#mystery isn’t my forte

[scaredysap]

There are spirits fleeing from Qinghe. All kinds of spirits: from yao, to ghosts to monsters of many shapes and sizes. Wei Wuxian has been tracking them for months now, following a seemingly constant flow of hauntings back to its source.

As he steps into the city proper, nothing much seems different. People mill about the streets, climbing up and down the cliff side to go about their business as usual. If anything, it seems to him that it’s really rather cold to be so late into spring. It’s not enough to be little more than an ill omen, really, but it’s something.

So, Wei Wuxian tells Lan Sizhui and the other young disciples to spread out and investigate the suburbs, hoping that the minor haunting scene he expects them to find will keep them busy. Meanwhile, he himself moves further up towards the Unclean Realm.

The streets are as narrow as Wei Wuxian remembered them, though there seem to be more colourful vendors around since the last time he visited. It seems that their Sect Leader had finally started to manage his territory, once the weight of his brother’s unexplained death had been lifted, or so the tavern owners say. Of course, Wei Wuxian had never heard anything about Nie Mingjue’s death being ‘unexplained’ until well after the truth had come out of the Guanyin Temple of Yunping City, bloody and scarred as it was. But then, Nie-Xiong had always been a gossip and turning such a skill into some useful manipulation of public opinion seems to be a joke of an effort. Hindsight truly is something out of this world.

As Wei Wuxian strolls through the narrow corners of Qinghe, the sun begins to dip behind the mountains, casting long shadows across the buildings. And yet, Wei Wuxian realises the light hardly fades at all, as hundreds of flickering lanterns light up and fill the city with a reddish glow. Behind those lights, the storefronts remain open, with people going in and out, though they are fewer in number now. A curious sight, as the hours gets later and later.

He should check on the ducklings soon.

When they reconvene, the disciples seem at once dejected and confused. Not a haunting to be found, they say, even though their evil detecting compasses were spinning round and round all day.

“You’re still relying on that old junk?” Wei Wuxian laughs airily. “I figured you’d know better by now.”

“But Senior Wei-!“

A number of complaints arise, but Wei Wuxian hardly pays them any mind. As he stares out of the inn they are dining at, watching pass by almost in a blur, Wei Wuxian drums a finger against his nose pensively. Soon enough he sends the disciples off to bed, claiming that he will try to fix their compasses so they may be used the following day. They’re tired after travelling and should follow their rules, going to sleep on time!

There is no grumbling from the disciplined young ducklings, but Wei Wuxian is sure that the looks on their faces will be sour all evening.

Well, whatever, Wei Wuxian has work to do.

After some searching, Wei Wuxian selects a shop that sells decorated porcelain vases, not far off the main square that leads to the Nie fortress that overlooks the city. He enters the wooden storefront with a knock against the beams of the open door, stepping inside while already looking around. The store is pretty, well-decorated, but he can see cobwebs gathering in the corners of the ceiling and furniture. Strange, for such a fancy place to not care for its presentation. He ooh’s and aah’s at the wares on sale for a few moments, walking around and taking note of some sort of array scratched into the support beams of the shop. It’s a form of containment, the gentlest hint at suppression he has seen in a while. Certainly not the preferred Nie style of cultivation.

A clerk has been watching him with a polite smile, commenting on his good eye when Wei Wuxian has commented on some vase or another.

“A creation of our in-house artisan!” The clerk says with remarkable enthusiasm as Wei Wuxian stops near a piece that is covered in images of thick vegetation, creeping vines that remind him of the area surrounding the Nie sabre tombs.

“In-house, you say? Surely your artisan isn’t working at this late time of night!” Wei Wuxian says, straightening up just fast enough to catch the clerk’s smile go a little wobbly at the edges.

“Our Qinghe is a lively place, there is hardly any time to sleep with all the new commerce routes our Sect Leader has managed to arrange,” the clerk replies.

“I can see that!” Wei Wuxian beams, sauntering over to the desk and leaning with his hip against it. “With all these lanterns, you would think this was Nightless City, not Qinghe.”

There is a crash from the back of the shop, at the same time as the clerk’s smile drops. His eyes flicker towards the curtain that separates the store from the private area in the back. The man steps away quietly, staring between it and Wei Wuxian’s unconcerned grin.

The screeching sound of wood scraping across the floor, then a few featherlight steps come from what Wei Wuxian assumes to be the workshop. A gentle hand, with long fingers stained with splatters of blue, parts the curtain. The face that peeks out is hidden by a white veil that hangs still off the owner’s forehead.

“Qinghe is nothing like that pit of demons,” the artisan says in a raspy voice, pulling the curtain aside to reveal a female figure draped in thick robes. She wears a white belt around her middle, a familiar sign of mourning.

“Is it not? I’ve been there a few times, trust me when I tell you it is remarkably similar,” Wei Wuxian insists.

“Qinghe is nothing like that pit of demons,” the artisan insists, stepping out of the workshop and beginning to shake. No, not shake. Flicker.

Wei Wuxian gives a shrug, pushing off of the desk.

“Agree to disagree.”

The clerk by now has slid his way to the open door and is looking, for some reason, at Wei Wuxian, rather than at f artisan.

“Young master, please, no need to make trouble…” He says, sounding like someone who is trying to quell a run of the mill disagreement.

“Sadly for you, there is no one in the great sects better at causing trouble than me,” Wei Wuxian says with a cheerful laugh. “Fair warning, I’m about to cause some more in three… two… one…”

The clerk, smart man, is already half out the door when Wei Wuxian snatches off the artisan’s veil. As the clerk goes running in the streets, screaming for help, the artisan wails and clutches at her face. Or rather, where her face should be.

The pallid skin is twisted and rough, like a clay statue that had not been molded past the initial stage. As she claws, her unfinished cheeks give way under her perfect hands. Her form flickers and seems to overflow out of her robes for a split second, then the ghost is flinging herself past the counter with long artists’ fingers stretched for Wei Wuxian’s throat.

With a quick dodge, he sends her sprawling on the floor, her knees flattening under her. With a groaning sound, her torso twists around to face him again. There is a burst of resentment, pulsating from her as she shrieks with no mouth. The endless crashing sound of porcelain fills the room until it is abruptly silenced by a trilling note.

With Chenqing at his lips, Wei Wuxian gathers the resentment up, making it swirl in waves only he and the ghost can feel. She tries to claw at him again but her form is having more trouble holding itself together already. Wei Wuxian shapes the resentment into another rhythm, holding it steady with his music and then slowly but surely stamping it down, down, down.

The artisan squirms and moans under his ministrations, undulating from side to side along with the lilting sound of the flute. Her makeshift features become more and more smooth, her spirit calming but still present as Wei Wuxian coaxes her into a mellow, if a bit disgruntled compliance.

With quick gestures, Wei Wuxian flicks a talisman out of his sleeve and sticks it cheekily across her forehead before letting his song fade out.

“There we go. This should be a bit safer than the half-assed array in this shop, wouldn’t you say?” He says to the artisan, who as a response makes an unpleasant sound like scraping nails on a plate. “Don’t give me that, I’m not planning on eradicating you.”

“And what exactly are you planning to do to my favourite porcelain vase artist, then?“ A huffy and petulant voice comes from the entrance of the shop.

Wei Wuxian raises his head to find Nie Huaisang standing as tall as he can manage in the entryway, accompanied on each side by a warrior dressed in Nie green. The Sect Leader stares down at where Wei Wuxian is kneeling in front of the ghost, with a furrowed brow and hardly any trace that he would have been woken up in the middle of the night for this.

“You know, Master Wei, most cultivators would ask for permission to night hunt in another sect’s territory,” Nie Huaisang continues, holding both hands behind his back. And Wei Wuxian must give it to him: the width of his squared shoulders and the new sharp cut to his cheekbones does give the man a more intimidating air than he’d ever had in his youth. Shame that Wei Wuxian cares very little about it.

“I didn’t think you would worry about that custom,” he answers with a grin.

“Any normal Sect Leader would.”

“You aren’t exactly a normal Sect Leader.”

Wei Wuxian is expecting Nie Huaisang to laugh. And he does, clear and airy like the birdsong he has always loved.. But it comes just a beat too late. Wei Wuxian has seen the crack, he has been waiting for it since the confrontation at Guanyin Temple.

“No, I’m really not,” Nie Huaisang says, and the glint on his eye makes a chill run down Wei Wuxian’s spine.

[lavenderchqn]

"PILLOWS AND THEIR FORTS"

synopsis — after a day escalates in you being fully deflated, kinich proves you that love comes in more than one way pairing — kinich x gn!reader warnings — minor character having a stereotypical outlook on what love is, a very minor panic attack notes — just a small kinich fic, since I'm enjoying him a lot recently

You stifled a yawn, exhausted at the day you unfortunately had to experience. 

The beginning of a new semester was always rough — dealing with new subjects, professors, or fellow students. Sad to say, what it also came with was… bloody in-person lectures. Combining those with your first practical subjects, you were stuck at university since 8 AM. 

Checking at your phone, you’ve discovered you were almost here for 12 hours. The clock has struck a miserable 7:28 PM. Only twelve more minutes and you’d be free to go home. To your beloved blankets. To your beloved pillows. 

“Earth to my lovely friend!” Your university bestie said, her voice muffled. You noticed her hands waving in front of your face. How did she manage to still feel energised was quite a mystery. 

“What’s up?” You asked, laying your head on your arms.

“Look at the boy I’m trying to get with…” She handed her phone to you, giving you full access to her full dating app conversation. “Quite the catch, dare I say~” 

You hummed, acknowledging her words. Unfortunately for her, your brain was not responsive enough to entertain her situation. “Looks nice, I guess…” 

“I know, right! Not to mention,  he’s such a romantic!!” She tried to further prove her point by all the serenade-like words the guy had sent. 

“I’m happy for you… let me nap now, please…” You closed your eyes, trying to conserve the last bits of your energy. Sadly, that was not doable due to a sudden thunderclap startling you back to full attention. Did it seriously start to rain just now?!

On a day… when you had decided to leave your umbrella back at home? Great, just great.

The lecture soon ended, and slouched people left the classroom trying to find any means of getting home. 

“My soon-to-be boyfriend said he can pick me up!” Your friend jumped in excitement. “Sometimes I pity you for still staying with Kinich, you know?” 

Oh. That was new.

“What do you mean?” You stopped, staring your friend down. What did he have to do with anything?

“You’re too good for him!” Her voice strikes back. “Surely you could do much better with a guy who can prove their love to you!” 

Her attitude was less than enjoyable at that moment. 

You pinched the bridge of your nose. That was certainly not the time to have an argument with a friend. Your head was pounding — a cumulative effort of fatigue mixed with your sensitivity to weather. 

“Whatever.” You scoffed. “You’re not the one in this relationship, so what makes you think your opinion matters?” 

With those words, you were off. Into the cold and rain, you went. 

By the time you make it, you’re soaked from head to toe. You sigh as you turn the key to the house. Halfway through your walk back, you remembered that tonight was your turn to cook dinner. Only gods can hope, that Kinich isn’t upset with you.

The moment you step through the door, you’re hit with the smell of a freshly cooked dinner. Did he get so fed up he ordered something? 

You don’t even have time to think, swift footsteps coming in your direction.

“Holy fuck. I knew it started raining, but this much?” Kinich helps you in getting off your bag before heading to the bathroom. 

He’s soon back, with a stack of towels. 

“You’re alright, Love. I’ve got you.” He starts to dry your hair, doing his best not to damage your hair. Your head hangs low — you don’t want your partner to look at your face. It’s hard to even think when tears have joined all the water drops you’re covered with. 

Kinich must know something, as he doesn’t even question your odd behaviour. He dries as much water as he can. “Do you want me to carry you to the bathroom?” He asks. 

“Huh?” You finally look at him, confusion in your eyes. “Why would you?” 

“Because,” He flicks your shoulder lightly. “You need a shower before you get sick.” 

With that, he picks you up and carefully carries you to the bathroom. 

“I’m going to get you some warm and cosy clothes for when you’re done.” He sets you down in the middle of the bathroom, in front of the shower. “Once you’re done, we’re going to eat dinner.” 

“A-Alright.

You stand there frozen for a moment once Kinich leaves, staring at the shower, still in a daze from everything that had happened throughout the day. The exhaustion weighing heavily on your shoulders finally catches up, and you let out a long sigh before undressing and stepping into the warm water.

As the heat cascades over your skin, the tension in your body begins to ease. You let the water wash away not only the grime from the rain but also the stress of the day. You can’t help but think back to your friend's words — her judgment about your relationship with Kinich. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, but as the warm water envelops you, you realise how unfair it was to let those words affect you. Kinich was always there for you, always patient, always understanding. Her words didn’t matter. 

After a while, you finally get out of the shower, feeling lighter, though still emotionally drained. You dry yourself off and slip into the cosy clothes Kinich had laid out for you. As you open the bathroom door, the smell of dinner wafts through the air again. Your stomach growls, reminding you that you haven’t eaten much today.

Walking into the kitchen, you see Kinich setting the table. He looks up and smiles slightly when his eyes meet yours. "Feel better?”

You nod, offering a small smile in return. "Yeah, thanks… And sorry for not making dinner tonight.”

“Do I need to flick your forehead harder?” He asks, head tilted looking at your face confused. “I don’t need an apology.” 

“B-but…” 

“Shush.” He hands you the cutlery, before taking a seat himself. “Enjoy the meal, we’re having a cosy night once you’re done.” 

“Cosy night?—“ You turn around to look at the living room. 

There’s a pillow fort there. Fully fortified, oozing with pure comfiness.  

You stare at the pillow fort, blinking in disbelief. Kinich, always full of surprises, had somehow managed to set up the cosiest little corner of the living room while you were in the shower. Soft blankets draped over chairs and an assortment of pillows arranged perfectly. 

“You did all this while I was showering?” you ask, your voice soft with awe.

Kinich chuckles as he takes a bite of his food. “Sure did. Figured you could use a bit of comfort after the day you’ve had. Plus, we haven’t had a good pillow fort night in ages.”

Soon after,  the meal comes to an end. You both clear the table and Kinich gestures toward the fort. “Fort time?” he asks with a grin.

You nod eagerly, following him into the living room. The fort is even cosier up close, with a pile of your favourite snacks and a movie queued up on the laptop nestled inside. Kinich climbs into the fort first, patting the spot beside him, and you quickly follow, snuggling into the soft pillows as he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

For a while, you both just sit there, the warmth of the fort and his presence surrounding you like a shield against the outside world. The rain continues to tap against the windows, however inside, everything feels safe and perfect.

“Thank you, Kinich,” you whisper, resting your head against his chest. “For everything.”

He starts stroking your back. “Of course. It’s the least I could do, to make your day less shitty.”

And in that moment, you realise that he truly did that. Despite the rough day, despite your friend’s hurtful words, sitting here in this homemade fort with Kinich by your side, you feel truly content… 

Knowing that love can be more than words. 

date of posting — september 16th 2024

[nekropsii]

ALPHA TROLLS RANKED BY HOW WRONG THE FANDOM AT LARGE IS ABOUT THEM:

This is a personal challenge, based entirely on my own experience and perspective, and also ranked from Most to Least Correct. I was bored, and thought this might be fun.

Putting this under a cut, because it's long as hell.

MEULIN LEIJON

People get her mostly correct, from what I’ve seen… Most of the time, fan content of Meulin is absolutely recognizable as Meulin, but her pride in her deafness + joy of learning new ways to interact with the world through/due to her disability is always removed, and I do not often see people tackle the Toxic Positivity aspect of her character. That seems less like character assassination, though, and more like a combination of people not actually playing through the Openbounds, people not being able to fathom disabled people (especially those who gained a disability later in life rather than being born disabled) being happy, and general fandom distaste for the idea of touching anything uncomfortable, especially when that uncomfortable topic is highly mundane, normalized, and potentially applicable to them or their loved ones. Meulin’s toxic positivity was, of course, commentary on Tumblr’s ecosystem at the time, so… It was much harder to touch back then.

ARANEA SERKET

People tend to get her general, broad strokes personality right, but unfortunately she gets treated pretty roughly for the crime of Being A Serket. People refuse to understand her motivations, and she often gets demonized for what she was doing around/during [S] Game Over, even though that was something she’d gotten pushed to and also was cool as fuck to watch. God forbid a woman do anything.

DAMARA MEGIDO

People are right about the racism, 100%. It is completely despicable, hard to look at, and extremely blatant. She does, however, have character outside of that. No, it isn’t “whore”, it’s more like “angry, dysfunctional abuse victim”, and she’s genuinely a very interesting and tragic character. But, again, people are right about the racism, so she gets to be placed way up here.

MEENAH PEIXES

She is such a chaotic little bastard. I love her. I really do. Please understand that she genuinely does not understand the concept of consequences. This girl didn’t have a Lusus, she didn’t have parents, it was functionally illegal to tell her “No, you can’t do that.” That would fuck up literally anyone’s moral compass. That’s not me hand waving away all the fucked up and bad shit she’s done, we all know what she did, but people tend to forget this aspect of her character and it pains me deeply, because it is a very genuinely interesting concept that I want to see more of. She’s capable of regret, we’ve seen her feel it, I just don’t think foresight is her forte. No one raised her to consider consequences, or help her experience them in a healthy way, because nobody raised her period.

Also, her ass is not butch, she is the girliest girl in the entire comic. She is about hot pink and glitter and kiss marks and unicorns and cute little puns and you will respect that. She is not masculine. Her ass is not masculine nor is she butch. Let her be her hyper-feminine self.

