#mysteria writes

[mysteria157]

Equinox

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Black!Fem Reader

Summary: As Fall whispers its approach, you find yourself tangled in Toji's sheets and the remnants of a summer that was never meant to last.

CW: mild intoxication, explicit sexual content, slight angst, mentions of oral (f! receiving), missionary, vaginal sex, fluff and comfort. As always, reader is a black fem.

WC: 4.8K

Author notes: I had an idea for an 'end of summer' fic with Toji that I really needed to write. and I can't focus on anything else until this leaves my mind lol. Inspired by @absoluteindulgence 💕

As always, likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated.

Happy reading!

Header: myself | Divider: @saradika @cafekitsune | @pixelcafe-network💕

Masterlist | Ao3 | Twitter

©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.

The end of summer carries a unique weight, a bittersweet finality that hits everyone differently. For children, it’s the last wind of freedom—of the final days of sunkissed adventures with each other and nights that never seem to end, before the school bell calls them back to structure and routine. 

For the workforce, it’s a time of transition marked by the ticking clock of fiscal calendars. The not-so-busy days of August give way to a rush of activity—reports to file, budgets to review and close, plans to make for the coming year. Pencil skirts and a turned eye to open-toed shoes slowly shift back to crisp shirts and ironed slacks, polished and prepared for the productivity of fall.

For you, the shift is more powerful. It’s a sign of change that you’ve rehearsed but now find yourself forgetting the lines. It’s of saying goodbye to dalliances and an easy fling, of turning the page and embracing a new part of yourself. A new job. A new relationship status (single). A new outlook on life.

Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself it would be.

That’s what you tell yourself when you say ‘fuck it’ to monotony on your 30th birthday and decide to let your friends drag you around town. ‘Just try it,’ they giggle as you eye the horse races with a raised eyebrow, the announcer blaring in your ears over the roar of the crowd around you. It’s a place you would never imagine finding yourself. But you say ‘fuck it’ and go along for the ride. Tipsy and smiling from ear to ear as you yell to the wind when the #1 Happy Days crosses the finish line and puts three grand in your pocket.

‘Fuck it’ is what you tell yourself when nonchalant emerald eyes met yours, a scarred pair of lips smirking down as you slide your ticket to the attendee to collect your winnings. Nonchalant but mysterious emerald eyes that trace over your form without grace, eyeing the block sandals and too-tight shimmery silver dress that hugs your curves and shows the smooth brown skin of your thighs.

“Who gave you a heads up about Lucky Days? No way you won on your first try.” His voice is smooth, like fine velvet that ghosts over you.

“The disbelief in your voice tells me you lose often.”

Don’t encourage this.

That’s what you tell yourself when a heavily muscled arm drapes across the collections counter, a whiff of outdoors and mint and man wafting up your nose as his smirk deepens. “I don’t lose.”

The attendant mutters you a kind ‘Happy Birthday’ and slides a modest stack across the counter; your winnings twinkling up at you in crispy green. The large man next to you hasn’t moved, and unfortunately, you are tipsy enough to linger. Tipsy enough to drag your gaze over him with equal disgrace, catching the pale collarbone, angular jaw, and midnight hair that kisses his cheeks.

“Birthday magic then?” he inquires to keep your attention, taking a step closer with a confidence that makes your thighs clench. To you, he’s a tall man…a rugged, tall, and handsome man who lives in an untouched part of your mind. The kind of man that you always fantasize about doing the nastiest things with.

“I don’t know what that means.” You tuck your winnings against your chest, the deep cut of your dress pressing your breasts up against your arms, and his heavy gaze that falls upon them only makes something tingle in your core. “Now, go away before you ruin the rest of my day.” 

Go away before I make a bad decision.

He chuckles, a sound from deep in his chest, rattling the thick fabric of his black sweater. He gestures to your friends who are definitely drunk, downing another shot at the makeshift bar a few yards away. “You’ve got time.” 

“Not for you, I don’t,” you lie through your teeth, trying and failing to hold your breath when he takes another step. 

“You wanna bet, baby?”

Your reply catches in the back of your throat. Words that you know you should say right now. Words that you’ve had to speak to men countless times whenever you decide to go out and have fun and show any sort of skin past your ankle. Your bodies brush together, and you can’t tell if he wants you or the nice stack of cash resting on your tits.

But you don’t care.

“Something tells me, you’re not very good at gambling,” is what you retort, eyes locked on his, intention and desire radiating from you both as the little voice inside your head drowns in your arousal.

He’s bad news. This is a bad idea.

That’s what you tell yourself when you spend half your winnings with him on Takoyaki and a lost race. That’s what you tell yourself when you straddle his thick waist later that night, the frazzled ends of your dress pushed up over your ribs, panties shoved to the side with little fanfare. Taking a cock thicker than what you were used to, oozing an attachment you know won’t be good for you, finally asking for his name an hour later after he has you panting on your stomach from another orgasm.

“Toji Fushiguro,” he chuckles against the nape of your neck, nipping at the thin skin with sharp teeth that trail down your back, hiking your hips up before you gasp at the feel of his tongue between your sensitive folds as he eats you out from the back.

This is a bad idea.

That’s what you tell yourself when you wake up the next morning, sunlight streaming through unfamiliar curtains, your body pleasantly sore, your dress on the floor across the room, and your mind hazy with memories of the night before. You slip out before he wakes up, phone already pressed to your ear and prepared to get an earful from your friends for disappearing, now more determined than ever to make sure this was a one-time thing.

But summer has other plans.

Your plan to pick up fresh fruit from the farmer’s market is ruined when you run into his broad shoulders and easy grin, a stark contrast to the colorful produce around him. Your plan to enjoy the beach is gone with the salty wind when you see him again days later, droplets of seawater clinging to his muscled skin, making him glisten in the sunlight. Each encounter leads to another night of passion, another afternoon of embracing a sexual side of yourself you never knew was there, another morning of promises to yourself that this will be the last time.

Until eventually, something has to give. 

Just for the summer. No strings. No awkward conversations. Just sex. Because once the summer is over, you’ll be in a new office across town, too busy to entertain a relationship, let alone anything else in your life.

Just for the summer.

But as the weeks pass, something shifts. Stolen mornings of Toji’s head between your thighs because he was ‘in the neighborhood’ begin to stretch into lazy afternoons, you teaching him to cook fried green tomatoes and showing him the steps of your hair care routine. Hurried encounters in bathroom stalls with your legs wrapped around his waist and his filthy words in your ear give way to lingering touches and shared laughter at the absurdity of it all.

You find yourself opening up to him, sharing parts of yourself over ice cream cones he swears he can’t stand but eats anyway, the edges of his favorite—but won’t admit—Rocky Road melting too quickly in the summer heat over his pale hands. He starts to let his guard down, revealing glimpses of vulnerability behind those forest-green eyes. Of a harsh past, a complicated present, and a son overseas whom he hopes to see soon.

Maybe it was the Sunday afternoon when a sudden thunderstorm trapped you both in his apartment, leading to hours of conversation punctuated by rumbling thunder. Maybe it was the early evening you found him at the pier, silhouetted against a spectacular sunset, a tension in his shoulders and a quietness you had never seen or felt before.

You try so hard to ignore the changes in Toji’s behavior. The way his hand lingers on the small of your back when you are in public. The sight of your favorite snacks appearing in his kitchen because he is ‘tired of hearing you complain about him not having any food.’ The soft look in his eyes that you catch at odd moments while you both watch movies. 

‘Just for the summer’ has become an agreement that you both have not read the guidelines for in quite some time.

Now, as the first hints of autumn whisper through the trees outside, you find yourself exactly where you swore you wouldn’t be—tangled in Toji’s sheets that always smell too good and his warm body a solid presence behind you that always feels too safe. The room is covered in the gentle glow of dawn, a midnight blue breaking open for soft auburn, and you’re acutely aware of his arm draped over your waist, a muscled leg lodged between yours, his breath a steady rhythm against the nape of your neck.

You need to get up. Tomorrow is your first day at a new firm and you’ve let Toji keep you distracted from preparing. From shopping for new outfits and getting your hair done. From the inevitable of whatever the hell this is.

Instead, you turn carefully in his arms, the movement doing nothing to rouse him. You study his face in the gentle morning light that’s now gotten a little brighter. The scar at the corner of his mouth, once a symbol of a mysterious allure, is now as familiar as your reflection.

Hair the color of ink splays across his face, disheveled and frizzy, a few strings of silver at the roots above his ear. Before, you could get a good look at him while he slept and smirk to yourself that this would be your ride for so many weeks of summer. A fleeting but appreciative glance before you ducked away and left before he could open his eyes. Now as you look at him, your heart tightens with an emotion you’ve been trying to ignore for just as long.

This was a bad idea.

As if sensing your gaze, Toji’s eyes flutter open. For a heartbeat, two, he simply stares at you. The green in his eyes is deep, mesmerizing in the early morning light, still hazy with sleep but quickly sharpening as he focuses on your face. You can finally see the openness there, a susceptibility you occasionally find when he’s fully awake. You can never maintain eye contact in moments like this. It makes your breath catch in your throat because he’s too close, too intense, too much.

Wordlessly, Toji tightens his hold, pulling you flush against him. Your naked bodies mold together, the warmth of his skin seeps into yours, and you have to bite back a content sigh. There’s so much you’ve had to hold back lately to acclimate yourself to the eventual change. Then, with a gentleness that still surprises you, he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to the curve of your shoulder. 

“What time is it?” he mumbles, unfortunate soft lips trailing up to the sensitive spot behind your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You struggle to focus, his touch already making your heady fuzzy and jumbled. You glance at the nightstand, where the clock face peeks out from behind a summer’s worth of memories. Sun-bleached seashells from lazy beach days rest against crumpled ticket stubs, reminders of nights when you belted out lyrics while Toji pretended not to enjoy himself. 

“Just past seven,” you manage to whisper, somehow getting the words out as Toji’s touch scatters your thoughts further like the trinkets on the nightstand.

Toji hums in response, his chest vibrating against yours. “Too early,” he says, a low rumble that you feel between your thighs, awakening a hunger that only he knows how to satiate. “Stay a bit longer.”

He smells faintly of bonfire smoke from last night—an impromptu farewell to summer party thrown by your friends that ended with you both stumbling back to his apartment, tearing at each other’s clothes, his hands pulling an orgasm from you before your back could even hit the mattress. Last night was different—more intense, more passionate. A mess of sweaty limbs and heavy breathing as you panted against him, trying to wave your own white flag of surrender that never quite made it past your lips each time he gave you more, more, more, unwilling to let the night end.

As Toji shifts to hover above you, you’re struck by the familiar weight of him, how it feels a little too close to home. It’s comfortable when his waist rests against yours, his cock slowly hardening against your thigh. His kisses, once desperate and searing, have softened. They still ignite a fire in you, but it’s a steady burn now, deep and enduring in the core of your stomach.

“I should really get going,” you implore, but your voice wavers, free of the conviction you desperately need right now. “New job tomorrow, remember?”

