertwined with some kind of shiny metal. Steel, maybe. Both substances are uncommon as building materials, at least in Tobias’ limited experience, but maybe it’s important for the infrastructure of this kind of place. As they take the steps up and start the walk across the long bridge, frothy white foam crashes into the bridge’s tall supports. Tobias is just glad that it feels stable underfoot.

The way to the city is long, farther out than Tobias would prefer, the blue-green hue of the ocean getting deeper beneath them as they go. The wind picks up, too.

They pass a surprising amount of Pokemon on the way, mostly locals and workers from the looks of them. Tobias spots a few raised brows and hushed conversations once they see him. Since the majority of Pokemon they pass are water types, Tobias guesses that they probably don’t see many fire types out here. He tries to ignore them, forcing himself to look straight ahead.

Posh tourists ride by in the water below, providing some distraction. They’re either sitting in boats or atop other Pokemon instead of walking on their own feet, with lapras, blastoise, wailmer, and dondozo ferrying them to and from the city. Nia quietly counts how many parasols she sees under her breath.

As they get closer to the island, it becomes clearer that the city is indeed floating. It’s not a natural island, a protrusion from the earth below, so much as…giant chunks of artificial land, linked close together somehow beneath the waves. The gaps between almost look like canals, with water types and canoes traversing them like little roads.

While the city is much too large for Tobias and Nia’s weight to make it bob, he does notice the slightest sway underfoot when they finally reach the end of the bridge. It unbalances him almost immediately, making him stumble like he just stepped onto the Aqua Jet again.

Nia offers him her arm, but he shakes his head, flushing. He’s already getting enough looks from curious passersby. He doesn’t need to be leaning on Nia like a crutch, too.

Tobias takes a minute to regain his bearings, then leads them into the city proper. Considering it’s apparently a hotspot for tourists, it’s unsurprisingly busy, with crowds of Pokemon chatting and laughing as they pass by. Most are holding wrapped cloth packages or paper bags, surely full of treasures from a bountiful shopping trip.

Nia is predictably looking this way and that as she tries to take everything in, nearly bumping into a few of the ‘mon they pass.

Tobias supposes he can understand why. The city is interesting, if nothing else, with its tall, rounded buildings of gleaming white and silver and seams of ocean water separating out different neighborhoods. The pieces shift in subtle ripples along the waves, the unusually large gaps between buildings—nothing like Ghatha and the human settlement’s close-crowded architecture—making them overlap in his vision in dizzying ways. It doesn’t help that most of the buildings also have their first floors hollowed out, open on three sides rather than enclosed with four walls. Those spaces seem to be dedicated to sitting areas, with water-resistant tables and chairs, or just as a place to store larger statues or toys.

The city is also surprisingly colorful. Shops and stalls have tented areas overhead for shade, and they tend to use bright colors and patterns in the fabric. Tropical, well-tended flowers grow everywhere in little plots of dirt, on building corners and under windows and bordering the canals. Some of the concrete buildings are inlaid with chunks of coral or painted with accents of color. Occasional mosaics pop up underfoot too, sprawling art pieces larger than a wailmer that depict flowers and water type Pokemon. And of course, the crowds of Pokemon wandering the streets only add to the vivid mix of colors.

Rosalind did mention that this place is known for its shops, but Tobias is still astonished by the sheer variety of merchants they pass. They’re all selling different things, from food to exploration items to non-necessities that call to the rich tourists around them. One stall is selling dried berry strips, while the one next to it is selling some kind of kelp, according to the sign below it. Apparently it’s grown right here in the city, underneath the ocean. A shop selling orbs and seeds “for protection in dungeons and natural disasters” is a tempting find, but Tobias knows better than to spend his cash when they don’t need to.

Useful shops like those are far outnumbered, though, by stalls that sell nothing but knickknacks and decorations, souvenirs from the city decorated with colorful shells and coral and gems. There are even one or two shops dedicated solely to fabric and clothing, some of which reminds Tobias of what he saw Pokemon wearing at the human settlement. Lots of jewelry shops, too, which is usually a rarity in Metreja.

There are cafés and bakeries and spas. A few ferry businesses. Artists selling their wares, ceramics and paintings and drawings.

It’s something else that captures Nia’s attention, though.

“Oh, Tobias! Look!”

It’s a little glass shop. Colorful wares cover the countertop: vases and dishware, platters and trinkets, statues and jewelry. Every piece is beautiful and well-crafted, delicate but sturdy. Patterns and gradients paint them in a rainbow of hues, some shiny and some frosted. Nia’s eyes skim over them, a wondrous expression on her face.

Just visible inside the open door of the build building, a monferno glassblower is sitting at a bench, hard at work. Across his lap, he turns a long, metal rod with a confident hand. At the end of it, a green bulb of glass is being spun. The fire type uses his free hand to pinch and pull at the probably-scalding glass, creating delicate curls and wisps. It takes a moment for Tobias to notice a smaller Pokemon, a blue panpour who’s the spitting image of the simipour running the counter out front, working too. She’s blowing at the other end of the metal pole—a pipe?—with her cheeks puffed. The two Pokemon look completely absorbed in their work, focused and totally at ease with the process, as if they’ve done it millions of times before.

Tobias wonders if this glass shop is the only one here in town. Glass is rare in his experience, but here it seems to be used more commonly. A few of the shops actually have large pieces of glass covering long windows to show off the wares inside, which Tobias hasn’t ever seen done before. There’s glass elsewhere, too, smaller panes on house windows and used in decorations like windchimes.

It’s interesting. If they weren’t here for a specific reason, if they didn’t have a world to save and outlaws to interrogate, Tobias wouldn’t mind learning more about the practice.

But the reminder of what they are here for pulls Tobias back to reality, and his chest tightens. He steps off to the side to watch as Nia picks up one of the glass statues, tracing a finger over its thin, pointed horns.

Right. They aren’t here to shop. They’re here for the pangoro held somewhere below the city. Dismas.

Tobias expected to feel ready for this, after so long. Instead, he isn’t really sure how to feel. He’s wanted answers for nearly a decade now. He’s been actively chasing Team Zenith for months. And yet now that some of his goals are within reach, everything doesn’t feel quite…real.

The anger Tobias holds for the outlaws is still there, of course. As always. It’s a quiet, seething sort of hatred, a low ember that only flares on occasion nowadays but that’s always, always lit.

But aside from that?

The vindictive part of him is actually a little disappointed. Upset that some other Seeker brought the pangoro in instead of him. But he doesn’t know how well he’d fare in a fight with one of his literal nightmares, so maybe that was for the best. He’d be useless if he panicked in the middle of a deadly brawl.

Even now, he’s anxious. Even if he doesn’t want to admit it. Both to just see one of the outlaws again, and to ask Dismas the question that’s been haunting him for eight years now.

Why did Team Zenith do what they did? Why kill his family? Why kill innocent children?

Why?

That single word makes him feel a tangle of emotions so thick he could never hope to unravel it. It feels a bit like nerves in his stomach. A bit like desperation choking his throat. He hates it. But he needs to know.

