#( rest of replies and starters might have to wait )

[royalarms]

ok back to trying to respond to starters !!!!

[honnelander]

wedding bands

SURPRISE! 🤗 this is just a quick idea I had and wanted to write…. I still feel a bit weird about this and I might delete this at any point if I want to (just be warned!) if you don’t like real people actor fic, well I’m sorry, then this isn’t for you! please enjoy my other works then! (hate will not be tolerated) sorry, no taglist for this since this is a one-time thing. the picture above is what I envisioned when writing this. enjoy 🤗🫶🏼

WARNINGS: none

word count: 1.3k

pairing: Taz Skylar x reader

summary: Taz wants to marry you.

masterlist

“Let’s get married.” 

You glanced up from your dinner, a delicious meal that Taz had lovingly prepared for the two of you that night, like he always did, your brows furrowing, staring at him to make sure you heard him right. You were probably looking at him like he was speaking a foreign language. 

“Wait- what?” you asked after a few beats of silence. 

Taz, however, continued eating his meal unbothered, spearing a piece of asparagus with his fork, raising it up towards his mouth. “Let’s get married, tonight,” he repeated in the same casual tone, looking down at his plate, like he was discussing something as simple as the weather. “I mean- I love you, you love me, right?” A small laugh escaped his lips as he turned his gaze towards you, his blue eyes holding a spark of mischief within them, a small smirk dancing on the corner of his lips. “Let’s make this thing official,” he said, putting the food into his mouth. 

“Well- uh,” you started, looking down at your meal, at a loss for words. “Of course I love you,” you said quickly, not wanting him to doubt your affections towards him for even a second. “It’s just...” 

“Sudden?” he asked with his right hand in front of his mouth, fork in hand, voice muffled slightly from the food. 

“Soon,” you said at the same time. 

You both giggled at your answers, realizing you were always in sync with one another no matter what on earth you two were discussing.  

Taz swallowed, reaching for his glass of white wine. “Look, I know it’s sudden and seemingly out of nowhere, but,” he picked up the glass, lifting it up and bringing it to him, “I’ve been thinking about this for a while now and...” he looked at you, his bright eyes scanning your face as he sucked on his teeth for a second with a small smile. “I figured, why not? What’s stopping us?” 

You laughed breathlessly. “Uh, well, for starters, what about time? It takes time to plan a formal wedding.” 

“Who says it has to be formal?” he countered, taking a sip of his wine before placing the glass back on the table. “A wedding doesn’t need to be this big, whole production. It can just be with two people: you and me.” 

“Ok...” you relented slowly, trying to digest the whole situation. You pushed your food around with your fork absentmindedly, resting your head in your propped up hand. “But don’t we need a pastor or something? Or someone who’s ordained? To you know... make things official?” 

He shrugged. “We’ll go down to the courthouse tomorrow, get a judge to sign our certificate.” He picked up his knife to cut another piece of meat. “You know, make it legal and all that.” 

You put your fork down, both of your forearms resting on the table now as you watched him continue to eat. “And our vows?” you asked, trying to stump him. 

Taz continued cutting. “Easy,” he scoffed playfully with a good-natured smile. “We’ll just speak from the heart.” He looked at you, his smile morphing into a smirk. “And I can tell you how much I love you all night, if you know what I mean,” he winked. 

You blushed, averting his suggestive look as you looked to the side as you heard him laugh. You were quiet for a moment, the only sound filling the room was Taz’s silverware hitting against his plate. 

“What would we wear?” 

 “What we have on now,” he replied easily. “No need to get all fancy. We can, uh, save that for our vow renewal in ten years,” he said cheekily, his smile growing, as he quickly raised his eyebrows. 

That roused a laugh out of you, causing you to look back towards the love of your life, meeting his eyes. “Oh, so now we’re already talking about vow renewals?” you giggled. “One thing at a time, Taz.” 

His smile turned tender; his eyes filled with love as he kept looking at you. “What can I say?” he asked softly after a moment. “I’m just excited.” 

As you both held eye contact, you could feel the reality of his proposition become more palpable by the second. Taz was serious, he wanted to marry you.  

And you couldn’t think of any reason why you shouldn’t. You loved him, and he loved you. Taz Skylar was the love of your life and you wanted to spend the rest of your time on this earth with him, however long or short that might be. 

“What about wedding bands?” you asked quietly. 

He broke eye contact, shifting in his seat slightly as he looked to his right. “Yeah, about that- I had a crazy idea, and you don’t have to agree to this if you don’t want to, of course,” he quickly started, moving his hands slightly. 

You raised an eyebrow. “Do what? What’s crazier than a last-minute wedding?” 

Taz breathed out a quick, humorless laugh. “Ha, yeah, so, I was, uh, thinking...” 

“Yes?” 

“What if we got our wedding bands tattooed?” he quickly asked, like ripping off a band-aid, his shoulders becoming stiff as he braced for your response. A couple of quiet seconds ticked by, feeling like hours to him. “Now I know it’s crazy and all, but-” 

“I love it,” you said, quieting him instantly. 

He exhaled slightly, letting out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding in. His shoulders relaxed as his trepid eyes found yours. “You do?” 

You nodded, your eyes watering as you looked at him with a closed lip smile. “Yeah,” you answered, your voice breaking slightly. “I love it. It’s perfect.” 

You always wanted to have a matching tattoo with him, both of you floating around the idea but never actually pulling the trigger, and what could be a better matching tattoo with him than a wedding band? 

He laughed quietly, a wide smile of happiness and relief overtaking his face and crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“Yeah?” he asked breathlessly. His eyes started to mirror yours, unshed tears pricking at the corners. This was serious now; this was for real. He was going to marry you.  

And he doesn’t ever remember being this happy before. 

“G-good,” he said, his throat feeling thick suddenly. “There’s a shop not too far away, open late. We can go now.” 

You nodded and blinked, a few tears escaping your eyes and rolling down your cheeks as you tried not to cry. “Ok,” you whispered. 

“Ok?” he repeated in the same soft voice, his eyes full of wonder. 

“Yeah. Ok.” 

Taz let out a breath, his smile as wide as can be, a tear rolling down his cheek. He looked down for a second, placing his utensils on the table before standing up and making his way around the table towards you. 

“Now, there’s only one question I have left for you,” he started, clearing his throat. He came to your left, getting down on one knee as he pulled out an engagement ring from his pocket. “Now I had this all ready to go, in case you didn’t like the tattoo idea,” he said, causing both of you to laugh tearfully.  

You put a hand over your mouth, swallowing thickly, the tears spilling over your cheeks quickly. 

He looked up, the most tender smile on his face, a look of pure, unfiltered love in his eyes. “Y/n, I love you, with all my heart. You are the love of my life and I can’t imagine doing this thing called ‘life’ without you,” his crooked smile deepened. “Will you do me the honor of a lifetime by becoming my wife? Y/n, will you marry me?” 

You nodded quickly. “Y-yes. Yes of course I will,” you answered, letting out a cry of happiness as you practically tackled him in a hug. “I love you,” you cried into his neck as he wrapped his arms around you. 

He laughed, enveloping you in a hug as he kissed the top of your head. “And I love you.” 

You pulled away from him slightly to look up at him and saw a tear roll down his cheek. “Now and forever,” you whispered. 

“Always,” he said before closing the gap and kissing you. 

[cottonlemonade]

A Simpler Life [Part 1]

word count: 1585 || avg. reading time: 7 mins.

pairing: post-time skip Kita x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff, slice of life, mutual pining, slow burn

warnings: spoilers

synopsis: In pursuit of a calmer, simpler life you flee the city to move to the countryside - only to fall in love with your neighbor.

When you decided on a clean break and moved to the little country home, you finally got your long harbored wish of a manageable veggie patch as well as a few fruit planters, breathing clear fresh air that the city life had you only dream about for so many years. At first, of course, the people were suspicious of the newcomer - the foreigner-city girl who came to their part of Hyogo with no clear intention but when you greeted each of them warmly around town and offered an open door if anyone ever needed help, they soon treated you as one of their own. The grandmothers of the neighborhood quickly kept an eye out for any eligible bachelors because “it‘d be such a shame if a pretty girl like ya would be all lonesome in that house of yers“ but while grateful for their concern, you were happy on your own.

Although, that didn‘t stop you from falling for your neighbor as soon as you met him.

Your first impression of Kita was that he was polite, caring and warm but maybe a bit shy. He bowed his head with a smile when he passed by your front yard in the evening heading to his house, looking exhausted but satisfied. You wondered if he lived alone, too, because no one else seemed to be going in or out of the modest traditional nouka.

You were privately looking forward to the evenings when you could catch a glimpse of him and bask even for just a second in the sunshine of his smile.

This went on for a week or so of you two simply exchanging nods, waves and smiles until, “Good evenin‘.“, he greeted.

The buzzing of cicadas filled the air. You were tending to your garden, having opted to weed in the milder evening rather than the afternoon sun. A straw hat on your head, muscles already straining from the unfamiliar work, you straightened, trying to suppress a groan. “And to you.“, you replied, using the back of your hand to wipe the sweat off your forehead, smearing some soil on your skin in the process.

“It‘s really comin‘ together.“, he noted and nodded towards the healthy green surrounding your ankles.

Don‘t blush, you told yourself. “Thank you.“, you beamed, “I am worried about my tomatoes, though. They look a bit peaked.“

You pointed to some sad little plants on the end of your veggie patch.

With professional eyes he wandered along the fence to inspect them.

“Oh, yea, they might have had a bit too much sun and not enough water. Don‘t worry, happens to all of us.“, he smiled, “I have some extra starters in my greenhouse. Ya can have a couple if ya like. I always grow more in case bugs get to ‘em.“

“Oh, really?“

“Sure, come by tomorrow to pick ‘em up.“

“Thank you so much!“

“What else have ya got here?“, he now leaned on the fence post, examining the rest of the plants. You listed the few you had.

“Ya might wanna add sugar snap peas. They‘re easy to grow and the yield is really good.“

“Noted! But I might have to wait until next season, I don‘t think I have enough space for any more.“

“Ya can grow ‘em nicely in planters. I can build ya one. It‘s not difficult.“

Your heart did a little jump. “Are you sure it‘s not too much trouble?“

“Neighbors gotta stick together, right?“, he grinned and stood back up, “I‘mma let ya get back to it.“ and he made to leave.

“W-wait!“

He turned back to you.

“One of the grannies in town gave me a bunch of fresh greens and tofu today. My fridge doesn‘t work yet so I‘m worried it’ll go bad. Would you like to join me for dinner?“

He blinked. For a moment you weren‘t sure if you hadn‘t been too forward but then Kita nodded and walked around the fence to your gate. Oh my, somehow the fence had underplayed his handsomeness. As he stood right in front of you, arms tan and taut with lean muscles from a day‘s work and a towel tied around his neck you forgot to talk for a second.

“This way.“, you gestured to the front door.

“Don‘t ya wanna finish up weedin’ first?“

“But…“

“I‘ll help ya.“

“But…“

And he got to work. Of course, his practiced hands got the job done so much faster than you and where you had only managed a fourth of the patch he finished up the rest in no time.

Kita knelt on a seating pillow you had laid out around your coffee table, patiently waiting for you to plate up the hearty stew alongside some grilled tofu and rice. You figured he must be starving after all that hard manual labor. But to your surprise he ate slowly, chewed carefully and seemed to savor the taste.

“It‘s delicious.“, he said and let out a small content sigh, “I usually don‘t have much energy to cook in the evenin’s. This is great, thank ya.“

So he did live alone. How the masses of overzealous grandmothers in town hadn‘t flocked together to feed this man yet was a mystery to you.

In all honesty, Kita didn‘t agree with the people in town who said you were “pretty“. “Pretty“ didn‘t do you justice. He thought you were breathtaking. Because that‘s how he felt when he talked to you for the first time. Like his breath was stuck somewhere in his throat. Your genuine smile when he complimented your cooking now had a permanent place in his mind - framed it hung at the very top where he could always admire it throughout his day. Where his thoughts were usually busy with plans for the following morning or simply quiet, while his hands moved automatically through the water in the fields, they were now interlaced with you. Your twinkling eyes when he told you he would build you a planter, your cute protests when he offered to help you weed that tiny little veggie patch as if it was the most daunting task ever encountered and your voice, bright and lively as you told him about yourself upon his request. His grandmother had told him many stories growing up, about right and wrong, patience, kindness and fate. She told him when two people were meant for each other, their souls would recognize it and be drawn to the other by some unseen force. Back then, young Kita wasn‘t exactly sure what to make of it. It sounded very fantastical and without any data to back it up he thought it was another one of his grandmother‘s folktales. Now he wasn‘t so sure anymore because you were his first and last thought of the day.

He doubted that someone as beautiful and worldly as you would consider him as a match but he was merely glad to know he could be of help and make your life a little easier. After dinner the previous night he had told you he had some business in the city the next day and you could please wait for him at his place in the afternoon to collect your promised tomato starters. He had spent the morning making sure the little plants were in top shape, selecting the very best of the bunch. He was eager to get back home but as per usual, city traffic had other ideas.

Every couple of seconds he glanced at the clock on the truck‘s dashboard, hoping he didn‘t make you wait too long.

When he finally pulled into his driveway he spotted you sitting on his porch, his black and white dog lounging in your lap, getting his ears massaged.

A bundle lay next to you.

The dog‘s tail thwacked on the wooden porch as he approached.

“Ya look comfortable.“ He had meant it to his (guard) dog but somehow it seemed like your full cheeks got a bit of color.

“I hope I haven't kept ya waitin‘.“

“It‘s fine.“, you said simply, “I had great company.“ You petted the dog's head again who let out a happy huff.

Kita grinned and looked towards one of his greenhouses. “I‘ll go grab the tomatoes.“

You were brushing some dog hairs off your pants when he returned. Without meaning to, he searched your hands for an indication of a wedding band but shook his head when he caught himself.

He held out the tray with the starters.

“Thank you so much! They look great. And here.“, you bent down to exchange the tray for the bundle, “Since you said you wouldn‘t accept any money for them I made you dinner instead.“

His eyes widened. “Ya didn‘t have to.“

You shrugged. “I know, but it wouldn‘t feel right otherwise. And it‘s not like it‘s even close to an equal trade once these start producing.“

He was a little disappointed. After all, he had practiced inviting you to have dinner with him his entire drive back, but having more of your cooking was the next best thing, he supposed.