“Hmm,” he hums again to the column of your throat. He lifts his head, his gaze fierce and penetrating. Outside, the birds begin their morning call, warming their wings to prepare for their journey south. “You’ve got time,” he says softly, echoing words from that first night at the horse track. He goes back into the crook of your neck, chapped lips pressing to your skin with promise. “Stay.” It sounds too much like a demand, punctuated by a thorough roll of his hips. Your own cant towards him without thinking. “I’ll make breakfast.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles from your chest, remembering the last time he tried to sway you longer in his bed a few weeks ago. You realized when you choked on a too-wet pancake that Toji’s culinary skills were limited at best. “You? Cook?”

A punishing nip to your neck makes you gasp, your fingers sliding up his back to dig into muscled meat. “I can manage eggs. Probably. Might even use those tomatoes we grew.”

The ‘we’ doesn’t escape your notice. The small vegetable patch was your idea, a whim that blurted from your mouth on a sweltering day, eyes bulging and lips ready to backtrack before he agreed and it became a shared project. Like so many things between you, it grew into something more when you weren’t paying attention. 

Toji’s hand traces random patterns on your skin, soft between your breasts and over your navel before brushing folds that are already wet. You shouldn’t widen your legs more, but you do. Shouldn’t bite your lip in that telling sign that you’re wanting, but you do that too. “Got that job site inspection next week,” he says, aiming for casual. “Not far from where you’ll be.”

You swallow a deep-seated mewl that gurgles in the back of your throat when his fingers circle your clit, calloused pads the right amount of rough to ignite that fire in your stomach. Next week is beyond the boundary you both had set, beyond the promise of ‘just this summer.’ Hope, so unwanted in this very moment but also so overwhelming and bright as the early September sun, flares in your chest.

“T-toji,” you choke out to the feel of a thick finger collecting the slick that leaks from you before sliding inside. The heel of his palm brushes against your clit with every thrust of his hand, and your body responds to him quickly. 

You walked into this thinking you would be able to wipe your hands of him and say goodbye when the leaves began to fall. But it didn’t take long for Toji to learn how to take you apart, to open you up and see how you ticked before sewing you back together with a skill that still surprises you. 

Your fingernails press into his back, a practiced demand for more and he rewards you with a stern but satisfied gaze and another finger in your wet cunt. The hand not working your core cards through your curls, twisting at your nape before tilting your head back, exposing more of your neck with a wet gasp from your lips. His tongue glides along your skin, tasting bonfire smoke and ocean salt, a rumble in his chest, and a curl of his wet fingers to show how much he enjoys it. How much he enjoys the taste of you.

“Stay,” he demands again, nipping your earlobe, a third finger sliding into your cunt and you moan sharply at the stretch. You’re a little sore from last night, but your body welcomes the ache and rejoices in the brush against the spongy spot inside of you that he hits with precision. That fire in your belly roils quicker than what you want, bubbling to the surface and ready to burst with an orgasm that’s pressing at your skin. You’re already gasping, already moaning, already fighting the urge to beg him for the thing that’s thicker and heavier between his legs.

“Did you hear me?” he asks, purring low in your ear. You can only nod as you savor the clench of muscles in your stomach from his ministrations below, the sound of his hand sopping wet as he plays with you. “Then answer me.”

You can’t. Even though you’ve rehearsed this exact conversation for the past week. Even though you’ve prepared the right words if he tried to make you sing for him one last time. You can’t speak. Because the realization that Toji is doing what he can to keep you here makes your breath hitch and the fire in your belly finally erupts as a moan falls from your mouth as if you’ve been gutted, your orgasm locking your muscles around him. You turn your head into the pillow beneath you, panting and body trembling, your nape tingling from his grip, the clock on his nightstand blurry because you have to keep your eyes on something besides his steely gaze that spears your skin.

As your orgasm fades into the chilly air around you, you know you’ve given too much, and you can’t let this go on. Reluctantly, you turn your head back to face him, ready to retreat. His crumbling, guarded gaze now holds a mix of desire and something deeper, more vulnerable and raw that’s too much for you right now. Toji’s jaw clenches as if he’s holding back more words. As if he’s frustrated with your unwillingness to give him what he wants.

Instead of speaking, Toji presses his forehead against yours, an intimate gesture that makes you wish he would have used his words instead. But this speaks more than words ever could. His breathing, usually calm and controlled even in the throes of sex, comes in short, ragged bursts, betraying whatever he’s trying to hide. 

It’s a rare sight. You’ve seen it on the nights he convinces you to stay over and he shoots up from his sleep, panting like he’s run a mile, the silver of moonlight kissing the scars on his back and telling you a story without having to ask. You saw it weeks ago when you both screamed at each other for the first time, a joke of you going on a date turned sour, his shoulders heaving in anger and eyes trying and failing to hold his true thoughts back.

It’s the same right now. Black hair swaying over his forehead as he hovers over you, the hand from between your legs now digging into the flesh of your hip with wet fingers. You notice the slight furrow in his brow, the way his lips part as if he wants to say something. They twitch for a fraction of a second, opening and closing just once before he leans in to kiss you, as if he’s suddenly unsure of his welcome.

And you hate how quickly you show just how welcome he is, sighing into his body and wrapping your arms around his neck. You hate how quickly your body reignites, hips arching up to brush against his pulsing cock, the touch producing a low groan from him into your mouth. He ruts against you, rubbing your dripping cunt in rough but practiced circles that make you whine against him. 

The summer is ending, you remind yourself. This has to end, you beg yourself even as you pull away from him, panting against wet lips that somehow always taste of the peppermint candy he refuses to go without. You reach down to wrap your hand around him, swallowing the hiss that shoots from him as you guide him to where you need him most. Toji enters you slowly, deliberately, cataloging the way you arch into him, your bodies fitting together like the last two pieces of a puzzle you’ve been working on all season.

Through the cracked window that Toji refuses to close every night, you hear the world slowly wake up—school buses and more bird calls mixing with your ragged breaths as he moves within you. Deep and with purpose, wanting but with a tinge of frustration. Your fingers dig into his back, leaving crescent moons that some part of you hopes never fade after you’re long gone. 

Each thrust feels like falling—falling into him, falling into feelings you weren’t prepared for, falling like the leaves outside that signal the end of one season and the beginning of another. The pleasure courses through you, building slowly, steadily.

You relax your nails on his back, roaming instead, feeling the flex and ripple of muscles beneath your fingertips. The landscape feels different now, charged with electricity that makes your skin tingle and your heart race.

The pressure builds within you, a warmth spreading from your core outwards, hot and pulsing with every brush of his pubic bone against your clit. It squeezes the sides of your neck, making it harder to breathe, to think, to act. Your breath comes in short, sharp pants, mingling with the crisp morning air.

Toji’s hands leave your hips, reaching up to grab your wrists. He presses them into the pillow, one on each side of your head, opening you up and leaving you exposed while he takes you apart with every roll of his hips.

“Fuck, Toji,” you whine, gasping into the air as you arch into him. “Don’t—”

“You’ve gotta answer me, sweetheart,” Toji’s voice resonates low and insistent as he kisses up your neck, groaning in satisfaction when you clench around him in reflex. “I know you can,” he urges, his rhythm never faltering and his voice strained, “Tell me you’ll stay.”

You want to tell him to shut up. To stop it and give you one last mind-blowing orgasm and leave this alone like you both agreed. But you can’t. Each of Toji’s movements pulls moan after moan from deep within you, your eyes rolling into the back of your head before you squeeze your lids shut so you don’t have to look at him.

Suddenly, one of Toji’s hands releases a wrist, and before you can react, his palm cups the side of your face, his touch unexpectedly gentle. His thumb brushes your cheekbone, a tender gesture that contrasts with the intensity of his thrusts. With careful pressure, he turns your face towards him.

You shouldn’t look at him, but your eyes flutter open to meet his anyway, sharp and powerful. His hand on your face is warm, almost cradling, yet insistent in its silent plea for your attention. You feel exposed under his scrutiny. Your body is bare along with your emotions, raw and unfiltered. “Stay,” he breathes once again, softer this time even though the heavy meaning pounds against you, unrelenting and harsh.

The hand on your cheek slides between your bodies before you feel his fingers on your clit, pleasure rocking through you like lightning, and you tighten around him. 

“Squeeze around me just like that,” he hisses at the feel of you, his breath hot against your skin, and you obey immediately, savoring the sharp grunt from his chest. “So fucking beautiful.” He’s said it so many times before but now it feels different. Dangerous. 

The fingers of your free hand dig into Toji’s shoulders, holding on for dear life as he fucks you with a ferocity that leaves you breathless, your body sliding up and down on the sheets.

“Oh,” you gasp, “Oh fuck Toji—I can’t—” Your body shakes against him, hips rolling with his fingers on your clit. You’re painfully aware of every sensation: the slide of skin on skin, slick with sweat; the subtle creak of the mattress beneath you and the thump of the headboard against the wall; the rustle of the sheets tangled around your legs. 

“Give it all to me, baby,” he encourages and you want to shake your head ‘no’ because you feel like he’s asking you for something else. “Let go for me.”

“I can’t,” you plead against his lips again, shaking your head even as your body speaks differently. Trying to finally tell him without actually telling him. You can’t let him in and get hurt. You can’t be brave enough to take a chance.

But like every challenge Toji has ever been given, he faces it directly, taking in your meaning immediately. The hand on your wrist slides up to your palm, his calloused fingers intertwining with yours. The pleasure intensifies, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly. It’s almost too much, this feeling of fullness, of completeness.

“Look at me,” he demands softly. As your eyes meet his, he whispers, “I need you here. With me.”

It’s the raw emotion in his gaze, the sharp shift from his usual gruff words, the sudden feel of his lips against yours as he kisses you, and the terrifying realization that this man wants more than just your body that pushes you over the edge. Your release crashes over you like a chilling wave, powerful and all-consuming. You cry out, breaking from his lips as your back arches, body shuddering, as intense pleasure radiates through every nerve.

Not even a moment later, the tightening of your body from your release is enough to take Toji with you. He slides a hand beneath you, crushing you up against him, hard muscles against soft brown skin as he tenses and groans low and deep into the air, painting your insides warm with his cum. You both collapse, breathing erratically, his weight a welcome suffocation.

In this moment of ecstasy, suspended between summer and fall, between what was and what could be, you finally acknowledge that something fundamental has shifted. Like the turning of the seasons, there’s no going back. And as you cling to Toji, riding out the aftershocks of your shared passion, you find that the word he’s asking for remains lodged in your throat, your mind a battleground between desire and fear, between staying and leaving. But you know you need to say something.

“Toji,” you start after a few minutes when your breathing has calmed down, uncertainty heavy in your voice. “We said—”

“I know what we said,” he interrupts, rough and frustrated and something else. He lifts his head, jade-green eyes meeting yours, his want clear in their depths. “Just—fuck. Maybe we…can say something different now.”