Every time Tobias tries to think back to that night, tries to think of anything that could explain why the arcanine and his crew suddenly turned on them, it’s like his mind can’t handle it and cuts the memory short. He’s gotten vague glimpses of the incident over the years, but most of them come at the cost of a panic attack that sends him spiraling before he can recall the night in its entirety. So since his own brain refuses to give him the answers he needs, he just has to ask someone else who was there. As much as he doesn’t want to.

“Would you happen to know how to get to the prison from here?”

Nia’s voice, directed at the simipour shopkeeper, yanks Tobias back to the present. He looks up.

The water type seems startled by the question, but then her eyes flick over their bag and the scarf tied around Nia’s arm. Hesitantly, she nods and points right, further into the city.

“If you follow this canal to the heart of the city and straight through to the other side, the entrance to the prison is near the edge of the island. Look for red coral out front.”

Nia thanks the shopkeeper, but the riolu’s smile fades as she turns to him. He can only imagine what expression he’s wearing.

“Are you ready? We can always wait until later tonight, or tomorrow, or…”

Tobias shakes his head and straightens up, ready to move. Nia seems to get the message. It’s now or never. Waiting will only delay the inevitable.

Tobias leads the way across the city, following the large canal the shopkeeper had pointed out. They have to cross a few of the city’s segmented islands to do so, and Tobias quickly decides that he hates the floating bridges that are used to cross the smaller canals. They wobble and sink underfoot and feel much more unstable than the city itself.

Kaleido Bay is beautiful, but it’s just too ingrained with the sea for Tobias to really feel comfortable. Nia clearly loves the place—as she does most places—pointing out something new and exciting to look at every few minutes. Whether that be a particularly elaborate tourist boat pulled through the canals, or a saltwater fountain in a little plaza where children scream and play, or a building that Nia says looks like a “church,” built with stunning glass windows that depict images of Pokemon in the ocean. Tobias doesn’t recognize them all, but he knows he spots Kyrogre, Lugia, and Manaphy.

As they near the edge of the city, where homes and less flashy businesses reside, they see more areas under repair, likely from the natural disasters that Rosalind had mentioned. Either this area got hit harder, being without a buffer against the open ocean, or it’s just the last to be fixed since it isn’t where the tourists go to spend their money.

The Pokemon on the streets here are more casual, too, and there are almost no ferry ‘mon swimming in the canals. No fancy accessories or shopping bags in sight. Likely locals rather than tourists. One or two give them curious looks, probably wondering if they’re lost, before spotting their scarves and looking away again to go about their business.

At one point, Nia nudges Tobias to catch his attention, nodding her head across the canal. He follows her gaze, finding a large group of Pokemon gathered around the wooden remains of a building that was nearly ripped off its foundations. The Pokemon in the group are talking quietly to one another, sharing sad smiles and hugs. A small seel is crying with his flippers covering his eyes, his sobs loud enough to echo across the water as a poliwhirl tries in vain to comfort him.

Tobias spots a pile of items—bright shells and coral, food and flowers and letters—stacked together neatly at the foot of the building. A lump rises in his throat.

“Is that..?” Nia murmurs.

“Funeral,” Tobias confirms, looking away.

“D-Do you think it was a natural disaster?”

“Probably,” Tobias answers. “I’d guess the newer buildings are made with the natural disasters in mind, but that one looked older.”

Nia glances back one more time at the decimated home, grief obvious in her slanted ears and limp tail. Tobias can imagine what she’s thinking about. That she’s feeling that desperation, that weight of the world, on her shoulders once more.

“We’ll fix it,” She murmurs. “Everything.”

Tobias nods but doesn’t offer his own reassurance. As cold as it sounds, he can’t focus on the rest of the world right now. Not when the pangoro they’re about to talk to is dominating every thought and every cell in his body.

They finally find the prison, a small building close to the edge of the city. The bulk of the exterior is white concrete and gleaming metal, but two pieces of tall red coral stand on either side of the door, framing it.

Tobias doesn’t realize he’s stopped in the doorway until Nia steps closer to his side, arms brushing. She’s watching him, and when he looks at her, she tilts her head. As if to ask if he’s sure about this.

He nods, ignoring the way his heart is pounding against his ribs. He takes a deep breath, then leads the way inside.

The interior is surprisingly small, with little more than a front desk and some shelves full of books and files. A large metal door dominates the back wall, so Tobias guesses that probably leads to the prison itself.

A smoochum is at the desk in front of them, sitting on what must be an unreasonably tall stool. She’s writing something on a document. When she finishes, she adds the sheet to a stack of paper to her right, which is already taller than she is. Then she grabs a paper from the stack to her left and starts writing again, only glancing up when the door clicks shut behind them.

“Can I help you?”

Tobias steps up to the desk, ignoring her impatient tone.

“We’re here to see prisoner D22.”

The smoochum lifts a brow, giving them an unimpressed once-over. “…Rank?”

Tobias considers lying, for a moment, before deciding that she’ll probably request to see their badges anyways if he aims too high. “D-Rank.”

“You must be at least B-rank for clearance to visit high-security prisoners,” the smoochum drones, going back to her papers.

“We have to see him,” Tobias says, slapping his hand onto the edge of the desk. He desperately wishes he was taller so he didn’t have to look up for this. “Let us talk to Jude. He works here, right?”

“Please,” Nia adds, pulling Tobias back with a hand on his arm. “It’s really important.”

The smoochum still seems unconvinced, but sighs. “Badges?”

Nia digs their badges out of their bag, handing them over the counter. The smoochum flips them over, giving them an idle examination before sliding them back.

“If Jude says you leave, then you leave. Got it?”

“Y-Yes,” Nia says.

“Tell him Rosie sent us,” Tobias adds.

The smoochum waves them off. She leans back to tug on a chain leading into the wall. The faint sound of a bell follows, then the click of a slat opening.

“Send Jude up. He has Seekers here looking to talk to a prisoner. They say ‘Rosie’ sent them.”

The slat clicks closed again. The smoochum doesn’t wait for an affirmative, wordlessly going back to her paperwork.

Tobias glances at Nia. The riolu shrugs, looking as uncertain as he feels.

After a few minutes of quiet, interrupted only by the scratch and flutter of the smoochum’s papers and Tobias’ restless pacing, the metal door on the back wall finally opens with a heavy grating sound. A large Pokemon, not much taller than them but long and wide, enters the room with slow steps. His blue-green plates look more like rock than skin, as do the craggy yellow points of his spiked shell. Beady eyes perch just above a jagged mouth, glancing at Tobias and Nia before turning to the smoochum.

He must be Jude.

“A turtle?” Nia whispers to Tobias.

“A drednaw,” Tobias whispers back, studying the water type’s surly expression.

Jude is saying something to the smoochum that makes her frown. She shakes her head. The drednaw makes another comment, too quiet to hear, and the smoochum hisses a response. The conversation gets more heated, until the smoochum finally just flaps a dismissive arm at him and returns to her work. Jude huffs, but finally walks over to them.

He leans in a little closer than is comfortable, voice hushed. “You said Rosie sent you?”