The following morning you found the bundle neatly wrapped on your doorstep, the large square bento box inside had been thoroughly cleaned and a note replaced the food “It was really delicious. Thank you very much. - Kita“.

Your heart stumbled when you stared at the neatly written words and grinning so hard your cheeks started to hurt, you pinned it to a little cork board next to the door.

a/n: thank you so much to @makkir0ll for helping me hatch this ostrich-sized brain egg 🌟

art: coloring done by @keiko-chan

[part 2]

[lovekillz]

MONTH 1, WEEK 3

CATEGORIES: [PLOT] [EVENT-002]

sunday morning. you are awoken by a knock at your door.

waiting outside is one of the hotel staff, accompanied by a gaunt older woman with pepper-colored hair and a badge ready in her hand. she introduces herself as OFFICER YU. she asks you two questions.

one, with a photograph of a face that you had seen around the hotel. one of the crew members, you think. "when was the last time you saw or spoke with this individual?" she asks. if you can't recall his name, she tells you, park heesung (@murmurline). i was informed he was part of your production crew.

she says your production crew with a hint of disdain. she must be a jinhae local.

her second question only throws you deeper into the dark: "what were you doing last night, past midnight?"

arriving downstairs, you find that the breakfast parlor, usually laid out with food and people making their coffees, is crawling with the tv production crew. a producer finds you and herds you to one side of the room with the rest of your crew, where you're added to the headcount. a younger woman keeps counting again and again, like there's something she's missing. you watch as she murmurs something to the producer, who murmurs something to the investigator.

"how should i do this?" the producer says. he's wringing his hands in front of his chest, temples shining with a faint sheen of sweat. "we need to do this right. i can't---"

"excuse me," officer yu cuts in. her voice rings clear and commanding over the parlor, and instantly all chatter dies down. "i look forward to your attention and cooperation this morning. to cut to the chase, we've received a missing persons report for a park heesung, who was last seen leaving the hotel past midnight last night. in part thanks to your," her eyes flicker to the numerous cameras stationed around the room, though you notice none of their lights are red, "diligent documentation of this event, he appeared to be heading towards the cliffsides. this corresponds with a few accounts we received from locals this morning, who claim to have witnessed something falling from the cliffs at some point last night."

"oh, god," someone murmurs. you recognize her, an jihye. the cinematographer. "that's my nephew. my nephew is missing? what are you saying? he fell?"

"i have not determined the full timeline of events yet," officer yu replies tersely, "but yes, that appears to be the unfortunate case. the eyewitness accounts suggest that this will be a body recovery rather than a---"

"what accounts?" jihye surges forward, before one of the producers holds her back. "that's my nephew! how do you know someone else wasn't involved? one of your witnesses? it's barely been twelve hours since you last saw him, he can still be alive, why are you acting like he's already---"

"our eyewitnesses are promised full confidentiality, ma'am. we can have a private discussion in the next room, but first i will need you to calm down." officer yu's gaze sweeps across the crowd. "the rest of you, please stay in town until you hear from me again, in case we need to speak."

she gestures at the producer, who leads an jihye out of the crowd and towards one of the connecting rooms. officer yu follows close behind. you expect her to be looking around at everyone, but instead, she's looking at all of the cameras, as if less interested in who might have been involved, and more interested in what might have been witnessed by others not in the room.

OOC DETAILS

OOC START. MARCH 23.

OOC END. though we will be using an event tag for the sake of organization, this is more of a plot drop, so there is no end time for any general threads that take place at this point in the ic timeline. however, threads for key moments (described below) must have at least the starter posted by APRIL 13.

TAGS TO USE. #lvk:event002 should be used on any threads/solos that play out key moments. other general threads do not have to use this tag, though it is recommended if the interaction is directly related to this plot drop.

as always, please don't hesitate to message the main if anything is inaccurate or you have any questions!

a crew member, park heesung, has been reported missing. he was last seen on camera heading somewhere outside of the hotel. if the "testimonies" are to be believed, the victim may have had an accident and fallen into the water below. at such a sheer drop, survival is unlikely, but officer yu doesn't even seem concerned with investigating that probability. she's convinced that the victim is already deceased, though she won't share her reasons or findings --- if she even has any.

after that announcement, the tv crew flies into crisis containment mode as they figure out how they will handle this news in such a public arena. they seem more concerned about public backlash than the fact that someone has gone missing.

for now, ALL MUSES HAVE BEEN FORBIDDEN TO TALK ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED IN ANY PUBLIC CAPACITY. all muses have also been instructed not to make any definite statements about the victim in any capacity, especially where there are cameras present. all muses have also been given a word of caution: to be more careful, to not stray too close to the woods/cliffs, and to avoid staying out after dark.

but the cameras will continue rolling, they say. just pretend everything is fine. we don't know what happened. he could still show up. tensions are starting to run high and will do so until the investigation's results are announced...or a body is found. to make matters worse, all outbound trains have been put out of service until the investigation is closed, effectively stranding you in jinhae.

in town, the locals have become more wary. you keep catching murmurs about one of them and another and again. they do appear troubled, but somehow unsurprised.

as if this has happened before. as if this may happen again.

PARTICIPATION

this event includes optional KEY MOMENTS that muses can take part in. these are essentially prompts for things that canonically occur during this IC period (weeks 3-4 of the reunion overall). general threads that take place during this same period / outside this period are certainly still allowed and encouraged. however, signing up to be part of a key moment will require you to write out a group thread or a solo using the prompt. you will be tagged in the replies once all roles in your prompt have been filled, and you can reach out to each other to coordinate the thread if you haven't already.

for fairness, each muse can only be involved in 1 key moment for now, until we announce that they are open for a second round of claims (this depends on how many slots are free/taken by a certain point). as of 3/30, writers may now claim more than one prompt per muse.

if you had signed up for a prompt with an event thread requirement but the other slot is not claimed by APRIL 13, we'll work with you about headcanoning what happened with an npc and turning it into a solo thread opportunity instead.

to claim a certain role, please comment the role's tag (H1, H2, etc) + your muse's name.

KEY MOMENTS - HOTEL

#1 — a couple of days after news of the disappearance, [H1 - CHAE WONSHIK / @draed] and [H2 - TAE CHILSEONG / @boyjove] are on the rooftop together when they spot strange movement in the trees leading up to the cliff's edge. from their vantage point, it looks like people carrying flickering lights, like candles, through the trees. wondering if it's somehow the victim after all, they go down to find the source of the lights. requirement: an event thread between the two muses. *this moment involves a discovery that will be sent to both muses when their thread reaches a certain point.

#2 — now compelled to create filler content to distract viewers with, the tv show producers have asked one of their leads, RYU SUMIN (@aprisonder), to conduct a seance with [H3 - AHN SEHA / @sehaa-lvk] in one of the parlor rooms of the hotel, to "make contact" with the supposed ghosts of the hotel. they will appear to be alone on camera, but unbeknownst to viewers, the producers have rigged special effects around the room to be remotely controlled to give the illusion of them establishing contact with a ghost. requirement: an event thread between the two muses. *this moment involves an ic script from the tv producers that will be sent to the muses when both slots are filled.

#3 — dissatisfied with the lack of answers, [H4 - OH KIYONG / @1nfernoh] and [H5 - JANG LIJAE / @abberatiohn] decide to investigate around the base of the cliff themselves. at low tide, they are able to get further around the outcrop than usual, and stumble upon a cave with a partly covered opening, as if the rock had been moved aside. soon, however, the tide begins to rise again, and they must either seek shelter inside until low tide returns or try to make it back to the beach without being swept out by the water. requirement: an event thread between the two muses. *this moment involves a discovery that will be sent to the muses when their thread reaches a certain point.

#4 — [H6 - BAE SUNHEE / @cr4shc0urse] finds a paper folded in a display case in the dining room: a torn page, with a drawing of the cliff's precipice. not long after, the paper is ripped out of their hands by CHO MINJI (@velveteenr4bbit), who is in a state of disarray. in her hands is a handful of other pages with similar drawings, apparently from her sketchbook, of the same cliff over and over again, and the silhouette of a body falling. it appears she is trying to find all of the pages before the investigators do. requirement: an event thread between the two muses. *this moment involves multiple discoveries that will be sent to the muses when their thread reaches certain points.

#5 — a few days after the disappearance, [H7 - SON NAMRA / @phantaisms] is awoken by a strange noise outside of their room. when they look out, they find that it's someone wearing one of the masks from filming. strangely, the person doesn't seem cognizant of their surroundings, and H7 decides to follow them. however, they eventually recognize that it's [H8 - SONG JIHOO / @hymnosis], who doesn't snap out of the trance until they manage to get the mask off — which they have no recollection of ever finding, or even putting on. requirement: an event thread between the two muses.

#6 — at the end of the week, [H9 - JEON BYEONGHUN / @rottingc0re] receives a private message on their crimson seal account from a throwaway user who claims that the night after the victim's disappearance, they saw JIANG YEQING (@8ractured) leaving the hotel to somewhere the cameras couldn't see. H9 decides to take matters into their own hands and confront yeqing about what they were doing that night, but yeqing reveals that he had also received a private message from an anonymous user who claims to have heard disembodied voices coming from the outdoor cameras feeds. they temporarily decide to work together to figure out what is happening, and they head out to search the forest area between the hotel and the cliff's edge. requirement: an event thread between the two muses. *this moment involves a discovery that will be sent to the muses when their thread reaches a certain point.

#7 — the unknowns surrounding the victim's disappearance feed unwittingly into [H10 - KWON SERA / @liveformebaby], [H11 - HAN HYEJIN / @5eraphism], and [H12 - LIM DOAH / @koisriver]'s anxieties. the increasingly oppressive air around the hotel causes them to have a vivid nightmare in which they are injured. when they wake up, they find that their injury has somehow carried over into reality. requirement: a solo thread detailing the muse's nightmare and what injury they sustained.

KEY MOMENTS - TOWN

#8 — on the day of the announcement, [T1 - HASHIMOTO KEIGO / @revelae] and [T2 - OPEN] go into town to get away from the chaos and end up at the liar's bar. however, at nightfall, the owner abruptly closes early and kicks them out. strangely, even the 24-hour convenience store closes down for the night, leaving them with two options: find somewhere else in town to stay for the night, or try to go back to the hotel and hope neither of them have an accident of their own. requirement: an event thread between the two muses. *this moment involves a discovery that will be sent to both muses when their thread reaches a certain point.

#9 — at the end of week 3, [T3 - LEE HYUNSIK / @forselunes] runs into AHN TAEJUN (@4ftersunset), who intends to go to the church to pray for the victim's safe return and asks if T3 can accompany them. partly wanting to get away from the tension in the hotel, T3 agrees to go along, but as night falls and taejun begins to bring out candles and a knife, it becomes clear that a prayer is not all they have come for. requirement: an event thread between the two muses. this moment may result in one or more muses sustaining an injury.

#10 — in the face of everything, [T4 - RYU SUMIN / @aprisonder] and [T5 - JANG LIJAE / @abberatiohn] decided that they can't be around the hotel right now. [T6 - SON NAMRA / @phantaisms] overheard their plans and thought it was a bad idea, but ultimately went with them to make sure they stayed safe. they have brought snacks, alcohol, blankets, and tents/sleeping bags to the field north of town, where no one else seems to go. it begins as a peaceful and surprisingly insightful night, as the situation prompts some of them to share their fears — but the peace is broken when T5 sees a masked face in the trees, causing panic. requirement: a group thread between the muses involved. T4 is responsible for starting the thread while they are already at the field, but the order of the reply chain afterwards is up to the writers. this moment may result in one or more muses sustaining an injury.

#11 — seeking distractions, [T8 - OPEN TO ANY SET/MEDIA/LPR ROLE] and [T7 - KWON SERA / @liveformebaby] are browsing the movie selections at hottracks. they find a tape labeled fatal frame that bears no cover otherwise, suggesting it is a home video. assuming it is someone's fanmade film, they load the tape into the projector in the back, only to see their own likenesses onscreen. and it isn't just them — it appears to be behind-the-scenes footage of the crew touring the costume department as the director asks them to pick a "mask that speaks to them." neither T8 nor T7 have any recollection of the moment they are seeing. requirement: an event thread between the two muses. *this moment requires a timeline switch, where the thread must at some point transition into a flashback thread of the 2024 filming, in which T8 and T7 peruse masks in the costume department for a specific mask that they feel drawn to. a list of options will be sent to both muses once the thread transitions.

#12 — as the investigation continues in silence, JEONG EUNJAE (@pcras1tes) receives an anonymous tip through the crimson seal, asking them to investigate [T9 - OPEN] on a specific night --- the night that the victim disappeared. the source gives no indication that they know anything about the disappearance (although they most certainly shouldn't), but claims to be a viewer who was watching the tapes at the time and saw T9 acting "oddly" on camera. they provide no other details. eunjae now runs into T9 at the smiling gogi in town and takes the opportunity to find out more about exactly what T9 was doing that night, and whether eunjae should be taking this tip to the police. requirement: an event thread between the two muses. optional for T9: a solo thread depicting what they had been doing on the aforementioned night, and what the camera may have seen.

[separatist-apologist]

The Prophecy

Summary: No one has seen or heard from Elain Archeron in two months…until she turns up one day in the Spring Court with no memory of where she's been or what she's been doing.

Tamlin and Lucien will have to work together to untangle the mystery of Elain's missing memories.

My gift for @olenvasynyt- but other people can read, too?

@acotargiftexchange

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

-

“You’re in my dream again.”

Elain sighed. “Were you waiting for me?”

He was shirtless, for starters, and she didn’t believe for a moment that hadn’t been done on purpose, though she didn’t quite know how. She could walk through dreams,  but as far as Elain could tell, people couldn’t control what they dreamt about. Case and point—Lucien was half submerged while holding a heavy, iron skillet filled with what appeared to be ham. 

“No, clearly not,” Lucien replied, frowning down at whatever concoction he’d been making. He dropped into the inky water but otherwise didn’t move. 

“Are you having a nightmare?”

“Starting to feel like it,” he mumbled.

“Get out of the water and conjure a shirt—”

“I can’t,” he hissed, promoting her to look into the opaque water. She saw nothing but thighs, but that was enough. 

“You’re naked?!” she screeched, whirling on her heel. She nearly tumbled backward given the rocky shore was slick from the lapping waves and what a nightmare that would have been for her, too. 

“You’re the one in my dream,” he reminded her in that matter-of-fact way of his. “I don’t think you get to be outraged.”