LATULA PYROPE

Please for the love of god there is more to her character than “Gamer Girl” and “Mituna’s Girlfriend”. You are falling for her fucking ruse. Please. Please. Please recognize that her entire character is about internalized misogyny, and being forced to overcompensate for misogyny in gaming circles as a gamer who happens to be a woman. Please. I’m begging.

KURLOZ MAKARA

His character is not that deep, it’s mostly just a string of events he is mysteriously, inexplicably involved with. The Makaras are extremely Function Over Form- their characters practically do not exist, they're mostly just plot devices that exist to push the story along. I'm sorry to Makara fans. You just invented a guy in your mind and decided he was real. He is also not that soft, though, and his relationships with both Meulin AND Mituna are not healthy. Hard to stop people from ascribing cutesy squishy lovey dynamics to random men who happened to have looked at each other once, though. Some people truly haven't graduated from 2012.

HORUSS ZAHHAK

I am begging people to consider that maybe the biggest issue here is not that he is “Bad Otherkin/Therian Representation” and is in fact maybe the fact that Hussie was actually making fun of Systems when he was writing Horuss. Because Horuss is canonically a system. He uses the word system. He uses the word switching. He uses the word host. He literally talks about his Plurality at length in extremely upfront, plain terms. I don’t know how him being “Bad Otherkin Representation” was and still is the main discourse about him. It makes me insane. That is a commentary that truly writes itself. Talk about having your priorities out of wack, honestly...

PORRIM MARYAM

No, she is not a MRA, she’s just a regular feminist who happens to live on a different planet with different politics and social hierarchies from Our Real World Earth’s USA. Whatever argument you’re about to pull out of your ass to say that she sucks is bad. She already explained what she meant by that, in more detail, very clearly, and she was right. Half the time she’s literally just giving you factual information about what Beforus was like, and literal plot synopses. She isn’t saying anything insane. She’s literally normal. I don’t know why people cannot handle or process this. Porrim has not ever said anything controversial. If you disagree with this you’re either misconstruing her on purpose or you fell for Kankri’s bait, and that’s just fucking sad at that point.

Also, she’s more than a sex object, and her tits are not huge. Honestly, half the shit she was saying was just “I am more than my sex life”, and so many people took that and made her main character trait her sex life. Just pathetic.

RUFIOH NITRAM

This man is a fucking war criminal and I will stop at nothing until he is behind bars for his crimes against Damara. Raging misogynist. Total fucking cunt. Just the worst. If I talk any more about this, this part will be 1,000 paragraphs long. But also, I’m begging people to recognize his relationship with disability, too. He was similar to Meulin in the sense that he didn’t mind his disability, and his biggest gripe with it was the way that Horuss tried to “fix” it… Which is an interesting way to expand upon how Beforus’s culling system is not only very explicitly ableist, but mimicking real world systemic ableism. I also want people to recognize that Hussie is actively having a conversation about the reclamation of slurs with Rufioh’s character, and how not letting people reclaim such language is doing nothing but giving the word power against them while stripping away their own personal agency. Rufioh’s a complicated guy, and he’s interesting and also the worst, and I am really tired of how he gets watered down to nothing but “Pretty Boy Victim Of His Inexplicably Psycho Ex”.

MITUNA CAPTOR

Holy Fucking Shit, You Guys Are Ableist.

KANKRI VANTAS

To this day I see people saying he was just Hussie making fun of SJWs. To this day. To this day people think Hussie was trying to make Every Tumblr Leftist look bad, and that he hates them Because They Are Leftists. When will people recognize him as a bootlicker to the oppressive class and the violently bigoted. When will people recognize that. When will people recognize that this is more of a commentary on the legitimate real flaws of Tumblr’s politics at the time. When. When.

When will people stop portraying him as a lovey-dovey Catholic Whore. I’m going to stab my fucking eyes out and then kill everyone in this building. Me when it's based and cool to ship an aroace character with a sexual predator. I GUESS.

CRONUS AMPORA

I say this with every ounce of sincerity I can possibly muster as a person: What the literal actual fuck.

[literallydontknowdontcare]

Don't Try Me

[FNAF Movie] Vanessa x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: angst (happy ending), smut (rough), annoyed top!Vanessa, bottom!femreader, established relationship, Vanessa wears a strap, Mike being scared of Foxy, Reader also being a security guard

a/n: this is my first time writing since years ago. Ignore the present/ past tense f ups, I can’t be bothered to fix it sorry </3 

w/c: 1663

---------------------------------------------------------

You should have known not to tease Vanessa. From your hand brushing against hers when Mike wasn’t looking, to you bending over to ‘help’ with building a fort Abby wanted for the animatronics, it was all too obvious for Vanessa not to notice. It just so happened to be that she was intentionally teasing you as well by avoiding your advances.

“I’ll get the sheets for the roof”, Vanessa says, rolling over and standing up from her current position underneath the fort. You looked between her walking away and Mike who was currently eyeing the Fox animatronic in fear. 

“I’ll help!”, you pipe up, deciding that saving Mike from killer robots wasn’t as good as possibly getting railed. As you walk in the dark room, you find Vanessa about to bend over to reach the sheets. “Need help officer?”, you practically purr in her ear, squeezing in-between Vanessa and the box shelves at the last second, making her grind against your ass. She sighs behind you, allowing her hand to drift down your back and onto your ass as you stand back up.

“You’re needy today”, she murmured, tilting your head upwards to meet her gaze. You pouted. “That’s what happens when you ignore your girlfriend and take the shifts where you know I’m free”, you say.

Vanessa rolled her eyes, stepping away from you and taking the sheets off your hands. “I don’t choose my shifts. You act as if I’d rather lock up drunken middle aged men then wake up in our bed”. She headed towards the door.

“Maybe those men would touch me more than you do”, you grumble in a soft tone so she can’t overhear. Unfortunately, your girlfriend was sharper than foxy’s hook, meaning she immediately whipped around and narrowed her eyes. “Would you like to repeat that?”, she said strictly. Knowing you were way out of line, you should have said nothing. But being deprived from any sort of sexual touch for a good week, you doubled down.

“I said”, you took a step forward, “Maybe the same drunken men you locked up tonight could find the time to touch me more often and better than you do”. Vanessas jaw clenched, her hand drifting down her stomach in an annoying attractive fashion to her radio, shutting off the person beginning to talk on the other line. For a good solid 10 seconds, it was completely silent. No annoying static of the police radio, no animatronics singing and dancing in the background, just you and your extremely pissed girlfriend in an almost pitch black room, listening to the sounds of each others rapid breathing.

Vanessa made the first move. She pushed you roughly against the shelves, her hands immediately reaching for your breasts underneath your shirt. You gasped out loud as she ripped open the buttons and pushed her face against the top of your breasts that threatened to spill out of your lace bra. She began sucking and biting the top of the soft flesh, distracting you from her hands that were now reaching to unclasp her belt and pull out something unexpected.

“Vanessa, I-“, you began, your head spinning from the quickness of it all. She removed herself from your breasts and began pinching your left nipple with one hand, the other hand still being mysteriously missing in the dark. 

“What, isn’t this what you wanted?”, you could almost see the grin emitting from her cockiness. “I hope you didn’t expect me to pepper your pretty princess pussy with kisses, did you?”, she teased. You whimper at her question, a knot starting to grow in your stomach. She stopped squeezing your nipple and quickly pulled down your shorts, slapping your panties harshly, making you jump. “Answer me”, she demanded.

But you couldn’t. With what little light was left in the room, you simply stared at her through your eyelashes, your breasts rising and falling as you plead with your eyes.

She noticed. “Not good enough, is it”, she sighed, “So disappointing”. You widen your eyes, not because of her disappointment, but because of her hand finally returning from wherever it went. *Holy shit*

In the dim light you could just barely make out a large mushroom tip strap. You looked back up at Vanessa, her hand softly stroking it, her lips now almost touching yours, and a look that made you think she was about to swallow you whole. 

“Panties down”, she said, one hand heading to rest on your throat whilst the other tapped on your thighs to spread them open. You blush, your senses heightened as all you could think, see, hear, touch and smell was Vanessa. You pried your purple laced panties off of you; to no ones surprise, they were soaked from your arousal, so they took a little effort to pry off. 

If you could sense a smirk, you definitely were sensing one from Vanessa right now. The initial touch from her strap was soft, almost caring. She gently rubbed it along your folds, smiling at the noises it made when in contact with your dripping entrance. She began to slowly push the tip in, before taking it back out and slapping it roughly against your already puffy clit. You jump with a loud cry before Vanessa’s hand slaps over your mouth. It’s quiet again for a few seconds as you both listen for anyone realising how long you guys were taking. The music from Freddy started. Good.

She turned back around and narrowed her eyes. “Always whining, aren’t you?”

“You ask a lot of questions”, you blurt.

With that, she roughly shoves the whole strap inside. Your breath hitched as you clasped your hands at the back of Vanessa’s neck, pulling her neck closer to your mouth as an attempt to stop yourself from making any loud noises. She thrusted the strap in and out rapidly, her hands grasping your hips and digging her fingers in so hard you knew purple bruises would emerge. Your pussy clenched harshly around the length, making it harder for Vanessa to move. You were gasping for air at this point, your legs faltering with every movement. Vanessa moved her thumb to your clit and pressed down hard, making you cry out. “Slo- slow down”, you manage to get out. Her pace slows, before realising she was still mad at you, and she picked up the pace again.

The shelves behind you began to rattle as her pace increased and you were clinging to her waist like your life depended on it. You couldn’t silence your moans anymore; it just felt too good. “Nessy, fuck, I need to-“, you were cut off as she shoved two fingers into your mouth. “Wait”, she barked. 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your ability to think gone. Just as you thought you were about to lose it, she pulled out entirely before slamming back into your flooded pussy. Letting out a silent scream, you cum around her strap, scratching your nails down her clothed shirt. She let you ride out your high, slowing down her pace before pulling out to let you recover.

You flop your head beneath her neck, letting your breath get back to normal as Vanessa softly rubbed your back and hip bruises. She hadn’t really said much. She was the less talkative one of you two during sex; she preferred letting her body and facial expressions say what she needed to get across. But her not saying anything after was worrying you.

You lift up your head to her reaching for a towel on the shelf behind you. As she began to clean up your thighs and her hands, you decided to break the silence.

“Are we alright?”

Vanessa paused. “Hm?”

“Are we good? Are we okay? Is everything copacetic?”, you quote what she said to you when you first met.

The corner of her mouth twitched, though she threw the towel on the floor and began to fix her pants.

“I am trying, you know”, she says grimly. You tilt your head. “With the crime rate going up, and the shifts they are making me take, and.. all of ‘this”, she gestures to the door, referring to the animatronics, Mike and Abby. “Look, I’ll try and see if anyone can fill in for me. Alright?” She looked as if she were about to cry.

You wince. “Vanessa.. no”, you felt immensely guilty for making her angry just so you could have some attention.

“No?”

“I’m sorry”, you cup your hands around her face and she closes her eyes. “I know you’re exhausted. I shouldn’t have said what I said to make you act out. And even though I miss you, other people out there need someone like you. I can wait, I promise”, you lean in, gently kissing her cheek.

Vanessa swallows the lump in her throat. She hated crying. She hated this room. She hated what her father made her do. But she could never hate you.

“I love you. It’s just- I love you”, she says softly.

“I know”

She leans in to kiss you when all of a sudden: “VANESSA? Y/N? How’s it going with those sheets???”, Mikes voice rings from outside. In the distance, you could hear that the animatronics song had finished, and the stage was now playing disco music. Abby squealed with delight in the background.

“Yeah, Mike, we found em. Give us a second”, Vanessa called out.

You blushed as she helped you redress, fixing your hair and makeup so it looked like you didn’t go through a trainwreck. She smiled as you fixed her tie and picked up the sheets needed for the fort. As you dragged her to the door and opened it to find Mike squeezed in a corner, watching Foxy on the other side of the hallway with immense suspicion and fear, Vanessa made a mental note to remind her father that killing you wouldn’t be an option.

[1-49]

hotter than your instincts

pairing: f!reader × chanyoung ⁝ tags: nighttime. trains. angst. lack of confidence. pining. jealous/obsessive tendencies. 1.3k

No matter how much you come to his mind, you aren’t his. Train in, train out... Night in, night out. The girl who rides the 10 p.m. train every day.

Concrete platforms, tiled walls, and lights that look like they could go out at any time add to the ominous atmosphere. Pretty much just lone winds blowing between entrances at these hours; hardly any trains. It is hard not to notice you in such brutality.

There is nothing more to explain his gradual transition from morning to evening swimming lessons than his intense desire to keep running into you. That he is taking such a big risk with his serious forte is absurd.

Tonight of all nights, he’s sitting the closest he has ever sat to you, so it seems as though he is most vulnerable to the ‘here we go agains’ and the ‘I won’t give into my own dreams & wishes,’ but he is unable to avoid them. From the other side of the bench, he can sense your breath and imagine your lips meeting his for that fleeting moment before ur head turns to divert attention to the train approaching from the far & opposite platform.

Save for a few shy smiles & acknowledgements of his presence, you never say anything to him. Your eyes never remain locked for longer than necessary, & ur hands never come into contact.

In actuality, though, Chanyoung doesn’t require much since he loves your silence. Seemingly mysterious & cool, but mostly, he loves the way your quietness sounds, just like his.

But then the ‘how could he ever possibly get to yous’ start to creep in, knowing full well that there’s always ‘that’ other guy on the other end of the line. The guy who’s waiting for you and to whom you belong. The guy who stays in your heart forever and always calls to check on you while you’re returning home. The guy who stays on the phone every night to hear about your joys and your sorrows equally.  Anton knows he can’t compete with that.

Watching the last trains of the day pass by while you two sit in silence is strangely soothing—that is, until you get that phone call.

Night in, night out. In those moments, all the subterranean beauty blurs, and his chest gets bruised. His most beautiful smile fades away, and he’s only left to wonder what it would have been like if you were his girlfriend.

Everything feels so empty and miserable when you’re on that nightly-clockwork call with him at 10:10 p.m. and Chanyoung is there, supposed to hold it through.

You’re the reason why he’s clenching his fist so hard inside his hoodie and his nails are digging into his flesh.

Given his adorable and compassionate nature, it’s difficult to envision him harboring negative thoughts. But there it is again, another glimpse of him beating his fist against a concrete wall, because how many phone calls from ‘him’ does Chanyoung really need to count to be certain he will never have a chance with you? 

That you cause his heart to race like a train, and his hands to shake, you will never know. And as he listens to your talk, it is as though he’s running off the tracks.

“Sorry, babe, think my phone’s dying.”

???? He finds it difficult to believe what you are saying, and it almost sounds like something out of his fantasies. A fantasy in which he’s strong enough to control the things that hurt his heart, but in actuality, he isn’t. 

However, you sigh visibly & end the call, looking at your phone’s screen and probably checking the battery... What if tonight is finally the night the universe is on his side?

Your eyes move from your phone to your feet, then to the empty train tunnel, and then to him. It’s unimaginable that you’re now considering him worthy of a cursory glance.

He looks down at his feet shyly, and his bangs start to slide more into his eyes as he fixes his gaze on the floor. If only he had more courage.

But as soon as you announce, “We’ve been taking the same train every day,” out of nowhere, his gaze lifts to meet you right away, and even if he’s surprised, his empathetic eyes stay glazed with hope.

With a smile on his face, he murmurs, “Yes,” the purest, softest ‘yes’ to ever be spoken.

That he likes to think you can love him all raw and exposed is foremost a dream. But a dream that becomes real as it’s written all over his face, and one that, had you not been so blindly in love, would have been so evident.

As he ponders whether to say anything at all or to stay silent, you smile at him.

And because of you, every butterfly he owns is now trying to pull away from his core. He finds himself wishing he had a plan on how to make his dream of you come true, but he is caught unprepared.

You randomly comment, “I like your shirt,” while pointing teasingly at the undershirt he is wearing. But seriously, who puts themselves on their shirt? 

From the tone in your voice, he believes if there had been another choice, you’d prefer his shirt off, not on. Still, it’s a moron nightmare!

“Oh, that...” Chanyoung remarks, along with a little, warm laugh that escapes his fragile, flustered lips as he zips up his hoodie, completely forgetting what his friends at the pool made him wear today after he lost a bet. At least he has your attention, even though the whole thing makes him look like a total fool.

“Cute,” you say as your thumbs poke through the holes in your knit sweater’s sleeve. “Not everyone has a high fashion sense,” you add in response, making another cuteful compliment.

Again, perhaps he’d have known how to react to that if he hadn’t been so bashful and innocent. Therefore, all he responds with is a smile.

The small talk quickly dies down as a result. A new silence descends.

The kind of quiet where your faint smile and your silence hang over him like an anchor, but instead of letting him drown, you ground him.

What if he is only good for this? Sitting on the other end of the bench and yearning for you silently? If he had no competition, though the situation would be ideal.

But this is beyond his control, isn’t it?

Your gaze darts to the departure board as you sort through your forgotten thoughts that never meet the tip of your tongue. The train seems to be running a little over two minutes late. Chanyoung gives you another shy glance through his bangs. And when you pull the raw skin off your lips, continuing the seconds and sucking nervous umm’s between your teeth, you cause his heart to twist between his ribs. You have no mercy!

The train you’re both riding on speeds through the tunnel at this same instant, making matters worse before he has a chance to say anything more—not that he believes he’d have anyway. The sound of thunder rumbles across the tracks, and he opens his mouth to scream, but nothing comes out...

Once more, the train entirely crashes into his dream... Blurry fragments scatter all around.

The train’s engine is huffing and the wheels are churning out a steady rhythm of his ‘please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me,’ as you say an unfazed, “Here he is,” as the train pulls into the platform. To believe you are selfish would be to underestimate his love & kindness for you.