Tobias nods. “We’re Seekers. She said you can get us in to talk to a prisoner.”

The drednaw grinds his jaws with obvious irritation. “…Who do you want to see?”

“D22,” Tobias answers. “A pangoro named Dismas.”

“That’s just about the highest security prisoner we’ve got here. Why d’you want to see him?”

“Does it matter?”

“I can’t let just anyone in to see him.”

“B-But—!” Nia stutters.

“Rosalind said to remind you of Sahara City,” Tobias cuts in, silently praying this will work. “If that changes your mind.”

Tobias didn’t think it was possible for a Pokemon with such thick scales to visibly pale, but Jude does. He glances over his shoulder at the smoochum, as if afraid she’d heard. When she doesn’t pause in her writing, Jude breathes again, turning a glare onto Tobias. Tobias glares back.

After a tense moment, without looking away, Jude calls, “They’re clear. Get Miro and Toko to escort ‘em. They’re on duty right now.”

The smoochum actually looks up at that, visibly surprised. But after a moment she turns back to the bell and rings it again, passing along Jude’s request.

“Make sure you tell Rosie that I held up my end of the deal,” Jude rumbles, low. Then he lumbers past them, shouldering the door open to go outside.

Tobias is once again reminded that they should never, ever cross Rosalind. He exchanges an uncomfortable look with Nia.

Within a few short minutes, the metal door behind the front desk opens again, and a malamar and quagsire walk through. The malamar’s sharp yellow eyes skim over Nia and Tobias, move past them to empty air, then focus back on the smoochum at the front desk with a questioning look.

“That’s them,” the smoochum says, annoyed. “Got Jude’s approval and everything. Go on.”

While the quagsire seems unphased by this information, the malamar is clearly taken aback. Still, he doesn’t argue, instead stepping forwards to speak to them.

“We’re taking you to see D22, right?” The malamar checks. He’s expressive despite the rigid beak on his face. His tentacles make up for it, the ones on his head waving as if caught in an undercurrent and occasionally lifting like perked ears.

The quagsire stays silent, studying them with unblinking eyes. Despite her casual posture, Tobias gets the distinct feeling that she’s on-guard, and stronger than she looks.

“Y-Yes please,” Nia answers. “We, um. Need to talk to him.”

“We won’t be able to leave you alone with him,” the malamar warns. “Safety protocol. But we can give you half an hour of supervised visitation.”

Tobias isn’t thrilled about that—having two strangers in the room for such an emotionally vulnerable conversation. And only half an hour?

Still, he knows better than to argue. This could very well be Tobias’ only chance to get some answers about Team Zenith. About his family.

Tobias nods.

The malamar nods in return and gestures for them to follow him back through the doorway, stepping into the lead. The quagsire moves to trail behind Nia and Tobias, boxing them in.

Wordlessly, they’re lead past the front desk and out of the lobby.

Tobias is kind of surprised that they didn’t ask to check their bag. Maybe they trust Seekers not to bring in anything dangerous? Or maybe Jude or the overworked smoochum was supposed to check it. Whatever. Tobias isn’t going to bring it up. He feels better having their meager supply of items close by, anyways.

Instead, Tobias focuses on where they’re heading. The floor here is set at an angle, sloping downward, and the long hallway they’re in is dim as the door shuts behind them, the metal walls windowless. The only reason they can see at all is the light from Tobias’ tail flame, the yellow glow of the malamar’s spotted markings, and the soft green glow of…moss? Algae, maybe. It grows in impressive mounds out of little planters protruding from the walls every few feet. Like little balconies of light.

Below the algae, the hallways are also lined with well-maintained plants growing from water-filled basins in the floor. Tobias can’t tell what kind of plants they are in the darkness, the silhouette of them foreign, but the smell of saltwater is thick in the air under the lush greenery, so they’re probably ocean-based.

The hallway they’re traveling down goes on and on, curving slightly. A strange sensation builds in Tobias’ ears, and it takes him a moment to realize what it must be.

Pressure. They’re going under the waves. It’s getting colder, too.

A jolt of fear lances through Tobias’ gut, completely separate from his nerves regarding Dismas. He reaches over and fumbles Nia’s paw into his own, squeezing it. She glances at him, then tightens her own grip in return. He’s grateful she doesn’t say anything about it.

They walk for a few minutes longer, the quiet echo of their steps a soothing rhythm. The pressure gets stronger, Nia slowly cringing under its weight in her sensitive ears.

“Try equalizing,” the malamar says, breaking the silence. He glances back at Nia, then gestures with a tentacle at his face. “It helps with the pressure. Pinch your nose shut and swallow a few times. Or wiggle your jaw.”

Nia hesitantly follows the psychic type’s directions, trying first one technique and then the other. After alternating between the two once or twice, she perks up, tense shoulders dropping. “That helped a lot! Thank you.”

“No problem. It’s tough when you aren’t used to the pressure change.”

Tobias tries to subtly follow Nia’s lead, wiggling his own jaw and blowing air out of his nose. It does relieve some of the pressure that had built up in his ears and head.

“So are you two here on official Seeker business?” The malamar asks. Tobias can’t tell if he’s genuinely curious, if he’s just being friendly, or if he’s suspicious about why they want to talk to Dismas. Maybe all three.

Nia looks to Tobias for an answer, which is fair. Once again, he considers lying, but if they really won’t be allowed to talk to the pangoro alone, then they’re bound to find out why they’re here anyways.

“Personal matter,” Tobias settles on.

Thankfully, the malamar accepts that with nothing more than a nod. “In that case, I hope you get what you’re looking for from this conversation. Dismas is usually pretty straightforward.”

“That’s one word to describe him,” the quagsire says from behind them, voice soft. Both Tobias and Nia jump. “I would use the word cruel.”

“What was he arrested for?” Nia asks, hesitant.

The malamar glances back at them, lingering on whatever expression Tobias is wearing. He looks forward again. “Take your pick. Theft, destruction of property, murder. It’s the last one that shot him and his teammates to the top of every guild’s priority list.”

Murder. Tobias isn’t sure if the charge is even related to his own family. He’d managed to tell Maggie about the Pokemon who attacked his family, eventually, and he’s sure they put out some kind of warning around the mountains where he used to live, but he doubts that the years-late testimony of a traumatized child would be enough on its own for a solid murder charge. At least not without calling Tobias in to talk to an official guild member first.

Then again, Tobias supposes the crime would be pretty obvious when an entire family all but disappeared from their home. He doubts they ever found their bodies. He vaguely remembers Maggie murmuring questions to the medical ‘mon in the village, after some townspeople went to make sure there weren’t any other survivors. He remembers the way the doctor shook their head, how Maggie’s expression fell even further. Tobias doesn’t know if Team Zenith simply sealed off the cave to create a tomb, or burned everything until it was unrecognizable, or what. He doesn’t really want to know.

If there were bodies to bury, Maggie would’ve asked if he wanted to visit their graves before they left for Bethoc’s Haven. But she didn’t.