“I’m still figuring it out,” she admitted, turning back around to look only at his face. His ruined, scarred face…that was so impossibly handsome it infuriated her. Drag five nails down her face and everyone would call her spoiled. Do it to Lucien, and he was rakishly handsome. She knew the story, of course—he’d defied Amarantha and she’d pried his eye out. Feyre had told her back in the early days when she’d hoped Elain might fall into Lucien’s arms and be settled with one of the fae.

He shifted in the crystalline water lapping around his waist while Elain tried not to notice the sculpted contours of his chest. So he was attractive? Everyone in Prythian was, effectively making it meaningless. Once, she’d been blinded by the beauty of everyone around her but now it hardly phased her at all. Another chiseled jaw—she rather liked the imperfection of Lucien’s face.

Not that she’d ever tell him, of course. But it made him interesting to look at. 

“What is it like?” Lucien questioned, pulling her back to the moment. 

“A crossroads, I suppose,” she told him, kicking a pebble with her boot. “It used to be impassable but lately I’ve been able to come here.”

“Could you visit anyone?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, though she, too, was curious about it. Would the walls her sister purported to keep up be enough to withstand Elain if she truly wanted to see her? “I don’t understand my magic.”

There. She said it. Lucien didn’t seem surprised by it, resting his palm flat against the water's surface. His long, auburn hair skimmed beside him, half soaked which gave him a cat-like quality. 

“Seers are rare,” Lucien reminded her. She’d heard that all before. “No one really knows how their magic works or the limitations of it.” “Feyre said courts would go to war for a Seer,” Elain told him. Was that why Tamlin wouldn’t let her go? 

“I doubt it,” Lucien replied sharply, as though mere mention of Feyre irked him. “But they wouldn’t be likely to give you up, either.”

“Like you and Tamlin?”

“I was waiting for you to say that,” Lucien replied with a half smile. “I don’t know if a Seer could tell us anything we don’t already know.”

“If I could, though…?”

“We’re not keeping you—”

“We?” she interrupted, catching the way he kept referring to himself and Tamlin as a unit. “You work for my sister.”

Don’t you?

Lucien’s smile slipped. “Ah. Right. No, I am no longer employed by the Night Court.”

“Why not?”

“It’s time to move on,” Lucien told her, his gaze shifting to look at the fuzzy world beyond her. The scene was only filled out around them, blurred just as soon as she looked away from Lucien. Dreams were strange, half-formed things and she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised he’d only colored in the pieces he needed. “I thought Velaris would be a new start for me.”

“You never lived there,” she accused. “How can it be a new start if you never gave it a chance?”

“Everyone hates me,” Lucien spat, straightening out his shoulders. “Maybe not your sister, but everyone else? They can’t stand the sight of me and make no secret of it. I don’t belong in the human lands, either, though it was…more pleasant than Night. I miss Spring—it was the only place that felt like home.”

“If you stay, we’ll never see each other again,” she reminded him.

Lucien scoffed. “I can’t imagine you’re disappointed by that.”

“They don’t like me either,” she said impulsively. Lucien rolled his eyes, half turning to reveal a back that was lined with more scars. She felt sickened by the sight—why was everyone constantly trying to kill him? Lucien was frustrating, sure, but Elain didn’t think he deserved all this. 

“Elain, Rhysand has offered a reward of a million marks to anyone who knows where you are.”

It was her turn to scoff. “Why? So he can go back to looking at me like I’m Feyre’s annoying child he can’t stand the sight of? They don’t like me…they just tolerate my presence because Feyre feels guilty we were turned.”

“Why fight so hard to go back?”

She shrugged. “Just because I’m unhappy there doesn’t mean I want to leave here with you.”

He exhaled, the sound reminiscent of a laugh. “Fair enough. Where would you go?”

She sighed. “Gray and I had these plans, after we got married. I know Feyre and Nesta think I was going to live behind those walls and…I don’t know…have babies and clean and cook, but we were going to travel. His father was still lord and we…”

It hurt to think about, even with so much distance between them. Lucien looked down at the water.

“I once made similar plans. I…I know it’s cold comfort, but I know how you feel.”

Feyre had told Elain that story, too, though Elain wasn’t sure now was the right time to mention it. It seemed like the sort of thing Lucien might want to tell her someday, and the kind of story he deserved to tell for himself. 

“You were going to travel?”

“She’d never seen anything outside of Autumn,” he murmured, his eyes glazed over. “I wanted to show her…it doesn’t matter anymore. I only meant, I understand your grief. It’s not just losing the person, but the life you imagined, too. A whole future, gone and no one understands that.”

“They don’t,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around her body, though she wasn’t cold. “They just wanted me to move on. To be happy. At least I was immortal, right?”

“‘You’re young, you’ll find someone else,’” Lucien said in a mocking tone, words that Elain had heard, too, though not quite in the same way.

What about Lucien? Have you tried talking to Lucien? Your mate, Lucien? 

It was easy to hate him for it. Elain had never bothered to ask if he wanted her—she’d just assumed he did. Afterall, he kept coming around, kept giving her gifts, would sit in the same room with her silently, trying to speak to her before he’d finally given up entirely. How much of that was because he wanted to, and how much was out of dutiful obligation? 

“I don’t know where I was during those months,” Elain decided to tell him. Lucien looked up at her, his expression carefully guarded. “If I help you figure it out…will you let me leave?”

Lucien nodded his head. “I won’t stand in your way.”

“And you and Tamlin will help me with my magic,” she added, because it seemed important. 

“Deal.”

“You don’t know if he’ll agree to that,” she countered.

“Trust me—he will,” Lucien assured her. “So long as you’re honest with us.”

“Didn’t he forbid Feyre—”

“That was different,” Lucien interrupted, clearly irked. “A different climate, a different…just all of it was different and she knows it. If you want help, I’ll help you.”

There were some things she never planned to tell him—like the wards she could see and how she unchained them the way someone might undo the loops in their knitting. She also needed to be more careful dropping prophecies in his lap—Lucien still hadn’t told her about the last one, though to be fair, they were barely on speaking terms. If he could help her figure out how to navigate this shadowy dream world, Elain thought she could manage the rest on her own.

“You’ll help me with Rhys and Feyre?”

“There’s no one alive that could help you with the pair of them. You’ll have to stand up to them by yourself,” Lucien told her with a mocking smile. 

“I can, you know.”

“I believe it,” he replied easily. “Now do you mind leaving my dream?”

“I’ll be back,” she replied, turning her back to him. 

“I’ll make sure I’m wearing pants, then,” he grumbled, almost too softly for her to hear. Elain didn’t know why she found that funny. But she caught herself giggling softly as she made her way back toward the flaring light and her own dreams.

—

Tamlin was out, courting anyone who’d remained that he felt he could trust. Lucien had stayed up the night before creating a short list, alongside a deed for titles, land, and money—all Tamlin had to do was put a name on the parchment and stamp it with the official seal to be kept in Tamlin’s manor as an official record. He’d be working out of the estate further north, which also lent a certain amount of credibility if Rhys managed to get one of his bats through the wards. 

Lucien had noticed holes in them, always just at the edges—always his wards. He mended them easily enough, but every morning he’d find new holes peeking around the edges—no one should have been able to get through the wards at the border, and when he winnowed down to check, those were still intact.

Perhaps he was simply losing his touch. 

Elain was out in the gardens most morning, awake long before Lucien managed to drag himself out of bed. She went to bed much earlier than him, and seemed to wake with the literal sunrise—or before. Tamlin had mentioned once she’d beaten him to breakfast. 

He found her, as he so often did, pulling weeds while the hen she’d named Henrietta ambled about. The bird didn’t like him much, which amused Elain greatly. If he was honest with himself, he rather liked the smile that lit over her face whenever the bird would start clucking at him, nipping at the hem of his pants with its beak.

“You weren’t in my dream last night,” Lucien accused.

Elain’s head snapped up. “Yeah.”

“Where did you go?”

“Cassian’s,” she mumbled, her cheeks flaming red. “He didn’t realize I was there…it’s for the best.”

Jealousy clawed at him as he asked, “What did you see?”

“He was dreaming about my sister,” Elain muttered, pulling a weed viciously from the ground. “It was…detailed.”

Lucien could help the laugh that wheezed out of him. He’d smelled the sex rolling off the pair of them, he could imagine what Cassian dreamt about and didn’t think he’d want to see it, either. Elain shot him a filthy look, eyes narrowed. “It’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny,” he argued. “Sorry about your failed escape attempt.”

“I wasn’t…” her cheeks warmed. “I wasn’t trying to escape, just…tell them I’m fine and they don’t need to worry.”

Lucien laughed a second time. “Maybe you should send Rhys a letter.”

Elain, unaware of the history there, seemed to consider it. Lucien wondered how Feyre and Rhys might take a letter where Elain claimed she’d left with Tamlin of her own free will and didn’t want to be contacted. Would they feel justified hunting her down? After all, who knew what Tamlin might be doing to her? 

The whole thing made him feel bitter all over again. Rhys had gotten away with all of it, had been allowed to paint themselves as victims, as if the mask Rhys purported to wear was common knowledge. The rules were simply different for Rhys, for Feyre, for their whole court and sometimes, in his angrier moments, Lucien wished for a violent civil war that would finally oust the Night Court entirely.

He wouldn’t win any points with Elain on that front. 

“Does this mean you want to stay?” he questioned, hating how hopeful he felt. Her wanting to stay didn’t mean she wanted him, and a smarter male wouldn’t have let himself think any differently. It was just…well. She was here, and she wasn’t fighting him so hard, and Lucien couldn’t help but think that maybe she’d like him if she spent a little more time.

“Want? No. But I thought about what we talked about in my dream last night and I think if I ever want the life I imagined, I can’t go back.” 

She said the words as though she’d rehearsed them, unable to meet his gaze as she spoke them aloud. Practicing, he supposed, for when she inevitably had to tell Feyre the same. 

“Besides, Tamlin hardly speaks to me at all,” she added.

“He’s not good with people,” Lucien replied, lowering himself to his knees so he was beside her, though with enough space to not be touching her. 

“What happened between him and Feyre?” she asked, pulling off one of her gloves with her teeth. 

“Too much to explain, even if it was my story to tell,” Lucien replied, his words edged with frustration. “Maybe they were both cowards for how they handled their relationship, and cowards again for how they chose to deal with the aftermath.”

“I wonder if that’s what Gray thinks about me,” she murmured. Lucien wondered if she’d be angry if he ripped Graysen’s arms off his torso and beat him to death with them. Probably unhappy, but oh. Her fury might have been worth it.

“Why would he think that?” Lucien demanded sharply.

“Tamlin fell apart, didn’t he? So did I,” she said, drawing the absolute worst conclusion from what he’d been trying to say. 

“Different circumstances,” Lucien managed to get out. “Tamlin…had a responsibility to his people that he failed to uphold in his grief. You were…Elain, in the Cauldron, did you…”

She blinked up those soft, brown eyes at him. “Die?”

God, he couldn’t say the word, was strangled just hearing her say it. Lucien merely nodded, hoping his face didn’t betray him.

“Yes,” she whispered, looking down at her now bare hands. “It was…it was agonizing. I thought I’d been gone for years, but Feyre said it was a minute.”

“It was,” he whispered.

“And you were there,” she reminded him, as if Lucien had ever forgotten. “You and Tamlin.”

She’d said it once before, lost in the haze of her grief. Lucien had felt shame then, and he felt it now. “We didn’t know,” was all he could say to her, the only explanation for it.

“But you knew about Feyre,” she shot back, her own words dripping with condescension. Sometimes Lucien thought meeting Feyre was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. 

“I can’t explain—”

“Try.”

His temper flared. “Every single time I ever saw Rhys, he was making a joke about the casual violence he could inflict. He played a role, fine, I accept that, but how was I ever supposed to know? It wasn’t like he informed me when he was joking about my mothers death, or forcing me to bow while your own sister pissed herself with fear at his presence. We’re all dragged under the mountain where he’d lived for the last fifty years as the right hand man to Amarantha. Where he laughed when she ripped out my eye, and suggested she do the same with my tongue. So when your sister vanished with him, of course we assumed the worst. We were desperate—Amarantha modeled her court after his own.”

“She’s allowed to leave,” Elain said softly.

“I never said she wasn’t,” Lucien snapped back, his heart pounding in his throat. “But she was my friend and I—” 

Lucien rolled his shoulders, exhaling deeply. “I loved her like a sister. You don’t understand, and I can’t make you understand—and you don’t have to side with me, but when she left, she couldn’t read, and one day we get this letter from her with immaculate handwriting claiming it's from her. Rhys can control people with his mind, it's just…we couldn’t see her, couldn’t prove any of it was true.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Obviously,” he replied, holding her gaze. “But we can’t go back, only forward. Feyre was allowed to move on…the rest of us should, too.”

“She deserves happiness,” Elain offered quietly, as if Lucien doubted that.

“You do, too,” he offered, wondering what that looked like for her. He suspected she was starting to give her future a shape in her mind, even if that shape was merely get-as-far-away-from-this-place-as-I-can. It was better than hiding in Feyre’s sprawling, riverside estate day in and day out. And Elain could say whatever she liked, but he hadn’t seen those dead, glassy eyes since they’d begun holding her captive. 

Elain only shrugged her shoulders. “If you’re going to stay out here, you have to work, Lucien.”

A familiar refrain. He wasn’t pretending when he groaned, his back still sore from all the raking he’d done the day before. She demanded perfection, which was apparently somehow achievable though not by him. 

“Why don’t you start over there,” she added, pointing to where he’d finished the day before.

Outraged, Lucien replied, “I’ve already done it!”

“The rows need to be straight and orderly, otherwise the plant beds run into each other. You’ve got wavy rows.”

“I do not.”

“I’ve marked them off for you with string,” she continued, ignoring him entirely. “Just carefully carve them out.”

“This is why no one likes you, you know,” Lucien grumbled, rising to his feet. He expected that to piss her off—in truth, he shouldn’t have said it. It was meant to be a little good natured teasing, the same he’d give to anyone else. Elain, though…she always seemed so soft. So fragile. Even when she was snapping at him, her bottom lip seemed to tremble in warning. He braced himself for her sadness, her hurt.

“They don’t like me because I smell like you,” she snapped in response. Lucien’s barked out a laugh.

“Wet dog?”

“And sun baked trash,” she sniffed, sliding her hands back into the soil. A smile tugged at her mouth—she was pleased with herself.