Toji may be guarded in the things he says, but he has never lied. Not to you. And there’s no lie in his features now. There’s no morning haziness to show you his vision and thoughts are clouded. There’s no sinful smirk that hides true intentions. It’s pure honesty.

And as you search his face, a gust of wind rattles the wind chimes outside that you hung together, carrying with it the scent of sun-warmed grass through his cracked window. You can’t help but think of all the moments that led to this—moments you tried to ignore—the laughter, the lust that burned into something deeper, the quiet understanding that grew between you as the summer days stretched long and golden.

His hand intertwined with yours gives you a firm squeeze, pulling you from your thoughts. “Stay,” Toji says one final time, and the finality of it means more than just this morning. More than just this summer.

The sunlight breaks through the brisk air to hit your cooling skin, warming you from the inside along with him atop you. You want to finally say ‘okay,’ but you’re still too afraid to speak, too afraid to ruin this moment with your words in case you back down at the last minute.

So instead, you give his intertwined fingers a firm squeeze as well, hoping that tells him what he needs to know. Hoping that tells him you have the courage to stay…right now.

Or at least just for the Fall.

Thanks for reading!

[brisquad-unit-4402]

rare matchup trade with @mysteriawrites

for one of my very cute friends. i was in a major writing slump over the summer but she encouraged me to get out of my slump by offering a matchup trade! this is my first matchup for someone and very overdue on my part so i'm excited wehe

☆ and even though it’s a matchup i tried to write a full fic with her in mind, but applicable to anyone. especially because this is a whole entire fic with 5,905 words.

mysteria sent me a super detailed description in our dms so here's a summary of it:

mysteria is 5'2, african american, a capricorn and an infj! she's kind, responsible, moody, soft-spoken, and introverted. she also describes herself as a social chameleon that can match the energy of a room, from quiet and clumsy to sassy and teasing if she's comfortable enough. she likes animals, books, reading and writing, personality quizzes, rpg/mmo/rhythm games, and sweets. however, she dislikes loud sounds, math, trypophobia, spiders, and inconsiderate people. she also dislikes when people she cares about don't properly take care of themselves, but tends to forget her own needs. she's really a caring person at heart!

your matchup is under the cut for the drama! i match you with...!

Mischievous but observant, the Phantom Thief Alban Knox!

tags: gender neutral reader, getting together, hurt/comfort, reader is an overworker, bad work environment, happy ending, breaking and entering (and other thief-typical crimes lol)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

There's this little convenience store right in your neighborhood that happens to be on your daily commute to work.

The first time you visit, you realize it's about five minutes away from your home and open 24/7, perfect for late-night snack runs.

The staff is so small, the same guy works the graveyard shift whenever you visit: tousled mocha-brown hair, a lanky body too thin for his uniform shirt, and two differently colored eyes. One is dark, while the other is so vividly green it makes him look intelligent.

It doesn't take long before he starts to memorize your usual order, and for you to memorize the Hi, my name is Alban! name tag over his apron.

With time the friendly customer service starts to become just actual friend behavior. You begin to learn more about one another. He asks you about your day, and when you mention some of your coworkers at your dime-a-dozen tech job he's able to remember who's who.

Meanwhile you've seen the two bowls outside the sliding doors, one full of water and the other kibble. Alban leaves them out for the neighborhood cats, and you've been lucky enough to meet a few of them before they scamper away.

Alban is like a brother to the strays, however, and the konbini tends to be empty whenever you visit, so there's no one to stop him when the cats paw at his leg, begging him to pick them up as you rant about your latest project. They even let you pet them once or twice before they climb over Alban's shoulders, watching you with nighttime pupils. Apparently that's rare. The first time a stray nuzzles your palm, Alban secretly slides you an extra pack of the snack cakes you wanted.

"If she trusts you, then you can keep a secret," he says. The cat's tail curls around his wrist before he nonchalantly drop the cake into your bag. "Our secret, right?"

Over time it becomes a part of your routine. Work during the day, visit the konbini, relax after a good conversation with Alban. Once your company picks up a new security project, your schedule slowly folds over. With Alban's late-night shifts and you working longer hours after getting a lead position, he becomes one of the few consistencies in a hectic career.

You really do treasure the time you spend with him. Now that so much is going on at work it's like his store is the only place you can unwind before you get back to programming at home.

Not to mention he's one of the few night owls you know, and the only one that was there for you when you felt like you were falling apart.

It's not like you wanted to let your defenses down, though. You'd been working tirelessly for weeks on this security system, but today your clients blew a fuse over things out of your control. All this effort, and the way they reacted made you feel like it was for nothing.

"Welcome!" Alban's standard customer service voice disappears once he recognizes your face. "Hey, it's my favorite—woah, wait. Are you okay?"

It stuns you how quickly he picked up on your mood. The second you left work, you spent ten minutes trying to wipe the ‘on the verge of tears’ look off your face.

"Don't worry, Alban, I'm fine." You try to smile. "Just a busy day at work. What're the daily specials today?"

"Oh! Uh..."

It's pretty obvious that wasn't a convincing excuse, but he lists off the menu anyways. You appreciate that he knows how to give you space.

You decide halfway through that you'd rather get your usual, though, too exhausted to think of trying anything new. "And a donut," you add, longing for a comfort food.

While Alban gets started on your food, the aisles of bright, prepackaged snacks feels like staring at a headache. Itching for relief, you stare outside the windows instead. A grayed tail swishes along the glass outside while two nighttime pupils stare right back at you.

The air prods at your skin as the sliding doors open, and you approach the cat. You recognize her as one of the first to warm up to you when you started to visit. She continues to watch you, even as you reach a hand out. Her tail rises like smoke.

The stray's eyes squint up into crescents as you scratch under her chin. "A meal and affection for free," you muse. You're trying to not be bitter, especially since this one is skittish, but you can’t help but feel envious. "Must be nice being a cat instead of a human."

The brisk nighttime air stills. This calm makes everything feel like it’s falling out of your grasp, but you don’t have a choice in the matter. You're a resigned observer to your own life.

"I just don't know what to do," you say. Your job pays well, but you’re so sick of being treated like this, especially after such a bad meeting with your client.

The stray nestles up closer to your hand, nudging the touch closer to her body so you can stroke her back. Not a moment later, she backs away. With powerful legs and silent breaths, she pounces down from the ledge, while the smoke trails into the shadowy brush on the other side of the parking lot.

So you lean back against the wall. Cold brick outlines your back. Damn. Not even the strays are cooperating with your shitty day.

By the time you return to the inside of the konbini, your nose is reddened from the chill. The overhead lights wash the color out of your face, so bright that the night outside seems jarring.

At least you can smell your food. Alban returns to the counter with a paper bag that feels warm to the touch, and a to-go box full of donuts.

You cock your head. “I only ordered one donut, didn’t I?”

“Yep.” He seals the box with a sticker. It’s a cute cat with the same mismatched eyes as him and ‘Freshness Guaranteed!’ underneath its paw.

“So why…?”

“Because I want to give you some. It’s nice to get freebies, especially when it’s for a friend that could use ‘em,” he says. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ask, but you’re not doing so hot, are you? If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know. I’d be happy to. Help you, I mean.”

He slides the bag of food and the donut box to your side of the counter. “But for now, you just keep those and take a moment to yourself.”

A steady aroma follows the bag while the donut box is warm under your fingers, freshly baked and at no extra charge, simply just because. One green eye and one dark stares up at you from the sticker, blending into the white fur as your vision blurs.

"Alban."

"Yeah, what's—?"

Alban’s question falters. Instead you speak, with one hand up at your eyes, glossy and turning wetter by the second. “Thanks.”

It seems the mask has fallen now. You hunch over as you sniffle. Hot shame seeps down your back like burning oil, the tears feeling more and more like they’re boiling. It only makes you more embarrassed and frustrated, which causes even more heat behind your eyes, and the cycle continues. Now here you are, crying in the cold light of a konbini while the poor cashier has no way out. You don’t even have the heart to look up at Alban’s face.

“Sorry,” you say. Your voice sticks together. “I-I shouldn’t be like this.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m acting like a big baby, and I’m fine, I’m just—just making it weird, a-and you don’t even want to know.”

“But I do!”

Even though you don’t have the strength to raise your head, you can see Alban’s hands through mottled vision; namely, how they clutch at the counter—right before he sets them both over yours. You’ve never seen him without a pair of food-safe gloves, and these are no different, a solid black that sticks to your skin while fingers rest on your knuckles.

At his outburst, you dare to look up. His eyes are closed, mouth set in a crinkled frown, barely pursed as if he wants to say something. Alban reconsiders just as he opens it. Hesitation crawls into lowered brows, and your heart pangs even harder when he looks down at the hands. Either you’re seeing things, or there’s a bittersweet look in one eye and concern in the other. “If you trust me, then I want to know.

“Because you’re not ‘fine’. If you really were then you wouldn’t be crying at someone doing one tiny nice thing,” he blurts. “Did someone hurt you? Because if they did, I’ll give them a piece of my mind, no questions asked.”

“It’s… not a someone.”

That gets him to squeeze your palm. A wave of understanding bleeds through and travels up your veins. “I’m all ears.”

You squeeze back, eyelids smashing together as another fat tear rolls down your cheek. “It’s my jobbb.”

You aren’t exactly proud of how you weep, but the way Alban listens to you erases the regret. You spill your guts about the client, the meeting, the mismanagement, and that stupid security system you’ve been working on. Halfway through, Alban flips the ‘OPEN’ sign to ‘CLOSED’, thumbs off his gloves, and sits next to you properly.

By now his touch returns, resting fingertips on your knuckles and rubbing up your wrist. Without the gloves, he’s warmer than ever, and softer. He passes you a box of tissues from the office, too, and doesn’t even flinch when you honk into the tissues in-between sobs.

You explain everything, even the tiny stresses in your career. “I’m lost. It pays so much but I’m so exhausted,” you say. “I don’t want to leave but sometimes I just wish I could, I don’t know, transfer to a different location, or give the client to someone else, or hell, some kind of payback.

“But I’d not that kind of person. And even if I was…” Your eyes cast downward. The tears have slowed but they’re still so wet with misery. “I’m so tired.”

Your heart aches just at saying it. The realization has set in now. You’re tired.

That’s putting it mildly. You never noticed until now, but there’s an indescribable weight in your neck and shoulders, just about ready to snap you in two under the pressure. You used to love this job, and you still love what you do, but only now are you realizing you’ve put far more into it than your superiors deserve.

“That’s fucked,” Alban finally says, and you almost snort at how plainly he says it. Instead it comes out as a weak chuckle.

“Can’t your boss put two and two together and realize you’re already giving one hundred percent—no, two hundred into the project?” He asks, even though you both know the answer. “That’s stupid. There’s a whole staff of people, so they need to get their head out of their ass and give you a break.”

“I wish.” You sniffle. “I’m just a generic worker, but I’m the only one that knows exactly how everything operates. Makes me feel like I can't even rest.”

“Do you have any time off?”