Tobias’ legs suddenly feel pathetically weak. Like they’ve been replaced with jelly. Some part of him, something small and young and scared, desperately wants to turn and run. Leave now before the truth is revealed. Before he has to face Dismas again.

He shoves that part of himself away, holding tighter to Nia’s paw.

“Well. Multiple charges of murder,” the malamar adds, quieter. “Merchants. A few Seekers. Suspected one-offs. He and his crew have built quite the reputation for themselves.”

Tobias feels nauseous. Somehow this has always felt so personal, Team Zenith’s crime against his family. But Tobias isn’t the only one they’ve hurt. Somewhere out there, there are others they’ve done the same to. Other families and friends and partners who are missing loved ones. Who are weighed down by a similar grief.

That familiar old rage surges through Tobias’ chest like magma. It makes it hard to breathe, makes it hard for him to think about anything aside from hurting Dismas like Dismas hurt him.

But Tobias can feel Nia’s fingers squeeze his, briefly. Can feel her gaze burning into the side of his head. So he closes his eyes, trusting her to lead them, and takes a deep breath. Another. Another. He won’t be allowed to fight a prisoner. He has to be civil, to a degree. He has to keep his head enough to speak, or this whole thing amounts to nothing.

He can’t waste this opportunity.

Tobias only opens his eyes when the darkness behind his eyelids shifts. Their footsteps sound different suddenly, less contained.

They’ve finally reached the end of the long ramp leading down. Ahead of them lies a metal hallway with multiple other hallways branching off of it. To different cells, maybe.

The floor is lit by the same green moss as the hallway they just left, but there’s an even fainter light coming from the walls as well, from tall, thin…windows? It takes Tobias a moment to register what he’s seeing through them.

The ocean is dark this far down, the water inky black, but more moss lights the environment surrounding the prison, growing atop silhouettes of rocky outcroppings. It creates a surreal effect, a gradient of soft green light and harsh black shapes.

Before he looks away, Tobias also catches a glimpse of brighter light streaking by outside. It comes from a lanturn, the lures dangling from the water type’s head glowing a warm yellow. A few seconds later, a vague shape carrying what looks like a moss-fueled lamp swims by as well, too quick to identify. Guards, maybe. Making sure the prisoners stay in or that any curious water types stay out?

Either way, Tobias can’t help wondering why the windows are here at all. He’s not very familiar with glass, but he didn’t think it would be strong enough to withstand the pressure of the ocean.

Just as he’s thinking that, the light catches oddly on one of the windows they pass. Ah, there it is—the unique shimmer of a move. Light screen, maybe, or reflect, reinforcing the glass panes. If he squints, he thinks he can even see the pale green hue of light clay acting as caulk, simultaneously sealing the windows in place and strengthening the effects of the protective moves.

He’s still not a fan.

“How do they get air down here?” Nia asks, distracting Tobias from his staredown with the windows. She’s quiet enough that Tobias isn’t sure if she’s asking him or just talking to herself.

“Vents,” the malamar answers. He motions up with a lift of his head tentacles. Tobias follows the gesture to see a slatted vent laid into the ceiling as they pass by. “Pipes lead up to the surface, and the greenery down here helps with oxygen generation.”

“And the windows?” Tobias can’t help asking. “Seems like a dangerous design choice for an underwater prison.”

“That’s by design,” the malamar says. “Don’t worry, they’re maintained daily. But they can be helpful, if we have an escape attempt. There’s a reason we don’t take water type prisoners here.”

Oh. So the windows are an emergency stop measure. If a prisoner tries to escape, they flood the room they’re in to slow them down?

Or maybe they just drown them.

Tobias shivers at the idea. Nia seems equally perturbed, falling silent again.

Tobias glances down the hallways they pass, expecting to hear jeering voices and see hulking shadows through jail bars. Instead, the cells seem to be individual rooms, each sealed shut by a heavy steel door with a crank in place to open it. A placard rests above each door with a letter-number combo etched into it.

Tobias watches with trepidation as the numbers rise as they walk, from D01 up to D05, then D10 to D15. Do they really need this many prison cells? Maybe they house more prisoners here than he realized.

Finally, they stop in front of a room. D22 is etched into the placard above the door.

Tobias feels lightheaded. He knows he’s holding onto Nia a little tighter than he should, but he can’t seem to relax his grip. The malamar says something, but it’s not until the quagsire steps in front of them that Tobias realizes they’ve been trying to give him a command.

“We’ve gotta step back for a sec,” Nia murmurs, tugging Tobias away from the door.

Tobias nods, barely hearing her as the quagsire puts their whole body into rolling the crank beside the door. With a low groan, the metal slowly lifts. The inside is a weakly lit green like the halls, but Tobias can’t see past the malamar’s twitching tentacles.

The malamar waits until the door is high enough, then slips inside with a quiet, authoritative, “Wait here.”

Tobias does so, heart roaring in his ears. When the door finishes opening and clicks into place, the quagsire steps into the malamar’s spot, guarding the doorway so they can’t enter.

Tobias can hear the rattle of chains and the muted tones of conversation from inside. Nothing discernible, but the deep rumble of a new voice stands out against the malamar’s higher tones.

Tobias’ stomach turns.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Nia whispers, just loud enough for him to hear.

Even then, even knowing there’s no possible way the pangoro could’ve heard, Tobias nods his head instead of answering, desperately wanting her to stop talking. He can’t be weak here. He can’t let the pangoro know that just the hint of his voice has Tobias on the edge of panic.

All too soon, the malamar calls out, “All right. We’re ready.”

The quagsire steps aside to usher them in.

Tobias steps inside. The interior looks just like the rest of the floor, lit faintly green by moss. Two windows, tall but slim, are all that offer a respite from the steely metallic walls and floor. There’s a flattened nest of dry, dark green moss in the corner of the room, large enough to easily fit Nia, Tobias, and all of Team Shellshock inside of it.

Tobias only has a moment to take all of that in before he focuses on the Pokemon sitting in the center of the room.

Tobias has always thought he must’ve exaggerated the pangoro’s size in his nightmares, but Dismas is just as big as he remembers. Even sitting cross-legged on the floor, the pangoro is easily three times their height, and just as wide. Coarse black and white fur does little to hide the muscles in his arms and legs, his limbs as thick as tree trunks. He looks like he could punch through the metal walls of his cell with no trouble if he really wanted to.

Which is probably what the heavy shackles on the pangoro’s wrists, ankles, and neck are there to prevent. Their chains, thicker than Tobias’ arm, lead down through gaps in the floor. They’ve been pulled taut, keeping the pangoro forcibly low to the ground.

Finally, Tobias looks at the pangoro’s face. Dismas looks…bored, almost. Tobias imagines he’d be sitting with his elbow resting on crossed knees and his chin planted in the palm of his paw if he had the range of motion to do so. His shadowed eyes are hardly visible.

Tobias swallows. He wishes Mom was here. Or Dad. Or Maggie. Even with Dismas tied down, Tobias still feels so small. He hates how vulnerable he feels as he steps forward, stopping a few feet away from the outlaw. Nia hovers at his side.

He feels like he’s nine years old again.