It’s absolutely bizarre—the way, for yet another night in a row, he’s blaming the guy in your phone for everything and the fact that you two aren’t together. You have ruined him in every rational way. His sound ideas and beliefs have long been tainted. Between tenderness & love, the lust of all blurs the boundaries...

As you rise from the bench, the feeling of muscle memory coats him in your toxins—your sweet toxins—an odour he’s so fond of, so impossible to resist.

He is coaxed by you, for you—and despite his intense desire to be close to you, to be in your presence, to laugh and run through these platforms & eerie train halls holding your hand inside his, reality appears to be telling him something quite different. Something he is unwilling to hear, even though he knows it.

© 𝟭-𝟰𝟵. do not copy, translate, repost, and modify my works.

[wormdevourer]

I’m bored out of my mind rn so I’m writing these >:)

𝓗𝓢𝓡 𝓗𝓔𝓐𝓓𝓒𝓐𝓝𝓞𝓝𝓢

𝙱𝙻𝙰𝙳𝙴

-loves warm things in the winter, like blankets and hot cocoa

-secretly enjoys watching cheesy movies

-doesn’t see the point in technology (but he’ll gladly play games with Silver Wolf if his hand stops hurting)

-he acts like he doesn’t like touch, but he’s actually very touch-starved,,, bro just wants a hug :(

-styles his hair in his room and never tells anyone (like a ponytail or a bun…)

-I feel like he would like v flower idk why

-despises pop music

-listens to murder mystery podcasts to cheer himself up

𝚂𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙰𝚈

-loves to play the piano and violin

-on that note, loves classical music

-he and robin do karaoke a lot (she gets him to sing taylor swift songs, and her own songs)

-loves honey and tea (loves honey in his tea, too)

-lowkey reminds me of aqua from oshi no ko

-has trouble focusing/sitting still (that refined persona is not fooling anyone, son)

-spends a lot of money on keeping his hair perfect

-he’s kinda scared to get older :(

𝙱𝙾𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙻𝙻

-obviously he’s obsessed with cowboy movies

-if something isn’t colored red, black, or gray, he won’t wear it

-would let you braid his hair

-does crazy dangerous stunts during missions because ‘they can’t hurt me, I’m a fudgin’ cyborg!’ 💀

-loves indiana jones movies

-would go to the mall w dan heng

-if you ever showed him the grand canyon he’d incessantly beg to go there (idk why I just get the vibes 💀)

-yeeeeeeehaw

𝙰𝚅𝙴𝙽𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙴

-very protective

-lets you brush his hair

-always smells good (it’s that expensive perfume)

-gives you his coat when you’re cold (cheesy but I feel like he would lmao)

-when he’s bored at work he watches internet dramas play out

-would totally call his friends ‘girlypop’

-‘fuh-riend’

-really really really loves sleepovers (especially the pillow forts and the painting each others’ nails)

who should I write about next?? >:3

[gaslightwestern]

Hell's Half Acre

Charlotte would be the first to admit hiding from the law behind a newspaper was an awful idea, what with her face and name spread across the front page.

When death comes to Fort Worth and strikes her new circle of friends, Charlotte O’Shea resolves to hunt down the culprit before they kill again. Murder isn’t the only mystery in the air however. Elijah Addison and Thomas Quinn, two headstrong cowboys and her partners-in-crime-solving, are determined to uncover what made the socialite run away from New York and why she is no stranger to firearms.

— Status: Drafting | Tag: #Hell's Half Acre — Genres: Historical Mystery, Western — Setting: Fort Worth, Texas & New York City (1874-1878). — POV: Multiple. 3rd Person. Past Tense. Dual Timeline.

Themes and Tropes: Love in all its forms. Anti-heroine. Found family. Being your own person. Organized crime. Queer cowboys. If it isn't the consequences of my own actions. Parallels. Obsession. Haunted by the past. Murder, mayhem, and other wild west shenanigans.

Cast of Characters

Can't a man visit his on-and-off-again boyfriend without all hell breaking loose? Not for Elijah Addison, a restless cowboy turned shrewd detective who becomes relentless in his pursuit of justice.

By his side is Thomas Quinn, who most write off as little more than a legend's son. Stubborn as anything and fiercely protective of his family and friends, he doesn't trust Charlotte in the slightest.

Sam Quinn is a three-time, war-hating, disabled veteran with a larger-than-life personality. A lifelong troublemaker, when he isn't sticking his nose where he shouldn't, Sam runs Quinn's Firearms.

A seamstress and aspiring journalist, Mabel Williams is determined to expose the rot in New York City regardless of the enemies she gains along the way. Her talent for disguises often comes in handy.

Having grown up in the shadow of his brother, not being good enough has long haunted Warren Howard. But if life will not give him what he wants, he will take it for himself regardless of the cost.

Vivacious and self-absorbed, Charlotte O'Shea enjoys her place in New York's high society. Surrounded by friends and engaged to the wealthy Nathaniel Howard, her life is perfect. So why is Charlotte out west pretending to be someone she's not?

Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist: @cirianne, @jacqueswriteblrlibrary, @oliolioxenfreewrites, @glbettwrites

[mistyresolve]

| His Foresight - Simon “Ghost” Riley X Medic!Reader (Part 3)

Word Count - 3.7k

Summary - It’s been a couple months since you last had contact with Lt. Simon Ghost Riley. While you are repairing your tarnished reputation, Simon is on the other side working from the shadows and doing everything he can to take back his words. It isn’t until the three-month marker that you finally face him again, this time you’re willing to hear him out. If only because you guys are going to be team members.               

Tags/Warnings - Blood and Injury, Depictions of war and violence, Explicit Language, Character Death, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Maybe a little bit of angst, Mentions of childhood trauma

A/N - as we near the end of this storyline I would like to thank everyone for their love and support and I appreciate every one of you guys 🤍🤍🤍  I am also going to post a brief POV from Ghost later, and one more part, two at tops.   

Part 1 ❤︎ Part 2   

Masterlist  ❤︎  Tag List Form   

It had been a month since you last spoke with Ghost and since then you learned three things. The first was that he truly was a ghost. He haunted hallways and existed only in rumors and whispers. He made himself seen only when he wanted to be. For the rest of his assignment, he kept his distance. You figured since you have yet to see him it was because he was better at spotting you first and turning in the other direction. Soap would still drop by and fill you in on the latest 141 gossip. It didn’t go over your head that Soap never had any gossip about Ghost. Never once did Soap mention him. Whether Soap figured out that something had gone down on his own or forced it out of Ghost himself was a mystery. You didn’t have the energy or care to ask. 

The second is that whatever he had been previously telling the higher up was either rescinded or someone had put in a good word about you. If it was Ghost or not, you also didn’t know. Nor did it matter if it was him, the damage was done. You put your hand up for every opportunity, followed every rule, and every patient that came to you left you with positive feedback. You were an HR dream.     

The third was that you missed his company. Even a month after you were still fuming, still ready to rip his tongue out should you see him again. Still heartbroken and yet some part of you still missed Ghost. You kept a very tight leash on that part of you and squashed it beneath your boot. How was it fair that his fuck up, and his selfishness resulted in you losing a friend. It wasn’t, and that’s what you were most bitter about. 

After two months, you have decided to let go of the anger and hurt. It wasn’t going to help you now. You kept yourself preoccupied with work and more work. You were still based in the new camp, now dubbed Fort Cardinal, which has since become one of the biggest bases.     

You were just leaving the mess hall after breakfast when you were intercepted in the hallway. 

“L/n?” the private asked.

“Yes?” your brows furrowed. 

“Crawford wants to speak to you. He’s in his office.”

Crawford was the commanding officer, and when he summoned someone to his office it could mean only a few things. Most of them were bad. You pivoted and headed towards HQ. You might have taken the scenic route too. Pausing at the entrance to Crawfords office.  “Sir,” you stood by the doorway waiting for your CO to acknowledge you, “you requested I come to see you.” 

He looked up from the files splayed out on his desk, “Take a seat.”

You pulled out a chair opposite him, your palms began to sweat and you wiped them on your pants. Racking your brain to try and remember if you had done something wrong, or inappropriate, but came up blank. 

“How many years have you been with us?” he questioned, folding his hands over the papers.

“Four, Sir,” you straightened your back and squared your shoulders.    

He stared at you for a second, his face hard, before nodding and looking back to the papers. They were your files. A collection of reports and logs and records, “It’s of my understanding that you’ve voiced your desire for a transfer.” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Since your enlistment, your peers and superiors have had nothing but good things to say about you. Your records show that you excelled in both the field and the classroom. Never missed a work day, never late,” he began listing things off from the note in front of him. You couldn’t tell if he was impressed or irritated, and it was psyching you out. He paused as he flipped through, “Have you fully recovered from your injury?” 

“Healed like a dream,” you offered him a tight-lipped smile. It did, after the first couple of weeks you were back at work in full force. 

“Good to hear,” he flipped a page back so it was facing you, “Any idea what this might have been for?” It would have looked the same as any other report aside from the fact that it was entirely redacted. Whatever was written beneath had been obscured by a thick black line. 

You leaned forward, your smile fading into a frown. You shook your head, “I have no idea. No.” This was the first time you saw your files all laid out like this, so you were just as lost as him. Whoever redacted it must have been of higher status than him if even he didn’t know. Then again, you weren’t sure about what happened behind closed doors. You met his eyes, trying to read what he was thinking and when you couldn’t you wanted to melt into your seat. 

“There’s been an opening,” he leaned back in his chair, “Aerospace medicine has requested a combat medic. It’ll be a one year contract. Should you take this position you will be sent out for a three week training program and your first assignment will be right after that. ”

If it weren’t for those four years of service and learning that people like your CO didn’t like a show of emotions you would have hopped around his office. So, you remained silent, waiting for him to continue. 

“The captain of Special Task Forces 141 has requested you himself for their next mission.”

Your heart dropped.  

“Captain Price?” you echoed. Maybe it was a different 141. 

“Correct,” he waved a hand, his patience shortening, “Yes or no?” 

“Yes,” you answered before you could think it over, and he excused you before you could process your answer. This was what you had been asking for, what you were working towards, and now that it had been offered to you you were left uneasy. Working with the 141 was an honour and a nod to your capabilities. It also meant working with Lt. Simon Riley. You couldn’t unscramble your feelings about the implications. 

You determined that professionalism would yield the best outcome.  

You were packed and heading out for your training by lunch.    

When you entered the briefing room, it was as relaxed as you expected from the 141. Which was not at all. The air was thick and sober. You were half an hour early and still the last to arrive.

“Morning,” Price stepped around the table everyone was surrounding. 

“Good morning,”  you replied, making your way to the table. Laswell met up with you during your training to give you a rundown on what to expect. You were going to be their combat medic, yes, but you could fight and shoot just as well as any other soldier. You even had the grounds to brag about your close combat skills. Laswell was visibly pleased when you told her your dad forced you into mixed martial arts when you were ten years old, and could take down a full-grown man like he was a bag of flour. 

You scanned the table and the map splayed out was a replica of the one Laswell had provided. You tried to hide the smile and pointed to the empty medicine vial on the map, “Is that supposed to be me?” 

“Aye,” Soap puffed his chest out, “that was my doing.” 

When you looked up at Soap, you purposefully ignored the large burly man dressed in all black beside him, “Creative,” you noted how Ghost seemed to shrink back into the shadows at your indifference towards him. 

Soap had actually picked everyone's avatar, a sniper bullet, a lighter, a toy skeleton, and an angel wing that looked like it used to be a necklace, and a battery. You couldn’t decide whether to laugh at the figurines or the fact that everyone accepted them. 

Price ran through the plan, the target, and his expectations of everyone. He revealed that the target was going to be “Cameron Rowe” , a former sergeant turned rogue. His headshot was stabbed into the table with a knife. You recognized it as Ghosts, the blade usually fixed to his thigh. 

“Since we have no real idea as to where Rowe will be we’ll be splitting off into teams.”         You had to suck your lips into your mouth to keep from making an argument when Price moved your vial next to the skeleton on the map.  “Soap and Laswell with nest at the top of these two buildings,” he pointed to the two highrises in front and behind Rowe’s apartment building. “Doc and Ghost will take watch at the port,” he dragged his finger to the loading docs, which was usually Rowe’s meeting place. “Gaz and I will be tailing his informers and hopefully, catch them in the act.” 

You had a sneaking suspicion they stuck you with Ghost was to balance out the teams. Ghost was a one man army, you were basically going to keep him company. Or so they thought. You didn’t plan on sharing a single conversation with him, and you knew you could easily hold your own. The 141 had plans of not only taking down Rowe but finding out whoever he was working with. So, they couldn’t just pick him off in his apartment building. 

After the briefing and everyone knew their role people started to filter back out. You stayed behind to speak with Price, having a few questions of your own.

“Captain,” you started and he turned back around, “Why ask for me?” This assignment was only temporary, you weren’t a part of the 141, but Price could have picked anyone in the world to help with this job. 

“I read your file,” he closed the door behind him, coming to meet you by the table again, “You have an impressive background, and it makes me wonder why you chose the medical field.”

You were at the top of your class for both basics and medical school, so it was a genuine curiosity. He also probably had access to your life before enlistment, “It’s what I wanted,” was the only answer you could give him, and it’s the only one you had.

He hummed, his eyes turning to slits, “Then why agree?” 

“I’ve been waiting for something like this since day one. How was I supposed to say no?” You’ve been waiting for an opportunity to show your versatility. This mission might have been overkill but it was what you wanted. Beggars can’t be choosers. 

“You’re a strange one,” Price crossed his arms over his chest, “You’ll fit in great,” he looked like he had something else to say but changed his mind. He tilted his head towards the door, “Better go and get some rest, we leave at 0400 tomorrow.”   

You nodded, parting off with a “Thank you,” before heading to the door.

“Can we talk?” Ghost was waiting outside the door when you left the room. 

You shot him a blank look, “About?” you kept walking down the hall not waiting to hear his answer. 

He followed after you, “I want to apologize.” 

You exited the building and met with a blast of the hot sticky air of summer, the sun was getting low in the sky, “Go ahead, Judas” you turned to him, making eye contact with his chest. You gritted your teeth when you had to look up at him, “I’ll keep it civil for the sake of the mission but I don’t want to be your friend.”

His shoulders loosened as if he had just received the best news, “I understand,” he shifted back on his feet, his tired eyes scanning the area, before returning to you, “I was out of line. I was mixing private affairs with work, I see that now. And I’m sorry. I was being selfish and I wasn’t taking your needs and wants into consideration. So, if you’ll give me some grace and let me show you how good I can be.”  

“Keep your fingers out of my business and I’ll think about it,” you quipped. 

He lifted his hands before him, splaying his fingers out before curling them into a fist, “They’re put away,” he might have broken your trust and crossed you but he was still the friend you lost and missed. He was going to have to work for it either way. This was a start.    

“We can talk more later,” where there were fewer listening ears and watchful eyes. “I’ll come to you when I’m good and ready. For now, just stay away from me,” you’d think after 3 months you’d have figured out what you’d say to him, but you didn’t. And tomorrow you were going to be trapped in a room with him, so you were going to have to cross your t's and dot your i’s tonight to present them to him for tomorrow. 

He physically flinched at the dismissal, but he took a step back, providing you with space, “Of course.”  

Your chest twisted at the sight, you didn’t like treating him like a disease, but you refused to let it blind you of the truth. Still. You sighed, cursing yourself for what you were about to say, “Thank you, for apologizing.” 

His eyes crinkled in the corners and you could have sworn they gave way to a smile. The awe-worthy occurrence was sadly hidden underneath his mask. You rolled your eyes at him before pivoting and walking towards the barracks.      

You sat with Laswell on a stray crate on the tarmac while you waited for the rest of the team to arrive. The two of you just people watched, with her occasionally pointing someone out and telling you a little about them. This guy was grounded a couple of weeks ago because he arrived at work still drunk from the night before. That guy had a crazy, entitled wife. 

The chopper started its engine and was ready for lift-off at exactly 0359.   

“Doc, about our talk yesterday. I also figured you want to take part and get some revenge for yourself,” Price bellowed over the sound of the chopper, and he ducked below the propellers. Realization sprung to life in your chest. Price had asked for you to be on this mission because you had something to gain from it. This Rowe guy, this squealer had been the one to rat out the convoy to the enemy. He was the reason you were injured, and the reason Butters was dead. This wasn’t the sleight of hand of Ghost but Price. It put your nerves at ease and allowed you to be a little less angry with the former.      

“I appreciate it, Sir,” you nodded at Price.  He clapped a hand over your shoulder and hopped into the helicopter after you. Being squished between Price and Soap made you feel a little safer with the fact that there were no doors on the heli. Ghost took his spot on the side of the heli, letting his legs hang out the side, his gun at the ready. Gaz sat opposite him and Laswell adjacent to you. Her pack and gun took up an entire seat. She reached into her front pouch as the heli lifted off the ground, pulling out a chocolate bar. Your mouth watered. Chocolate was hard to come back at base, people traded whole MREs for one bar. Soap handed you a headset for the chopper just as she noticed your drooling expression. 

“If you promise you can get an appointment with the chiro, I’ll give you some,” she waggled the bar in front of her, a trade.

“I know both the chiropractor and the masseuse,” you countered. She made a look of delight, before reaching into her pack and tossing you your own bar. 

Oh, you liked her.    

You stuffed the back into the small day pack at your feet, saving it for later. Acutely aware that if you opened it here at least two people on this aircraft would put their hand out for a piece. You eyed Gaz and Soap. 