“Well, yeah.”

“So take it. You need it,” Alban says. Then he playfully nudges you. “You know you deserve to treat yourself.”

That gets another chuckle out of you, louder than the last. He smiles softly and points out, “You’re laughing more.”

“You say things so simply that, I dunno, it makes things feel less difficult. Like when I think about it, it’s like this swirling black hole.” You exhale. “I was thinking about taking time off, earlier, but I told myself to tough it out instead of giving up. But now it doesn’t feel as extreme.”

“It’s not giving up. It’s resting. That’s a requirement.”

“Yeah. It just… doesn’t feel like it when I’m talking about me.”

“Then let me be the first to remind you that you’re allowed to relax just like the rest of us.”

You wipe your eyes again, this time with a tissue while Alban rubs your back. You’ve known that for as long as you can remember, but hearing Alban say it out loud is the beginnings of understanding. Internalizing that need.

You sniff, but rather than with hopelessness, a different feeling swells in your throat. Something like recognition, warm and loose rather than tight.

“Thanks,” you say. “For the food. And, you know, all this…”

The words get lost along the way, so you settle with a gentle tilt of your head to gesture.

Alban seems to get it without much trouble, though, and pats your back reassuringly. “It’s nothing.”

“I’d argue otherwise. I must have been a nuisance—“

“It's nothing,” he repeats. “No problem at all. If you ever walk in here crying again I’d do anything to make you feel better, you know.”

“Oh.” That makes you look away, almost scared of the fact. This type of caring is unfamiliar, and now that you’re all cried out, you can’t make heads or tails of the feeling. “That’s really sweet, I think.”

Alban lifts his hand off your body. The absence picks you up and out of your thoughts, so you raise your head. You watch as it rests back on his neck, right underneath his tousled brown hair. “Don’t mention it. Uh, how do you get home?”

“I usually walk.”

“Not that I don’t trust you, but you’re not about to walk home by yourself after crying your eyes out. I’ll drive you.”

Your eyes widen. “No, you don’t have to! I don’t want to be a bother!”

“Hey, I’m offering. No one visits at this time of night anyway, except for you.”

“Yeah, but it feels like I’m being a burden or something, and I don't want to cause more trouble for you than I already have, and—oh, forget it.” You bury your face in your hands. Your cheeks are still tempered from crying earlier, but now you can feel the unmistakable heat of embarrassment as well. “You’re not going to let this up, are you?”

He says, “Only if you’re sure you’ll get home safe. It’s late.”

“Fine, you can drive.” You pat at your face with the tissue. Your tears have long since dried, but maybe this will hide the blush. “I can’t say thank you enough.”

Alban shrugs that praise off as well, so intent on refusing your gratitude that it comes across as either sheepish or blasé. He busies himself with locking up the store while you clean yourself up (again) in the bathroom. He opens the car door for you before you can open it yourself.

The stick shift is a few years behind, but the console is rigged up to connect to Alban's phone. Before he starts driving, he hands it to you. "You can choose the music."

You thumb through a streaming service before finding a title your recognize from one of your own playlists, and at the first few notes of the song, the car enters motion. It's a quiet, comfortable silence filled up by the song and your directions to your home.

The walk to the konbini is fast, but driving is even faster, and the song barely ends as he pulls up to your home. "You got everything?" He asks.

You nod. "I do. Thanks, Alban."

"It's noth—"

"Oh, quit playing yourself down already." Before you can slip out of your seat, you lay a hand over Alban's as it rests on the stick shift, just like how he comforted you earlier. "No one at work took time out of their day to hear me out, not even my friends. You did. That means something."

"Still!" Alban says. "I wouldn't just ignore you."

"A lot of people would, and did. You're a lot better than you give yourself credit for." You poke his cheek. "Now repeat after me: you're welcome."

The poke makes his face squish up, cheek smushing into the corner of his lips while one eye closes. He blinks, uncertain, as if he entered uncharted territory. He likely has. If it wasn't apparent before, it certainly was by how long it took him to avert his eyes and say the words. “…You’re welcome.”

You squish his cheeks a little more as friendly affection. Barely visible under the overhead light, his face tints pink under the pressure of your hands. “Glad to hear it. I’ll see you later, Alban.”

“Right. Rest well?”

“I will.”

The door shuts and the headlights shine long shadows behind you as you walk away. Alban watches as you pull out your keys. You notice the shining lights only dim out after you’ve stepped inside your humble abode, and the warm feeling rises up again. He made sure you were inside safe and sound before he drove away.

It’s with that warm feeling that you speed through your nighttime routine and fall asleep in your bed.

It returns each time you visit the konbini after that night, too. Alban, in all his selflessness, still insists on giving you even more freebies than you know what to do with.

“Damn, Reader, if you visit even more often, I’ll have to order extra shipments of candies,” he quips as he scans your items—then snatches a king-size snack and slips it into your bag without charging you a cent more.

You snicker. “It’s not like I ask. You’re the one that won’t quit giving me things for free.”

“I’ve got more than enough to go around.”

“But you just said you’d have to order more.”

“How’s work? Still doing the security thing?” He asks.

You roll your eyes to the ceiling and huff not a second later. “Yep, same old, same old. One of my coworkers used the wrong parts on something, so I had to spend my entire shift today disassembling and reassembling it myself.”

"You know what I'm going to say—"

"That it's unfair and stupid?"

"—Among other things, but you're just going to say the pay is too good to leave, aren't you," he finishes.

You focus on the counter rather than Alban's movements. It's been a while since that night he drove you home and the wound has healed, but there's no mistaking the beginnings of a scar at the memory, all puffy-pink as it tries to recover to what once was.

You hate to admit it, but he's right. He quoted something you said word-for-word last week.

"I'm not just predictable, I'm mad," you say. "And tired of being mad."

"Not at anything new, is it?"

You sigh. "Nope. It's more like a lot of little things building up and just whittling me down. Same ol' soul-crushing machine as always."

The cash register dings as Alban places all your items into the bag, and you pay for half of what you should. "There isn't anything keeping you happy or loyal, is there?"

"Not really. It's all miserable, even the other departments." You even laugh bitterly. "I guess the employees get paid so much because there's no budget going into decent HR."

"You know what I'm going to say."

"Don't waste your breath."

"I can't tell you what to do."

"Gotta pay my bills somehow." The receipt inches out. Alban tears it off and slips it into the bag. "I'm looking, but I can't just quit yet. At this point, I don't care what happens to the place, as long as I get paid. Need to finish the security system before moving onto another job."

"I hope someone gives you a better offer soon. Workplace culture included."

"Me too." He offers the bag to you. You take the handles from Alban with crinkles and a skim along his fingertips. "At least I've got nothing planned tonight but binging a TV show over snacks." You jostle the bag, and the many candies inside. "In no small part because of you."

He beams at that, just before wiring his mouth into a thin smile to cover up his happiness. "We're always open! And I'm always here."

"I'm counting on it." That happiness spreads to you like watercolor on paper. "I'll come back soon, Alban."

He sees you off with the good cheer and well-wishes you've come to expect from Alban, and a request to keep out of trouble. Once the crisp white of the konbini's lights fade away into the night as you walk home, the dismal feeling returns.

Maybe you should take his advice and quit while you're ahead. It's no secret this job will kill you one day.

You bite back the thought as soon as it comes to mind. You need the cash. Quitting is tempting, but if you leave now, you won't have enough savings to fall back on.

"Until this commission is over," you mutter under your breath. You'll put in the two-week notice then, once the security project is complete, and that stuck-up client coughs up the high price for all your effort.

Until then, until then, until then. Your mind echoes as you go down the familiar path home, staving off the urge to think any more on it. All that's left for you to do today is watch some shows, relax, and hopefully, get a good night's rest before doing the same thing again tomorrow.

Even though the night in serves as a good distraction, you remember the grind ahead as you tuck yourself into bed, and with it, Alban's wishes for your happiness pushes the harsh thoughts away as you drift off.

As you'd expect, the days ahead are predictably mundane, save for the awful work environment you've become so used to over time. Some days it feels like you're the only competent person in the building. Other days you know it's true.

Which brings you to now. The coworker that sits closest to you left to go file some papers in another office—or take a personal call for the next twenty minutes, it's always a toss up with them—leaving you to your own devices as you work on something that should've been completed earlier this week. Again.

The office you're currently in is built for three at most, though it rarely fits that many. Usually you're by yourself or with another coworker, and now that you're alone, you have the freedom to sigh. You know how these things work, but having to pick up so much slack is just plain exhausting.

The lights go out.

The first thing you think is if the latest updates were saved. Your brain reminds you that the program was on autosave every minute, and you haven't typed in five. It'll be fine.

The next thing is that considering your industry, there's more than a few backup generators. There's no way it would take this long for one of them to kick in and get power back to the building.

Something's wrong. You don't have a clue, but outside your office windows, you can catch glimpses of other workers evacuating. There's no way it could be a natural disaster, and you doubt a fire would cut the lights, but considering how fast the other workers clear out, you aren't staying to find out.

You're one of the last people to leave a personal office, and you presume the last to start moving. The halls twist in the darkness, but you've memorized the layout, and your phone's flashlight guides the way.

The sound of keys on keys jingle behind you. You pivot with a start "Who's there?"

No one responds. Your light reaches a few feet ahead before being swallowed by the darkness. The ceiling boasts some LEDs for detectors, cameras, and the far-off 'EXIT' sign but not much else, and none of them are helpful at the moment.

Something else whooshes ahead, and you turn again, now starting to feel like a fish being circled by a shark.

"This isn't funny," you call out. That was stupid of you. Maybe the job is rotting your brain, and it'll be the reason behind your death, trapped in your shitty office while everyone else evacuates.

With steeled nerves you keep walking, twisting your phone around to get a piece-by-piece view of the hallways. The light bounces off the waxy leaves of a houseplant by a door. The water cooler where you refill your water bottle. Two pointed strikes of orange that shine one-at-a-time as the light flashes.

Cloth covers your mouth before you can scream.

They wire around as the orange comes into focus, now identifiable as two pins in a head full of shaggy hair. The intruder rests a finger on his lips as he shushes you, one green eye and one dark reflecting the light from your phone.

You manage to shake off his grip and hiss. "Alban?"

He blinks before widening his mismatched eyes. "Wh-what are you talking about? I don't know anyone named Alban."

"Oh, cut the crap, you—" You start, but remember the LED lights up on the ceiling. The cameras! You tug on his jacket sleeve as you dive into a corridor hidden from the security cameras, and luckily, he's shocked enough to stumble along. He slips out of your grasp in a matter of seconds, but instead climbs along the walls and hops between structures to obscure himself like a superhero out of a movie.

You push yourself flat against a wall as if it would hide you any further, while Alban clings onto the ceiling and inches down, dangling in midair. A strap is attached to the roof and around his body not unlike climbing gear.

"I'd recognize you anywhere," you say, "and if I didn't before then I definitely did the second you started talking."

Alban looks away. "Oh. Right. I should've expected that."