“Get used to it,” Lucien said, earning a raised brow in return. He meant it, though. As long as she was speaking to him, and living nearby, Lucien didn’t intend to go anywhere. Even if this was all he could ever have—even if he could never be more than her friend.

It was enough.

[raginggeeksworld]

Chapter 5

Taglist: @vainillasmil157

After Nina made sure to check on Y/N's wound (and constantly tease her about Kaz), she went to bring Inej some water. The shapeshifter asked Nina about her, and made her promise to tell her when she was awake. Y/N thought of Inej as part of her family, and she didn't feel like going to a funeral in the near future.

Kaz checked on her as she asked, and she soon fell asleep not long after he left. When she woke, her limbs were sore from the uncomfortable position she sat in the chair. She noticed Kaz's coat draped over her and she smiled at the familiar scent.

Y/N slowly stood up from the chair and began putting on the change shirt Kaz smuggled into her bag. She also put on the leather vest, because feeling the fabric around her body made her feel secure, though she didn't put the knives back on. Y/N took a deep breath and opened the door, only to be met with Jesper's surprised gaze.

"You're awake?" He asked but then quickly corrected himself. "Well, of course you are since you're standing here. Saints, was I worried about you," He went to hug her but was stopped by when he heard Y/N wince from his touch. "Shit, did I hurt your wound?"

"Yeah, you kinda grabbed the wrong shoulder," Y/N answered and put a hand over her left shoulder.

"Sorry, I'll try to be careful next time," Jesper replied and then carefully put his arm around her, while leading her on board to the others. He began talking about what happened after Kaz brought her to the cabin, and she slept.

"I swear on all of Inej's Saints, that he was extremely brutal, like, I've never seen him act like this before," He said, "And I've seen lots of things in the Barrel," Jesper added.

"What did he do?" Y/N asked somewhat curiously, because the way Jesper talked, it sounded like he held some fear against Kaz. "For starters, he beated the shit out of Oomen, the man who wanted to drown you, then cut out his eye for Inej, and after learning he was sent by Pekka, he killed him and threw him into the water," He answered and his words made Y/N halt in her steps. "I'm sorry. Did I hear you say Pekka? As in Pekka Rollins, the one man Kaz hates more than anything?"

"Yes," she heard Kaz answer from next to her. She then realized Jesper not only lead her on board, but directly in front of the three boys and Nina. "He sent those men to the harbor to stop us from getting to Fjerda and the Ice Court. I have a suspicion that he took on the job as well, and intends to be the only one finishing it." Kaz told her and Y/N furrowed her brows.

"There's also a chance he might kill us once we step inside the Ice Court," Wylan added which made Kaz roll his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. If he's half as smart as he thinks, he won't kill us in the prison, because that would alert the guards. He's going to wait until we do the hard work, and then catch us," He said nonchalantly, like it wasn't their deaths he was talking about.

"Fine!" Jesper sighed. "But if Pekka Rollins kills us all, I'm going to get Wylan's ghost to teach my ghost how to play the flute, just so I can annoy the hell out of your ghost," He told Kaz and Y/N grinned at his words.

Kaz smugly looked back at him. "I'll just hire Matthias' ghost to kick your ghost's ass," Matthias grumbled. "My ghost won't associate with your ghost,"

Y/N straightened her back under Jesper's arm. "My ghost will be having a wager with Nina and Inej's ghost on which one of you is the biggest idiot,"

"That would be me," Jesper smiled at her and she sent a quick glance to Kaz as she spoke. "I wouldn't be so sure, but you're close," The boy laughed at her and let go of her shoulders to take a look at Wylan's drawing. It was complete now, and Y/N needed to admit that the boy had talent.

After some more talking about the plan, Kaz dismissed everyone and Y/N decided to go with Nina to check on Inej. She felt guilty for not doing it sooner, but the heartrender reassured her that it was better for her to rest, if only for a few hours.

They went inside the room and when Y/N saw how lifeless Inej's body looked on the table, her stomach turned. She sat down on the chair next to her and glanced at the bandage around her torso.

"How bad is it?" She asked as she turned around, and the look on Nina's face turned into worry in an instant. "It's a pretty deep wound. Lucky for her the blade wasn't poisoned, so her chances are better,"

"So there's a chance she won't wake up," Y/N whispered and took a glance at Inej's peaceful face. "But she's going to, isn't she?" She looked up to see Nina standing next to her with a sad face. "I really hope so," She said and gently grabbed Inej's face to pour some water into her mouth, to keep her hydrated.

"You mind if I stay here with you? I don't want to sit alone in that cabin," Y/N said to Nina and she tried to hide a smile. "Really? I thought after your encounter with Kaz, you'd like that cabin," Y/N let out a gasp at her words.

"Nina Zenik, what are you implying?" She asked dramatically to which the girl playfully put her hands on her hip. "I'm just curious why the two of you lolked so flushed," She replied and her voice changed to a teasing tone. Y/N tried to hide the embarassment from her face as she answered.

"I had a bullet wound, we were both freezing from the water. That's it," Nina looked at Y/N with raised eyebrows. "And I'm the Queen of Ravka. You do know that I'm a Heartrender? I can hear everything," She smiled knowingly at Y/N, but she refused to look back at her. Then Nina sighed and put a hand on her shoulder and spoke softly.

"Look, whatever is happening between the two of you, it's clear that you don't want anyone to know. I can't promise that I won't interrupt you again, because I'm a naturally curious person, but I swear, that I won't tell anyone about it,"

Y/N finnaly looked at her and smiled in relief. "Thanks a lot, Nina"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the next three days, they took shifts in looking after Inej and her wound. They would try and feed her, keep her hydrated and talk to her, tell stories and old ravkan tales, as if she could hear them.

The two girls got to know each other better, now that they had the time for it. Y/N loved how confident and humorous Nina was, and sometimes the way she talked it reminded her of her mother. It made her chest feel warm. She also told some things about her childhood when she still lived in Os Kervo, and noticed the surprised glances she got from Nina after a few of her stories.

"Sometimes I'm really surprised by you," Nina told her on their third night, when they were both in the room with Inej. "Yeah? Why?" Y/N asked with a slight smile. "You're a gunsmith and a shapeshifter thought to be extinct, yet, the stories you tell, they're so...stupid, and childish and happy, I mean-"

"How did I end up in the Barrel, is what you're asking?" Y/N questioned and Nina nodded her head. The shapeshifter sighed and leaned back in her chair, as she thought about her answer. She trusted Nina, but not yet enough to tell her all the details. "Let's just say that I was using my powers when I shouldn't have, and a powerful person's men saw it, and we had to escape,"

"We?" Nina asked and Y/N lightly chuckled at her question. "Yeah, me and my brother, Raffiel. Ghezen, was he a pain in the ass. But I'd do anything for him and his family," She told her honestly and Nina smiled widely at her words.

"Ooh, does he have a wife? Or a husband maybe? Kids?" She asked quickly and Y/N laughed at her. "I see. Now that you can't pry into my private life, you want to pry into my brothers?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm a cruel Grisha woman, clearly seducing you for imformation about your brother. I'm so evil," Nina sighed dramatically and then looked at Y/N, waiting for her answer.

"Well, he has a wife and a son. The kid's so full of energy I swear if they let him outisde he'd run to Fjerda and back in one day. But he's the sweetest kid you could ever meet. And those green eyes? It's like staring into a pair of emeralds," She shook her head with a smile. She hoped it wasn't the last time she saw her nephew.

Every day they got closer to Fjerda, a knot appeared in her stomach, and each day it got tighter and tighter. She knew Kaz had a solid plan and she believed in him with every inch of herself, yet, there was also a small voice in the back of her head telling her that it won't work out, that they'll get caught and stay in prison till their death. She ignored the voice, but soon enough it was going to cause trouble for her.

And when Inej woke up, Y/N never saw someone cry as much as Nina did in the next few minutes. After they got her drinking and eating a few bites, they told her everything that happened at the harbor, including the few details of Kaz's plan. Y/N left out the fact that she almost drowned, and Nina left out what she assumed between the two. When they began talking about the Crow and the Cup tattoo, Inej lightly turned her head towards Y/N, who was standing beside Nina, next to the table.

"When did you get it? I know that it was already on you when we first met," Inej asked quietly, still somewhat week from her wound. Y/N's brows raised in surprise as she looked at the girl.

"And you're asking me this now ?" She asked and Inej let out a small smile. "I almost died, and there's lots of things I needed to ask, so...least you can do is give me an answer," The girl paused before whispering, "Before I bleed out again," Nina alet out a half chuckle hald yelp, but Y/N just stared at Inej.

"I hate you right now," She said, but seeing that the Suli-girl won't back down, she sighed.

She gave her a short answer, that she was certain she was going to regret later, not to mention the lecture she was going to get from Kaz when he hears about it.

"I got it along with Kaz, when we were fifteen,"

[amypihcs]

Hello my friends! Today's Wake Watson Up day! Our dear doctor might be a bit grumpy!

Well, i'd be grumpy too if my partner woke me up at ass o'clock in a freezing morning. Holmes, i hope you kissed him good morning at the very least.

Poor Watson, cold, knocked out of bed early, no breakfast, even! Holmes, treat your darling a bit better, please!

Oh, apparently the note is from Hopkins calling them for a case! Here's why Holmes is happy and excited

AND STILL SHOULD STOP INSULTING WATSON'S WRITING. Good man Watson replying that way. Oh well, during the beeretirement WATSON will have occasion to criticize HOLMES' writing instead uwu. But back to their case, it's not a moment for bickering, now.

murder.

Uuuh! And an IMPORTANT one! And now that he warmed up with deducing the way Watson shaved with his eyes closed and being an ass to our good doctor, Holmes starts the deductions. Watson would just like to catch some sleep in the train. Can't fault him, toh.

Oh here's Hopkins! Nuu, no more care? You deny Holmes cases? No more case for Holmes? Oh! OH! Ja- No wait. Let's see anyway.

Watson...

this is right on the bistinguished path. Also ouchie, poor girl.

Abused i see. Holmes sees too but lets the topic drop. Not the time, but his spidey senses are tingling.

Holmes, muttering: don't you say Watson is stomping on his foot.

Poor girl again. She's so right. Also thanks acd for having denounced the way it was impossible or very difficult at the time for women to obtain a divorce in England.

Well, yeah, accounts of the mess follows and then a quick question to Theresa, the maid

WHOOOO has balls of steel. And tells our boys to be off. Well, to the dining room.

Poor Holmes. He wanted a nice CASE.

OOOH but he's interested! Well, for starters there's Pavarotti (thank @mostvaliantandmostpround for this) a body on the floor

Ouchie. Well, we can agree he's dead-dead.

And much better like this. An abuser. Great. Holmes' senses were right to tingle.

And Holmes isn't swallowing the burglars explanation.

weeeeird. Did they know someone?

MORE weird. Took few things. And seems UNLIKELY. And ooh? Three glasses? HALLOA!

He's INTERESTED. Very interested. Watson stop staring at him in that way, please, those are the original heart eyes™.

And a little deduction to raise the morning's morale, just to say!

But he's still Sad about the lack of interesting case for now... Poor Holmes, well, Hopkins is a nice man and knows how to do his job! Why shouldn't Holmes give him credit?

And now sorry... Watson has something to do

Like a detective to convince it's time for lunch (sent the letter around midday). He'll tell the rest of the story in another letter.

[bookwormscififan]

The Chaos Files, Chapter 12

Read on AO3!

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11

A/N: This was on hold until I figured out where to take the plot, so now we're back. This is kind of just some exposition and sorting my thoughts through the characters, but it's still a good chapter.

Warnings: Implied smut at the end.

--

“I get these feelings,” Jackie explained slowly, pouring hot water into three mugs of coffee and blood. “They’re not very strong, but they leave me worried. I can never seem to predict when the feelings happen, or even if I can control them, but they usually mean something terrible is going to happen.”

“Not like a premonition?” Jameson clarified, taking the mug from Jackie and having a sip.

“No, it’s more of a feeling, like this cold pit that settles in my heart and makes me feel sick,” Jackie replied, sitting in the couch beside Phantom and waiting for him to settle into his side before handing over the other mug. “When you read something and it sets dread into you, or the chill that goes down your spine when something bad is coming.”

“Jackie, love, is this about the dream you had this morning?” Phantom asked quietly, resting his cheek on Jackie’s shoulder comfortingly.

“I dreamed I lost Phantom,” Jackie confessed, pressing his nose to Phantom’s hair as his eyes welled with tears. “He left. Or he was taken from me, I can’t remember now. All I remember is the feeling of loss as I slept, the helplessness of not being able to stop what was coming, and the need to hold onto Phan for as long as I could.”

“Like Shawn,” Jameson mumbled to himself, staring into his mug with a focused expression. “Shawn used to feel things. He always said it was—well, he had a wonderful sense of humour. Jackie, do you think this dream feeling may be a message of some sort?”

“I don’t know,” Jackie answered, biting his lip and hissing when his fang broke the skin. “It just felt so real, and I can’t be sure what might happen if I just ignore it like I did before—” he cut himself off, eyes going wide.

“Before what?”

“I felt something similar when Shawn was… you know,” he admitted, avoiding Jameson’s questioning gaze. “But Shawn also felt things, and our feelings weren’t the same, so I figured maybe I was wrong.”

----

“Jameson said they hanged Shawn,” Mad mumbled, flicking through his papers with a frown. “Hanging isn’t a usual form of murder for vampires. With our rapid healing, we wouldn’t stay dead for long.”

“What are you saying?” Mare asked, sprawled on the bed with only a sheet covering him, skin red from blood and bites Mad had given him before getting distracted by his thoughts. “And do I need to get dressed?”

“Stay there,” Mad answered, biting back a smirk at Mare’s questioning hitch of breath. “I’m saying there’s probably something more that happened to Shawn. Maybe something Jameson doesn’t even know about.”

“Like what?”

“Anything from faking his own death to hiding a plan from him,” Mad replied, setting several papers aside before turning back to face Mare. “If your life was in danger and the only way to keep you safe was for me to die, I’d find a way to make people believe I was dead, so you stayed safe.”

“Or you could kill everyone trying to hurt me,” Mare countered, lips quirking into a smirk as Mad’s eyes darkened. “When they kidnapped me, you killed them to save me. Why wouldn’t Shawn just do that instead?”

“For starters, Shawn isn’t me.” Mad stepped over to the bed and ran his fingers along Mare’s skin, watching the way his breath stuttered in his chest at the touch. “And I did say that I’d fake my own death to ensure you stayed safe.”