The helicopter had been an hour's flight, and they had landed on a field. Without permission, you might add so you had to be quick on the exit. A line of blacked-out SUVs and trucks was waiting for a quick escape. Price ordered everyone to join up with their duo, and head to their discussed position. 

Ghost strode for one of the SUVs, opening the back to place his pack and guns. He stepped to the side to allow you to do the same and closed it after you. He was spinning the keys around his finger when he turned to you, “Who’s driving?” 

You didn’t respond, instead, you opened the passenger door and slid in. From the side mirror, you could see him look up at the sky, take a couple of deep breaths, then clasp his hands together before moving to enter the car. He was silent the rest of the way, his attention on the road. Even through the mask, you could see his jaw tighten and flex. 

He parked the SUVs at the back of the building, between the wall and another vehicle. He lead you into the building, a warehouse or collection center of some sort into the offices on the second floor. He pointed out exit routes and potential areas to hold our position. The gravity of his pointing stuff out like that said a lot about how he thought this mission was going to pan out. The thought should have frightened you but knowing that the Ghost was fighting on the same side as you had the opposite effect. The office he brought you into was already vacant, with nothing but an empty desk and a chair on each side. He locked the door and placed his gun on the desk, and informed Price over the radio that we were in place. You made your way to the window, pulling one of the vanes down to peek outside. The window gave a good view of the entrance of the port and a decent view of the sea cans.       

“How long will he have to camp out here?” you asked, letting go of the blinds. 

“The day. Maybe into tomorrow,” he shrugged, as he started pulling things from his pack, “Depends on Rowe, really. Price and Gaz have the biggest probability of catching him. Laswell is going to be our eyes in the sky, and Soap already has access to the cameras in Rowe’s apartment, and a couple in this harbour.” 

You took a seat in one of the swivel chairs, “And you?” 

He paused, his eyes refusing to meet yours, “I’m more for after we catch him,” he cleared his throat. The question made him awkward, he didn’t want you to know what exactly it was that he did. You had your ideas and presumptions already but his hesitation had you second guessing.   

“You the one who’s going to get the information out of him?” he picked up one of the blades he had laid out on the desk, turning it over in your hand. He watched you, following your movements with predatory grace. 

“Is that why I’m here?” you continued, “To make sure he stays alive long enough to give you that information?” He was the butcher and you were the surgeon. A strange dichotomy. 

He stilled, “I don’t want you to see it.”      

“It”, being what he was going to do. What he was trained to do. What he was good at. You placed the knife back on the table, pushing away with the wheels on the chair. You prepared yourself for the upcoming confession. Playing this out in your head last night was way easier than actually doing it.  

“You know, I think you and I have very similar pasts,” you looked down at your hands, at the lines and curves etched into them.

“Don’t say that,” he shook his head, and his shoulders rolled forward. 

“I also think we took very different paths, though,” you saw it in his eyes the moment you met, the wounds that were too deep to see on the surface. It was why you understood him, and why you were going to forgive him, “You don’t have to hide it from me, Riley. I’ve seen the worst in humanity, and I know that you are nothing like them”  

You didn’t think he was breathing, didn’t think he was in his body. When you met his stare, his eyes were wide, and his pupils were pinpricks. You stood up from the chair and walked to his side of the table, “Can I touch you?” 

It was barely noticeable but he nodded. You wrapped your arms underneath his arm and pressed your cheek to his shoulder. He immediately returned the gesture, his arms encircling your shoulders, his one hand reaching up to cradle your head to him. He released a shuddering breath, and if you closed your eyes and focused hard enough you could hear his heart hammering against his chest. 

“There isn’t anything you can do that will make me think you're a monster,” you whispered into his shoulder, “Aside from maybe sabotaging my career,” it was almost a joke. 

“Noted,” you could hear the smile in between his words. Feel the relief thawing his muscles. You pulled back just as Soap and Laswell confirmed their position. Ghost took a step back himself, “We should get set up.”  

He pushed the desk so it was against the same wall as the window, propping his gun onto and looked down the scope to the entrance of the port. 

You settled down and at the end of the desk, it was going to be a long, boring wait. You set to counting the bullets in the magazine Ghost pulled from his pack if only to find something to distract yourself. You were elated when he pulled a deck of cards from his pack and the two of you played a couple of rounds of poker, then switched to go fish. There was also the occasional chatter about what each other did in the three months you were separated. The both of you had become incredibly busy. 

It was nearing dusk by the time anything of importance aired over the radio. 

Price’s eager voice came through, “Ghost, Doc, we’re following the informants to the port. Be at the ready.”    

Part 3.5, Part 4

Masterlist  ❤︎  Tag List Form   

A/N - the sniper bullet is Soap, the lighter is Price, the toy skeleton is Ghost, the angel wing is Gaz, and the battery is Laswell. Also, also, Price is definitely playing Cupid.

Tag List - @thychuvaluswife ❤︎ @shuttlelauncher81 ❤︎ @marytvirgin​ ❤︎ @stickygumchewer​ ❤︎ @lauraliisa​ ❤︎ @jungcoccc ❤︎ @lovelyladymayyyy​ ❤︎ @lululandd​ ❤︎ @chrissyfishywissy​ ❤︎ @naxxsstuff​ ❤︎@sididakra-jo,   @yukisawer​ ❤︎ @q8852p ❤︎ @lostinsideourminds ❤︎ @kat-nee

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Neighbor Wars: Less Than Safe

Tomura Shigaraki 🎮✋🏻 vs Dabi 🪡🔥

🎮✋🏻🪡🔥You knew your neighborhood wasn’t the safest  🎮✋🏻🪡🔥If the hole-y walls and cheap rent weren’t enough to prove that  🎮✋🏻🪡🔥The raucous sounds of criminal activities would do the trick 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥And while this wasn’t the neighborhood to confront your neighbors for anything  🎮✋🏻🪡🔥You seemed to have an odd tendency for this to happen 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“Hey gorgeous you come here often?” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“I live here…obviously.” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“Doubt it. There’s no way a goody-two-shoes actually lives here.” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“Oh? Then it wasn’t this goody-two-shoes' wall you shot 4 stray bullets into?” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥You’re lackadaisical neighbor covered in tattoos, piercings, and stitches: Dabi  🎮✋🏻🪡🔥Who doesn’t care all that much for your safety until he puts two and two together 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥Suddenly he’s smoking a blunt on your shared block  🎮✋🏻🪡🔥Or outside your workplace 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“What’sa matter babe, I’m just here ta protect ya don’t mind me.” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥Your other neighbor isn’t so forward 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“Uhm I think they gave me, your package.” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“Ugh of course those morons would do that! I’m going to kill that—Whoa!” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“...Uh sir…hello?” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“....Yeah…” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥After your meeting you find yourself plugging in more of these mysterious holes 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥And having to deliver more packages that are delivered to you 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥Even the ones that possibly contain human remains+ 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“Yeah this is definitely going to keep happening so just let yourself in, it's easier to acclimatize you that way.”  🎮✋🏻🪡🔥Though it seems your neighbors already butt their heads quite a lot it gets even worse when they both seem keen on changing your situation:

“Where is this breeze even—Dabi!? What the heck, man!? What’d I say about breaking in through the window?” You dropped your coat and work uniform to dash across the little space to close the window, passing by the intruder who was much more interested in penning a new name onto his ankle. You didn’t wait for a response, continuing to talk as you did your usual perimeter check. 

“You’re practically making my place open season for all the weirdos with an open window like that!”

Dabi scoffed, “Babe, your open season because you’re you. I’m in fact holding down the fort.”

You shook your head putting your dropped things back in place. 

“Riiight. And it doesn’t have anything to do with eating my food?”

The man put a scarred hand to his chest feigning pain as his familiar smirk spread across his face. 

“Aww babe, you think so low of me?”

“I think low is an understatement. They think you’re dirt.” 

The blunt and gravelly voice of Tomura Shigaraki rang throughout the bedroom growing louder as he shuffled into the living room, a portable game in hand. You did a double take as you were sure you walked in there but you shrugged letting him make himself at home. After all, this was normal for you to be the host to your no doubt criminal neighbors.

“That’s awfully bold of you, packrat. (Y/n) loves me don’t you babe?”

“Don’t call them that and don’t let everyone know how delusional you really are. (Y/n) attracts enough creeps already.”

“Well King Incel,” “I’m not a–” “Yes you are, and I’m the least of their problems. In fact, I’ll be their precious hero, ain’t that right baby?”

You chuckled while shaking your head before beginning to close your bedroom door. Sticking your head out when they got up to follow you.

“Ah ah I’m taking a shower and no this isn’t a group activity! If you come in I’ll stab you, got it?”

“...”

“Got. It?”

“Fine, fine.” “Maybe next time sugar.”

With the slam of the door and a click of your lock, a tense silence fell over the room. The only sound was the cries and screams and the sound of bullets from Tomura’s game system. When the sounds abruptly stopped Tomura was the one who spoke.

“Their hero, huh? You’ve got plans or something?”

Dabi sucked his teeth, dubiously grinning at Tomura’s glaring pair of eyes.

“I thought you were a gamer no? Aren’t you supposed to wait for my big reveal?”

Tomura growled, clutching the game in his hands.

“Forget that. You’re going to do something stupid and everyone knows you don’t leave the dumb to their devices. So what’s your plan.”

“...”

At Dabi’s silence, Tomura felt a surge of anger slamming his game into a nearby coffee table. He gritted his teeth and banged his fist.

“DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM!? I’ll figure it out eventually so you might as well tell me!” 

Dabi groaned, he would have laughed had it been anyone else but he wasn’t so stupid to poke the bear cub. 

“(Y/n) and I are going to get out of here. This crap apartment isn’t good enough for them and they're way too lax. I’m just taking care of them so don’t get your panties in a twist.”

For some reason that didn’t seem to soothe Tomura who stood to his feet with closed fists. Angrily shaking them as he visibly scowled at Dabi. 

“Y-you stole my idea!”

“Your idea? Please in the real world, kid, it’s called being smart.”

“No it’s called being a scheming b-”

Your bedroom door swings open as you make your way into the kitchen. All it takes is a curious tilt of your head in Tomura’s direction that has him sitting back down and begrudgingly returning to his game. You simply shrugged passing by a smirking Dabi as you made your way to the kitchen.

“So boys what’s for dinner?”

[horus-unofficial]

Minotaur pilot who found an entire crew deck and mysterious locked doors aboard their mech here. You guys called it; the locked doors are puzzles. Poked around a little on your suggestion, and sure enough, there was a decal of a riddle hidden under a loose floor tile. It was a variation on the old “four legs at dawn, two legs at midday, and three legs at dusk” one, changed a little to describe a mech pilot. Door opened the moment I had the answer in my head, but there was just a blank wall behind it. 

Other big discovery: my Minotaur’s internal layout isn’t static. When the door opened, the deck turned into a maze around me. Been in here about four hours now. There’ve been more puzzles, too: anagrams, riddles, logic problems, symbolic stuff, mechanical boxes, the works. So far, each one has incorporated some reference to a previous mission we’ve run together. Any maps I try to make don’t work at all, but I also “stumble across” the kitchen or bathrooms whenever I feel like it, so it’s definitely just a game. I’m sure it would show me the exit if I wanted to leave, but if it’s gone to this much trouble, I’m seeing the game through. Mazed by my own mech; never felt so honored in all my life. 

If this really is just the result of liturgicode doing its thing, I’m starting to think you might have a strain of Minotaur PG that’s evolving away from the whole tactical interdictor thing. Seems benign enough. You guys ever considered designing paracausal amusement parks? Maybe interactive games or educational programs that adapt to the user? Not HORUS's usual forte, I know, but still.

minotaurs have been known to design some absolutely baller escape rooms. if you ever pass by cerro barajas station in the sierra madre line we know a retired minotaur pilot who runs an escape room where every challenge is personalized to the player. weve been told its better than therapy for some people

[recreationalfanfics]

I think it would be funny to see Sebek, Lilia, Silver, Malleus and basically anyone in NRC to witness Jeb and Octa’s ‘Armies’ come through the mirror and are all about fighting to the death to defend ‘Fort Ramshackle/The Ramshackle Empire’

Like is it weird that I can see Sebek ugly crying over the bravery of the miniatures willing to fight to the death if it means defending/protecting their New Home and Reader from literally anything considered dangerous?

I can see Lilia laughing, but also amused by the Tiny ‘Military Power’ the Miniatures have and just adds fuel to the fire by speaking ‘Words of Wisdom’ from One General to the Next (While were all in the background begging him to stop it-)

Silver is just napping (And you know that scene where Larry is tied down? Well they use their Train to actually wake Silver up because he fell asleep on the Railroad’s that are all over Ramshackle to help move supplies around when Reader isn’t home) and when he’s awake helps move supplies around that would normally take from hours to days to only a few minutes

And Malleus is just in awe, that despite how tiny these Miniatures are, they’re not afraid to fight ‘Giants’ and actually smiled in amusement (And in Shock at first) that these ‘Child of Miniatures’ just kept shooting/attacking him with fire arrows, catapults, and swords because he was Intruding the ‘Mighty Ramshackle Empire’ (And bowed in respect to such a mighty ‘Military Force’ of an Empire)

Meanwhile, everyone’s questioning where the Fire Arrows, Catapults, Swords and freaking Dynamite even came from (The Great Mysteries of the Ramshackle Empire)

Diasomnia is just so…Extra (In the best and funniest way possible)

I CAN'T EVEN ADD ONTO THIS, IT IS SO CUTE. LIKE, Daley! (Y/n) trying to round up all the little guys to make sure no one steps on them but their bravery earns the respect of the Diasomnia Dorm and Malleus being all: "If you ever seek for help, call upon my name and I shall be there to fight alongside you." and it's almost ridiculous but also, DIASOMNIA DORM BEING SUPER PROTECTIVE OF THEM TOO.

Like some Savannaclaw students are teasing them and stuff and picking on them but Sebek and Silver are all: "Absolutely not." and go to help them.

[sillysickfics192]

blanket forts

Aiden was trying to fall asleep. But he couldn’t. He had just returned from the shadow realm for the night. Well not “just”. He had returned almost two hours ago, after seven hours in the other dimension. Ideally, he would come back from the shadow dimension and wake up to the beep of his alarm in the morning, sleeping through the night. However, this night, he woke up almost immediately after returning to his normal body. the whole two bodies thing was still confusing to aiden. He never really understood it, especially since he was not paying attention at all when it was being explained to him by Logan. He tried so hard to go back to sleep, but he was having a hard time. He was flooded with stress from the other dimension. They had to find a way out of this mess. And yet, they hadn’t. 

He lay awake for ten more minutes, before texting their group chat.

“anyone up?”

-

“anyone up?” Logan read, the glow of the screen hurting his eyes in the dark. 

“I am.” He texted back. Logan too could not sleep. even with how much he tried, it wasn’t working.

“come over” Aiden said. No question, just a statement, a demand maybe.  Logan thought about it. He was wearing a sleep shirt and comfy shorts, but he could go out in it. His parents had left him home alone, while they visited his grandparents in canada. Logan wished he could’ve gone, but he worried about leaving with the whole shadow dimension and phantom thing. So, he convinced his parents to let him stay, saying how he had tests at school and needed to study and he was old enough and blah blah blah, which his parents eventually gave in to and let him stay at home alone. He didn’t think it would be so bad, but he’s lonely. Aiden is home alone a lot as well, his parents always traveling. Aiden isn’t lonely anymore now that he has Ben, but Ben goes to bed really early every night, waking up early to make breakfast and go for a run. Atleast, that’s what Aiden thought he did, since he preferred to go to bed late and sleep in. So in the night, that familiar feeling of loneliness floods back.

-

Logan arrived at Aiden’s house, with only his phone in hand. Aiden answered the door, letting him into his nice house and leading him to the couch. They shared a look, acknowledging that it was two in the morning and neither of them had slept. Why? Probably for the same reason as well. Stress. They were both stressed by this whole thing. Afraid even. Although neither boy would admit it out loud, it was the truth, and they both knew. 

“Let’s watch a movie.” Aiden suggested, turning on the huge flat screen tv, sending aiden to fetch some blankets and pillows.

Logan came back with a whole bunch of blankets and pillows from the hall cabinet. 

“Woah, that’s enough for a fort. Say, that’s not a bad idea. Let’s make one and then watch our movie. Logan was excited by the idea, already beginning to plan out how to create a perfect fort.

Logan explained his fort strategy, which Aiden didn’t quite grasp.

“I don’t really get it.”

“It’s not really that hard.”

“Whatever nerd, just tell me what to do” Aiden teased.

Once their cleverly designed fort was built they tried to pick a movie.

“What kind of movie do we want to watch?”

“I don’t know, nothing scary.”

The old Aiden would’ve called him a chicken. But this Aiden doesn’t want to watch a scary movie. Every night is like a scary movie for them.

“Okay, well what’s a movie you watched as a kid that’s still good?”

“I can’t think of anything.”

��Have you heard of the Inbestigators?”

Logan shook his head.

“It came out on Netflix when we were like eleven. I haven’t really told anyone about this, but i still watch it sometimes, to relax. It’s about these little Australian kids who solve mysteries. Except on like “What happened to my purse? Or, I think these kids are cheating on a test!” And they all solve it. If you don’t want to watch I totally get it, it’s a kids show anyway.” Aiden braced himself to be made fun of.

“Sounds fun. Let’s give it a try.” Logan says, getting comfy in his spot in the fort.

The episode begins. They watch one, laughing at the stupid jokes that are obviously aimed at kids, but are still funny to the sleep deprived teens.

After the first two episodes, Logan comments, 

“Seems like that girl, what’s her name? mildred-“

“”-Maude.” Aiden corrects.

“Seems like she solves all the mysteries.”