"Never mind that, what are you doing here? I work here!" You push him lightly, and he sways in air from the force. "Don't tell me you're behind the power outage."

He scratches the back of his head and gives you a coy smile, only half-apologetic, until you push him more. He flails before steadying himself by holding onto your shoulders. "Wait, I had a reason!"

"Uh-huh, and you're going to tell me it right now before I call the cops!"

"Psh, they couldn't catch me even if they tried—" Shove. Alban swivels around aimlessly. "Okay, okay, fine! I'm a phantom thief."

You grab him and glare. "So you decided to target my workplace after hearing me complain about it for eons. Give me one good reason not to twist you so hard we test if motion sickness can result in death."

"I mean, not entirely off?" He says with a sigh. "Okay, hear me out. The konbini isn't exactly a moneymaker. So I steal things here and there, but only from people who don't deserve it. You know, the types that steal their assets, treat everyone like dirt, exploit hard-working, good people... You see where I'm going with this, right?"

"Go on."

"I like to take only a little bit of it for myself, then forward whatever else I find to the original owners, or community projects that would use the cash way better than some hoarder. Which is why I decided to come here. It has an awful rep despite its net worth, and I dunno, it just seems like it sucks more and more of your soul out the longer you work here." Alban frowns. Even upside-down in the air, his concern is heartfelt, as genuine as that day you confided in him.

You can't even say he's wrong, not entirely. He really did listen to all your woes.

"So... I did some research. Didn't like what I saw. I don't think it's news to you, either."

"It's not great, no." You cross your arms. "So you decided to steal from them."

Alban pats down his pockets. Each of them has a hidden zipper, you realize, which must explain how he hasn't dropped any of his loot until he produces it and shows it to you. One by one, he hands you small boxes covered in secure foam. Your eyes widen as you open them. Each is a different minuscule computer part. "You recognize these."

"How could I not? These are upcoming designs. Not entirely complete, but once they are, they'll be gold standard. Maybe even more."

"Exactly. I did some rifling around in the offices, too. They'll be sold at an insane markup from the true estimated value once they're released to the public." Alban bites the inside of his cheek. "Most of the information and programming has been ripped off from programmers that either didn't consent or were severely underpaid."

"You're telling me. And the employees here will be earning pennies once it goes public."

He nods, serious as the grave. You've never seen him this dead-set on something but you recognize the blazing ambition in his eyes, and the curve over his mouth that forms when he's dedicated. He set his hand over the boxes you hold. "If you really want to return them, I won't stop you. I just want to do the right thing."

The packages aren't much bigger than jewelry boxes, and just as light, but holding them feels like handling priceless masterpieces. After all, they are.

"Why?" You ask.

"Because I trust you."

"Even after I spun you around like a piñata."

"It takes more than that to knock me out," Alban says. "Besides, even if you did, I wouldn't regret it. I think I'd endure a lifetime's worth of it if that's what it took for you to know how much I care."

You readjust your grip on the parts as Alban turns his head away again. "That sounded wrong. I mean, you work for them, not me. If this feels wrong, then you can call it off and I'll leave without anything."

He cares for me. You squeeze your lips together in deep thought. "You think so highly of me, even though I'm just a wreck that has a shitty 9 to 5 and mooches off your konbini food."

"Not a wreck," he corrects, voice tilted high in protest. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"You're such a handful." You present the boxes out and away from you. "Put them back in your pockets. There's the camera outside that I pulled you away from, and a few others in each corner of this floor."

Dumbfounded, Alban gingerly takes them just as you start doodling on a piece of paper. "You're just giving them back to me?"

"What does it look like I'm doing? There's only so much time before any authorities show up." You wait until Alban secures the parts away before pressing the paper flush against his upside-down chest while you stand at eye-level with him. "Not my best blueprint, but you can figure out the best route to sneak out from with that map I just drew up."

Alban stays still in the air, but you let go of the map as it rests under the collar of his jacket. He fumbles for the paper, narrowly avoiding any stray hits to your body due to the proximity.

While he's occupied, your eyes have finally adjusted to the darkness as well as how close you are to him. He doesn't notice you staring at all, nor how his cheeks are a rosier tone than the rest of his skin.

He manages to nab the paper and holds it back over his heart, where you pressed it. When he makes eye contact with you, you see to his core; both the smarmy phantom thief that infiltrated your office, and the understanding, generous dork that works nights at the konbini.

Your hand brushes with his as you take the cloth of his jacket collar. "It didn't sound wrong at all." In the dark, he tenses, gloved hands clutching the paper tighter while that blush grows into a muted red.

You drum up the courage he's shown you time and time again as you lean in. The momentum fuels you as he reciprocates, paper forgotten as it flutters to the floor in favor of holding you tighter as his lips brush along yours.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

bonus.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You let go of Alban's collar, all lightheaded and woozy after a long-awaited kiss. It breaks off, but his arms are still tangled around your back in a loose hug. The dopey grin on his face is full of emotion; surprise, adoration, and a shred of greed like that wasn't enough for him.

"You need to get back to business," you say, breathless.

"Uh-huh?"

"And I should go before people think I went missing."

"Oh, duh. Yeah. Yeah, you should." Alban shakes his head to jostle him out of his stupor. He raises one limb after another as the cord retracts. "I'll be—ack!"

He flops face-down to the ground with a yelp. Then a groan.

You flinch. "Alban! Are you okay?"

"Ughhh."

Expecting the worst, you crouch down and hold his arm as he rises. "Ow, that hurt... No damage done, though."

"If you say so." You dust off his shoulders as he recovers. Sure enough, there aren't any scratches nor bruises immediately forming, and the concern turns into amusement as he presses his lips together. "Alban, your face is so red."

"Wh—no, it's not."

You pinch his cheeks. His brows are drawn together, all shy and flustered. "Oh, I can't wait to see what this looks like in daylight."

"It's just because I was hanging upside-down! Blood rushes to your head!"

"Yup, right after falling flat on your face."

He wiggles out of your grasp and up on his feet in no time. "You're teasing me and I won't stand for it. Bye!"

And with that, he bolts out of the room, grappling off the walls like a parkour artist until he becomes one with the darkness.

You watch him until he disappears, but you've got places to be, too. You rifle into your pocket where your phone and wallet rest.

That is, until you realize your wallet is nowhere to be found.

You frantically search your pockets until you realize the first one you checked, the one your wallet rested in, had a card inside that wasn't there before.

It's one of the generic business cards your company provides, likely lifted from another worker's office, but along the blank white cardstock, someone had drawn a cat paw alongside a note.

"You just got mugged by the robber! (But visit tonight to get it back.)"

There's a scrawl in the corner, scratched out to the point you can't tell what it was, but a few lines against the scribble makes you think the writer doodled something.

You'll have to ask him later.

"Tonight," you say out loud. It's been a long day, and like you said, you need to get back to the rest of the employees.

But after that, the workday is sure to be cut short as the higher-ups manage the police, and now you have plans.

And you could do without a 9 to 5 looming over you for a while.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊mysteriawrites

✧. ┊ masterpost ✧. ┊ kofi

[queersrus]

Mystery theme

[mystery theme]

all things mysterious and in that realm of a concept

tagging: @hewasanamericangirl

(Nick)Names:

Arvoitus bab/babb, babs, barbra/barbera, barbi/barbie/barbee, barbette, babbette, baffle, bi conundra, conundrum

dieu, dieuhuyen

enigma gizem, ghamid, geheimnis huyen, huyenbi

israar/israr kereenyaga, khwam latif, luklab

mystery/mysterie, mysteria, mysterious, mysteriette, mysterielle, mysterio/misterio/mystirio, mysterietta, mysterine, mysteriella, mysterina, misteri, mistri, misterij, mysterium, mystere, mystiriodis, mister/myster

puzzle, peculia, peculiar, perplex raaz, raziela, riddle shiraz, shenmi, sinbihan, sinbi, shinpi, shinpitekina

tayemnytsya, tayemnychyy, tayna, tajemniczosc uhjia zahada, zagadochnyy

1stp prns: i/me/my/mine/myself

mi/me/my/mysterine/mysteryself my/mystere/mysteriousine/mysteriouself ei/ene/eni/enigmine/enigmaself(enigmyself)

2ndp prns: you/your/yours/yourself

mo/myster/mysters/mysterself mo/mysteryr/mysteryrs/mysteryrself mo/mysteriour/mysteriours/mysteriourself eo/enigmar/enigmars/enigmarself

3rdp prns: they/them/theirs/themself

my/mystery, my/stery, mystery/mysterys, mystery/case, mystery/book, myst/ery, mystery/mysterious, myster/ious, myst/erious, myserious/mysterious', mysterious/[object]

eni/enigma, eni/gma, enig/ma, en/igma, en/enigma, enigma/enigmas, enigma/enigmatic, enig/matic, en/enigmatic, enigm/atic, enigmatic/enigmatics

Titles

the mystery, the mysterious, the unknown, the enigma, the enigmatic, the puzzle, the enigmatic puzzle, the mysterious puzzle, the puzzling mystery, the person shrouded in mystery, the puzzling being

*one who loves mystery, one who is hardly known, one who reads mystery, one who writes mystery, one who is hidden in the unknown, one who solves the unknown, one who solves mystery cases

*one can be replaced with any pronouns

[fourtyfourcatss]

[████████ 100%] — @astralmysteria !

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ RECORD #01

[a/n] hey mysteria! i’m sorry this took so long, i was really busy for a long time, but here it is! i hope you enjoy.

Upright this represents femininity, beauty, nature, and nurturing. Reversed it represents creative block and dependence on others.

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ YOUR ARCANA IS… EMPRESS!

𑁍 From your described personality traits, I was very torn between TEMPERANCE and EMPRESS, for your arcana. But, after some long and hard musing, I must give you empress.

𑁍 The empress is a card that is assigned to many characters in the series, one of which is Haru, which you and her embody a lot of the traits it pertains, whether upright or reversed.

𑁍 Perfectionism and people pleasing (dependence on external) tends to lend aid to a creative block, and not only that, you told me that you were trying to get back into writing.

𑁍 You’re motherly, kind, empathetic, and I can tell by your personality you may either come off strong at times. Many of your traits indeed feel like what an empress would have, and you take pride in the things you do have and nurture and take care of it.

…loading match…

⚘ YUSUKE KITAGAWA

𑁍 Oh this match was perfect.

𑁍 First of all, your love languages. Yusuke is someone who is in need of gifts, in need of being spoiled. When you appear in his life to stay— he is very pleasantly surprised. Not only is he a man of gratitude and returning acts of affection so you would not feel unloved or perhaps even taken advantage of for your kindness, he is filled with anticipation for every gift, and surprisingly, wait a long time to use them if if can be used. He probably has a section in his place dedicated specifically to you, and treats you like a queen has graced the mortal realm. You seem hard to impress— so he will do his upmost in order to win your heart!

𑁍 He’s attracted to your kindness, but specifically, it had to be paired with all your other traits to make it right.