“I wouldn’t want to live if I thought you were dead, though,” Mare whispered, eyes wide as tears welled in the corners. “You’re my everything.”

“Shawn couldn’t claim Jameson because he was already claimed,” Mad mused, climbing into the bed and pulling Mare into his lap. “He may not realise how dependent Jameson is on him, leading him to fake his hanging and disappear, not knowing the grief he created.”

“How are we going to tell Jameson about this?” Mare asked, tracing patterns into Mad’s arms.

“Give me a few more days to organise the hypotheses,” Mad hummed, “Then we can present something more solid to him and Jackie. I don’t want to give them half theories or false hopes.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Mare’s head, resting his mouth there as he lost himself in thought, staring distantly at the workbench.

“Do you want to go back to showing me I’m yours?” Mare offered quietly, sensing Mad’s discomfort. “You need a distraction, and you told me not to put my clothes back on. Have a break before working on the theories again. Maybe I could help you.” He smiled when Mad’s hold relaxed, turning around to kiss him deeply before laying back on the bed.

“I swear you only ever think about sex,” Mad chuckled, shifting to sit beside Mare anyway, running his fingers down his sides and watching Mare hold back a choked-off whine.

“When you’re right here touching me, it’s hard to think of anything else,” Mare replied, gasping when Mad pinned his hands above his head by the wrists before leaning down to trace the line of his throat with his fangs. “You’re addicting.”

“I know I am,” Mad purred, sinking his teeth into the skin just under Mare’s jawline, humming at the rich taste of his mate’s blood before pulling away and licking his lips. “But you’re intoxicating to me; enriching my being whenever you let me taste you.”

“Then keep tasting me,” Mare panted, rolling his head to the side to give Mad more access to his neck. “Have your fill, and when you’re sated, I’ll return the favour.”

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

@iamvegorott @rattyboyisemo @brokentimewatch @dungeon-dragons-dragons

[girldragongizzard]

Chapter 1: A battle without honor or humanity

And as I step up to him, I then notice his eyes.

And our eyes meet as I plod by, heads turning to maintain contact.

I can’t exactly say that we’re not transfixed, but we’ve both got lucid control of the rest of our bodies, despite how rigidly locked our gazes are.

“Hello, Meghan,” he says in an odd, almost mechanical male British voice.

It’s a strange tableau.

I am now standing fully outside the door with my body half turned toward him, raised onto my hind legs so that both my eyes can be level with his. And he stands just inside, half turned towards me, holding the door open with his body. And we’re at the Fairport branch of the Washington State Department of Licensing, or what people locally still call the DMV.

Inside, there are people waiting in chairs for their numbers or names to come up in an atmosphere of banal boredom and anticipation, and Daniel Säure in his best human disguise.

Outside, there are cars in a parking lot, glinting in the sunlight allowed by the parting of clouds, and me, a blue dragon with a magical flame orange purse.

And we’re not moving.

“Stay,” Säure says in that clear AI voice he’s imitating. “Please. We. Talk. First. Business.” He manages to tilt his head toward the inside.

He’s just slightly more articulate than I am.

I want to attack him. Bite him. Claw him. Engulf him in my coils and wings and drag him to the ground. Tear chunks off of him, and swallow them whole.

“Okay,” I say, and move to go back inside.

He takes a number and then finds a seat near the aisle where there’s a spot for me to settle down, breaking eye contact first. I follow, feeling slightly more relaxed, but more suspicious.

“I. Renew. License,” he says to me, quiet.

The whole atmosphere in here has changed with the two of us in it. People notice, but studiously do not look our way. Like they can feel the tension and want to be no part of it, but are stuck by their circumstances and their need to jump through bureaucratic hoops to satisfy the State of Washington and continue driving where they need to go.

I try a word just to see if it changes how everything feels. I do mean a different word, but I haven’t learned it yet, so I say the near synonym, “Peace.”

“Yes,” he says.

A few of the people around us do seem to relax a little.

“Coffee,” I say.

“Yes. After. This,” he replies with a human smile, flashing teeth. 

That’s not a friendly expression to a dragon. Especially with the number of pointy teeth he displays.

He’s playing human. It’s meant to look friendly to the humans around us, at least. I don’t let it escalate my own reactions. Though, that’s hard.

I’m imagining dragging his bloody corpse around the room and whipping my head to smash it into things. It’s what I actually want to do.

I calmly pull out my tablet, put it in my mouth, place it on the floor, turn it on, and pull up my app. We have the time.

“I have questions,” I say.

“Later,” he responds, speaking with his own syrinx again, showing off his vocabulary with every utterance. “This. First.” And he gestures at the counter. “I. Drive.”

I’d had the thought that conversing over coffee would be the civilized, non-combatant way for us to talk at length, and I’m thinking I might have to blow off therapy to do this. So I had said the word “coffee”. But now I’m wondering if I really want to drag this asshole into my coffee shop where I think I’ve left my own people, my friends, fairly traumatized about my own nature.

I did, yesterday, after all, tell them just exactly what I thought I was.

And, it’s pretty clear that this individual, this Daniel Säure as I’m sure he is, is the same kind of dragon that I am.

Two of us on my home turf is a bit much.

Perhaps a review of our situation is in order before it gets any more tense.

For starters, this is a billionaire I’m sitting next to.

He’s not on par with the hundred-billionaires, but he’s still got control of more money than the rest of the county can dream of.

With his land holding Morning Glory Corporation, if anyone can be said to own the county, it’s him.

But there’s more.

“You. Busy,” he says.

“Later,” I tell him by knuckling my tablet screen.

“Okay.”

—

A little over a month ago, dragons started roaming the Earth, and I’m one of them.

Before that, most of us, if not all of us, were still dragons. We just thought we were stuck looking like humans like the rest of humanity.

I was a 50 year old deeply closeted and deeply dysphoric disabled trans woman living in the Magnolia Apartments in Fairport, Washington.

The transformation into our true forms was involuntary and apparently irreversible. Even now, though I can choose to resemble a human, it’s not comfortable to stay that way and I don’t really look human. Same with Säure, whose truly emerald eyes with slits for pupils give him dead away. And we both are unusual in this ability. I haven’t heard of many dragons who can do this.

When I first dared to step out of my apartment as a full dragon, the people I knew somehow still recognized me. In fact, they recognized me even more readily than before, and congratulated me on obviously “feeling much better lately.” “You look good!” was a common phrase I heard.

Something metaphysical is at work there in the minds of the people. It seems like we dragons are supposed to be here.

I thought I was the only dragon until three days later when a fellow named Joel who looks like a cross between a bat, a hippo, and a velociraptor came crashing through my apartment wall in a direct challenge for my territory.

It turns out that maybe 1 in 2,000 people on Earth are actually dragons. That’s four million dragons out of 8 billion people.

And, because of the way population densities and demographics work, we dragons, like humans, are concentrated in cities.

This is stressful, and while it may go over well in little localized family and friends groups, it’s not great on a municipal, national, or global level. There’s been violence.

There’s a lot more to tell, but not a lot of time to divulge it.

Next important thing.

Through my intense first month of being out as a dragon, and conferring with my fellow dragon expert Chapman, here is what I learned and believe is happening.

Dragons have existed at least as long as humans. But maybe not physically. Maybe spiritually, if you believe in spiritual things. Or memetically, if you don’t. We’ve been an idea. We’ve been living and even thriving in human imaginations and in the deep, instinctual centers of the brains of maybe all vertebrates.

Humans helped us evolve into what we are today, and we have definitely shaped humans. It’s hard to say who parented whom, if you want to think in those terms.

And something happened on August 24 of 2024 that made us manifest physically from the human vessels we were inhabiting or using as disguises.

We don’t know what that is.

But what we do know is that dragons are not strictly governed by physics. Before we must obey the laws of physics, we must first obey the laws of narrative expectation. Or something like that. And if the laws of narrative expectation disagree with the laws of physics, the laws of physics lose.

I just learned this last Saturday, so I’m still ironing out exactly what it means.

I mean, I’ve sort of expected it since I was in college and reading about dragons in the university library every chance I got. But now I see it as a real thing, because I’m it.

It goes back to where we come from.

In the beginning, before there was even the word “dragon”, we were unique monsters or celestial spirits, each crafted to play a specific role in our own story. Originally, our stories were actually the stories of heroes. Human heroes. And we were usually there to teach the hero a lesson.

Skipping the details of that for expediency, what happened over time is that we dominated our stories.

Over time, the stories that were about human heroes began to be known as stories about dragons.

And, over the millennia, this apparently escalated to the point where we “hatched.” And now we walk the land, scream at each other every morning, and buy groceries.

Or renew our state IDs at the DMV.

But what this means is that, unlike with humans, you can tell a dragon’s story and purpose by looking at them.

This sounds like it is rooted in white supremacy, because white supremacy sure loves its phrenology, and it is probably heavily influenced by it. Especially in the case of Säure and I, unfortunately. We’re both “European dragons”, and fancy ones at that.

But the reality is that we’ve been heavily shaped by human imagination and expectations, and the roles we’ve played in their stories.

And the dragons that look more like what humans think of as nightmare monsters are nightmare monsters. The more unique a dragon is, the more creative their physiology, the closer to the subconscious needs of humanity they are.

I haven’t fully tested this theory, mind you. But it’s where my studies have taken me, and what little evidence I have has supported it. However, I’m willing to change my mind on this.

But, I’m thinking that, with dragons that look more standardized, that look like they may be part of a species, they are more connected to the social desires of humans. Such dragons are often tamed, mastered, ridden into battle, befriended, sought out for their wisdom, depicted in movies and role playing games, worshiped, married, and even successfully mated with. At least, in the stories.

But we are our stories. That’s where we actually come from.

And I look like one of these more modern dragons. And I think Säure probably does too.

But Säure and I share at least one other distinctive trait, and that’s that we can magically disguise ourselves as human.

There are obvious tells, of course, such as our eyes and tongues, and the fact that we speak with our syrinxes with limited vocabulary.

And while his human disguise comes with a very nice suit that would make any other billionaire’s eyes bleed with envy, mine comes with the gown and tiara of a fairy princess.

They’re conspicuous for disguises, and I think that’s a clue.

I don’t think that all of this means that we are special, on the global and historical scale of things.

But what I do think is that, here, now, locally, this means that Säure and I are destined to interact as if we’re royalty. Rivals, more than likely. I know we’re rivals now, and I like it that way.

But in some stories, we’d end up being married. Either politically or out of passion, depending on who’s writing it.

And that maybe has me on edge more than anything. I feel like that outcome would mean he wins.

Our hoards certainly don’t compare in any way, though.

He’s hoarded land and money, like a classic dragon.

I’ve hoarded garbage, books, and people. 

My people hoard is growing, and I’m pretty proud of it, but it’s slow going.

I think his hoard grows without him putting in any effort now.

And I want to plunder it.

For my people.

This isn’t a great footing on which to start the new phase of a story. The twists are likely to turn the wrong way.

—

I’m focusing on my growing sense of doom because I kind of think it might be my slim chance at salvation, actually. But I don’t want to jinx it.

It might be better to be less meta about my life and just embrace my draconinity.

I watch as Gavin, the clerk operating the camera, solemnly and professionally takes Säure’s photo and issues him his temporary diver’s license.

At one point Gavin said something about how it was good that Säure was using his human form for the photo, since he would be using that shape when driving. It was the kind of a statement that had the subtext that Gavin wished it was otherwise for some reason. Maybe just being slightly negative in the face of someone like Säure.

Gavin, with whom I shared moments of silent knowing trans solidarity and giddiness while I was getting my photo taken, doubtlessly knows who Säure is, and isn’t a sympathizer with the rich.

He might not be privy to Säure’s involvement in my kidnapping and very temporary relocation to the Pasayten Wilderness a couple weeks ago. Though, Säure did make a public statement about it, denouncing the action of his company before dissolving Equisetum Wildlife and firing its employees for the act. It’s always possible Gavin doesn’t pay attention to the local news or gossip.

I myself am hoping to learn something about all of that today.

I occupy myself with more visions of defeating Säure in physical combat to the detriment of the DMV, because my instincts demand it, and then he’s here with me and gesturing toward the door.

“My. Car,” he says. “Come.”

As imperiously as I can muster, I follow.

It’s a fucking Well Known Electric Vehicle.

Look. I’m not going to describe the car. I don’t want to advertise it. Suffice it to say, it is an unusual set of colors and very shiny. Obviously a custom job.

It does have a vanity plate, I notice. It reads “88MPH” and I spend a couple seconds wondering why this car, which is not a Delorian, has a Back to the Future reference on it. And I wonder if it could mean something else. It’s a weird plate.

I’m reluctant, for so many reasons, to get into the vehicle, and he stands with his door open, hand on the top of it, watching me impassively.

In order to get into the car, I’m going to have to put on my human disguise, which means tipping my hand to him. And I’m thinking about that.

My plan had been to hide how I do this, so that he might underestimate me.

In my purse, I have a magic pendant created by the Artist Chapman, that will turn me into a human if I wear it. I can’t talk at all with it on, because it gives me a larynx that I don’t know how to use anymore. And I will be naked if I wear it. And I’ll look quite a bit like Chapman.

Daniel Säure almost certainly knows I have it, but maybe doesn’t know exactly how it works.

My plan had been to make a public appearance with Mayor Chisholm in my own natural disguise, which makes me look like a 50 year old trans woman playing fairy princess. Which I do like. I’m reasonably comfortable in that outfit. And I was hoping he’d think, not seeing me transform, that I needed the pendant to do that.

Then I could, in an emergency, use the pendant to look like someone else.

If I use either disguise right now, he will learn how these things work with me, and I will lose that edge.

I expect the entire day may be filled with tests like this. And I’m hoping I can turn some of them to my advantage. Or even set one or two of them up. Though, like always, I don’t know how.

He tilts his head subtly toward the car, with the homeopathic presence of a smirk, indicating that he’s eager to see me get into it.

I take a step toward the repulsive-to-me vehicle and tilt my head.

Either I get in the car and reveal to my rival one of my secrets, or I fly away and lose this round entirely.

I could demand we take the bus, or that we both fly.

I don’t think he’d accept that. He’d take that the same as a retreat, shrug his shoulders, get in his car, and drive away.

I relent.

I choose the trans princess because she has clothes.