“Yeah she kinda does. She’s the smart one in the group. Like you.”

Logan blushes at the compliment from a friend.

The next episode starts, and he shifts himself closer to Aiden, who wraps a comforting arm around the smaller boy. 

That’s how Ben finds them in the morning, the tv screen reading “Are you still watching?”, smiling at the boys friendly cuddling.

🫶

request from @livingponcho

[bi-hans]

do you have any cute/soft/silly bishang hcs??? I am DYING for more soft content of them…

Fluff is not my forte, anon, but I’ll give it a shot.

Shang likes to match with Bi-Han sometimes. He’ll wear blue or put his hair in a bun like he used to.

Some of the clothes are his normal outfit colour swapped, and some of them stolen from Bi-Han.

Bi-Han will indulge him on special occasions by leaving his hair down and letting Shang put a hair comb/pin in it.

Bi-Han isn’t too fond of yellow (yk why), but he doesn’t mind wearing it in private if it’s Shang's or something he picked out.

Shang takes really good care of his own hair, so he does the same for Bi-Han. He loves running his fingers through the silky strands and adding little braids.

Sometimes Bi-Han will even leave them in when he puts his hair up in the usual bun.

Bi-Han’s more mindful of his cryomancy around Shang. There’s a natural chill that just seeps out of him unless he’s purposely focused on suppressing it. Outside of stealth missions, he doesn’t bother, but when Shang is around, he usually tries to regulate it better.

He’s still noticeably cool to the touch, though, and if they’re in a cold environment, that’s going to make it worse, but there’s nothing that can stop Shang from touching him. He just uses a warming spell on himself to offset the chill.

Bi-Han makes mini ice sculptures and even jewelry for Shang. They last a bit longer than ones sculpted from regular ice, but they still melt eventually. So Shang uses spells to preserve them.

Shang will sometimes turn Bi-Han into a cat, though usually only when he’s sleeping.

He turns himself into a cat too every once in a while and follows Bi-Han around. It's a great way to be able to observe and spend time with him without everyone knowing he's there.

That, however, doesn't stop him from causing some minor mischief and leaving Bi-Han to explain why there's a mysterious cat that just shows up at random intervals and stalks him.

They switch between who’s the big spoon and who's the little spoon. Bi-Han has a secret preference for being the little spoon, though he won’t admit it.

Shang prefers it that way too, because he loves to nuzzle Bi-Han and just inhale his scent.

[trulybetty]

oct' 26 x jack-o-lanterns

Prompt: jack-o-lanterns (something sweet this way comes p.II) Pairing: marcus pike x f!Reader Word Count: 3,305 Warnings: barely beta'd is the name of the game, all mistakes are my own. mentions of baking, a tiny dash of spice, no spoilers here 💕 Summary: maplewood, a small town nestled in northern bc where people flock to see the changing blossom trees and celebrate the fall season. after losing your job you find yourself a part of the community which includes the towns baker who left a less than stellar impression on you. AO3: linked

x. masterlist | something sweet this way comes part I

Something Sweet, This Way Comes Part II | Jack-o-Lanterns

The preparations for the Trick or Treat Parade were well underway, it was an annual celebration in the town’s main square, outside the town hall. Maplewood, while a small community, serviced a great deal of people outside the town. Many of its inhabitants lived rurally, meaning trick-or-treating wasn't feasible for many of the children.

However, before that could happen the mid month tradition of the Jack-O-Lantern Hunt took place. Businesses and landmark buildings alike all decorated or carved their own pumpkins and people would follow the trail visiting each location on their maps. It was a way to encourage business and bolster the festivities after Thanksgiving had passed.

Black Cat Books was no exception, Libby had been putting the final touches to the store's pumpkin when the bell rang above the door signalling a customer.

“Marcus!” she called out, “what do we owe this please?”

You rolled your eyes as the enthused cheeriness of your friend, you were currently engrossed in the latest shipment of fall mystery novels and the scanning of them into the POS system.

“Evening,” he greeted, looking a little out of his element in the quiet bookstore. “Actually, I was looking for a gift.” 

“I can help you with that,” Libby remarked standing from her stool, “who is it for?”

“Sarah actually.”

“What’s the occasion? Her birthday isn’t until the summer isn’t it?” Libby asked, making her way around the counter.

You watched Marcus out of the corner of your eye as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “Not her birthday no, she broke her arm on the weekend at her soccer match down in Fort Nelson.”

“No!” Libby exclaimed, “poor girl, she lives and breathes soccer.”

“I know, so I thought I’d get her something to cheer her up. She’s always talking about her visits here. I was hoping you’d be able to recommend a book maybe?”

Libby looked thoughtful for a moment, “Hm, I’m not entirely sure.”

Before you could catch yourself you cleared your throat and grabbed a book off of the shelf behind you, “This one,” you said as you tried to be as nonchalant as you could handing it to Marcus, “Sarah was debating on this one the last time she was in here but said she was going to wait until she got paid.”

Marcus accepted the book, a soft smile on his face as he looked at the cover, “Thank you.”

“You're welcome,” you said, your eyes meeting his for a fleeting second before you turned your attention back to your work.

“So how are you managing at the bakery with Sarah out of commission? Isn’t Maria on vacation too?” Libby asked, referring to the bakeries' part-time weekday employee.

Marcus let out a sigh. “It's been a bit chaotic, to be honest. She was going to be right hand for front-of-house operations this week, and with the Jack-O-Lantern Hunt coming up, it's been really hectic trying to juggle everything.”

Libby took the book and got started on wrapping it, “What are you going to do? The hunt is this weekend.”

Marcus sighed, “I honestly don't know. We're already falling behind on orders, and there's so much to prepare for the parade at the end of the month on top of the pumpkin hunt.”

It was at that point that Libby, forever the matchmaker and opportunist, seized the moment. “You know, my friend here is pretty nifty with her customer service skills.  Maybe she could lend a hand?" she said nonchalantly as she tied the final knot on the gift ribbon.

You choked on your own breath almost dropping the stack of books in your hands, “What? Me? Bu- but you need me here, Libby.”

Libby waved you off with a grin, “Nonsense. It's been pretty manageable here. And besides,” she gave you a pointed look, “it's a good opportunity for you to get to know the town better.” she finished with a not so discreet nod in the direction of Marcus.

You and Marcus exchanged an awkward glance, the tension palpable but it was vastly different than it has been in the past. 

“Think about it,” Libby nudged as Marcus paid and took his wrapped book, thanking her.

He looked at you, a question in his eyes, “Would you consider it? I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t really need the help.”

You really wanted to decline, find some excuse, any excuse. But as Marcus stood there, looking genuinely in need and a bit vulnerable, you felt something shift.

“I'll think about it,” you said, realizing even as you spoke that your curiosity was already tipping the scales. Marcus nodded, a hint of relief crossing his features.

“Thank you, either way,” he said, exiting the bookstore with a small wave to the both of you.

As the door closed behind him, you looked at Libby, who was practically beaming.

“What are you up to Libby?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you volunteering to help him?”

“I think you might have more in common with him than you think.”

“Well, aren't you the little cupid,” you said, a bit sarcastically but not without warmth.

Libby shrugged, “When the universe gives you a nudge, sometimes you have to nudge back.”

“You really need to let up on those horoscopes.”

Libby gave you a weary eye roll, “Plus is it such a terrible thing? Baked goods and coffee on tap?”

The next morning guilt had you dragging your feet across to the bakery, with a good shove from Libby, to tell Marcus you’d help him with the front of house operations for the remainder of the week while he looked at finding someone else to fill Sarah’s position a little more permanently. 

As he’d walked you through the point of sale system he used you realised it was the exact same setup Libby had and soon were able to catch on pretty fast. 

“Seems like you're a natural at this,” Marcus said with a grin as you smoothly rang up a customer's order. “If you ever get tired of helping Libby out, you're welcome here anytime.”

As the days progressed it turned out Marcus mostly worked in the back, managing the oven, mixers, and other kitchen duties, which left you mainly responsible for front-of-house operations. This was a relief in some ways, reducing the awkward tension that had started building up between the two of you.

Marcus had said you could read between customers if you wanted to, but the bakery was so busy you barely had a chance to open the book you'd brought along. People were in a constant stream, some coming in to pick up pre-orders, others dropping by for their daily fix of coffee and pastries, and still, others had come out of curiosity, intrigued by the upcoming festivities. 

Despite the business, you couldn't help but notice how different each customer interaction was compared to the bookstore. Whereas Black Cat Books was a haven for the introverted, the bakery was a social hub. Children would come in giggling, pulling their parents behind them as they pointed to the cookies and cupcakes in the display case. Old friends would bump into each other in line and strike up conversations as if no time had passed. 

And everyone, it seemed, knew Marcus.

As each customer came and went, most had something kind to say about Marcus.

“Tell Marcus that the apple tarts were divine, would you?”

“Marcus helped fix my flat tire last week. Can you make sure he gets this thank you card?”

“Ah, Marcus makes the best chocolate cake. Did I tell you he was a lifesaver during the snowstorm last year? Cleared both my driveway and sidewalk.”

The anecdotes were small, simple moments that seemed to paint a portrait of Marcus you hadn't considered. Your previous reservations, based largely on a whole lot of stubborn pride, started to seem trivial in the face of what you were hearing.

While you had been busy contemplating whether he was too good to be true, he was, in fact, doing good in the community you were both a part of. Your wariness was beginning to wane, being replaced by a blossoming curiosity and a tiny little bit of a newfound respect for the man you'd initially written off.

Around mid-afternoon a couple of days later, Marcus finally emerged from the back, carrying a tray of freshly baked pumpkin bread. The smell wafted through the shop, and you inhaled deeply, feeling a sense of comfort that only a bakery could provide.

“How's it going out here?” he asked, placing the tray on a display counter.

“Busy,” you replied, “I haven't even had a chance to crack open my book.”

Marcus glanced at the book lying beside the cash register, “Well, I hope that's a good thing.”

“It is,” you found yourself smiling, “it's nice to be busy. Keeps the time flying.”

Marcus looked pleased, “I'm glad to hear that. I was worried you might find it overwhelming. Between the start of fall, Thanksgiving, Harvest, the Jack-O-Lantern hunt, then Halloween - it’s almost as busy as the Holidays around here.”

“You know, I’ve never heard of so many celebrations stuffed into one month.”

Marcus laughed softly while he continued to work on the display, “I know how you feel; I felt that way when I first got here. But it's a great way to bring people together and share some happiness. Who doesn't need more of that?” 

“Speaking of community, they’ve all got something to say about you it seems Mr. Pike.”

“Oh?” Marcus raised an eyebrow, “Good things I hope?”

You hesitated for a moment, choosing your words carefully, “Let's just say I'm learning that you're very well-liked around here. People appreciate what you do, both in and out of this bakery.”

Marcus looked genuinely surprised, and then his face broke into a warm, appreciative smile. “Well, that's kind of them to say. I just try to do my part, you know? Small town, tight-knit community—it's what makes Maplewood special.”

Friday soon came around and Marcus had let you know that morning that the weekend was taken care of. Maria was back in town and had said she’d work Sarah’s shift that weekend, meaning it was your last day helping out at the bakery.

Despite your reservations at the start of the week, you had felt a little pang of disappointment when he’d made the announcement after you’d arrived that morning.

You were wiping down the counters when Marcus came out from the back again, looking a little flour-dusted but otherwise no worse for wear.

“How'd it go?” he asked, washing his hands in the sink.

“Busy,” you replied, “but good busy. I think I successfully managed to not ruin your business.”

He took the cloth from you, “It’s okay, I’ve got this, you can head out.”

You shook your head and took it back, “It’s okay, Libby has book club tonight, the less time I have to be there for the better.”

Marcus laughed as he crossed the floor to the shop's door, locking it, “In that case, knock yourself out.”

Marcus flipped the sign to close and you paused, realizing Marcus was watching you, “What?” You ask with a grin, unsure why he was giving you such attention.

He laughed to himself and shook his head, “If you’re not wanting to head out any time soon, how do you feel about lending a hand with a bit of baking?”

“You trust me?”

“I think you can handle it, I’ll do the heavy lifting.” he finished with a wink and before you knew it you were following him to the back of the shop.

Once you were both in the back kitchen, Marcus started gathering ingredients from various shelves and corners of the room. “We're making cinnamon rolls, a seasonal special.” he said, placing butter, flour, sugar, and a variety of spices on the counter. You also noticed a small bottle of orange food colouring and a bag of pecans.

“Cinnamon rolls? Not sure what's so seasonal about them,” you said, intrigued by the setup.

Marcus chuckled, “Ah, but these aren't just any cinnamon rolls. They're pumpkin spice rolls with pecans and an orange-coloured spiced glaze. Trust me; these are special.”

“Wow, sounds delicious,” you replied, starting to feel excited about the baking adventure.

Marcus handed you an apron, and you couldn't help but notice how his eyes lingered on you as you tied it around your waist. “You look good in that,” he remarked as he passed by to pull down a mixing bowl.

“Thanks,” you replied, unable to keep a smile from spreading across your face.

Marcus began weighing flour and pouring it into a large mixing bowl and explained the steps as he went along. “First, we make the dough, then we let it rise. After that, we roll it out, sprinkle the filling, roll it up, and then cut it into pieces. Easy as pie, or in this case, rolls.”

After you'd mixed the dough ingredients, Marcus instructed you on the proper way to knead it. To your surprise, he positioned himself behind you, placed his hands over yours, and began guiding your movements on the dough.

“Use the heel of your hand to push and fold the dough back on itself,” he said, his voice soft and close to your ear. “It's all in the wrist.”

You felt a wave of heat rise to your cheeks, your heart racing as Marcus's hands continued to guide yours in perfect harmony. You had been so wary of him just a few days ago, but now, the intimacy of this simple act was breaking down any remaining barriers. You were becoming acutely aware of the magnetic pull towards him you’d been trying so hard to ignore.

Finally, Marcus pulled away, and you took a moment to catch your breath. 

“You're a quick learner,” Marcus finally said, pulling a baking sheet from one of the cabinets.

“Good teacher,” you mumbled, unable to meet his eye, feeling your face grow hot.

After rolling the dough, sprinkling the filling, and neatly lining the rolls on the baking sheet, Marcus popped them into the oven. While they baked, he mixed the orange-coloured spiced glaze, occasionally stealing glances at you and smiling.

“Want to try a taste?” he asked, offering out a spoon he’d practically made appear out of nowhere, or you’d been that focused on his hands as he stirred the ingredients. 

Nodding, you leaned in to taste the glaze from the spoon Marcus was holding. As you did, a drop of the orange-coloured icing escaped, landing on your lower lip. Marcus looked at you, his gaze dropping to your lips. Time seemed to slow down.

“Hold on, you’ve got a little…” His voice trailed off as he gently reached up and brushed away the drop of glaze with his thumb.

Your heart pounded in your chest as Marcus took a step closer to you as he licked off the icing from his thumb. His eyes met yours, asking for permission, before flicking down to your lips. You felt the air grow thick with tension, a magnetic pull drawing you closer together.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Before you could answer, a sudden knock on the front door of the bakery shattered the moment. You both jumped, startled out of the intimate bubble you’d been in.

Marcus looked as confused as you felt, but then you took it as an opportunity to try and shake some sense into yourself. “I should go,” you said, quickly removing your apron and folding it on the counter.

Before Marcus could respond, another impatient knock echoed from the front. “Hold on!” he called out towards the door, his eyes meeting yours one more time as if to say 'don't go.'

But you were already moving, grabbing your purse and jacket. The spell was broken, but the lingering feelings remained as you felt the ghost of Marcus’ touch on your lips.

As pulled on your jacket you heard Marcus greet the knocker. “Bill, you know it’s past closing, right?”

“It’s an emergency, Marcus, I swear! I need a pie, I saw the lights on out the back and you’re the only one in town who can save me.”

You heard Marcus laugh, his attention now fully on Bill, who was from the art store down the street. Feeling like an intruder on the scene, you took your chance to slip out of the bakery with a quick wave to the two men, the bell jingling softly as you opened and then closed the door behind you.

You didn’t look back as you pulled your jacket tighter against the cold wind that swept down the highstreet, if you had you would have seen Marcus watching you as you looked both ways before you scurried across the street to the bookshop. 

Once inside, you took a moment to catch your breath, leaning against the door. What was that all about? You had a swirl of emotions rushing through your head, none of which made any sense when applied to Marcus. You were still pondering it as you locked up the shop and made your way upstairs to the apartment you shared with Libby.

When you walked in, you found Libby sitting on the sofa, flipping through a magazine with a cup of tea by her side. “You're late,” she noted, her eyes still fixed on the glossy pages before her. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, just lost track of time helping Marcus close,” you said, trying to keep your voice casual as you hung your jacket and kicked off your shoes.

“What were you doing, making out with Marcus in the back of the bakery?" Libby quipped, laughing to herself as she flipped another page.

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the suggestion, but managed to roll your eyes and offer a sarcastic laugh. “Please, I still don't see the appeal.”

“That's funny,” Libby said, raising an eyebrow as she set her magazine aside. “Because I haven't heard you say one bad thing about Marcus since you started helping out at the bakery.”

Caught off guard, you felt a quiet panic settle in your chest. You were usually so transparent to Libby, it made you uncomfortable how easily she could read you. “Well, I've been busy. No time for chit-chat when you're up to your elbows in doughnuts and the gossip of the neighbourhood watch.”

Libby eyed you suspiciously but said nothing more. “If you say so.”

“I do say so,” you affirmed, perhaps a bit too quickly. “Anyway, I'm going to take a shower.”