“You’re free to talk,” the malamar says. He moves past Tobias to stand guard at the door, Releasing the crank and closing the door with a flash of yellow psychic energy and a loud clang.

The quagsire waddles over to stand at the pangoro’s side, keeping a close eye on the criminal.

And then it’s quiet, and all that’s left to do is to find the truth.

[zedecksiew]

(Don't) Incentivise Ethical Behaviour

In the ongoing project of rescuing useful thoughts off Xwitter, here's another hot take of mine, reheated:

"Being good for a reward isn’t being good---it’s just optimal play."

The quote comes from Luke Gearing and his excellent post "Against Incentive", to which I had been reacting.

My thread was mainly intended as a fulsome nodding along to one of Luke's points. It was posted in 2021, and extended in 2023 after Sidney Icarus posed a question to it. So it is two threads.

Here they are, properly paragraphed, hopefully more cleanly expressed:

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(Don't) Incentivise Ethical Behaviour

This is my main problem with mechanically rewarding pro-social play: a character's ethical choice is rendered mercenary.

As Luke Gearing puts it:

"Being good for a reward isn’t being good---it’s just optimal play."

Bear in mind that I'm not saying that pro-social play can't have rewarding outcomes for players. Any decision should have consequences in the fiction. It serves the ideal of portraying a living, world to have these consequences rendered diegetic:

The townsfolk are thankful; the goblins remember your mercy; pamphlets appear, quoting from your revolutionary speech.

What I am saying is that rewarding abstract mechanical benefits (XP tickets, metacurrency points, etc) for ethical decisions stinks.

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A subtle but absolutely essential distinction, when it comes to portraying and exploring ethics / morality, in roleplaying games.

Say you reward bonus XP for sparing goblins.

Are your players making a decisions based on how much they value life / the personhood of goblins? Or are they making a decision based on how much they want XP?

Say you declare: "If you help the villagers, the party receives a +1 attitude modifier in this village."

Are your players assisting the community because it is the right thing to do, or are they playing optimally, for a +1 effect?

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XP As Currency

XP is the ur-example of incentive in TTRPGs. It began with D&D's gold-for-XP, and has never strayed far from that logic.

XP is still currency. Do things the GM / game designer wants you to do? Get paid.

Players use XP to buy better mechanical tools (levels, skills, abilities)---which they can then in turn use to better perform the actions that will net them XP.

Like using gold you stole from goblins to buy a sword, so you can now rob orcs.

I genuinely feel that such systems are valuable. They are models that illuminate the drives fuelling amoral / unethical behaviour.

Material gain is the drive of land-grabbing and colonialism. Logger-barons and empires do get wealthier and more privileged, as a reward for their terrible actions.

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If you want to present an ethical choice in play, congruent to our real-life dilemmas, there is value in asking:

"Hey, if you kill the goblins you can grab their treasure, and you will get richer. There's no reward for sparing their lives, except that they are thankful."

Which is another way of asking:

"Does your commitment to the ideal of preserving life outweigh the guaranteed material incentives for taking life?"

The ethical choice is the difficult choice, precisely because it involves---as it often does, in real life---sacrificing personal growth and gain. Doling out an XP bounty for doing the right thing makes the ethical choice moot.

"I as the player am making a mechanically optimal choice, but my character is making an ethical choice!"

A cop-out. Owning your cake and eating it too. The fictional fig-leaf of empathy over a calculated a decision to make profit.

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Sidney Icarus asks a question which I will quote here:

"... those who hold to their beliefs of good behaviour don't feel rewarded, and therefore feel punished. And that's not a good feeling. It's an unpleasant experience to play a game where the righteous players are in rags, and the mercenary fucks have crowns and sceptres. So, what's the design opportunity? How do we make doing the right thing feel pleasant without making it mercenary? Or, like reality, do we acknowledge that ethical acts are valuable only intrinsically and philosophically? I have no idea how to reconcile this."

I would suggest that the above dichotomy---"righteous players in rags, mercs in crowns"---is true if property is recognised as the only true incentive.

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Friends As Property

Modern games try to solve the righteous-players-in-rags "problem" in various ways. Virtue might not net you treasure or XP, but may give you:

Contact or ally slots, which you can fill in;

Relationship meters you can watch tick up;

Favour points you can cash in later;

etc.

How different are these mechanical incentives from treasure or XP, really?

Your relationships with supposedly living, breathing beings are transformed into abilities for your character: skills you can train; powers you can reliably proc. Pump your relationship score with the orc tribe until calling on them for reinforcements becomes a once-per-month ability.

Relationships become contracts. Regard becomes debt. Put your friend in an ally slot, so they become a tool.

If this is what you want play to be---totally fine! As stated previously, games say powerful things when they portray the engines of profit and property.

But I personally don't think game designers should design employer-employee relationships and disguise these as instances of mutual aid.

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Friends As Friends

In the OSR campaigns I'm part of, I keep forgetting to record money. Which is usually a big deal in such games, seeing as they are in the grand tradition of gold-for-XP?

In both games, my characters are still 1st-Level pukes, though it's been months.

I'm having a blast, anyway.

My GMs, by virtue of running organic, reactive worlds, have made play rewarding for me. NPCs / geographies remember the party's previous actions, and respond accordingly.

I've been given gills from a river god, after constant prayer;

I've befriended a village of monsters, where we now live;

I've parleyed with the witch of a whole forest, where we may now tread;

I've a boon from the touch of wood wose, after answering his summons.

I cannot count on the wood wose showing up. He is a character in the world, not a power I control. Calling on the wood wose might become a whole adventure.

Little of this stuff is codified my stats or abilities or equipment list. They are mostly all under "misc notes".

Diegetic growth. Narrative change that spirals into more play.

This is the design opportunity, to me:

How do we shape TTRPG play culture in such a way that the "misc notes" gaps in our games are as fun as the systemised bits? What kinds of orientation tools must we provide? What should we say, in our advice sections?

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A Note About Trust

The reason why it is so hard to imagine play beyond conventional incentive structures has a lot to do with trust.

Sidney again:

One of the core issues is the "low trust table". I'm not designing just for myself but for my audience. For a product. How much can I ask purchasers and their friends to codesign this part with me?

Nerds love numbers and things we can write down in inventories or slots because they are sureties. We've learned to fear fiat or player discretion, traumatised as we are by Problem GMs or That Guys.

The reason why the poverty in Sidney's hypothetical ("righteous players are in rags") sounds so bad is because in truth it represents risk at the game table. If you don't participate in the mechanics legible to your ruleset (the XP and gear to do more game things), you risk gradually being excluded from play.

You have no assurance your fellow players will know how hold space for you; be considerate; work together to portray a living world where NPCs react in meaningful ways---in ways that will be fun and rewarding for everybody playing.

You are giving up the guarantee of mechanical relevance for the possibility of fun interactions and creative social play.

+

The "low trust table" is learned behaviour--the cruft of gamer culture and trauma.

When I game with folks new to TTRPGs, they tend to be decent, considerate. I think there's enough anecdotal evidence from folks playing with school kids / newcomers / etc to suggest my experience is not unique.