𑁍 so, so many nicknames. this man is going to shower you in the most sweetest of them. maybe it is a simple but tender “mys” uttered in his breath, or perhaps a “love?” — he tends to stick to the more formal sounding ones because of how he is, and yet, there will be times where he drops some funny ones jokingly, and that beckons not embarrassment or humiliation but rather good-hearted fun.

𑁍 You are a muse for him; with the vibes of your being and your singing. Yes, you are a beautiful woman, but he is more focused on how your characteristics enhances your attractiveness. He finds you talking whether it be to him or yourself very endearing, and he’s definitely going to draw whilst you sing. The way you inspire feelings out of him is a gratifying experience, its a passion. The two of you would be able to encourage and help each other out of creative blocks— but also, yusuke also has problems with taking care of himself. the two of you have problems taking care of yourselves, but now you have each other to take care of the other so extremely well. the rest of the cast is very soft and happy at this, hoping that this translates into treating yourselves better.

𑁍 yusuke is not loud, or inconsiderate in terms of jokes. he is a sweet lover, and he is perfect for you. the two of you would be super cute, i think. soft, with romantic tension in the air. i think you would exchange some sassy remarks, but it is a very healing process to be around each other.

as for runner ups: ryuji was one, and akihiko from P3 kept popping up in my mind. i think akihiko may be your one true love actually.

I AM THOU, THOU ART I… COME FORTH!

𑁍 TITANIA! 𑁍

The Queen of the Fairies, Titania is a character from Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream. She is the wife of Oberon. Because of her grand power and charisma, people consider her the Queen of the Fairies. While she is rather delicate and graceful in appearance, her power and knowledge over magic easily match those of Oberon, the king of Fairies.

The description above fits you well, and Titania has manifested as a result! The reason why I chose her for you is because of the character studies I read for her over the ages, excluding the sections regarding extra-martial affairs she may have participated in. The compassion she holds for the changeling she wants to adopt is one of motherly. She is principled, standing up to her husband.

Not only that, I think her movesets fits you.

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ HOW IS SHE AWAKENED?

you are on a battlefield. your blood is singing through your veins, and you have just stepped out like a lamb to the slaughter.

how one awakens is a hard question, because it involves getting pushed to the brink by someone who is somewhat close to you in any manner, hostile or not. in your case, it would be a betrayal of a friend. you had introduced them to almost everyone you had known because you trusted her— and in a fit of rage, they had cursed out everyone they knew, you, and all you adored.

unable to take this slander towards your loved ones and aggrieved in your heart, you opened your resolve, and a mask appeared on your face.

“I am thou, and thou art I,—”

“I am Titania. I will become your mask. Now, let us enjoy a midsummer night's dream.”

𖤣. for weapon— you would have a RAPIER [The Sword of Sinai] or a BOW [SOURCE YUMI]

𖥧. for a gun— you would have a RAY GUN [SIRIUS]

𖡼. for outfits— school uniform would be like makoto’s with the jacket, and regular outfits would be like yukari and rise’s.

[hangmanbradshaw]

10, 19, 20, and 30 for the ao3 list! i was gonna ask the one about what artist you listen to the most but i think we all know the answer there ;)

Someone looking at everything I've written/my blog: I think...she might like Taylor Swift (92 out of 100 on wrapped might agree)

(also hi Georgie how exciting you're on tumblr)

10. What work was the quickest to write?

Oh gosh....it's gonna sound weird but it's probably IWTBY? In the sense that it was 225k and I did it all in 3 and a half months. That little farm has been pouring out of me, or this real special one I wrote recently that involved skis only took me a few nights ;)

19. What's one pairing you want to explore next year?

I want to write a main pairing with Nat!!! Not sure who with- maybe Javy? Maybe Callie? Someone asked me if I'd ever write floydshaw or jake/bradley/bob so idk potentially that too hmmmm

20. Which work of yours have you reread the most?

I am a MOOD reader and writer for sure. Overall Magical mysteria (my jurassic park AU) or dreamland (my princes one) probably? More recently I've re-read specific parts of IWTBY repeatedly though and I have a feeling that little farm will be a big one (my fave things I've written are all my newer ones tbh cuz ya know...growth and all)

30. Biggest surprise while writing this year?

How much I love it, how cathartic it is. Literally sat down with a blank word doc and a dream in February and it's turned into this lmao. Little hamster wheel of a brain is always churning, but now I have to get it onto paper and you've heard my story crafting rants so you know how I feel about that and just working through emotions or world building. It's been SO FUN, especially the friends and community from it. Like the people who've read everything i've done since the beginning, or like I literally didn't think anyone would give a crap about IWTBY and it turned into what it did which is still fucking mind blowing to me.

(also tbh did I think I'd be writing a taylor swift/travis kelce inspired fic for hangster a few months ago? Absolutely not)

As always I can't be short about anything (except my height) so sorry! xD

[mysteriawrites]

EVENT ANNOUNCEMENT

The 20 Days of Mysteria

Hello everyone happy holidays! Lemme cut to the chase.

Imma be having an event to celebrate 100 followers and my birthday on like 3 weeks! For the whole month of December requests and matchups and matchup exchanges are open but that’s not all! Remember the 50 followers event poll that I never went through with?

This one.

Well for this month only I will be doing all of the above type of matchups instead of just one! So get creative choose whichever you like and I’ll try my best to actually write them on time this time (i make no promises)!

And in my birthday hopefully I’ll have a new fun fic released or something (I’ll try my best)

And to those of you who requested from me like forever ago ans never got their matchups I’ll try and finish those soon

Have Fun EVERYONE And HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!

(Even tho i don’t actually celebrate any winter holidays but shh)

[chen-chen-chen-again-chen]

Six Sentence Sunday

Hello all! I was going to say "I need to post something for SSS to feel productive today" but honestly I made a t-shirt so fuck it, anything on top of that is just gravy.

Thank you for the Sunday tags, @fatalfangirl, @nightimedreamersworld, @martsonmars, and anyone else who has tagged me (despite Tumblr eating those tasty tags like om nom nom)!  

Work on Rosethorn girl carries on, and I am so glad to have Part 1 and Part 2 out there in the world. A warm, gigantic thank you to every kind human who has visited this universe. ❤️🌹

Mountains are the kinfolk of my beloved

By Lucy Winifred Salisbury

Acrylic on canvas

Here are lines from six fics set in the Rosethorn girl universe. Some of these fics are multi-chap, some are one-shots, most are short. It’d be cool to post during COC (sidebar: I fucking love everything everyone's doing for COC, it is like a FESTIVAL here), but I will make zero promises about a posting schedule. The fics will just drop when they drop! 

Sentences & hello tags under the cut!

1.) My sloe-black friend (the Natasha fic) 

“Basil,” I repeat. Sweet basil, the royal herb, said to be an antidote for basilisk venom. “βασιλικόν φυτόν?” I ask, though my Greek is rusty. 

A smile lightens Natasha’s severe face. “Just so,” she agrees. 

2.) A magical mysteria (the Jamie fic) 

I remembered it all afterwards of course, in the car ride home, Lucy gripping my hand in the backseat. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

3.) The girl in pink on the milk-white horse (the Agatha fic) 

“Go on,” I say, offering her the fork. Her eyes dart around - her mother’s on the other side of the garden, chatting with Martin. Agatha brightens, and shoves a generous spoonful of icing into her mouth, humming with contentment.

4.) A piece of the sun, caught in a circle (the Maggie fic) 

Maggie doesn’t call Simon by his name, either; she calls him Kitten or Hatchling or something else in Draconic that she refuses to translate for me.

5.) They were all children once (the Salisbury House fic)

Andrew was hale and strong from the beginning. Tall but a little stooped. Models of aeroplanes in his bedroom, books on his shelves. A serious boy, with a strong sense of justice. As straight and shining as a blade.

6.) Plus ca change (the SnowBaz fic!! Yes, there is one!!) 

(This one’s a bit of a cheat. This story was actually written first, and then I felt I had to write some Lucy POV to understand how we got there and lo, Rosethorn girl was born. The original Plus ca change has to be re-written to fit this universe, so I’m not sure if these lines will survive. But they’re fun!)   

“Why are you defending that idiot?” Basilton says, turning on Simon and oh, yes, that is excellent, the way her own son and Watford’s walking disaster have decided to ignore their headmistress so they can have a domestic in her office. “He could have seriously injured you-“ 

“You didn’t have to set him on fire!” Simon yells back. 

Also… @larkral made SOME INCREDIBLE ART for this universe, but I’m hoarding it like a dragon because I am trying to word some words that are worthy of it. In the meantime, please check out this magnificence: kissing like a forest fire.

Also, a huge fic rec for A Dangerous Affinity, which is SO SO GOOD. The dark world building, the slow burn, Simon fondling a wooden phallus. This fic has got it all!!!  

Hello tags! @artsyunderstudy,@bookish-bogwitch, @captain-aralias, @cutestkilla, @excalisbury, @facewithoutheart, @hushed-chorus, @ionlydrinkhotwater, @johnwgrey, @larkral, @moodandmist, @raenestee, @sailorblossoms, @thewholelemon, @whogaveyoupermission, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe  

Happy Sunday!

[artsartblog]

So I’ve decided to create a full on art blog. This is where I’ll be posting my art and anything related to my art. My main account will just be for other stuff, aka reblogs that consumes my art lol.

Since this’ll be a pinned post I’ll introduce myself.

I am Grace/Art/Marshy, you can call me any of those names. I’m 21 years old and have been making art for 8+ years and writing for just as long. I’m into a lot of different fandoms, but currently my hyperfixation is Lego Monkie Kid or anything Monkey King related. (I honestly don’t know what else to say about myself lol).

I’ll reblog my art from my main account, not all but some recent bits to put some art on here. Then it’ll all just be actual posts. Feel free to ask about an AUs or ocs I’ve made art of because I love talking about the different things I’ve come up with. You can send asks in the ask box or just comment through reblogs. Also please if you like my art be sure to also reblog it to circulate it around tumblr since likes do nothing for artists.