As you stepped into the warm stream of water, you let it wash over you, hoping it would also rinse away the tangled web of emotions that had sprung up so unexpectedly. Your mind replayed the almost-kiss, Marcus' eyes looking into yours, the touch of his hands over yours as you kneaded dough, and you felt a pang of something you couldn't quite place. Was it regret? Longing? It was too confusing to sort out, so you shut off the water, wrapping yourself in a towel in hope of pushing it all out of your mind.

As you looked at your reflection in the steamed-up bathroom mirror, you felt a mixture of relief and disappointment. Whatever it was that had happened at the bakery, it was over now. Tomorrow was a new day, and you would go back to your normal routine, back to your safe, familiar life you’d made for yourself in Maplewood.

But as you crawled into bed that night, the nagging feeling refused to leave you and you resolved to resume your long discarded search for job vacancies in Toronto in the morning. 

Maplewood suddenly felt stiflingly small.

[teshadraws]

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

[Chapter 46]

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-

Tobias and Nia say their goodbyes to Fort Asra. Following Rosalind's info, they discover some unexpected answers in the desert.

-

Tobias wakes somewhere soft. Once he blinks his eyes open against late afternoon light, he realizes he’s back at Granite and Takeo’s place, in the room he and Nia have been boarding in. Dust motes float through sunlight against a wooden ceiling.

The quiet creak of the door and soft footsteps—familiar footsteps—make Tobias raise his head.

Nia startles at the movement, then hurries over with a smile. “Hey! How’re you feeling?”

Tobias tries sitting up, then groans when that makes his body ache and his head twinge with pain. His thigh is wrapped up tight in gauze, and it itches against his scales.

Nia motions for him to lie down. “Take it easy. You got pretty roughed up.”

No kidding. Tobias rubs at his eyes. “What happened?”

“Well…what do you remember?”

Tobias grudgingly allows himself to sink back into the pile of cushions. “I remember…Calder, jumping in to fight Eddy. And Grant and Takeo. They found us?”

Nia nods, smile twisting with wry humor, “Apparently Takeo didn’t trust us to stay out of trouble. He tagged us with his silk and tracked us across the desert once he realized we snuck out. Granite grabbed Calder along the way.”

Tobias isn’t sure if he should feel angry about that or not. The townsmon did save them from a second fight with the dewott that Tobias isn’t sure they would’ve won.

“What about Eddy and the Steelix?”

“Safely in custody!” Nia chirps, looking proud. “Calder and Lara kept them subdued until some psychics from the guild could come out to grab them.”

Tobias nods as he stares up at the ceiling, something in his memory nudging at him. Something important. He vaguely remembers Nia and Samir leading him out of the cave and up the ladder. The three of them hobbling past the downed steelix (and Tobias has questions about how that happened). Then Eddy attacking them back on the surface.

But before all that, he remembers a terrifying wave of earth bearing down on him, slamming into him and burying him alive. Blackness. Then, a slow return to awareness, soft fur holding him close. Nia’s voice, shaky but relieved. A tight, borderline-painful hug.

Tobias pauses. “Did you…dig me out from that rock slide? How did you find me in all that?”

Nia winces. She looks guilty. “I, um…we couldn’t find you at first, and I was scared you were suffocating. So I found your aura.”

Tobias’ head snaps up as something in his chest stutters. “You looked at my aura?”

He must sound sharper than he means to, because Nia frowns with her ears pinned back in the way she does when she feels defensive. “I thought you might be dying!”

The sudden fear that had bubbled up in Tobias’ chest melts abruptly into shame.

“Right,” he mutters. It still sounds loud in the quiet. “I…I know you did what you had to do.” He grimaces as he peers up at her, almost not wanting to ask. “So…what’d you see?”

Nia blinks. “Oh. Um. Not much, really. I was trying not to dig too deep and I was a bit, uh…distracted. Your soul is red?”

“Red? What does that mean?”

Nia quirks a smile and shrugs. “I’d have to actually focus and look again to tell you. All I know is that you’re a deep red. Almost maroon! I could tell it was you right away. It just…felt like you.”

For some reason, Tobias feels his face heat up at that. He looks away, claws kneading into the cushion in his lap. He supposes he’s glad Nia didn’t find any terrible truths from a fleeting glimpse of his soul, even if he still feels strangely exposed that she looked at all.

There’s a moment of silence where Nia busies herself with fluffing the cushions around Tobias. He can tell she has something to say. She keeps taking a deep breath and opening her mouth, hesitating before closing it again.

“Look,” Nia finally says. “I know you just woke up, but I’m afraid I’ll lose my nerve and we need to talk about this. About…how you get, when info about Team Zenith is involved.”

Oh. Tobias’ stomach sinks as he sits up again, ignoring the exhaustion in his body. “What about it?”

Nia gives him a tired look. “You know what I mean, Tobias.”

“I’m not going to stop looking for them.”

“I’m not asking you to!” Nia groans. She takes a deep breath, rubbing at her face.

"Then what are you asking?”

“I’m not saying we need to stop looking for them,” Nia starts. “I know that you won’t stop, no matter what. But we need to start being more careful about how we tackle these missions.”

Tobias knows that by “we,” she means he has to start being more careful. He’s the one who basically forced her and Samir down into the mines because he was desperate to finish the mission as soon as possible.

He vaguely remembers her hugging him and crying into his scarf, and feels a stab of guilt. Still, he can’t seem to apologize. The words lodge in his throat like a rock. Because he knows he would do it again.

Tobias stares down at his hands and mutters, “You didn’t have to come with me.”

Nia makes an offended noise. “I wasn’t going to let you march off alone to get killed!”

“It would be my fault if I died, not yours.”

Nia throws her hands up. “It doesn’t matter whose fault it would be, it would matter that you died!”

“Would it?” Tobias scoffs.

Nia stops mid-rant, looking stunned. Then, her expression slowly melts into something almost…hurt.

“Yes,” Nia whispers. “It would.”

To Tobias’ surprise, he believes her. Nia gets attached to Pokemon stupidly quick. It makes sense that she’s managed to get attached to him, despite his prickly attitude. They do spend pretty much every day together. Still, Nia could just join Andyn’s team or something if got himself killed. She’d be fine, after a bit.

There’s a heavy moment of silence. Tobias can feel Nia’s eyes on him, so he stubbornly looks out the window, where he sees the side of another building and a glimpse of bright afternoon sunlight.

Finally, Nia sighs. “We just…we can’t keep going like this, Tobias. The seviper in Ghatha, the steelix down in the mines. Rosalind is giving us dangerous missions.”

“I know that,” Tobias says. “What are you recommending we do about it?”

Nia’s mouth flattens into a frown. “I…don’t know. But Samir and I both thought it was too dangerous, and we turned out to be right. We almost died down there because of that.”

Tobias winces, feeling guilt drop heavy onto his shoulders. He wasn’t the only one he put in danger by charging into the mines. Nia and Samir easily could’ve been killed by that steelix. That possibility does scare him. It’s just…so hard for him to think of that, when he feels that desperate itch to follow a lead.

“Can you just…listen, when we try to get you to slow down?” Nia asks. “Be a little more careful?”

Tobias mulls that over. Her request is reasonable enough. She's not asking him to avoid dangerous situations entirely, after all, just to approach them with a bit more caution.

“Fine,” he says, eventually. “I’ll try to listen if you tell me to slow down.”

Nia doesn’t seem relieved by that. Instead, she tilts her head with a little furrow to her brow. Like she’s trying to get through to him, even though he’s already agreed.

“What?” He asks. “I said I'd be more careful.”

“No, I know. I’m glad. It’s just…it feels like you’re agreeing to get me off your back, not because you think it’s the best course of action.”

“What's the difference? Look, I’ll slow down a bit when you get freaked out, okay? And I’ll make sure I don’t drag you or anyone else down with me.”

Nia’s frown grows deeper. “What about you?”

“What about me?"

Nia opens her mouth to reply, then closes it again. “You…want to get revenge, right? On Team Zenith. For taking your family away.”

“Yeah. And?”

Nia bites her lip, but holds his gaze. She looks nervous, but determined. He hates that expression on her because it usually means she’s about to do something stupid.

Finally, she says, “You can’t take revenge for your family if you’re dead. If…If you rush us into a situation and get killed for it, that revenge will never happen, right?”

Tobias blinks back at her, surprised by the riolu’s unusual bluntness. He…hadn’t really thought of it like that before, as obvious as the line of thought is. He’d always sort of figured he’d throw himself at any information and hope for the best. If he died, he died. But…it would all be for nothing then. And if that's the case, it would be worth approaching leads more cautiously not just because Nia asked him to, but because his end goal has a better chance of coming to fruition, right?

Nia continues before he can respond. “Plus, think about what it’d do to Maggie if you were killed. Or the shinx kids. And if I didn’t somehow go down with you I’d be—“

Nia cuts herself off, blinking bright ruby eyes. Her lip quivers. “W-Well. I already thought that yesterday and you saw me then. I’d be devastated if something happened to you.”

Devastated. Somehow, that seems like such an…intense word to apply to him. Tobias doesn’t know if he’s quite worth feeling “devastated” over.

“You’d get over it,” Tobias scoffs.

That makes Nia upset. He sees the blue of her aura flash through her eyes. “You’re not over your family.”

Tobias flinches back as if she’d slapped him. “Of course I’m not! But that’s different!“

“How?”

“Because they were my family!” Tobias hisses.

“Maggie’s your family too! What would she do if she lost you?”

That trips Tobias up. Maggie is his family, and he is hers. But—

“It’s not the same!”

“Why?!”

“Because I should’ve been strong enough to protect my family! And I need to be strong enough now to make Team Zenith pay for what they did. If I go and get myself killed by being an idiot, there’s no one to blame but me. Certainly not Maggie or the kids.“

“None of us would see it that way,” Nia says, voice soft. "You don’t seem to value your own life much, but other people do.”

Something sharp tangles and knots in Tobias’ chest. “Well they shouldn't! I didn't ask them to!"

“I don’t think you get to decide how much other people care about you.”

And Tobias has nothing to say to that. She’s right.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Tobias huffs, looking away. “I’m sorry, all right? For putting you and Samir in danger. I won’t do it again.”

At least that’s one truth that’s easy to tell. He’ll just face it himself next time, if it comes to that. He has to stop dragging Nia down with him.

A heavy silence falls over the room. Tobias wonders if Takeo or Granite heard them arguing. He doesn’t hear either ‘mon moving around the small building, and Granite is very easy to notice with his heavy steps.

Finally, Nia sighs. It’s a defeated sound, but Tobias has a feeling she isn’t done, even if they don’t revisit this today.

Tobias accepts the uneasy truce, closing his eyes and resting his head back against the cushions. Both because he’s growing tired again and because he needs something to do in the awkward silence. Nia reaches over and picks up the book she’d come through the door holding.

For a while, the riolu reads while he rests his eyes and avoids conversation. He tries to track how far she gets by the flutter of pages turning, but loses track after twenty. He idly wonders what she’s reading about. He doesn’t think she brought a book along when they left the guild. Did she borrow one from Granite and Takeo’s shop?

Tobias’ mind wanders then to the itchy bandage circling the cut on his thigh. And then to the fight down in the mines. Eddy wasn’t too difficult to take down, once it was three-on-one. But the steelix…the giant’s face flashes through his mind, jaws strong enough to kill with a single bite.

Tobias cracks open an eye, cataloguing his partner’s lack of injury. The last thing he remembers before waking up from that rock slide, Samir had been knocked out and Nia had been left alone with the steelix. While he's grateful for it, Tobias can't figure out how she escaped so unscathed.

“So you took down the steelix, right?” Tobias asks, unable to completely stop the disbelief in his voice. “How..?”

Nia looks up from her book, taking a moment to enter the present and register his words. “Oh! You remember those blast seeds we got from that last client?”

Tobias frowns. “Oh. Yeah. I'd almost forgotten about them.”

Nia huffs a little laugh. “I did forget about them. The only reason I remembered at all was because of Giratina.”

There’s a pregnant pause. Tobias stares at Nia, trying to process what she just said.

“Giratina?”

Nia blinks back at him. Then, she bops a paw to her forehead. “Oh! Right! I knew I was forgetting something important! He kind of, uh…showed up down in the mines? In the reflections?”

Tobias sits up, alarm swooping through his gut. “What?!”

“But he helped us!” Nia hurries to say.

“Wh—Nia, he’s—“

“I know, I know! I didn’t trust him at first either.” Nia holds out her paws in a calming gesture. Tobias glares back at her but holds his tongue. This better be good.

“But..?”

“But he helped me hide myself when the steelix passed by. I probably would’ve been crushed otherwise. And he lead me to Samir, and then both of us to you.”

Okay, there’s…a lot to unpack there. Giratina supposedly helped them? For some reason? And Nia likely would have died down in the mines if not for the legendary, which is. Great. Tobias’ subconscious will love that nightmare fuel.

Nia must see the skepticism on his face, because she breathes a laugh. “I know. It sounds crazy. But Samir can vouch for me. I guess Giratina could be pulling some kind of long con, but I don’t think any of us would’ve made it out of there without him.”

Tobias wrestles quietly with that information. He’s heard whispers here and there about Giratina all his life, and literally not a single one was flattering. Add that to the fact that Giratina has been stalking his partner and tried to forcibly yank her into the distortion world, and he’s having a hard time believing that the banished legendary might actually have decent motivations.

On the other hand, Will told them not to trust Giratina, and Tobias hates that guy. So.

“So…what? We just trust him now?” Tobias asks.

To his relief, Nia shakes her head. “I’d still like to talk to Edme first before deciding on anything. Giratina helped us, but that doesn’t necessarily mean his end goals are good.”

Tobias sits back against the cushions. “Agreed. But knowing you, I figured you'd already decided to befriend him.”

Nia sticks her tongue out at him but doesn't respond. Tobias takes that as a win.

"So you wanna catch me up on everything that happened in the mines?"

The riolu almost seems surprised by the request, before she shifts position to get more comfortable and begins to talk. Her words start out hesitant, and she peeks at him like she isn’t sure he wants to hear all the gritty details, but she picks up speed and strength as she goes on. She tells him about Giratina appearing and helping her hide, the legendary leading her and Samir to Tobias, and how she defeated the steelix with the help of the blast seeds. Tobias locks his jaw every time she trails off, clearly trying to figure out how to soften the fact that she—or he or Samir—brushed close to death yet again. He feels terrible for leaving that all on her.

But he also can’t help feeling impressed, too.

“Quick thinking,” he comments, when she reaches the end of her retelling. “And...I am sorry for leaving you to fight him alone. You shouldn’t have had to do that.”

Nia gives him a tired smile. “I’m upset that you dragged us down there in the first place, not that you got knocked out. You couldn’t help that.”

Their discussion is interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. Tobias looks up in time to see a familiar skiddo face peer through the cracked opening.

“Samir!” Nia says, sounding happy but unsurprised. “C’mon in. Tobias is up!”

The skiddo shoulders their way into the room, giving Tobias a once-over as if to gauge how injured he is. Tobias raises a brow in return. When Samir is satisfied that the charmander isn’t going to keel over, they sit down and fix him with a heavy glare.

Tobias frowns back, not appreciating the immediate ire. “What?”

Samir adopts an incredulous expression. They look to Nia, then back to Tobias, then back again.

Nia barks a laugh. “Are you asking if I scolded him yet for dragging us down there?”

Samir nods.

Tobias rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, she already chewed me out about it.”

Samir closes their eyes and lifts their nose into the air as if to say, Good. Tobias gives in to the childish urge to blow a puff of smoke in the grass type’s face. Samir rears back with a wrinkled nose, kicking a small cushion at Tobias in retaliation.

“Okay, settle down!” Nia laughs, yanking the pillow from Tobias’ grip. “Now that Tobias is feeling better, I wanted to talk to you too, Samir.”

Tobias and Samir pause their feud to eye the riolu, wary. Nia’s innocent tone would normally mean something bad for Tobias, but her gaze is currently focused on Samir.

“Don’t look at me like that! I just wanted to say you fought really well down in the mines.”

Ah. Tobias sees immediately where she’s going with this. He smirks.

Samir clearly follows as well. They give Nia an unamused look.

Nia throws her hands up. “No, seriously! You were the perfect teammate!”

Samir's gaze moves to the door as if they’re legitimately thinking about getting up and leaving. Nia shoots Tobias a pleading look.

Tobias huffs. “She’s right, you know. She’s not just being nice.”

At that, Samir pauses. They fix Tobias with a solemn, searching look. Oh. They’re…actually taking Tobias seriously. He wasn’t expecting that.

Tobias clears his throat and straightens up. “You held your own down there.”

“And when we were fighting Eddy you worked perfectly with us!” Nia adds. “Totally in sync.”

Samir blinks at the two of them, wide-eyed. There’s some kind of emotion building behind their stoic expression. Tobias thinks he sees the skiddo’s mouth tremble.

Tobias snorts, trying to defuse the tension. “Your old partner’s an idiot if they thought you being mute meant you couldn’t work as a team. And your guildmaster’s an even bigger idiot if they wrote you off too.”

Nia nods emphatically.

At that, Samir ducks their head. Their shoulders shake.

“Yeah, you’d be an awesome addition to any team!” Nia adds. But this time, she looks to Tobias while Samir is distracted by wiping at their face. Her eyes are wide and hopeful as she looks between Samir and Tobias.

Oh. Tobias leans back, something like panic shooting through him. Is she really asking if she can invite the skiddo to join their team? That’s a huge decision! Not something she can just spring on him! Nia winces at his expression and makes a soothing gesture.

Tobias doesn’t say anything, warily letting her take the lead.