If the "low trust table" is indeed learned behaviour, it can be unlearned.

Which rules conventions, now part of the hobby mainstream, were the result of designers designing defensively---shadowboxing against terrible players and the spectre of "unfairness"?

How can we "undesign" such conventions?

Lack of trust is a problem that we have to address in play culture, not rulesets. You cannot cook a dish so good it forces diners to have good table manners.

+

This is too long already. I'll end with an observation:

Elfgames are not praxis, but doesn't this specific dilemma in the microcosm of our silly elfgames ultimately mirror real-world ethics?

To be moral is to trust in a better world; to be amoral / immoral is to hedge against the guarantee of a worse one.

+++

Further Reading

Some words from around the TTRPG community about incentive and advancement in games:

+

However, the reason there is a big debate about this is that behavioural incentives in games clearly do work, either entirely or at various levels. This applies outside gaming, as well. Why do advertising companies and retail business use "rewards" structures to convince people to buy more of their products? Why do people chase after "Likes" on social media?

A comment by Paul_T to "A Hypothesis on Behavioral Incentives" from a discussion on Story-Games.com

+

the structure and symbolism of the D&D game align with certain structures and values of patriarchy. The game is designed to last infinitely by shifting goalposts of character experience in terms of increasing amounts of gold pieces acquired; this resembles the modus operandi of phallic desire which seeks out object after object (most typically, women) in order to quench a lack which always reasserts itself.

D&D's Obsession With Phallic Desire from Traverse Fantasy

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In short, my feeling is that rewarding players with character improvement in return for achieving goals in a specific way impedes some of the key strengths of TTRPGs for little or no benefit in return. 

Incentives from Bastionland

+

When good deeds arise naturally out of the players choices, especially when players rejected other options that were more beneficial to them, it is immensely satisfying. Far more than if players are just assumed to be heroic by default. It gives agency and meaning to player choice.

Make Players Choose To Be Kind from Cosmic Orrery

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Much has been made about 1 GP = 1 XP as the core gameplay loop driver of TSR D+D. But XP for gold retrieved also winds up being something of a de facto capitalistic outlook as well. Success is driven by accumulation of individual wealth -- by an adventuring company, even! So what's a new framework that can be used for underpinning a leftist OSR campaign?

A Spectre (7+3 HD) Is Haunting the Flaeness: Towards a Leftist OSR from Legacy of the Bieth

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Growth should be tied to a specific experience occurring in the fiction. It is more important for a PC to grow more interesting than more skilled or capable. PCs experience growth not necessarily because they’ve gotten more skill and experience, but because they are changed in a significant way.

Cairn FAQ from Cairn RPG / Yochai Gal

+++

Thank you Ram for the Story-Games.com deep cut!

( Image sources: https://knowyourmeme.com/memes/neuron-activation https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Majesty:_The_Fantasy_Kingdom_Sim https://www.economist.com/sites/default/files/special-reports-pdfs/10490978.pdf https://varnam.my/34311/untold-tales-of-indian-labourers-from-rubber-plantations-during-pre-independence-malaya/ https://nobonzo.com/ )

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PS: used with permission from Sandro, art by Maxa', a reminder to self:

[knavesflames]

“Promise”

Just a little thing about Clervie and Arlecchino that lowkey apart my heart thinking about it. Again, very sorry if this is not good!! Am new to writing things down other than in my notes sooo bear with me as I get better pls 😩

Contents: angst, the tiniest mention of self harm. It isn’t graphic, it is mentioned in passing only once, and very vaguely, but thought I’d put a TW anyway🥰

Word count: 2453

Writing under the cut!!:D

At age 9,

Peruere sits in the garden, holding the small box. The lid is open as she places a small lumidouce bell next to the spider. The lumidouce bell will die and wilt underground, but at least the spider won’t be lonely, she thinks.

“Peruere!”

The loud childish voices rings out in the garden once again. A sigh leaves Peruere’s lips. She isn’t in the mood to talk to the person she secretly calls sunshine. Looking down at the splayed out body of her pet spider, her lip quivers. Once, twice, before a tear falls onto the wood of the makeshift coffin. The dread rising in her as she sees her hands changing doesn’t go unnoticed, but she pushes it down. ‘What is that? Why am I changing?’

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sunshine once again, the voice now muffled with chewing.

“I brought cake. Want some?”

Peruere’s now charcoal hands take the cake, pausing as the sunshine (or Clervie, but Peruere prefers sunshine) takes it from her hands and places it on a leaf in front of the small grave.

“You must know spiders don’t eat cake.”

“Yeah, I know! They can’t eat cake here, but in spider world they can.”

Her voice is almost irritating to Peruere, who is only trying to be angsty and sad. But how can she be sad when the sunshine is right there?

“Clervie, I want to sit in silence.”

Clervie can’t help her eyebrows furrowing before she sits down with a small thud.

“I’ll sit with you, then.”

Peruere sighs as her eyes, eyes that are unlike any others in the house of the hearth, glance towards the sunshine. She doesn’t persist. Secretly, she’s glad for the company. Clervie smiles back as she plays with the small patch of lumidouce bells.

“I don’t care that you’re different. I think you’re cool.”

Her eyes narrow, eyebrows furrowing before she responds.

“Why? I’m completely different from you.”

“I like that. Even our teddies are different. I think everyone being the same is boring. They won’t be the king because they are all the same. You will be king one day, Peruere. Can I sit with you when you are?”

Peruere feels just a small amount of dread at those words. The words that remind her that one day, she indeed, will have to do what Mother says and fight to be king. Something is off about Mother, she thinks. She is too kind, too caring. She doesn’t like it. Not just because she doesn’t deserve it (that’s what she tells herself in the mirror before she sleeps), but because Clervie, the sunshine, is falling for it. In that moment, she makes a silent vow to protect the sunshine always, even if it is cloudy.

“We can be king together.”

“Do you promise? I don’t want to be left behind.”

“I promise.”

At age 11,

Peruere and Clervie, the sunshine and the moon, sit in a deserted part of the house of the hearth. Their favourite part is the room with the wide window, where they sit and stare at the sky, talking about their dreams. Or rather, Clervie talks, Peruere listens. Though this time, the roles seem to be reversed. Next to them, a tray of medical instruments. Scissors, bandages, gauze, disinfectant. Peruere sits, her blackened, gentle but clumsy hands tying a bow on one of the bandages. The look on Clervie, I mean, the sunshine’s, face was much brighter than ten minutes ago. This is the first of many times, unbeknownst to them. Peruere speaks softly.

“What happened? Your wrists looked like they got hurt.”

“Nothing, Peruere.”

Alarm bells ring in Peruere’s head. Clervie was never this closed off, not with her.

“Did you do this to yourself? Like Céline? She got upset at herself so she hurt herself. I don’t like that, tell me you didn’t do that. It’s dangerous, Clervie.”

Her eyes, shining black, filled with worry. Her hand grabs the sunshine’s, giving it a little squeeze, encouraging her to talk.