My aus and ocs below

My AU List:

•Lego Monkie Kid•

1. The Sunlight Princess (Bao's AU)

2. Shadow Twin (Xiaoyue's AU)

3. Zodiac Goddess (Qingling's AU)

4. Water Dragon Girl (Piper's AU)

5. Possessed Bao (Bao gets possessed by LBD)

6. Monkey Prince (Mk is Bao and Wukong's son)

7. Monkey Twins (Xiaoyue and Mk are Bao and Wukong's kids)

8. Chaos Trio/Mentor Trio (Wukong, Bao and Macaque equally train Mk) {+ Xiaoyue like in her main au)

9. Imprisoned King (Wukong was imprisoned in a cage then freed by Mk)

10. Double Trouble (Mac joined Wukong on his journey of becoming immortal and ended up going west with Wukong)

11. New Host (Bao becomes LBD's host) {Alt. Xiaoyue becomes LBD's host}

12. Pirate Crossover (A pirate crossover with RC9GN)

13. Lotus Maiden (Shuchun's AU)

•RC9GN•

1. Roleswap (Himori and Finja switch roles)

2. Uncle Raised (Clarissa is raised by her uncle McFist)

3. Pirate Crossover (a pirate crossover with LMK)

4. Miraculous Ladybug AU (Randy is Ladybug and Clarissa is Chat Noir)

5. Double Ninja (The ninjanomicon and mask are "missing" so Clarissa takes up the mantle of ninja until the nomicon and mask are found by Randy and becomes the actual ninja)

5. Revived (Finja and Himori are accidentally brought back to life by Randy)

6. True Reincarnation (An au that involves a friend's oc that is Finja's reincarnation)

•TMNT•

1. Spider's Daughter (Em ends up as Big Mama's adopted daughter)

2. Unnamed TMNT AU (Splinter's human sons are reincarnated as the turtles)

•Miraculous Ladybug•

1. Ladybug!Dani (Dani is Ladybug instead of Marinette)

•FNAF•

1. Fazbear's 80s Adventures (it's kinda like a Scooby-Doo type au, but staring the Afton Family, Charlie and my ocs Ella and Lottie)

•Steven Universe•

1. The Forgotten Diamond AU (Sophie's AU)

2. Pink's Other Spinel (Spinny's AU)

•The Lost Boys•

1. Comic Story (A what if au where pretty much all of the events of the movie are a story Sam came up with after Michael nearly became a vampire)

My OC List:

•Lego Monkie Kid•

1. Bao

2. Piper Dragon

3. Qingling

4. Qi Xiaoyue

5. Shuchun

•RC9GN•

1. Himori Kitamura

2. Clarissa Knowles

3. Camellia Knowles

4. Candace "Candy" Woods

5. Hachirō Norisu

•DC•

1. Grace Kyle/Wayne

2. Propheta (Mollie Sanders)

3. Guinevere Reeves

4. Regina Jekyll

5. Evelyn King

•Marvel Ocs•

1. Mysteria (Molly Darkholme)

2. Ally West (Miss Flare)

3. Jake West (Blue Frost)

4. Kathryn "Katie" Moss (Kinetic Waves)

5. Athena Stark

6. Leiah Engebresten

7. Phoebe Parker

8. Lacey Honeycutt (Big Hero 6 oc)

•FNAF•

1. Isabella "Ella" Schmidt

2. Charlotte "Lottie" Schmidt

3. Kelly

•Danganronpa•

1. Miyuki Takayama

2. Karin Tokomaru

3. Hanako Pekoyama

•Psychonauts•

1. Anastasia "Ana"

•TMNT•

1. Emlyn Jones

2. Paige Wimbledon

•Sonic•

1. Peach the rabbit

2. Mindy "Pinky" Prower

•Nancy Drew•

1. Briar Throne

•Creepypasta•

1. Mk (Musical Kitten)

2. Lunar Painter

3. Doll Face

•SvTFoE•

1. Red (Rose) Velvet/Red Butterfly

•Danny Phantom•

1. Elizabeth "Beth" Karton

•A:TLA•

1. Kiyomizu

•Bleach•

1. Fuyuka Urahara

•Sally Face•

1. Nikki Rosenberg

2. Katelyn Campbell

•Ducktales•

1. Bonnabelle "Bonnie" De Duck/De Spell

2. Constance "Connie" De Duck

•Encanto•

1. Rose Porter

2. Aura Vela

3. Simón Hernández

•NATM•

1. Selena Katz

2. Lateefah

•Scooby-Doo•

1. Dawn Kingston

•Miraculous Ladybug•

1. Danielle "Dani" Barnett

•Steven Universe•

1. Spinel "Spinny"

2. Sophia "Sophie" Baker

3. Aubergine "Aubie" Pearl

4. Amethyst "Amy"/Purple Diamond

•Toon•

1. Lila

•Kingdom Hearts•

1. Elizabeth "Liz" Hart/Zixl

•The Lost Boys•

1. Jinx Miller

•Resident Evil•

1. Samantha "Sam" Winters/Sam Bogdan

•Non-Fandom•

1. Madelyn "Maddie" Masters (The Suits)

2. Shanae Wang/Wang Xifeng (The Suits)

3. Randall "Randy" Newell (The Suits)

4. Jayden "Jay" Wembley (The Suits)

5. Ashton "Ash" Thompson (The Suits)

6. Ronald "Ron" Lewis (Eldritch Adventures)

7. Vincent/Vashoula (Eldritch Adventures)

8. Vlad (Different Paths)

9. Vanessa "Ness" (Different Paths)

10. TH8/Tina Honeycutt (Different Paths)

11. Fran (Different Paths)

12. Megara "Meg" Mortimer (Different Paths)

13. Esmeralda Baker

14. Jacob Daniels

15. Berry the Demon

16. Q/Quin (No Face)

[potionboy3]

Annie｜ 25+｜i’m bad at writing so i make videos｜

Masterlist 

Links;

My video tag Gryff and Annie’s OC verse Youtube Pinterest Family tree (this is overwhelming and is definitely still under work) 

Characters;

VICTORIAN ERA main characters:

Elian Goldcrest – | Slytherin｜profile｜tag｜(immortal) Ezra Greenaway – | Slytherin｜profile｜ tag｜

other characters: 

Agata della Rovere ｜profile｜tag｜ Carmine Elderberry – | Gryffindor｜profile｜tag｜  Julian Flamel – | Gryffindor｜profile｜tag｜ Angelo della Rovere – | Slytherin ｜profile｜tag｜

 WW1 

main characters:

Kit Enfield –｜profile｜tag｜ Alexej Kavinsky  –｜Durmstrang｜profile｜tag｜

other characters:

Melv Enfield  – | Gryffindor | profile | tag｜ Ren Godfrey  –｜tag｜ Maritza Krum  – | profile | tag |

FBAWTFT  main characters:

Adam Brynn｜profile｜tag｜ Griffin Kavinsky ｜tag | other characters: Ruth Marchmont – | Gryffindor｜tag｜ Enzo Rovere-Parson – | Gryffindor｜tag｜ Jaren Greenaway  – | Gryffindor｜tag｜ Leonidas Malinda  – | Gryffindor｜tag｜ Demetrius Killingbeck – | Ravenclaw｜tag｜

MARAUDERS ERA

main characters: 

Olly Enfield – | Ravenclaw｜profile｜tag｜  Libby Clifford– | Gryffindor｜profile｜tag｜ Samara Vespertine – | Wampus & Slytherin｜tag｜

GOLDEN ERA main characters:

Valentin Hartford – | Hufflepuff｜profile｜tag｜ Jenny Fairfax – | Hufflepuff｜profile｜tag｜ Dash Vespertine – | Slytherin ｜tag｜ other characters: 

Viveka Raeburn ｜profile｜tag｜

HOGWARTS MYSTERY main characters:

Farrow Raeburn – | Slytherin｜profile｜tag｜

other characters:

Cieran O’Connor – | Gryffindor｜tag｜

MAGIC AWAKENED

main characters:

Declan Rovere – | Slytherin｜profile｜tag｜ Dawn Harvelle – | Gryffindor｜profile｜tag｜ Rosa Yaxley – | Slytherin｜tag｜ Twyla Brindlemore – | Ravenclaw｜tag｜ other characters:

Jimmy Crouch – | Ravenclaw ｜profile｜tag｜ Maxim Raeburn – | Slytherin｜tag｜ John Arthur – | Gryffindor｜profile｜tag｜ Meera Israni  – | Ravenclaw｜tag｜ Evander Alderly  – ｜tag｜

NEXT GENERATION

main characters:

Rome St.James – | Gryffindor｜tag｜

other characters:

Irma Quinn  – | Slytherin｜tag｜ Delilah “Ella” Byrn – | Gryffindor｜tag｜ Brandy Crouch – | Ravenclaw｜profile｜tag｜ Richard Beck – | Slytherin｜tag｜  Idris Potter  – ｜tag｜

THE FIVE CLUB (original story)

main characters: 

Harker Hartford – | Hufflepuff | profile｜tag｜ Brooke Killingbeck – | Ravenclaw | profile｜tag｜ Jude Castellan – | Slytherin｜tag｜ other characters: Ivan Cuarón – | Gryffindor｜tag｜ Brion Mclaggen – | Gryffindor｜tag｜ Betty Bott – | Hufflepuff｜tag｜

MINOR CHARACTERS Charles Hartford – | Ravenclaw｜Victorian era｜tag｜ Merilyn Prewettt – | Slytherin｜Victorian era｜profile｜tag｜ Achille della Rovere –  | Victorian era｜tag｜ Thane Greenaway – | Slytherin｜Victorian era｜tag｜ Caiaphas Byrn – ｜Victorian era｜tag｜ Mysteria Charmworth – | Gryffindor｜WW1｜tag｜ Zedric Faust –｜WW1｜tag｜

Gillie Beck｜Riddle era｜tag｜    Margeaux Marchmont – | Ravenclaw｜FBAWTFT｜tag｜   Oaklan Enfield – | FBAWTFT｜tag｜ Professor Ríoghán ‘Boyd’ O'Connor｜tag｜

Clea Malfoy – | Slytherin｜Golden era｜tag｜  Aron Winterwell – | Skalafel character｜tag｜ Loviisa Aarnintytär – | Finnish witch｜tag｜immortal

[thesunshineriptide]

Hello just letting you know that i completed the servey

Have a good day/night

Astral Mysteria

You described yourself as: Kind smart motherly emotional nerdy soft spoken timid polite respectful anxious (to name a few)

Your pet peeves are: People who harm others, people i care about not caring for themselves, not being listened to, people who dont take others into consideration, tests and math

As of the time of writing this, you are the first and only person to say you belong at RSA, and as a result, it isn’t the dark mirror’s job to sort you.

It is, instead, the wishing well of old that will reveal your fate to you.

Partner - Dominic 

Dominic (Last Name) is the best match I can find for you at RSA. He’s caring, polite, and firmly spoken. He protects his friends and goes as far as to offer to pay a cleaning bill to a rival school’s student to smooth over a misunderstanding, not even flinching despite that student being a beastman that towers over him. He’s evidently rather smart, considering he’s based off of Doc from Snow White, and would likely be able to keep up with you and never let a dull moment pass. He honestly seems like the Lawful Good version of Jade Leech in most regards, but with the added benefit of not being Jade Leech (and therefore not being just a little bit sadistic)

Friend - Neige LeBlance

Neige Leblance is likely one of the nicest people you could meet. Perhaps a bit naive to some, but endearing nonetheless. Kind, patient, and always optimistic, it’s likely he’ll latch onto you and never let go as soon as you’re in his sights. He can be a little insensitive at times, but he’s wholly well meaning and often tries to consider others feelings above all else, seen as when he (spoilers) performs on stage with Vil  after the VDC results

Enemy - Floyd Leech

Floyd, as much as I adore this eelmer, has openly said he dislikes having to consider others. He also hates listening to others, in particular authority, and…enjoys squeezing. I could really see him getting on your nerves, maybe even to the point of physicality or legal action. It’s unlikely that he would see you as an enemy - it seems he doesn’t really consider others as enemies at all, luckily - but it’s likely you’ll see him as one.