He watches me fold myself up and step into my protective coloring like I’m pretty sure he did before getting into his car this morning. And he smiles and presses a button and the door opens.

I have no idea if that’s standard with Well Known Electric Vehicles, and I don’t want to know.

I let the vehicle engulf me as I side step into it and sit down, and I dissociate a little, staring out the windshield.

(Girls, ladies, enbies, boys, gentlemen, everybody – don’t do this – it is occurring to me as I do this that I’m being extremely uncautious by getting into a strange person’s car, even if I’m pretty sure he is a locally well known billionaire. The fact that he recognizes me and knows my name makes it creepier. But, in my case, what’s done is done.)

“Mine. Or. Yours,” he says, after sitting down and letting both doors close. I’m certain he means choice of coffee shop.

I change my mind about something, and pull out my tablet to type out my response, “Flounder Sound Brewpub.”

“Oh. Beer. Yes,” he says, and pushes another button and starts driving. If this car has self-driving capabilities, he’s not using them.

And with my tablet in hand, I do realize that I momentarily have an advantage over him.

If he uses his phone to talk more eloquently, he can’t do that while he’s driving. He’s stuck with his animal mimickry of speech, like I am without my tablet.

At the moment, I can talk circles around him with my thumbs, and I can take command of the conversation.

“What is your favorite place to talk?” I ask.

He glances my direction suspiciously, obviously perturbed by being asked a question that requires more complicated words. Then he looks back at the road and says, “Top. Of. Tower.”

Either he’s lying, and The Top of the Tower isn’t his favorite place, just the easiest to say. Or, he’s memorized the name of his favorite place. I gain nothing but the momentary implication of my current social edge. Which he acknowledged.

This is kind of fun.

Maybe I can make him pay me back a little bit for making me transform in front of him.

“I like Flounder Sound Brewpub,” I say, tapping away cheerfully and hitting talk after every phrase. “Good people. I worked there for half a year and almost enjoyed it. Their food is filling and half their beer is too hoppy. But the other half is divine.”

Giving him useless tidbits about myself while showing off. Very petty, but I enjoy it.

“I feel very at home there. But it is not my territory,” I say. I look over at him and type, “Do you know Joel?”

Joel is the other dragon that Equisetum Wildlife kidnapped. I want to see his expression at the question. I don’t know if he’ll recognize the name. Not many people know it. But I think I'm clearly asking about a dragon, and there’s one other dragon besides me who has unfinished business with Säure. At least that I’m familiar with.

He glances at me and tilts his head up in acknowledgement.

It doesn’t take long to get to the brewpub from where we were, even though it’s literally across town. We’re maybe a third of the way already. I want to use my time as wisely as possible.

I think for a block about what to say next, but he beats me to the punch.

“Meghan Estragon Draconis,” he says my full legal name with his whole chest. I can’t even say his nickname. It is not lost on me the implications that he knows that name and can say it. He looks back at the road and engages with it through the wheel of his car, “Lets. Talk. Business.”

[timkonshipper]

random ash 101

ash won a league pretty early on in his journey, kinda sucks its not that big of a deal tho. so what if it was? just the beginning of a random au where being the orange island champion comes with more responsibilites and recognition. if anyone feels inspire to continue, please do!

He won. 

Dragonite had put up a great fight, but in the end, his buddy had triumphed. 

Drake had looked shocked at first. But the look soon turned into one of pride and amazement. He recalled dragonite and approached Ash. 

“Congratulations Ash! If you follow me, you’ll find that we have a lot to discuss.”

Waving to his friends, he said “Go on guys, I’ll catch up with you later.”

He waited until Pikachu had hopped onto his shoulder before beginning to follow the supreme leader of the orange archipelago. 

Drake led him into his office where he took his seat behind the desk and gestured for Ash to sit on the one in front of it. 

The atmosphere felt so serious that Ash was filled with an overwhelming need to break it. “So what’s up, this seems very ominous if you know what I mean. He.” Pikachu added in an agreeable “pika”.

Drake chuckled before saying “Oh don’t worry. I’ve been told that I can be a little dramatic at times. Again, congratulations on your win. You could probably tell I was shocked earlier.”

“Yeah, I could see that, but how come? Tracey told me a bunch of trainers beat the challenge every year.”

“Yes, but you see Ash, we are considered the oldest league in existence. It's been around for almost 300 years. That's why this league might have seemed a bit different from the other leagues that you know. As an effort to integrate it with the other leagues, we joined the international league union a few years back. So, we increased the difficulty level by quite a lot as well.”

Taking a sip of water from the bottle on his desk, he continued “This is why no one has been able to complete the league recently. That is, except you. The rest of the crew and I agreed that whoever was the first to defeat all of us would become the next archipelago champion. So ash, do you accept the position?”

Ash was shocked speechless. Him a champion? Wow. Pikachu was in a similar daze. He had just won his best friend a championship. Remembering that Drake had asked him a question, he shook himself out of his stupor and answered with a wide grin on his face “What and all does being the champion entail exactly?”

“You keep surprising me Ash. It's nice to know that you want to know what exactly you would be responsible for instead of just agreeing right off the bat.  Answering your question, I suppose you would help in the day to day running of the archipelago and representing us internationally. I will still handle the other trainers as the supreme gym leader, but if they manage to defeat me, then you must battle them to defend your champion title. It also would be a big help if you assisted me with the paperwork. Arceus knows why there’s so much for a place so small. Like all the other champions, you’d always receive a monthly salary”

“It sounds like a big responsibility, but I’d be down for all of that. I accept the position Drake!”

“Great, now if you and Pikachu could follow me to the victory hall, I’ll record you as the new champion.”

“You hear that buddy? We’re champions now!” Ash told his starter enthusiastically. Pikachu replied in a similar fashion with a happy “Pikaa pikachu”

“Oh and before I forget, here’s an official league phone for you. It has all the basic necessities and works as any other phone does. There’s also a messaging app in there with a group chat for all the champions. I’ll alert them soon about you. When you get back to the pokemon centre, just introduce yourself in the chat, alright?”

“Woah. The other champions are all in the chat? And I’m gonna join as well? So cool!” Ash practically had stars in his eyes.”

‘Ah, the joy of being young’ thought Drake. 

**

Only after the shock had worn off did the exhaustion set in. By the time they had made it back to the pokemon centre, all he could do was faceplant onto his bed and sleep. Pikachu was the same case. 

The sunlight seeping in through the window woke him up. Groggily, he glanced at the clock on the wall only to startle awake when he realised it was already 1. His stomach rumbled soon after. He quickly put on some actual clothes and scooped Pikachu up. 

Making his way down to the lobby, he quickly spotted Misty and Tracey by the window. He made his way over to them. Tracey spotted him before Misty did, waving him over with a “Ash, good to see you're awake. When you came in last night you muttered what I can’t even guess it was before flopping over and sleeping like a log. I thought it was better if I didn’t wake you.”

Ash sheepishly rubbed the back of his head and replied “Heh yeah. I suppose we were way more tired than we realised.”

Misty fondly shook her head. A curious expression appeared on her face. “Hey Ash, what did Drake talk with you about?”

“Oh man. It was so awesome. Guess what? I’m the new orange island champion now! Apparently they made the challenge harder in recent years so they could integrate the league with the international circuit. I’m the first person who beat Drake after the change was made, so there you have it.”

“Huh, who would’ve thought? Brock’d love to hear this. However it was Pikachu who did all the work of course, didn’t you!” Misty exclaimed. She grabbed pikachu from Ash and smothered him with praise and cuddles.

Both Ash and Tracey sweatdropped, the latter shook it off before saying “That's awesome Ash. It's kinda cool to think that you’re a champion now. And of my home region to boot.”

“Thanks Tracey! It was a big shock at first but now I’m just so psyched. Oh before I forget, Drake said to send a message to the champions chat last night. Obviously I slept before I could do that.”

“The champions? As in all the other champions. Wow that's so cool! What do you think they’re like?”

“I suppose there’s only one way to find out,” replied Ash. 

Misty stopped pampering Pikachu before sounding out a quick “Just don’t say something stupid.”

Ash ignored her before clicking onto the chatroom with Tracey looking over his shoulder. 217 notifications huh. Looks like he’d have a lot of scrolling to do. 

Champions showdown.

LostInTheWoods: Yay we’re getting a new champion! And one so close to my age. It's been boring with only you seniors to talk to. 

Tweety: Calm down pipsqueak, don’t bombard him when he gets here. 

LostInTheWoods: SpEakIng of, when’s he gonna get here?

SugarYay: Sweetie, did you not listen to anything Drake said right after he announced the new champ?

LostInTheWoods: Hehe, maybe?

[path-of-arceus]

Chapter 2 (Extra)

Shenlan gently placed the egg down in a pillow basket Wallace puts down. He can still feel the egg's excited heartbeat

"So... what now?" Shenlan asked curiously.

"Well, we just need to wait for it to hatch." Wallace responds. "It might take a lot of time, but all you need to do now is wait."

Shenlan smiles and nods his head.

"Should we head back down?" He asked. "I don't want to make Steven wait for us."

Steven is still waiting for them down the steps, sitting by his trusted partner.

"Hey Steven, we're back!" Shenlan greets him.

Steven chuckles, before ruffling up the boy's hair. Wallace lets out a low laugh, mostly impressed on how enthusiastic the boy turns out to be.

"You're way too excited, don't you?" Asked Wallace, his tone is teasing and playful.

They all making such a spectacle of themself that the metalic bird next to Steven, Skarmory, starter to laugh on it's own.

Shenlan noticed that the voices he heard before, was coming from Skarmory. For some reason, to even he can't explain, he hears everything Skarmory said in an intelligible language.

"What's wrong, kid?"

Shenlan squint his eyes towards Skarmory, this starts to make Skarmory feels weird as it steps back for a bit.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" It asked.

"Did you just talk?" Shenlan asked.

Skarmory shook it's head in confusion. Steven and Wallace stare at each other, in equal confusion.

"What... what do you mean by Skarmory talking?" Asked Wallace.

Wallace walks over to where Skarmory is standing.

"We all know Pokemon communicates with their own language, but what do you mean they talk?"

"I... i can hear them actually speaking... like us." Shenlan responds.

"What... do you mean?" Wallace asked again, just to make sure of what Shenlan was talking about. "Do you mean you can understand them?"

"I... Kind of..." Shenlan respond. "It's just the best way i can explain it."

Wallace stares back to Steven, before pulling out a mysterious, red and white ball.

"Should we test this with the rest of my own Pokemon?" Wallace asked.

Steven nods. Wallace tosses the ball away. Out come a giant... long... snake-like fish.

"Let's see if you can understand what Milotic is saying."

"Wait he can understand me?" Asked Milotic.

"Yes... i can."

Milotic approached the boy, getting really close to him. Shenlan flinched backwards in surprise

"Hey hey, calm down." Wallace ordered, as he gently pulled Milotic back.

"Hello, little one."

Shenlan smiles, he reaches out his hand before pulling it back in hesitation.

"You can touch her, it's okay!"

Milotic gently shoves her head forward to Shenlan's hands. Letting herself being rubbed by the boy's hand. Wallace wrapped his hand around Steven's shoulder. Suddenly, something popped out of one of Steven's pocket. A white metalic robot thing comes out of it.

"Metagross, what are you doing?" Asked Wallace.

Metagross gently approaches Shenlan.

"Oh, hey, Metagross." Milotic greets it.

Metagross replies with a friendly head nod. It pulls out one of its hand forward toward Shenlan.

"Hello, little boy!" It greets. "I see Master Steven is fond of you!"

"Hello... Metagross, i guess so, not sure how much Steven likes me but i trust your judgement."

Wallace chuckes as he gently taps on Steven shoulder, Steven smiles and leaning his head to Wallace's body. They are having a fun time.

[chalterdh22]

Chapter 12: When was the Last Time you Laughed?

After sitting and hanging out, we all decided to go inside and eat.  We had plenty of food from Greef now, so I heated up some soup for the three of us.  I went to eat outside, so Din could take his helmet off and eat with his son.  He protested, and I just walked out pretending not to hear.  Plus, it was quiet outside of the cabin, and the suns were setting.  It was quite beautiful.  I could hear a small, one-sided conversation happening inside.  It was sweet.  Grogu really was trying to get Din to talk more, but again, he was clueless. 

Eventually, both Din and the kid walked out and said they were done.  I stood up so they could sit down in his only chair outside.  I leaned against the porch and stretched my arms above my head and yawned.  “Long day, huh little guy?”  He yawned as well and leaned against my leg.  I picked him up and put him in his little cot for bed.  As Din waited outside for me, I was thinking that he and I have never really had a conversation that the kid wasn’t around or a part of.  Maybe I’ll get to know him a little better, I thought.  I leaned against the porch rail again and looked at him.  He was staring out into the open field.

“What was the conversation you had with the kid earlier?”  He asked.

“Yeah, about that.  It’s nothing really, just something he wants you to do.”

“Well, tell me and I might do it.”

“Doubt it,” I replied.  “Plus, it’s not what you do really, it’s more of an emotional reaction.”

“What?”

I sighed, looked at him.  “He wants to hear you laugh.  He says he’s seen you grin, not smile.  He’s heard you chuckle, but not laugh.  He just wants to see you happy I think.”

Din looked down.  “I am happy.” 

“Yeah, that’s convincing.  Look, I know you Mandalorians are serious, secretive, and always on a mission of some sort, so I know you guys aren’t just sitting around, telling jokes, and laughing.  But Grogu is your son, and it’s important for him to grow more emotionally stable than you!”  Wow, where did that come from?  By now, Din had stood up and walked towards me.  I stopped leaning against the rail and stood straight.  I knew I wasn’t in any danger by any means, but my experience is to be ready when someone approaches you.

About a foot away, he leaned in and asked, “How do you know that’s what he wants?  How do I know you’re not just making up lies?”  Good question, I thought to myself.  I tried to think of a way for him to believe it and then it popped into my head.  I saw a flash in Grogu’s mind once of what Din looked like without his helmet on.

“Well, I know what your face looks like, for starters.  Not completely, but small images.  Grogu showed me somehow.”  Din stood there motionless.  I sighed and continued, “You have brown hair with a curl to it.”  I closed my eyes to get that visual back.  “Brown eyes.  Some facial hair.  And you don’t look like a monster like some people think!”  I still had my eyes closed and smiled when I talked about him.  It’s just so weird because I have never seen his face.  What if I was misinterpreting something he showed me.  No, I’m certain that it was Din’s face. 