When Samir finally pulls themself together a bit, Nia gently says, “You know, if you ever feel like moving to the Lexym Guild, I’m sure August would love to have you. He’d get you paired up with a team in no time!”

Nia glances at Tobias, and he relaxes, giving her a tired nod. That’s…fine. No promises of a place on their team, but an offer of help and a better place for the skiddo to live. They can talk later about Nia apparently wanting to expand their team. The thought puts a pit in Tobias’ stomach, some part of him whispering that she just wants to replace her grumpy mess of a partner who keeps dragging her into death traps.

But then Nia lights up at his approving nod, tail wagging behind her, and somehow that helps ward away the bad thoughts.

“You don’t have to decide right now of course,” Nia says. “But…just keep it in mind, okay?”

Samir sniffs one last time and nods, avoiding both of their eyes. Tobias relates to the skiddo’s embarrassment when it comes to emotions, and hurriedly fishes for another topic of conversation to get the ball rolling.

Nia answers his questions about the aftermath of the mines. She tells him that he’s only been out for a day, and that Granite and Takeo didn't seem too mad about them disobeying orders and sneaking out. Apparently they just seemed relieved to see the three of them safe.

Tobias sees what she means when Granite and Takeo bring the three of them a small supper in the evening, commenting that it’s good to see Tobias up and awake. Takeo grumbles about reckless kids and their hero complexes, but there’s no real heat to the words. Nia and Samir both give Tobias pointed looks that he returns with a glare. He doesn’t have a “hero complex”—if anyone does, it’s Nia. He just has a mission to accomplish.

The rest of the night passes peacefully, with Samir leaving shortly after the meal.

By the next morning, Tobias is feeling more or less back to normal. Nia watches fretfully as he removes the bandages from his leg and checks the long, scabbed-over gash on his thigh. It’s probably going to scar, but it seems like it's healed enough to travel.

“We could rest for another day,” Nia suggests.

“We’ve got places to be,” Tobias objects, stretching his leg. “Did you get that information from Granite yet for solving the town’s earthquake problem?”

Nia shakes her head. “No. I figured since it’s from Rosalind you’d want to read it first. I can go ask Granite for it?"

At Tobias’ assent, the riolu leaves the room. Tobias takes a deep breath and rises to his feet to stretch out his sore, stiff limbs.

Rosalind promised them info on Team Zenith, on the outlaws, if they finished this mission for her. Tobias hopes it’s something substantial and doesn’t just lead them on a wild yungoos chase. They fought too hard for this not to be worth it.

After a minute or so, Tobias feels Granite’s heavy footsteps moving closer, down the hall. Nia comes pattering into the room just ahead of the donphan, moving to Tobias’ side and glancing not-so-subtly at his leg.

“Heard you were itchin’ to get movin’,” Granite greets them. The donphan has a satchel across his broad back—maybe preparing to go out for the day?

“I-I think so,” Nia says, bowing to Granite. “Thank you for everything! We really appreciate you letting us board here for the past few days.”

Granite waves her off with his trunk. “Straighten up, pup. If anything, we should be doin’ more to thank y’all. You stopped the quakes and even gave us some fresh mining work! Asra's in your debt. If you ever need help or somewhere to stay, you two know where to find us.”

Nia looks sentimental at that declaration. Tobias would bet money that she’s debating whether or not to give the older ‘mon a hug.

Before she can figure it out, Tobias clears his throat. “I’m glad we could help. Rosalind promised us some information in exchange for this mission?”

Granite’s easygoing expression fades. “Right. Listen, I know I said it before and you kids can handle yourselves, but be careful with Rosa, all right? That hatterene’s sketchier than a smeargle.”

Tobias gives an impatient nod.

“Here,” Granite sighs, digging a rolled-up piece of parchment paper out of his satchel with his trunk. “Came in from Rosa the other day, so I guess she was confident you’d get the job done. Sure hope it was worth nearly gettin’ yourselves killed.”

Tobias snatches the paper, quickly ripping it open. Nia quietly thanks Granite before crowding closer to Tobias to read over his shoulder.

Team Scarlet,

I trust that your determination will lead you to the answers our client seeks. In return, I’ve found a delightful piece of information about Team Zenith.

I have word that one of the outlaws, Asra the crobat, settled down just a few short miles from your current location.

Tobias’ breath catches. The crobat is near…here? But what does she mean by “settled down?” Is he hiding out or something? What about his other teammates? Why would he separate from them?

Tobias’ hold crinkles the paper under his hands. He reads on.

Word is that he may have taken on a new alias, going by the name Vesper.

I will warn you that this information is from two years ago, so there is a chance that the crobat has moved on to a different location. However, I thought you would still appreciate the opportunity to explore while you’re in the area.

Tobias reads on, taking in the directions to the supposed location, a few miles outside of town and just off the main road. Apparently the crobat uses a stack of stones as a marker for the turn. He and Nia must’ve passed the spot on their way into Asra without even noticing it.

Nia finishes reading before Tobias does, wordlessly pulling back. When Tobias catches up, he looks up to meet her eyes. She has an unreadable, serious expression on her face.

“Are we ready for this?” Nia murmurs.

“We have to be,” Tobias rasps in return. He glances down at the directions one more time before rolling the parchment back up. “If he is there, you can stay back. I don’t want to drag you into a fight if you don’t feel ready for it, and it’s my business anyways.”

Nia makes a quiet sound of protest, reaching out to touch his hand until he looks at her again. “I’m not leaving. We’re a team, remember? But just…try not to go running in before we can scope it out, all right? Remember what I said before. Let’s go in with a plan.”

Tobias isn’t sure how he can possibly manage that when he knows he’s about to come face-to-face with one of the outlaws who ruined his life. He’s already shaking, adrenaline buzzing beneath his skin. But Nia has a point. He can’t go running in and get himself killed before taking down the other two. Or worse, drag Nia down with him.

Stiffly, Tobias nods. Nia looks relieved, and gives his hand a squeeze before saying that she’ll get their satchel ready so they can head out. Tobias is grateful that she’s so willing to leave right away. He doesn’t think he could’ve handled having to hang around here knowing that the crobat is so close.

“Oi, little Char.”

Tobias looks back to Granite. The donphan gestures for Tobias to follow him, then shoulders aside the door and walks out into the hall, towards the front of the building where the shop is. Tobias glances at Nia before hesitantly trailing the ground-type’s thudding footsteps.

When Tobias enters the shop, he finds Granite shuffling out from between the shelves. The donphan is gently holding the little stringed guitar that Tobias had seen the first day they got to Asra.

Tobias can’t help the way his eyes linger on it, heart aching for a distant memory of music. To his surprise, Granite takes a step forward and holds the guitar out to him.

“It’s yours,” Granite says, more of a demand than a request. “A little something extra to say thanks, for all the trouble you went to to help us out. We appreciate it.”

Tobias stares at the guitar, stunned. Slowly, his hands drift out to take it. The wood is smooth and cool in his hands.

“Take good care of it now, y’hear?”

Tobias blinks, swallowing hard against a lump in his throat. Eventually, he manages to say, “Nia and Samir did most of the work.”

“I already gave the riolu a book she’s been eyeing. Just take it and don’t get yourself killed before you actually learn to play.”

Tobias, too choked up to speak, just nods his thanks, cradling the instrument close. Granite huffs in response and trundles back to the counter before Tobias can embarrass himself further.

For a moment, it’s all Tobias thinks about. He runs a thumb over one of the strings—it needs tightened and probably tuned, but the instrument is in fairly good shape. The wood is solid but flexible, a beautiful copper color and smooth to the touch, expertly carved.

He can try playing—can try making music like his family used to do, humming and singing in their cave. He can show those half-remembered melodies off to Nia, and Maggie! Maggie has a nice singing voice like his mom did and—

Like she did. Before everything. Before Team Zenith.

The rising euphoria in his chest plummets back to Earth.

Tobias doesn’t have time for this right now. He finally has a solid lead on one of the outlaws. He needs to focus on that, on what he’ll do when he meets with the crobat face-to-face.

Nia appears from the hall, worried expression lightening when she sees him holding the guitar.

Tobias ignores her probing look, taking the satchel from her to carry it himself. He carefully tucks the guitar away inside, making sure it’s cushioned by softer items. He feels hesitant to put it away, but he can always try it out later, once this is dealt with. This is more important.

“So we’re heading out right away?” Nia asks.

“Yeah.”

Nia nods, glancing at Granite. “Let me say goodbye to a few people. I’ll keep it quick.”

Tobias sighs, but gestures impatiently for her to get on with it.

He trails behind her as she says her thanks and goodbyes to Granite and Takeo. Granite gives them both hearty slaps on the back and tells them not to die. Takeo sends them off with a quiet blessing from his ancestors. Nia, of course, almost cries, giving them both a watery smile and a wave as they step off the porch.

“We only knew them for a few days,” Tobias points out, both exasperated and amused.

“So?” Nia sniffs. “It doesn’t matter how long you know someone. I’ll still miss them.”

Nia makes a point to stop by Deidra’s ruined saloon next, where the construction has been halted in Eddy’s absence. Luckily, Deidra (and Cody, staying close to her side like a comforting mountain) don’t seem angry with Nia and Tobias for arresting one of their own. They both thank the two of them for stopping the dewott before anyone else could get hurt. Deidra even refills Nia’s canteen and hands Tobias a few hydration berries for the journey ahead, giving them a wink.

Nia leads them to the edge of town next, where Calder and Samir are standing outside of Lara’s house.

“Word is you two are heading out,” Calder says, tipping his head in a capless greeting. “You sure you’re feeling well enough to get back on the road?”

Samir looks at them with an unreadable expression.

“We’ve rested enough,” Tobias says, hiking the satchel higher on his shoulder. “We have somewhere we need to be.”

At his side, Nia offers a helpless shrug and an apologetic smile of agreement.

“Hm.” Calder looks at them for a moment with lidded eyes. Then, he nods. “Well, you two take care of yourself. I’ll be sure to pass along word to the guild about your help.”

“Oh,” Nia says, exchanging a surprised look with Tobias. They’d thought they weren’t going to get any recognition for this one, since it wasn’t an official mission. “Thank you!”

“Least I can do,” Calder scoffs, for a moment looking a bit self-deprecating. Then he shakes his head. “You two take care of yourselves, all right? No more jumping into dangerous situations without backup.”

Nia gives Tobias a pointed jab with her elbow. Tobias hisses under his breath and elbows her back.

Calder almost looks amused. Then, he tips his head to them again. “Let me know if y’all ever need any help. Asra’s authority has your back.”

And with that, the inteleon strides off, leaving them alone with Samir. This silence feels a bit heavier, a bit more loaded with indecision and emotion.

Eventually, Nia says, “I meant what I said yesterday, you know. The Lexym Guild would be happy to have you as a Seeker.”

Samir’s stiff posture and hard expression soften, just a bit, under Nia’s reminder. They sigh, then write in the dirt.

THANKS

WILL THINK ABOUT IT

NEED TO HELP TOWN RECOVER

Nia looks disappointed, but smiles all the same. “That’s sweet of you to hang around and get everyone back on their feet.”

“Just don’t let your old partner or your guild push you around,” Tobias gruffs.

Samir gives them a small, subdued smile and a nod. Nia sniffles. Tobias isn’t at all surprised to look over and see her blinking back tears, mouth wobbly.

“Arceus,” he huffs, rolling his eyes.

“What? It was great having Samir with us!” Nia defends, voice wavering. She turns back to the skiddo. “Really. We’ll miss you. Take care, okay? Hopefully we see you sooner rather than later.”

Samir seems caught off-guard by the riolu’s emotions. They fluster, shuffling their hooves for a moment before nodding and writing, YOU TOO.

Nia does start crying at that, just a little bit. Samir, panicked, steps closer as if to try and help, and Nia takes the opportunity to give them a parting hug.

Tobias stuffs down a sharp jab of annoyance and rolls his eyes. “Nia.”

Nia frees Samir, who looks embarrassed by the affection as they take a step back, straightening their posture. Tobias spots a zebstrika-pulled cart ahead, being loaded up with goods and likely about to head out.

He nudges Nia. “We need to get going if we want to try hitching a ride.”

“Oh! Right. Thanks again, Samir. Stay safe.”

Tobias hurries over to the pair of zebstrika hooked up to the cart, asking if he and Nia could hitch a ride a few miles outside of town. The electric types request a few poké in return, which Tobias grudgingly hands over.

Soon enough, the two of them are bouncing along atop a small cart of goods. They slowly trundle up the narrow path circling the canyon wall, watching Fort Asra shrink below them, a deep blue sky overhead and a canyon of warm, bright tans below.

It’s past noon by time they catch sight of the landmark listed on the map: a large stack of stones at the side of the road, taller than Tobias and Nia combined. Tobias calls for the cart to stop so they can disembark, waving off the zebstrika with a word of thanks.

As the cart wheels away, leaving a faint cloud of dust in its wake, Nia leans in to peer at the directions over Tobias’ shoulder. “You’re sure this is the right place?”

“Rosalind’s info says this is the landmark.” He squints at the dirt ahead, trying to summon up some of Samir’s tracking abilities. “Am I losing it, or is there a trail here?”

Nia tilts her head, as if that’ll help her see better. “…Maybe?” She takes a deep breath, nose twitching.

Tobias suddenly recalls Fen’s words from long ago, when Nia first showed up. “Hey, why don’t you ever use your nose to try tracking?”

Nia looks over her shoulder, as if he’s talking to someone else. She looks back to him, bewildered. “Me?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yes, you! You see any other riolu out here?”

Nia frowns and looks down at her nose, cross-eyed. “I…I guess I’ve never tried? I usually try to ignore my nose when we go places, since smells are so strong in this body. It all just jumbles together and gets really overwhelming.”

Tobias supposes that makes sense. He keeps Rosalind’s instructions out but starts a tentative path forward across the rocky desert landscape, trying to follow the faint remains of a path he thinks he sees. “So humans don’t use their noses to track?”

Nia laughs, which gives him his answer. “Nope! We can use scent dogs to track things, but our sense of smell isn’t good enough for that. Do you really think I could learn to do that?”

“Yeah? You’re a riolu. You just gotta…learn to separate the smells or something.”

“Ah, of course. Why didn’t I think of that?”

Tobias gives her a dry look, before turning back to the map. He only looks at it in short glimpses, sparing the rest of his attention for their surroundings. He doesn’t want to be caught off-guard by anyone, even if everything is so bright and open out here that it’d be hard to sneak up on them.

“Maybe we can find a tracker when we get back to the guild,” Tobias says after a few minutes, hearing Nia taking deep breaths as if trying to absorb the desert scents.

“That would be cool,” Nia murmurs, distracted as she takes another lungful of air. “It’s actually easier out here, since there aren’t a lot of different things to smell.”

Tobias hums and they continue on, scrabbling over rocky terrain and scraggly plants, occasionally ducking under low rock formations. Tobias enjoys the sun against his skin, more than comfortable encased in heat, but Nia has to dig out her water flask within minutes and needs to take periodic breathers in patches of cooler shade. Tobias tries to be patient and not rush her, knowing riolu aren’t built for this climate like he is.

Eventually, Tobias spots another stack of stones shimmering in the desert heat, and he steers them in that direction even as he increases his wary glances around the environment. He does feel better about seeking out the crobat in the height of the day, when he would naturally be asleep, but he doesn’t want them to be caught off-guard. The crobat’s hideout is only supposed to be a mile or so off the main road, after all.

It's late afternoon when Tobias finally spots something out of place in the distance: a small Pokemon-made structure, high off the ground and built into the side of a rocky spire. He points it out to Nia, putting Rosalind’s directions away, and the two of them tread closer on quiet feet.

When they’ve gotten close enough, they crouch behind some nearby rocks and peer up at the strange structure. Tobias isn’t sure exactly what he was expecting, but it wasn’t…this.

The building almost looks quaint. Like a little house. It’s a small wooden structure built into the side of a spire of rock, 15 yards or so off the ground. A rickety, narrow staircase zigzags up the rock face to lead to the front door. Most baffling, there are flowers growing in a basket on the windowsill, and colorful, almost scribble-like markings on the side of the rocky spire that Tobias can’t decipher from here.

“It kind of looks like a house,” Nia murmurs, sounding as confused as he feels.

“Don’t let your guard down."

This has to be a trap or something. He pulls out the letter from Rosalind again, scanning it to be sure they got the directions right. Not like they’ve seen any other buildings since leaving Asra—they’re truly in the desolate emptiness of the desert now. Only someone hiding away from the world or wanting to go completely off the grid would choose to live out here.

Could Asra—or Vesper, or whatever he’s going by—really be here? Tobias has to admit this place doesn’t look like somewhere a murderous outlaw would be hiding, but maybe that’s the point.

“Maybe we should stake it out for a bit,” Nia suggests, eyeing Tobias worriedly as if expecting him to run up to the door with his claws out and flames burning.

Tobias grunts his agreement, sitting down and peering around the edge of the rock to keep his eyes locked on the building’s front door.

This just…doesn’t feel right. Tobias always imagined when he came face-to-face with any of the outlaws from Team Zenith, it’d be an immediate fight to the finish, out in the wilds. Not…this. Not waiting for the crobat to show up and…what? Water his flowers?

Some part of Tobias wants to laugh. Another part of him feels sick to his stomach. He can’t pinpoint exactly why, but his heart is slowly speeding up. Rosalind did say that the information was from a few years back. Could the crobat have moved on?

He continues to stare down the door. Waiting. Distantly, he hears Nia ask him something once or twice, but he can’t seem to pull his focus back to her. It feels like he has to keep all of his attention on that door, no matter what. Like it’s a matter of life and death.

Slowly, the minutes tick by in tense silence. The sun sinks lower, edging towards sunset.