“No, that isn’t it. I argued. With Mother. I don’t want to fight everyone to be king. I want to be friends with everyone, I want to eat bulle fruit with everyone. Why do we have to fight?”

“I do not like it either. I want to run away sometimes. Do Mothers always argue with their daughters?”

“I don’t know.”

Clervie’s hands, still trembling from the adrenaline, push open the window. They stare at the stars for a while, before her voice rings out once more, soft, quiet, always optimistic.

“I heard that in Snezhnaya, coloured lights dance in the sky at night. When we grow up, shall we go see it together?”

Peruere wonders if they’ll ever go and see it, or if it’s just another empty promise. Just like how Mother promised her spider wouldn’t die, how the fish she caught wouldn’t be eaten.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

At age 13,

The sun shines. Both the actual sun, and Clervie, Peruere thinks. Her fingers are splayed out on the picnic blanket, the wet paint on her nails shining in the light when her fingers twitch. Painted black, like her skin on her arms, and red, the colour of the lipstick they stole from Mother a few weeks ago, the colour of Clervie’s hair. She makes a noise of satisfaction, secretly looking at Clervie through her fingers. It looks like she’s looking through prison bars, she thinks. But Clervie is the sun. If anyone should be in prison, it’s her, not Clervie. She doesn’t like the way she thinks about Mother, but Mother harms the sunshine. Her sunshine. Her eyes widen, just slightly as she realises that maybe feeling so warm and fuzzy inside whenever she sees Clervie isn’t exactly a usual way to think of people. She doesn’t feel that for anyone else. She stares a bit longer. How the red of Clervie’s hair reminds her of the burning sun. Of the fire in the lounge of the house of the hearth. Fire is good, she thinks. She could protect her sunshine with fire. In a split decision, she takes the red nail polish in one hand, a strand of her white hair in the other. Snow and blood. Blood on snow. Those colours seem to be awfully present in her life as of late, and her heart begins to twist as she thinks of what it means for her future. Before she can think any harder, Clervie’s giggle cuts through her thoughts.

“What are you doing, silly?”

Red paints on the snow coloured hair.

“I’m like you now. I have red hair. That way, we will stay friends forever.”

“I like you too much to leave you, silly. It looks good with your hair. The red. You should paint it every day, and that way, you can—“

Words are cut off by clumsy lips meeting clumsy lips. Only for a second, a second that feels forever. Peruere’s cheeks flush the colour of the painted strand as she mumbles apologetic words.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, I-“

“It’s okay. I liked it. I want to do it more. You should still keep the red strand. Promise you will?”

“Yes, I promise.”

At age 16,

Mother has been increasingly cruel, to both her and Clervie. Especially to Clervie. How could someone be so evil to someone so kind is something Peruere cannot fathom. She despises seeing Clervie cry, to hear her quiet sobs at night. Her eyes are always bright, always happy. If not for her own sake, for Peruere’s. But the sun has been hiding lately, hiding behind clouds and avoiding words. The red strand of Peruere’s hair, once painted every day with nail polish to match Clervie’s, now permanently dyed, retouched every eight weeks, hidden under most of her hair to avoid Mother’s wrath. And now? They stand in the field, Clervie, facing Peruere with resigned eyes.

“You know it’s the only way. Mother will kill us both if you are not king. Have you not noticed the children disappearing?”

“I have. It does not mean your life has to end. You cannot take your life—“

“No. That will not satisfy Mother, and you know that. You must do it.”

Hate, fear, dread and sadness twist Peruere’s gut so hard she feels as if she will throw up. She fight the urge to retch at the very suggestion that she dulls the sunshine she has grown to adore so.

“I cannot. I will not. You cannot ask me to do something like that.”

“You must.”

She hates that Clervie is right. She hates that Mother is so twisted and sick that this is the only choice. She begs anyway, something she told herself she would never do.

“Please. We were supposed to go to Snezhnaya together. To see the coloured lights in the sky. There is no ‘we’ without you.”

A chuckle is heard, the familiar chuckle that lights up Peruere’s heart, the chuckle that feels like it’ll reverse her curse entirely. She can’t deny the sadness she hears in it though, especially not when she sees a tear slip down Clervie’s face. The sight brings tears to her own eyes and she looks away, unable to stare at her any longer. The longer she stares, the harder it will be. She knows this, but her eyes move back to her anyway.

“You will look at the coloured lights, and you can trust I will be there in them.”

“No! This is not fair.”

“You know I’m right, Peruere.”

“And I hate that you are. You’re always damn right. Stop that.”

Another chuckle is heard behind tears.

“I plan to.”

“Don’t joke.”

“I’m sorry. And I’m sorry you have to do this.”

Peruere feels like her breath is being sucked out of her, like she can’t inhale enough and yet, exhaling is impossible. Her brain is telling her she has to. She has to give the sunshine a merciful end, lest Mother give her a far worse fate. But her heart is screaming. Tears drip down her face, her body wracked with silent cries. Her hand goes to the hilt of the dagger she always carries.

“But I love you. You are my sunshine.”

“I love you, too. And so I will always be here when the sun is shining. I am not afraid.”

“I am.”

Peruere is not one to be scared. She never has. But now, her hands are clammy, she feels a sweat gathering. She feels her heart thumping in a completely different way than when they share small kisses and giggles. She feels like she’s killing herself instead of her love. The dagger is unsheathed now, the blade glinting with every tremble of her hand. Oh, God, there it is again. That smile, the one that melts Peruere every time. Images flash in her mind of every time she bandages Clervie after an argument with Mother. Images of what could happen should Mother take Clervie’s life into her own hands, and before she can think twice, the dagger has pierced her skin. Clervie’s clothes are staining with blood as red as her hair.

“No. No, no— please. Clervie, you can’t. Why did you tell me to do this?”

Red ‘X’ irises stare into blue ones. A beautiful bluey green, one that Peruere has always admired. Has always adored looking into. Not now. Not while she watches the life drain from her eyes. Watching the sun burn.

“You will make a great king.”

“Stop that.”

Anger boils inside Peruere, anger like she has never felt before. She swears she will kill anyone who threatens to hurt the ones she cares about. She won’t let this happen again.

“I’m sorry. Thank you.”

Clervie’s soft words fill her ears for the final time before her body drops to the floor with a thunk. Peruere stares down at her, anger filling her so greatly, she becomes blank. She decides she will never feel again. She will never love again. The sun was a star, but the sun has burned and died.

“Do you promise you will be with me in Snezhnaya? Promise?”

“..Clervie?”

She is met with only silence, and the sound of the lumidouce bells waving in the wind.

At age 28,

Arlecchino walks through the halls of the House of the Hearth, watching stoically as the children play, as they watch the two children perform their magic show. She calls out, her voice strict, unfeeling.

“Meet in the dining hall when you are finished. Dinner is served shortly.”