When I opened my eyes back up, he was inches in front of my face.  It startled me, and I took a step backward.  He grabbed my arm as I almost fell off the little porch.  “Thanks.  Was I correct?”

“Yes, you were.  I don’t get it.  How do you talk to him and see things? 

I shrugged.  “Dunno.” 

He took a step back and relaxed a bit, so did I.  “So, when’s the last time you laughed, like a good laugh?”  I asked, changing the subject.  He thought for a minute as he sat back down in the chair.

“Years I imagine.  I think I was still a kid.” 

“Whoa, that’s not ok.  We’ll have to work on that!  And don’t worry, no one else will be around.”

He stood up and without looking back at me, said he needed to go get some rest.  “Goodnight,” I told him.  He didn’t reply.  He seemed sad when he told me it had been years since he laughed.  I still thought Grogu, and I had a great start to the plan, but how do you tickle a Mandalorian covered with armor?  I’d have to sleep on that.

[chuklebruski]

Of Futures Past ch. 2

“Captain!”

A sudden breeze carried the straw hat off Usopp’s head; reaching for it, he scrabbled down the rocky shore and leapt into the ocean. Banchina had scarcely registered what was happening before a third of her son’s crew mates were already in the water with him.

It had been a long night for all, not just her boy. Her interrogation of the strangers who found her son so familiar carried on well after Usopp finally passed out. They’d been more forthcoming with answers than their initially tepid reaction to her would have suggested.

Nonetheless, the answers themselves were the most incredible she could’ve possibly imagined.

(“You can’t expect me to believe…”

“Oh, I understand if you don’t; even for us, time travel’s up there in terms of weirdness.”)

The redhead–Nami, she later learned–had laughed sympathetically, gesturing to the more unique individuals of their crew; as though to emphasize her point by indicating the scale of impossibility that was the norm for them.

(“Even setting that aside, how is it possible for you to exist in a time before your deaths?”)

Banchina couldn’t have guessed what any of them hoped to gain by fabricating such a story; still, she hadn’t been quite ready to abandon suspicion entirely.

It’d been a mere fraction of a second, but in the pause that followed her question, she saw something flicker across Nami’s face; something mirrored in the blonde–Sanji’s–expression.

Expectation.

Of what, she had no idea.

When nothing came in the following moment, a flash of melancholy passed over them.

The demon–Zoro–had cut through the oddly weighted silence.

(“We followed Usopp back.”)

He’d delivered it as such a simple statement, so plain and bare-faced and lacking in any facets that might conceal hints of a fuller, more final answer. As if it were a matter-of-course.

Whatever lingering dregs of wariness she had fell away after that.

Her questions from then on had been less interrogatory until conversation trailed off altogether.

Banchina waited on the shore with the rest as Zoro, Sanji and Jinbe escorted a floating Usopp inland with the tide until he was back on the sand. He lay spread eagle, straw hat in hand and expression thoroughly miserable.

Nami crouched over him, the curtain of her hair hiding her expression.

“I’ll be fine, you idiot.” She muttered, for reasons Banchina didn’t fully understand. Usopp had been working himself into a lather after exclaiming Nami’s name, though that was the only indication she had of his concern for the redhead.

Usopp shut his eyes and flopped his arms at his sides in a show of frustration.

“What can I do?”

“I’d get out of those soaked clothes, for starters.”

Banchina startled, quite in tandem with Usopp and Chopper, at the sudden appearance and voice of a little girl. One whose identity she knew, if only through deduction and the quality of her dress.

“Who’s this little lady?” Brook–the skeleton–asked.

Of all things, Zoro replied before she could.

“Kaya.”

She glanced away from the little heiress; the one-eyed man was more intimidating in the daylight than he’d been at night, by virtue of the fact that she could now see the jet-black shadow that sat at his left hip. It had been a little alarming when she first noticed it, thinking that such a thing had been lurking beside the swordsman while she’d been utterly unaware. Brook had been the one to reassure her.

(“Fret not, Banchina-san. It’s… well, suffice to say it’s entirely subject to Zoro-san’s will.”)

Banchina hadn’t really understood that either.

Nami scoffed.

“All the names you’ve forgotten over the years.” She said, her tone lacking any sort of scolding heat.

“Only weaklings.” Zoro grunted.

Going off Usopp’s furrowed brow and distracted replies to the heiress, he hadn’t made the connection just yet.

“Miss Kaya!”

Someone called from further inland. Usopp’s eyes lit up in recognition; not a second later, his mouth dropped open in dumbfounded shock.

Sanji snorted.

“Goof.”

Usopp sat in the sand, the shock lingering on his face a while after Kaya departed. It shifted into something darker, and he growled through clenched teeth:

“Kuro.”

Before Banchina could ask anyone about the name, her boy pounded the sand and broke into another sprint toward home, Zoro trailing in his wake.

“It seems,” Robin–the raven–said with a smile. “That he’s found some direction.”

 —————

If Banchina hadn’t been fairly convinced of the time travel story by how familiar they all were with her son, the change in Usopp himself posed a significant bit of supporting evidence. She certainly didn’t know where or how else he would’ve suddenly acquired the boldness to approach the island’s wealthiest home and admit to trespassing past the gate.

Thankfully the man at the door–Merry, someone had blurted out–let it go with a good-natured sigh.

“I suspect our sniper has made a friend regardless of the butler’s answer,” Robin said. “The little one is watching from the stairs.”

Which she knew because, to Banchina’s surprise, she’d simply bypassed Merry altogether and wandered into the mansion.

“Not too shabby as pads go,” Franky–the cyborg–commented with a critical eye, the second to barge into the foyer. “They chose a defensible position on a hill, at least.”

“Wha–?”

Banchina couldn’t contain her bafflement, looking around at the others to gauge their reactions. None of them seemed put off.

“It’s not as if anyone can see us.” Nami said with a shrug.

Banchina considered that maybe she hadn’t been dead long enough; she’d taken several opportunities to scream at her neighbors for taking her seven-year-old son at his word that he didn’t need any help, but she hadn’t gone as far as intruding into their homes.

“And we are pirates.”

. . . That could also account for the difference.

Banchina wondered how her husband was doing.

While she’d been occupied with her thoughts, Usopp had managed to win over Merry; Kaya came racing out of the mansion, bright and giggling.

—————

Usopp’s new friend lacked his stamina and constitution, but that didn’t discourage him in the slightest. Banchina knew the lawn around the mansion wasn’t anywhere near large enough to satisfy his desire to run around, but he practiced incredible patience with the younger heiress.

Significantly younger, if Banchina believed the story of his time travel. And everything she saw fit that narrative more and more; she’d reached a point where it was actually harder to imagine an alternative explanation.

On the multiple occasions that Kaya’s health didn’t permit for physical play, Usopp engaged her with stories. Her son’s imagination and penchant for tales wasn’t new to Banchina, nor that they revolved around adventures at sea. But while he told his stories from the perspective of partaking in those adventures himself as he often did, he also referred quite often to a cast of crew mates; recurring characters, with descriptions consistent enough that Banchina could piece together the connection to the spirits that followed her son and the roles they had assumed on the ocean.

A navigator.

A cook.

A shipwright.

Although, she noticed one discrepancy; Usopp would speak fondly and vividly of his nine nakama. He even spoke of the crew’s captain with much of the admiration he normally reserved for his father. Away from the eyes of the living, he’d often turn a wistful look toward the straw hat.

Its owner…

Banchina couldn’t bring herself to ask.

“What happened to your–?”

The sheer weight of the depressed silence the question had prompted on the one occasion she tried had been too stifling to brave.

—————

Time as a phenomenon was a surreal thing to experience as a spirit.

In theory, time passed the same for the living and the dead; a cycle of minutes, hours and days, but in practice, without the needs of a physical body to respond to and an inability to sleep or eat… all one could do was attach themselves to those still living.

Banchina’s time passed very slowly since she died, watching her too-young son soldier on without any guardian to speak of.

Or, it had passed very slowly.

Whether owing to Usopp’s new company or her own, or perhaps due to the flurry of new activity her boy engaged himself in, the days that had dragged suddenly became months that flew past her.

Usopp, in between visits to Kaya’s mansion, found time to make a mess of the house with scribbled notes and ideas, experiment with things on the stove that had Banchina questioning whether she even wanted to know the desired result, and formulate a training regimen of all things.

Said regimen bypassed absurd straight into the territory of irresponsible after a particular day helping Merry collect firewood during the winter.  

“Terrific,” Nami groaned with heavy sarcasm, pinning a glare on a certain green-eyed ghost. “He’s channeling you.”

The swordsman didn’t respond; though Banchina thought she caught the corners of his mouth twitching upward as he followed her son out of the house toward the woods. Usopp panted as he went, running full pelt with three logs tied to his waist and dragging behind him.

“It is quite like watching a little Zoro.” Robin said with a smile.

“He’s using his time well,” Jinbe said with a nod. “Building a strong foundation.”

“Can only hope his brain doesn’t degrade to the marimo’s level,” Sanji sighed. “Of course, that’s probably impossible.”

Seeing that none of his nakama appeared overly concerned by his behavior–Chopper commented on Usopp failing to meet requisites for rest, but that was about it–just made Banchina all the more grateful for Kaya’s presence as a friend to her son. As he introduced new horizons to the heiress’ life, so she managed to keep him somewhat grounded.

—————

An April shower came to the island, with sharp wind and loud thunder for intermittent company.

“What’s happening?”

And yet, the storm inside might have been worse.

A miasma, unpleasant and permeating, filled the house with Nami at its origin. The young woman sat huddled against the wall in plain distress, flanked on either side by Sanji and Zoro. The former whispered distraction and comfort to her…

“I’ve forgotten your favorite recipes for tangerines, Nami-san; could you remind me?”

while the latter stood as a familiar, steady presence.

“Emotions,” Brook said quietly. “Can be quite a volatile thing for lingering spirits.”

Banchina listened; somehow, it made sense that he would answer, and not solely because he was a skeleton.

“Guilt, hatred, resentment,” he said. “And their ilk, are particularly dangerous. Grudges, one might call them. Our own would be difficult enough to cope with, let alone our sensitivity to those of any we cherished in life.”

Banchina recalled Usopp’s birthday, only weeks earlier. He’d seemed pleased enough to celebrate, or at least glad to be with Kaya and Merry, but otherwise he’d spent the day looking miserable.

She blanched, a horrifying thought occurring to her.

“Left unattended, this miasma you see might affect others, even the living; or take on more severe manifestations.”

Brook all but confirmed her fears.

“Do you mean their moods are feeding each other?”

Such a vicious cycle of perpetuating each other’s misery gave her chills.

“It is difficult to tell in this instance,” Brook said with a thoughtful hum. “Usopp-san and Nami-san knew each other and were quite close well before I met either of them, you see. And as you know, Usopp-san treasures us dearly, and we him. It may be that the source is one I’m unaware of and it just happens to be the same irrespective of them being in the same place.”

He glanced over his shoulder through the window.

“A coincidence, as I believe the timing of Franky-san’s own turmoil to be.”

Banchina blinked; took a quick headcount and realized, distracted as she’d been, she hadn’t even noticed the cyborg’s absence.

“Is Jinbe also…?” She asked, not seeing the fishman either.

“None of us go anywhere unaccompanied.” Brook said simply.

Before she could ask what more severe manifestations looked like, Usopp stirred from where he’d fallen into a restless doze at his desk. Since the rain began, he’d scarcely been able to sit still anywhere; forgoing shelter in favor of pounding his feet through the mud and shooting improvised targets in the dark, only returning home when his legs wobbled from exhaustion.

And again, his eyes were barely open three minutes before he’d put his shoes back on. Zoro exchanged a significant look with Robin; the raven followed Usopp out into the rain in the swordsman’s place.

Banchina trailed along with her, watching her son subject himself to what she could only see as borderline abuse.

“What is he preparing himself for?” She asked.

A beat passed before Robin answered.

“I’m afraid this is more an escape than preparation.”

—————

Though the days felt long, the rain did eventually pass. Albeit a short night and on the floor, Usopp slept through till morning and the overcast broke, the weather changing.

And, though unbeknownst to her at the time, as Mery arrived at the house to check on her son, something changed in Banchina as well.

[imaginationofomi]

Come Together

Seven

Nayeli wanted to go home, her craving for her tempur-pedic mattress so strong that she almost bailed on her friends. She should've left when her instincts first told her to. Tension made her neck stiff, and it was difficult to turn her head. She pushed through anyway, driving into the neighborhood of single story stucco houses and parking in front of the peach one with russet roof tiles two lots from the corner.

April's white garage door was open. Four men sat around a card table with beer, tumblers of liquor, and cigars inside the makeshift man cave playing dominoes, one of which was her fiancé, Ruben. They waved at Nayeli as she walked up the driveway, and Ruben got up to open the door for her.

"What's up, Nayeli? How you been?" he asked and grabbed one of the two bags she was holding.

"Good. You?"

"Same. Can't complain."

"You don't see me?"

Nayeli did a double take at the second man speaking to her, "Bryce?" she questioned because even though he looked like her ex-boyfriend from undergrad, there was something different about his face. He'd finally lost the round softness of the baby face he couldn't seem to get rid of while they were together and the first few years after, replaced with angular cheekbones and a sweet jawline.

His beige skin was a little sunburned on his cheeks, still clean shaven with a few blemishes near his chin. Starter locs hung just above his ears that now housed two tiny gold hoops. Pink lips stretched into a crooked smile.

"I'm that easy to forget you gotta question me?"

"No, you just don't look like you," she said and walked around the card table to give him a hug. They parted amicably, realizing that they weren't right for each other before resentment settled in and made their lives hell. Their relationship was the reason April and Ruben met, Bryce being Ruben's cousin, so they both lucked out where maturity was concerned. Gatherings would never be uncomfortable, "You finally look like you're grown."

"I'll take that as the compliment I know it was meant to be," he replied with a chuckle, hugging her waist with one arm, "What happened to the fro?"

"I'm letting it grow out. I might bring it back after the New Year." The decision was still very much up in the air, "Let me get inside before somebody calls me a traitor for hanging out with the men." Bidding them goodbye, she stepped through the open doorway and thanked Ruben for carrying the other bag to the kitchen. April was blending a pitcher of margaritas, and from the looks of the mixer bottle, it was the second one, "Sorry I'm late. I got the snacks!"

"Thank God. We need you in here," April sighed.

"How bad is it?"

"Worse, and Renée is not helping."