Tobias is only broken out of the spell when he hears a noise of some kind from inside the structure. A high shriek. He stands, tensed and ready to run for the door. What was that? Does someone need help? Is the crobat hurting someone in there right now?

Before he can move from their hiding spot, Nia grabs his arm. He jumps, startled by the sudden touch.

“Wait,” She whispers. “I hear—”

The door slams open, and high-pitched laughter spills out. Two small shapes burst outside and unfurl their wings, giggling and circling each other in the air with quick, frenetic wingbeats. Too small to be the crobat, and neither one is the right color. Plus their voices are too young.

“Kids?” Nia murmurs, sounding just as confused as Tobias feels.

“Be back at midnight for supper!” A voice calls from inside the house. A moment later, the distinct angular ears and pink heart nose of a swoobat leans out the door.

The two kids flap their wings to hover in place, finally still enough to see. They’re little more than tiny blue puffballs with matching heart noses and toothy grins. Something about them feels slightly strange, though, and it puts Tobias on edge.

“Okay, Mom!”

“And don’t play too close to any unstable rocks. You know the rules.”

The kids—woobats—groan but agree before zipping away.

The swoobat sighs and mutters something to herself before propping open the door and heading back inside.

Tobias stares at where the psychic-type disappeared, his stomach sinking. There’s…a family living here, which means the crobat has to have moved on. Surely he’s not sticking around the area, not with witnesses living so close by. They seem comfortable here, too. Familiar. Like they've lived here for a while.

“He’s not here,” Tobias says, toneless. They missed another lead. He rubs at his face, trying to decode and push away whatever wave of emotion is lapping at his heels. Whatever it is, it doesn’t feel good. “Great.”

Nia glances back at the house. “Maybe this family has an idea of where he could’ve gone?”

“You think the wanted murderer made nice with the neighbors before going on the run?”

Nia twists her mouth in a way that means she isn’t exactly hopeful about the possibility herself. Still, she stands and says, “I’m going to go ask. No harm in checking, right?”

She says it as if she’s going to go alone, but Tobias immediately straightens up to follow her. He’s not going to sit down here and have her do the investigating for him.

Nia relents, leading the way to the base of the old wooden stairs built into the side of the rockface. The wood creaks and dips under their weight, but doesn’t give. As they climb, the bright markings on the side of the spire become much clearer with proximity. Tobias can see now that they’re wobbly, messy children’s drawings. Like the ones he and Vivi used to make on the inside of their cave growing up. He swallows hard and moves his eyes back to the steps.

As they reach the top landing, the faint sound of humming that Tobias had barely registered cuts off. A moment later, the swoobat pokes her head out of the doorway, ears perking and eyes growing wide at the sight of Nia and Tobias.

“Oh! Hello there. Are you two lost?”

Tobias opens his mouth to answer, then thinks better of it when he already feels off-kilter.

Nia steps in. “Hello! No, we were actually looking for someone, but it doesn’t look like he’s here. We were wondering if you maybe knew him before you moved in?”

The swoobat relaxes at the question, stepping out onto the makeshift porch. She’s holding a small dish towel between her wings. “I’ve lived here since this house was built, actually.”

Tobias looks up at the swoobat’s face, startled. “What?”

“Oh!” Nia seems equally unprepared for that statement. “W-Well, um. Do you happen to know of anybody living nearby named Asra? O-Or Vesper.”

“A crobat,” Tobias adds, voice tight.

The swoobat drops the dish towel, fluffy collar puffing with surprise. Then, her ears lower as her expression weighs down with something deeply sad. “Vesper? Yes, he…he was my mate.”

Tobias’ breath catches. He stares at the swoobat as his mind fumbles and blanks. Thoughts drain away from him like water.

Mate?

“Was?” Nia echoes gently, after a moment of stunned silence.

The swoobat takes a shuddering, bracing breath, picking up the dish towel with her flexible pink tail. “Yes. Vess passed a little over a year ago, after an accident. I’m…I’m sorry you had to find out this way. I didn’t know many of his friends to notify them.”

Through a numbing static, Tobias hears Nia stutter, “O-Oh! No, we weren’t—I mean…”

“He’s dead?” Tobias rasps.

The swoobat squeezes her eyes shut tight, as if pained by the very reminder. “Yes. Would you like to see his resting place? I’m sure he’d appreciate you stopping by.”

Nia glances at Tobias like he's a live bomb, clearly worried that he’s about to fall apart. Strangely, Tobias feels blank instead. Hollow. His mouth responds for him. “Yes.”

The swoobat gives him a sympathetic look. She asks him and Nia to meet her back at the bottom of the stairs before gliding off the edge of the wooden platform and spiraling down.

Nia turns to him immediately. “Tobias—"

“Let’s go,” He says. “I want to see it.”

Nia looks like she wants to argue. But then she nods, moving towards the stairs and waiting for him to match her steps. As if he might fall off if she moves even a step ahead of him.

Tobias doesn’t register much in the next few minutes. He vaguely feels himself moving down the steps. Realizes at some point that he and Nia are following the swoobat a short distance away across dirt and desert sand to a small cave. The psychic-type’s soft, compassionate voice grates on his ears. Nia is a warm weight glued to his side. He matches her steps, unable to do much else.

And then he’s there, standing in a tiny cave surrounded by cool air. Bright sunset light spills in from behind, painting everything warm against heavy shadows. The swoobat has left, probably for their privacy. Nia has taken a step away to give him space, but he can feel the weight of her gaze.

In front of Tobias sits a small monument, carefully carved and lovingly cared for. Desert flowers and dried berries sit at its foot, carefully arranged.

Vesper

Beloved Mate and Father

Now One with Lunala’s Stars

Among the offerings, Tobias sees a simple painting, likely made by the two children they’d glimpsed earlier. There’s a large purple blob surely meant to represent the crobat, smiling with wide white fangs. Two smaller, bluer blobs sit happily under his wings.

And somehow that is what brings Tobias’ emotions roaring back.

He thinks of the two woobat he saw earlier, about how they felt slightly off to him. He realizes now what it was. They were just a bit speedier than Tobias would expect of such young Pokemon. As fast as the blur of violet wings from his memory. Their fluffy fur just a shade closer to violet than blue.

The crobat who helped destroy his family, who ruined his life, had kids. Had a mate, and a home. He had happiness, after ripping all of that away from Tobias. And he didn’t even have the decency to live long enough to look Tobias in the eye when he came to ask why.

Rage pours through Tobias, hotter than any flame he’s ever wielded.

One instant he’s at Nia’s side. The next, he’s lunging forward with a feral cry. The children’s painting is torn to shreds beneath his claws. The flowers and berries are set ablaze in a flash of fire, bright and hot. He lunges for the stone next, aiming to crack it against the wall until it snaps and crumbles.

Strong arms hook around his middle, yanking him back.

Tobias’ responding snarl almost drowns out Nia’s call of his name, but she only tightens her grip. He writhes and tries to get traction on the dirt, but she drags him back, towards the opening of the cave. Once they’re a few feet away, she swings him around and lets go, standing as a barrier between him and his target. She’s panting, wide-eyed.

“Move!” Tobias snaps.

“T-Tobias, I know you’re upset but—”

“Move!” Tobias snarls, embers spitting from his mouth.

“Tobias, you need to take a second and—”

“Don’t tell me what I need!” He hisses. He tries to push through Nia’s stance, only for her to catch him and lock her hands with his, leaving them eye to eye and straining for ground.

“Tobias, she’s going to come back and see—"

“So what?! She needs to know! She should know that her mate killed a family in cold blood!”

“That won’t help anything!” Nia says through gritted teeth. “What will that accomplish?! Make her feel guilty for loving someone so horrible? Make her kids feel like there’s something tainted in their blood? It won’t help anyone! He’s dead!”

“Maybe they deserve to live with it!” Tobias shouts. He feels panicked as his rage falters into something heavier. Traitorous tears prick hot at the back of his eyes. “Someone should have to!”

Nia falters, eyes going wide. Tobias could break through easily now, if he tried. Instead, he tightens his grip on her hands, trying to stoke his rage back to its full power.

“What right do you have to stop me?! You don’t get it!”

“Tobias,” Nia murmurs, looking uncertain. “I…”

Tobias stares at her, panting, as tears bubble up in his eyes. He’s shaking as the rage mixes with grief in his chest, boiling under his skin both ice cold and magma hot.

“You don’t get it,” he repeats, voice breaking.

Nia stares at him, brow furrowed. Slowly, her hold loosens. She slips free of him, stepping back and out of Tobias’ way. She looks at the memorial, then him, then away.

“You’re right. I-I…I don’t understand. But if this will help, then…I won’t stop you.”

Tobias…doesn’t know what to do with that. His fury has already started to die down after the riolu’s interruption. The magma has hardened to something heavy and horrible, weighing him down. He doesn’t want to sit with that. He wants the fire back.

Tobias staggers forward, back to the memorial. His feet brush through fine ash, still smoldering. He stares at the gravesite through his tears, the delicate carvings of a crobat and lunala blurring. He raises a hand, claws at the ready, but can’t seem to bring it down. That just makes him feel worse.

Tobias swallows thickly, a sob shuddering from his chest. He came here with the intent of taking the crobat down, taking him into custody or even killing him if it came to it. He'd thought for eight years about the questions he would get answers to, the vindication he would feel tearing down one of the monsters who destroyed his life.

Instead, he’s at the grave of a Pokemon who had a mate and kids, who had a family that loved him. It feels…twisted. Wrong. Like he’s in a bad dream.

Tobias’ legs give out beneath him, and he leans forward to rest his head on the stone, cries ripping from his throat. The ugly thing in his chest doesn’t seem to die down, only raging on and on and on.

He can feel it, when Nia hesitantly joins him. She kneels at his side.

He looks up at her, gut churning with nausea. “Why did he get to be happy? He didn’t—he didn’t deserve to…”

Nia’s expression crumbles, and for a moment Tobias thinks she might start crying too. “I don't know,” she says, soft. She hesitantly slides a paw up to rub circles into his back. “I’m sorry, Tobias.”

Tobias doesn’t realize he’s leaning into her until she's already wrapping him up in a hug. He hugs her back tight enough to hurt, but the pressure and the warmth and the soft texture of her fur helps, somehow. It feels grounding. Gives him something to latch onto aside from the turbulent waves of his emotions.

He doesn’t know how long he cries, soaking Nia’s fur and shuddering through waves of nausea. She murmurs quiet, meaningless comforts to him. Rocks with him and uses her thumbs to trace soothing circles against his back.

By time Tobias is somewhat calm again, he feels like the wrung-out dish rag the swoobat had been holding earlier. Flimsy and worn, with a few holes and gritty stains left behind.

The light coming in from the cave’s opening is now gray and weak, dusk on the cusp of night.

Tobias sniffs, staring sightlessly at the ruined bits of the memorial beneath them, now nothing more than scattered ash blending in with the dirt floor.

“I want them to hurt, too,” Tobias says, voice tight. “I know I shouldn’t.”

Nia squeezes him tighter.

“I know they didn’t do anything wrong. They didn’t know, but…”

Before Tobias can fully form that thought, he sniffs and leans away from Nia, wiping at his eyes. It feels cold without her so close.

They both look at the gravestone in front of them, so carefully carved and lovingly cared for. But it’s alone, out here in the wilderness. He can’t touch anyone else, buried six feet under and miles from civilization.

It still feels too good for him. Some part of Tobias still wants to kick the headstone over and scorch it black. He wants to dig up the crobat’s bones and scatter them in the desert sand. But that part of him feels ugly and too much like the monster buried in front of him, so he tries to let it make itself known before passing through his mind.

A quiet sound at the mouth of the cave catches Nia’s attention, and Tobias follows her gaze.

The swoobat has returned, framed by dusk light. Her round eyes are focused on the absence of gifts at the foot of the grave, at the ashes left in their wake. Tobias expects her to be upset, to yell and chase them out. Instead, her gaze moves to Tobias, brow furrowing into something like realization.

There’s a heavy moment of silence.

Finally, the swoobat breaks it, stepping forward. “Vess always held a lot of…regret. For something that happened in his past. He wouldn’t tell me about it, but he mentioned that it’s why he parted ways from his team all those years ago and settled down near Asra. It’s where he was born.”

Before Tobias can respond to that, the swoobat’s gaze flicks away, nervous.

“He was very upset once. When we bumped into a charmander at the market to the south. Wouldn’t talk for a week. D-Did…did something..?”

Tobias feels the weight of expectation settle onto him, but he’s so tired that it barely registers what he’s hearing. How is he supposed to react to this revelation? How is he supposed to feel knowing that the crobat apparently felt some measure of guilt for what he was a part of? That he was upset about it?

Ha. Lot of good guilt does. Doesn’t bring back his family.

The embers of rage spark back to life. Not blazing, but hot enough to put Tobias’ limbs into motion. Tobias staggers to his feet, then towards the swoobat. The psychic-type stands strong and stares back at him, expression resolute even as her body trembles.

She’s scared. Terrified that Tobias is going to tell her something she never wanted to hear. That he’s going to ruin the memory of her beloved mate and the father to her kids. Tobias wants to. He wants to watch her face fall with shock and horror. Wants to spread the terrible grief caused by the crobat’s actions like a toxin.

But Tobias thinks of Nia’s words. Thinks of those kids. Thinks of how much guilt he carries for not being strong enough to protect his sister. Thinks how terrible he would feel for someone he loved and admired to be responsible for such loss.

“Your mate,” Tobias finally spits. “Wasn’t a good Pokemon. At least he wasn’t a terrible father.”

The words feel like acid in his throat. He doesn’t know if leaving her in the dark is a mercy or a punishment. He shoves past the swoobat, stomping away into the desert. Away from their happy little home and the gravestone of a murderer.

He walks, and walk, and walks. Lets the rhythm of the motion replace his thoughts. Eyes ahead, unseeing of the desert around him.

Tobias doesn’t come back to himself until he stumbles over a stone in the ground. He catches himself on his hands and knees, scuffing them. The pain seems to jog something in his brain, because he suddenly settles back into the shell of his body.

The dirt is cooling quickly beneath him with the falling night. Nia is at his side, watching silently. Overhead, stars glitter like layers of crystal. Tobias thinks he can hear the distant laughter of the woobat children.

“Tobias?” Nia asks, soft voice loud in the night air.

“Should I have told her?”

Nia falters. Then, almost too quiet to hear, she murmurs, “I don’t know.”

Tobias takes a deep breath, letting it out in a puff of steam that wisps and curls. He stands. “Let’s go.”

“A-Are you sure?”

Tobias nods, rubbing at his sore, tired eyes. “Let’s just…go find Edme. We still need to learn more about Giratina."

Nia stares at him with worried eyes. She must be able to tell that he’s just looking for something else to focus on. That he just wants to leave, and not think about any of this for a while. That he wants to get some distance between himself and the sweet little family his personal monster left behind.

Tobias expects her to bring it up, to say that they need to talk about it. Instead, Nia slowly nods, reaching out to slip their satchel off Tobias’ shoulder and over her own. She hesitates, then reaches out a paw to take his hand, gently tugging him into motion. Tobias doesn’t fight her, grateful as she leads his unmoored body back towards the road.

[myveryownfanfiction]

Sharpuary day 12: Bad Day

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @iobsessoverfictionalmen

warnings: swearing

I walked into the room and slammed the door, stomping around the small space and throwing my jacket onto the back of a chair. I tossed my wand onto the small end table so I wasn't tempted to blast something to smithereens. Not noticing the other person in the room, I went to the bedroom and proceeded to take off my shoes.

"Bad day?" I looked up at the voice and frowned when I saw Aesop get up from his chair in front of the fireplace, closing the book in his hands and putting it down next to my wand. When I didn't respond, he leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms. "Based off your reactions, I'd say it was." We stared at each other for a minute before he made his way into the room, taking a seat next to me as I tossed my shoes into a corner of the room. "Black?"

"Black." I muttered. Aesop sighed and wrapped his arm around me. I shrugged it off and got up to pace. “I swear I’m going to hex him one of these days. Dinah couldn’t stop me. Hell you couldn’t even stop me.” I ran my hands down my face and paused, digging the heel of my hands into my eyes. Aesop chuckled as he squeezed my shoulder.

“I’m sure that’s not true.” I gave him a look out of the corner of my eye. “I for one happen to know that your hexes are not up to snuff. They never were for forte.” Groaning, I dropped my head onto his shoulder.

“Aesop now is not the time for jokes.” I breathed out as he rubbed my back.

“Isn’t it?” He asked. “I for one think it’s exactly what you need.” I rolled my eyes and pulled back. “Besides, the last one I saw you cast was a bat bogey hex and if I remember correctly you conjured an actual bat instead.”

“Yeah.” I muttered as I chuckled, running a hand through my hair in embarrassment. “The intent just wasn’t quite there.”

“Exactly.” Aesop said, pulling me back into him. “But for the right price, I could slip him some veritaserum or giggle water.” I laughed and leaned against him.

“And what would this price be?” I asked, looking at him with shining eyes. Aesop gave me a mischievous grin.

“a kiss.” He said simply. Laughing, I leaned in and kissed his cheek.

“there’s your payment.” I said. Aesop gave me a scandalous look. “You never specified where it had to be.” I pointed out. Aesop rolled his eyes.

“alright. Giggle water it is then.” He said. I rolled my eyes and kissed him on the lips, letting Aesop deepen it as he cupped my cheek. “Better. I’ll put both into his cup tomorrow morning at breakfast. Everyone can have a little fun.” I smiled at him and leaned into him more.

“thank you.” I whispered. Aesop nodded as he kissed my head.

“anything to turn your bad day good.” He promised.