Met with a chorus of “Yes Father”, she nods, satisfied, before turning away. Her heels click against the tiled floor as she walks through the halls, her hair flowing in her ponytail behind her. She takes the long route, avoiding the west wing of bedrooms, something she has avoided for many years. Her footfalls come to a stop as the sun hits her as it shines through the window. She feels a tug at her heart, and she clenches her fists tightly before sighing, turning quickly on her heel. She walks with purpose, walking past the many bedrooms until she slows, coming to a stop in front of the bedroom door she has kept locked. The ring of keys in her pocket makes a sound as she pulls them out, and she listens to the way they jingle as she unlocks the door and slips inside. She blinks back heartache as she stares around at the room. It has been well preserved, it looks like it’s still very much lived in by a sixteen year old girl. She goes about, dusting the surfaces in silence, cleaning up any signs that it hasn’t been touched in such a long time. She opens the window, watering the lumidouce bells that sit on the windowsill outside. She stops by the bed, where two teddies sit— one pink with a white ribbon, one black and white with red ‘X’s for eyes. Her hand, now black with darker patterns all over from how far the curse has advanced, softly pets the pink one, swallowing down a shaky breath. Her nails, painted red and black, like they always have been, gives a gentle scratch under the chin.

“Good morning, Clervie. The children are doing well today.”

Her hand slides into her pocket, pulling out a small, gift wrapped box, placing it by the teddy.

“Happy birthday. I told you I would not forget. The sun is shining brightly, and the colours in the sky at night have been vivid lately. You would have found them beautiful, I am sure. I would have loved to look at you as you stared at them in wonder.”

The birthday gift joins another 11 on the bed, each one in different phases of aging. She stands again, smoothing down the bedsheets before placing a small kiss on the pink teddy.

“See you next year, Clervie. I promise.”

[supergirl000983]

Random Outta Pocket moments on the Ranch.

Y/N: *Falls off horse* Fuck…Ouch

Travis: You ok Darlin?

Beth: *Watching her sister walk funny up to the gate* What’s the matter with you?

Y/N: My Thong is Thonging a little too hard.

Travis: *Looking up at the sky questioning his wife choices* Dear God

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N: *Falling on the couch between Travis and Beth* Damn what a week.

John: Sweetheart it’s 6:30 pm on a Monday

Y/N: *falling back into Travis* Jesus Christ Fuck me.

Travis: Not Jesus, but I can totally do that later tonight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N: Your existence confuses me greatly.

Jimmy: How so?

Y/N: Your presence is annoying, but the thought of something bad happening to you is upsetting to me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John: Are yall sober?

Beth while holding up Y/N: We are moderately functional.

John: I'll take that as a no.

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Y/N: There are three ways to handle a difficult situation. The right way, the wrong way, and the Dutton way. Which is the wrong way, but faster.

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Kayce - Travis, what did I say about PDA?

Travis: *with Y/n on his lap and in the middle of a make-out session* I don't know what you're talking about brother.

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Colby: I'm a real asset.

Ryan: You're only off by two letters.

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Teeter: Between Ryan, Jimmy, Colby, and Walker - if you had to, who would you punch?

Y/N: No one - they're my friends! I wouldn't punch any of them.

Lloyd: Walker?

Y/N: Yeah, but I don't know why.

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Kayce: Where's Jamie?

Beth: Somewhere disappointing Dad

Y/N: Somewhere disappointing God

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Y/N: "Look at me straight in the eyes and tell me the truth, Teeter!"

Teeter: "You can't expect me to look into your eyes and be straight."

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Travis: Why is your back all scratched up?

Y/n : *flashbacks to messing with a chicken Travis told her not to mess with

Y/n: I'm having an affair

Travis: What?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kayce: I thought Beth told you to stay in bed

Y/n: She did, but there's a scary monster in my closet, soooo here I am

Rip: was the monster scarier than Beth when She's mad?

Y/n:...

Y/n: I'm going back to bed

Travis: good girl

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kayce : I think your mom mixed up our lunches. Look.

holds up a post-it note that says "I'm proud of you and I love you so much."]

Tate: Oh, that explains this.

holds up a post-it note that says

"Please be good. For the love of God, be good. "]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John: If you three can manage not to kill each other while I'm gone-

Y/N: Oh please...

Beth: *Fake smiles*

Jamie: We're not children.

John: ...*walks away*

Y/N: ...

Jamie: ...

Beth: …

Y/N: Fucking Cunt-Cakes

Beth: Eat shit and die.

Jamie: Yes, fuck you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walker: You know, Travis, real talk bro, you never say nothin' when you're around us. Why is that?

Travis: Cause I don't fucking like you guys.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John: Don't pull any of those stunts like you did last time.

Y/N: I made an offering.

John: You dropped a dead mouse into Summer’s lap.

Y/N: Yes! Like a cat.

John: You are not a cat!

Y/N: No... tragically, I am a woman.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sheriff : Think you can answer questions without the usual level of sarcasm?

Y/N: If you can ask them without the usual level of stupid.

Sheriff : Where's your Dad and why hasn't anyone been able to contact him?

Y/N: I dunno, l've been here, haven't seen him in days.

Sheriff : Is he drinking again?

Y/N: What do you mean again? He never had to stop.

Sheriff: But he did have to slow down, is he drinking like he used to?

Y/N: Alright, how bout this? Next time I see him, l'll give him the field sobriety test, okay? We'll do the alphabet, start with F & end with U.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Beth and Summer arguing*

Kayce: …

Monica: …

Rip: …

John: …

Y/N: l'ma instigate.

Travis: *pulling her back and putting his hand over her mouth* NO!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Travis: *pissed off* Sometimes I can't stand you.

Y/N: *while walking away* Then kneel!And while you're down there, occupy your mouth.

Travis: I.....

Teeter: 000000....

Jimmy: I- I-... She has no fear. None. Absolutely no survival instinct, no self preservation. None!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Travis: To apologize I’m getting you whatever flowers you want

Y/N: Fuck flowers buy me a horse.

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Kayce: Won't be gone long. Left everyone their own list of instructions while I ain't here.

Y/N: Mine just says "Y/N, no."

Rip: Apply it to everything

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N: Why don't you ever take me outside in the middle of the night to look at the stars?

Travis: Cause I woke ya up at 4:30 once to hunt with me and ya said anything before 9am was costin' me my dick.

Y/N: Maybe I meant you'd get laid.

Travis: Ya had a knife, Y/N.

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Rip: What's wrong?

Travis: Food's hot. Can't eat it.

Y/N: I'm hot.

Travis:*looking exasperated* Don't.

Y/N: You still eat me.

Everyone at the table: *crickets chirping*

John: *beating his forehead on the table* Just-one-normal dinner. I just want one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Colby: The fuck's wrong with you?!

Teeter: *sipping her coffee* Wow, could you at least say good morning?

Colby: Good mornin. The fuck's wrong with you?!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lloyd: what's a word that's a mix between 'sad' and 'mad'?

Jake: disgruntled, miserable, desolated-

Jimmy: smad.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N: I’m a person that likes to think things through.

Jamie: Since when? I once saw you eat a marshmallow that was still on fire.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beth: Do you want to play 20 Questions?

Rip: Sure!

Rip: Whats your favorite color?

Beth: *laser fucking focused* Triangle. Do you love me?

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