[fandomcavalier]

New Fanfic "Once Upon a Time," Storian x Mysteria, and Music!

I have advanced to the next level in shipping.

AHEM.

Can be read on AO3 and Wattpad.

This song took a LOT of editing. It's made up of different parts and I tried to blend them as seamlessly as possible. That required the painstaking process of matching them with the best waveform points:

(This is what Hell looks like to a "just right" OCD sufferer.)

It's not 100% studio quality, but I'm sick of working on it. 🥲

Anyway, I intended this song to be slow, heavy, and intense, but with "ethereal" female vocals. I also prompted "haunting synths," and I'm happy with how low/subtle and visceral they sound. Very fitting. Another thing I really like is the repeated "love whispers" lyric toward the end. That was the AI's idea, not mine, and of course I was gonna use it, especially considering the "while love whispers soft refrains" lyric. (Refrains are "a line, phrase, or single word that is repeated periodically within the poem to build up drama, emphasis, or rhythm.")

And yes, Mysteria's name isn't mentioned in the lyrics because the song is more about the Storian.

It's also worth mentioning the swans—they represent love and freedom, two things the Storian doesn't have (at least not personally, if you think about it). I'm not trying to portray it/him as a sympathetic character, though. It/he is absolutely an asshole. Worst character in the series (aside from Aric).

Additionally, if you want to rock out:

There are some flaws here and there, but I don't want to spend any more Suno credits on these songs, and I'm too tired to separate the vocals and instrumentals and clean them up. I'll probably wait to update them until inpainting and upscaling become available, I dunno.

Lyrics under the cut.

In a realm of ink and fairy tales The Storian's pen never fails Blue dragon fire in his eyes As swans glide across his skies

He seeks to rule over all And he will never fall But another Pen, with fox-like grace Shows him a world he can't erase

Destiny calls with iron chains While love whispers soft refrains His heart, torn in two Between the path he thought he knew And the freedom she proves is true

The other realm, beyond his reach A vixen's wit, a lesson to teach Her world, a different song Where love, not fate, can right the wrong

He writes of fates carved in stone She shows him paths yet unknown The Pen hovers, the story untold Will he choose love or the crown of old?

[paganarch]

Hearing Voices

This essay is part of my recurring series The Mysteria, which is also the name of a book I am writing. Normally, essays in this series are for paid subscribers only, but I’ve decided to make this one free for everyone. If you’d like to support my work, please consider becoming a paid subscriber of my substack, or you can also buy me a coffee. “Oh, they’re gonna be a handful, those two. One’s…

[queenimmadolla]

there’s so many little details in Magical Mysteria and I don’t think I’ll ever revisit them again because it was perfect as a oneshot, but if anyone has any questions or notices any of those details, please let me know! I might not write more of it but I love talking about it ☺️

[mysteriawrites]

Hello everyone my name is astral mysteria! :D

Random Tumblr user: who tf is this girl?

Shut up!

Anyway, i decided to finally stop being chicken and make my own writing blog. Why you may be wondering.

Random Tumblr user #2: no one cares!

<_<

Well everyone else seemed to be having fun writing stuff and im pretty good a writing too and if you’ve got a talent you should use it right? So here I am.

Random Tumblr user #3: the description says you were just bored!

WOULD SOMEONE GET THEM OUT OF HERE!!! >:U

As i was saying, Im starting a multifandom writing blog so why not come on down and see if I’ve got anything to your liking. Fair warning though I’ve never really written for preexiting characters before so bare with me also i make a lot of grammatical errors but, I’ll try my best. Welp time to wrap this introduction: if you like multiple fandoms like i do why don’t t you try requesting something and I’ll do my best to whip something up for you in a timely manner.

Welp that’s all BYEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!! :D

💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

[roastedlizlow]

I wrote a London Detective Mysteria Akechi/Emily fic! Contains spoilers, please check it out if interested, thank you!

[razzle-zazzle]

A Perfect Day - Mystreetia Part 1 Chapter 1

1293 Words

<+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+>

It was a perfect day for a walk.

The sun was shining, not a cloud in sight, and a refreshing breeze wove its way through the alleyways and roads of Solaria, just enough to cool the bustling plaza without scattering merchants’ wares to the wind. Like a brilliant shining jewel atop a dragon’s hoard, the royal castle of Phoenix Drop shimmered in the light cast upon it as it towered over the horizon. Walls and towers of gleaming amethyst and quartz stood watch over the bustling city below, their majesty and grandeur reminding the citizens of the glory of the kingdom of Phoenix Drop, small as it was.

However, while its outside appearance spoke of riches and beauty, the goings on inside crafted a different story. For within one of these ivory towers, the queen and her daughter were causing quite the ruckus, while the Court Alchemist and Head Scribe watched on, unfazed. Normally, the Scribe would be recording the interactions of the royal family for future generations, but it was determined that this argument—which was quickly becoming all-too common of an occurrence—was not exceptionally noteworthy.

“Young Lady, if I catch you attempting to sneak out again this kingdom will need a new heir!” The Alchemist nonchalantly dodged the chair that was thrown, while the small group of servants present in the room scrambled to catch the high-speed furniture before it could shatter against the walls.

“Well maybe if you weren’t so overbearing I wouldn’t feel the need to leave every now and again! It’s always so boring here!” The Princess stamped her foot indignantly, her tiara lying discarded on the floor where she had tossed it. She was still so much like a child, her face contorted into a pout as she ranted and raved about how suffocating her life was, occasionally tossing some trinket or another from her nightstand at her mother, who replied in turn while lecturing her daughter about the responsibility of a royal heir. The room was beginning to look like a warzone, and it was all the servants could do to keep things in one piece while their superiors raged.

“I mean, I can’t even trust you to go out on your own—you couldn’t even remember your way to the banquet hall yesterday!”

“We never use the banquet hall! Of course I couldn’t find it!”

“You get lost going down a one-way street! You’re not capable—”

“Because you never let me try—”

“And if I can’t trust you not to get in trouble within your own home, how can I know you’d be safe going out?”

“YOU NEVER LET ME DO ANYTHING!”

“BECAUSE YOU NEVER WANT TO DO WHAT YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO! You don’t pay attention to your lessons, you run off at a moment’s notice, you’ve chased off more than half of your tutors, and if any of the staff take their eyes off of you for even a moment, you’re trying to sneak outside the walls!” The Queen punctuated her argument by straightening her crown and fixing her hair, before she continued. “Aphmau, sweetie, you need to understand. You are the only heir this tiny kingdom has, and—”

“The only heir this kingdom will ever have, because Dad isn’t around anymore.” Aphmau joined in, having heard the speech before. “I know that. But it gets so stifling here sometimes. I’ve never even—”

“Been outside the castle walls. I know.” Sylvanna’s expression softened, and she pursed her lips before continuing. “But you’re still so young, and if anything were to happen to you…” Sighing, Sylvanna schooled her expression. “You are to return to your studies until further notice. We can go on a walk later.” And with that, she left the room, the servants hurrying after her.

The Alchemist turned to glance at the sulking princess one last time, before turning to follow the Queen. With any luck, the princess would return to her studies after sulking for a few hours, and things would once again return to the usual quiet.

Aphmau watched as her mother left, trying not to cry. Wiping away her tears, she reached down and grabbed her tiara; she moved to place it in its usual perch, but thought better of it.

With a sinister grin, Aphmau moved to grab her traveling cloak from the closet, as well as some of her less extravagant clothes. If she waited for her mother to finish holding court, then it’d be dark by the time they were ready for a walk. Which meant one thing.

Aphmau would have to take matters into her own hands.

+=+=+=+=+

“Your Majesty, if I may?” The Alchemist entered the room slowly, respectfully. Sylvanna looked up from her paperwork as one of her closest friends and advisor stepped in the room.

“You needn’t be so formal with me, Terry. We’re friends.” Terrance raised an eyebrow at the remark, and Sylvanna countered his expression with one of her own.

“Of course. Well, you see, I came to tell you that perhaps you need to loosen the boundaries you have set on your daughter.”

“Oh?” The Queen asked, in a tone that implied she would not like to be having this conversation. But Terrance pushed on.

“Now, I understand why you’d have trouble letting go. Believe me, I feel the same about my son. But you have to realize that Aphmau’s not a little girl anymore, and that at this age it’s only natural for her to be curious about her kingdom.”

“It’s not just that.” Sylvanna interjected. “She gets in so much trouble, and she never knows how to handle herself.”

“Yes, because she’s never gotten the chance to even try. You have to let her grow on her own, Sylvanna. At least let her meet other children. She’s going to go crazy if she stays locked up in this castle. Travis and Lucinda are much the same way. All children are.”

“I… I suppose I have been a little overbearing. I… yes. I will organize a meeting between Aphmau and your son. Tomorrow. Your son does have free time tomorrow, right? Hyria won’t be keeping him long?”

Terrance nodded, answering her query. “Yes, I believe Travis will be free tomorrow. But even if he wasn’t, you still have the final say.”

Sylvanna nodded, suddenly looking as old as she was. “Yes, that’s… that’s good. I’ll send one of the staff to let Hyria know. You can go on your way now, Terry.” She waved her hand, looking back down at the documents she had been reading as Terrance left, a soft smile on his face.

+=+=+=+=+

Okay, so maybe leaving the castle to explore the town unsupervised was a mistake.

Aphmau was beginning to regret her split-second decision after being pushed aside by some rushing passerby for the fifth time; this one was a dark-haired boy who gave her a dirty look when he bumped into her. “Watch it.” He muttered, before continuing on. Aphmau huffed, returning the dirty look in full force as she watched his retreating back. Some people!

Things began to wear on Aphmau as she continued to wander aimlessly, desperately trying to ignore that she was horribly, horribly lost. To someone used to the high halls and extensively decorated corridors of the castle, all the dusty streets and narrow alleyways looked the same to Aphmau.

Stumbling into an alcove, Aphmau pulled her hood up as she struggled to hold back her tears. She was lost, and nobody would notice she was missing for hours…

A bell rang out, and suddenly the street beyond the little alley was full of people jostling to get to the square. Aphmau, startled by the crowd, hunched her shoulders and curled up further. She just wanted to go home.

“Hey, are you okay?”

<+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+>

This was going to be longer, but I had hit the perfect spot to cut the chapter in half, so I did. I tried something new with the dialogue in Aphmau and Sylvana's argument, but I'm not sure if it worked as well as I'd hoped.

I was planning to do an illustration or two, but finals came up and all of the scenes I wanted to illustrate are in the next half, which is actually still unfinished. I did say progress would be slow, so at least I'm not setting everyone up with false expectations!

Next time: A griffon, three irresponsible teenagers, and a flight around the kingdom that ends poorly (also Sylvana rides a pegasus)