"Whose bright idea was it to invite her? Ray Charles could've seen that red flag." Nayeli loved Renée, and even she would've had the good sense to leave that woman off the guest list. Why pour gasoline on a fire? Everyone would be liable to get burned.

"She was with Morgan."

"Lord, I've had enough drama for one day," Nayeli mumbled to herself as she massaged her temples, or at least she thought she did.

"Something happened on your job?"

"Too much happened. No time to talk about that. We have to cheer Brittany up."

"There is no cheering her up. We need to keep her from throwing herself off the tallest building in the city."

"She wouldn't do that."

"I wouldn't be so sure." April stopped the blender and took the top off, pouring out a drink for Nayeli and taking the pitcher into the sitting room where the rest of their friends waited with empty or half empty cups while Nayeli grabbed the bowl of white corn tortilla chips and two kinds of salsa.

"Hey Britt."

"Hi." She was red-eyed, puffy and congested, her head resting on the arm of the couch with her knees curled up to her chest, "Did you get the tomatillo salsa?" she asked weakly.

"Mhmm." Nayeli sat down next to her on the floor and rubbed her arm.

"Thanks."

April was streaming Spike Lee's She's Got Have It, the majority black and white film holding most of the attention in the room. The women watched quietly and snacked. Sniffles could be heard, and Nayeli made sure to keep a comforting hand on Brittany, even going as far as to kiss her friend's cheek when she sobbed.

The noise was familiar to Nayeli. She wanted to join the crying, but she kept her tears at bay and the focus away from her own crisis.

Renée, indeed, made the situation worse with her snickering. Whatever beef she had with Brittany made it impossible for her to behave like she had any regard for another woman in pain. She found joy in Brittany's suffering, and beef was never that serious to Nayeli or anyone else in the room.

"I think it's time we plan our annual girls trip. Which seasons are we looking at?" Morgan said as the end credits started to roll.

"We should probably do it closer to summer."

"Anywhere we go then will be super crowded. I'm not trying to spend my vacation in a sea full of musty college kids," April said with her mouth frowned up.

"So March and April are out. That's prime spring break time."

"Shouldn't we decide where we're going first? That'll make it easier to plan the time of year," Nayeli pointed out. Certain places had better or worse weather regardless of the month traveled. They could find somewhere warm in the cooler months or vice versa.

"You might be right. We did Tulum this year. Are we thinking out of state, out of the country, or local?"

"Let's go out of the country again."

"Somewhere in Europe this time!"

"Party in Ibiza!" Morgan shouted and raised her cup.

"What about Amsterdam?" April threw in.

"Do they like our people over there?" Renée asked.

"HOW CAN YOU GUYS SIT HERE PLANNING A DAMN VACATION WHEN I FEEL LIKE MY CHEST IS ABOUT TO CAVE IN!?" Brittany screamed, halting the conversation as everyone looked at her with wide eyes. It was the most she'd spoken since Nayeli got there, and a fresh wave of tears slid down her damp cheeks.

"We were trying to keep your mind off that bum," April answered and bit her tongue before she said anything else. Only she knew why Brittany was at the end of her rope, and if she hadn't just gotten off probation for assaulting someone at her previous job, she would've driven across town to handle the man herself.

"I still don't know what he did. Why are we here?" Morgan asked. All eyes fell on Brittany, and she pushed her face into her hands just before she started sobbing again. She tried to speak but struggled to get the words out. April revealed the secret for her.

"Dana's pregnant."

"By Jeffrey?"

Slowly, Brittany nodded and hiccuped. Nayeli was stunned, but she was the only one. Because she saw the good in everyone even when there was no good to see.

"S-she brought the test to the house. He tried to lie and say the baby wasn't his, but she has videos of them fucking as recently as last week." Renée didn't even pretend to feel bad, letting out a lengthy howl while she held her ribs and bent at the waist, "What the fuck is so funny, Renée?"

"YOU! All that harping you do about respecting relationships and women sharing dick, and you been sharing yours the whole time. With a bitch who had him first, at that. I told you get off that soapbox you love to stand on."

"It's not the same thing."

"Oh, it's not? Let's break it down and see what's real, then. He was in a relationship when you started fucking him, and you knew it. Don't try that 'he lied to me' shit either. Dana was all over social media with him and their kids. You ignored the truth because you wanted him anyway. You gave that lady hell for years over a nigga that was obviously playing you. Then you had the nerve to think you won because he married you, but she got four of his and one on the way while you're still childless and desperate after three years of marriage. The man don't even sleep in your house half the time. You love looking down your nose at the rest of the population like it could never be you, but guess what. IT IS! You're no better than the women you try to dog. I don't have sympathy for you. This is karma rightfully beating your ass," Renée shrugged and crunched on a chunk of ice.

"Née, come on." Morgan shook her head.

"What? I'm supposed to keep myself in check because her man never left his baby momma? It's not my fault she don't wanna accept that she's a sister wife."

"Renée, enough! I realize that you guys are not the best of friends right now, but why do you have to kick her while she's down? She clearly knows she messed up. If this were you right now, nobody would be dumping on you. We're here for support, not to make her feel worse. Keep your thoughts to yourself or go home," Nayeli said angrily.

"Why are you sticking up for her? She brought the shit on herself."

"I would stick up for all of you the same way. When someone is hurt, you don't pile on them. Aren't you supposed to be a mental health advocate? Or is that empathy reserved for strangers only?"

"She don't deserve empathy. She never has it for anyone else," Renée argued.

"All the more reason we should extend it to her. Stop being so damn vengeful."

Nayeli couldn't comprehend the level of hatred Renée was feeling. It was like Brittany personally wronged her, but she knew of no such incident. When Renée realized that no one would come to her defense, she pushed herself out of the chair she was sitting in and headed for the front of the house.

"Y'all can have it." The door slammed behind her, and it seemed like everyone exhaled at the same time.

"Chile, you know you fucked up when Nayeli raises her voice." April said.

"Thank you, Ellie," Brittany whispered, defeated by Renée's harsh words and tone. Feeling horrible about herself to begin with, she didn't need the extra trashing. Her husband already destroyed what was left of her self-esteem.

"You're welcome," Nayeli responded and leaned her head on Brittany's, "She's right, you know. Her delivery was piss poor, but she is right. Take this situation as a lesson, and humble yourself. God don't like ugly."

☼☼☼

Hours and several plates of tacos later, the sun had set and Nayeli was ready to turn in for the evening. Belly full, social gas tank on E, peace and quiet were the only two things on her mind until she got closer to her home. It was just after 8 p.m., and she considered the very real possibility that Jalen could still be there.

She wasn't in a good state of mind to deal with him directly. Hearing him beg for another chance to waste her time would surely set her off after the day she had.

No matter what Ezra said or did, Savannah's attitude worsened throughout the afternoon. While she never went near Nayeli, she did try her hardest to get under Nayeli's skin. In fact, she tried so hard that Carmen snapped on her in front of everyone. Thankfully, they'd sang happy birthday by then because that was the final straw for Nayeli.

A child's birthday party should never become a spectacle, but only she seemed to care about that fact. She just decided to remove herself and pray that the day carried on in peace. Ezra's disappointment made her feel weird, like she owed him an apology even though she'd been trying to leave for most of the day.

"I think I've worn out my welcome," she'd told him as she got ready to go. He tried to convince her to stay longer, but she declined and glanced at a fuming and embarrassed Savannah. It wasn't worth the problems it would cause. However, she did receive a treat on her way out. With her mother just a few feet away, Tatiana expressed how happy she was that Nayeli was there and thanked her for her cake and the rest of the desserts. Like her father, Tatiana asked her stay. Nayeli was gentle with her no, reminding the princess that they would see each other again soon.

Ezra's family graced her with sweet farewells, hugs, and promises of visits to the bakery when they were back in town as most of them still lived in LA, other parts of Southern California or out of state. She could practically see Savannah's face going cherry red and steam flying out of her ears. If Nayeli were evil, she would've laughed at her, but she gave her the same tight lipped smile she plastered on when she let her know to find someone else to try instead.

Between that and doing the emotional labor for most of her friend circle, Jalen was the very last person she wanted to see. With him leaving for LA the next morning, she decided to grant him a little more time and drove to Maxine's house.

Thankful for the open door policy, she used her key and walked inside, wedging herself between her sister and Stella on the teak, leather couch.

"I get you two days in a row? Time to play the lotto. Give me some numbers," Max said and wrapped her arms around Nayeli's shoulders.

"You're so extra. Hey Stella." She leaned over to hug her sister-in-law and rub her rounding belly.

"Hey Nye. How are you?"

"I'm alright, you?"

"Gassy. Your niece has decided she hates everything that tastes good."

Nayeli cooed at Stella's baby bump, trying to imagine what she would look like when her own belly was swollen with a son or daughter. Hopefully she'd be blessed with both.

"Three more months until she gets her eviction notice," she said excitedly.

"I'm hoping I get lucky and she comes a little early. If not, somebody will have to induce me. Max was miserable walking around with Diesel past her due date."

"Oh, I remember that. She looked like she was going to cry up until her water broke."

"Which is why you're carrying this time around," Max said to Stella.

"Speaking of, where is my nephew?"

"With Craig until Monday."

"Ooooh, what you guys got planned?" Nayeli asked.

"We're driving to Malibu for the day tomorrow. See the sights, hit up Nobu."

"That'll be a cute little date day."

"Yes, we need it. I'm sure you do, too. Maybe you and Jalen can come with us?" Stella suggested, and a sour taste filled Nayeli's mouth. Maxine hadn't shared their conversation with her wife. Nayeli didn't know whether to be upset or grateful.

"I kicked him out," she revealed, feeling uncomfortable with two pairs of eyes looking directly at either side of her face. Stella placed her hand on her stomach and sat up to get a better look at Nayeli's eyes.

"Did I hear you correctly? You said you kicked him out?"

"Yep. That's a done deal."

"I knew you could do it, but I wasn't sure you would. I'm proud of you, Baby Love," Max said and gave her sister another hug because she knew it was needed.

"Thank you." Nayeli closed her eyes and sighed. For a while, she didn't think she would go through with it either. It was part of the reason she cried so much. She didn't want to let go, but she knew that she had to. The days of her accepting apple cores, mushed peas, and stewed cabbage were over.

"What happened?" Stella asked, shocked at the new development.

"Our priorities didn't align the way I thought." Easiest way to put it without saying too much. She didn't want to repeat the story over and over again. Her wounds had enough salt in them.

"I'm sorry."

"I'll get over it. I'm not the first woman to be bamboozled, and I won't be the last."

"You seem a lot more calm and sure about it than you did yesterday," Max noticed.

"As soon as it clicked that he was only worried about his wants and needs, it was an easy decision to make. Even pleading his case, there was no compromise. It was just a no on his end. No discussion or explanation. Just no. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I'd be sacrificing my dignity if I let the relationship continue. I can't live the rest of my life only being that man's girlfriend or baby momma. I'm worth more than that."

"Damn right, you are." Maxine wanted to take her words back. Proud was an understatement of how she felt. She never thought of Nayeli as weak, but she knew she loved hard. She thought it would take more for her little sister to walk away from a relationship that spanned half a dozen years. Thank God she was wrong, "Did he go quietly?"

"No. I'm not even sure he's gone. I told him to pack the rest of his things and be out by 6 today. He was putting up a fight, but I had a party to cater. I couldn't stick around to watch him, and I really didn't feel like listening to him beg when I know nothing is going to change. He has an interview in LA on Monday, so he should be out of the house tomorrow at the latest. If his stuff isn't gone, it's getting donated to a shelter. I'm changing the locks in the morning."

"Good for you. How was the party?"

"Interesting, to say the least." Nayeli sighed again. No one could have expected the turn of events she faced. A lot of bad came with the good, though the latter did tip the scale. She was happy to be free.

"Say the most," Max urged and muted the TV.

"Grace thinks I've been adopted into a new family."

"Don't fall for it! They want free dessert!" Stella said, eliciting laughter from all three of them.

"A few people thought Ezra and I were dating. I had to shut that down quickly."

"Who's Ezra?"

"Father of the birthday girl, and let me tell you, the man spared no expense. They had a freaking rollercoaster in the parking lot."

"Why not just rent out an amusement park if you're going to go that far?"

"I didn't ask. Not my money, not my business."

"That just seems excessive for a birthday party to me. You got people to come out and build a rollercoaster that's only going to be ridden once or twice? Then they gotta take it down after a few hours?" How much money did the man have to blow, and who the hell was he? Maxine stared at Nayeli in confusion.

"I'm with you, but Tatiana is his whole world. I'm sure she got exactly what she asked for. She picked out the entire spread I made."

"I want to know why his family thought you guys were dating."

"Yes, babe," Max said, "It's time to start asking the real questions because that's a first."

"We're comfortable around each other. I guess a little too comfortable." The way she was being looked at made Nayeli nervous. She didn't want to give off the wrong impression, but playing the day back in her head, she could see how one could come to certain conclusions.

"I'm not following. Explain. You never mentioned an Ezra to me or Leti."

"Because I don't know him well. I've only been around him a handful of times." Though she knew him a bit better, now, thanks to Carmen and Brandy.

"You've been around long enough for his people to think you were together."

"I guess it's kind of easy to jump to that conclusion when a man follows you around a party."

"He followed you?"

"According to his sister. Well, she said she was watching me, and Tati's mom was calling me everything but my name to anyone that would listen so they just put ten on two."

"Okay, I need the full run-down from start to finish because there's scalding tea you are not pouring, and I don't appreciate it. You got in good with the sister and got issues with the baby momma all in one day?"

Nayeli decided not to make things worse for herself by mentioning that she met majority of Ezra's immediate family and spent a significant amount of time with them, that she spent some time alone with him and on their own with Tatiana.

"It's not tea. I just don't have all the details. They don't get along, so he didn't communicate to her that we were coming. She thought we were trying to crash the party and got snippy, and he checked her. She hated my guts after that. She tried to make me leave and everything."

"Please tell me you cussed that hoe out."

"I politely let her know not to mess with me. A curse word was used."

"Man, hell no. You're better than me. Ain't a check in the world worth some bitter baby momma drama."

"Listen, I didn't even need the instructions. I was trying to leave before she came up to me because I knew she had a problem, and I didn't want smoke. Ezra and Tati asked me to stay."

Maxine's eye twitched, and she looked at Stella who was already looking at her. Yeah, Nayeli was definitely comfortable.

"Why?" Stella asked.

"He said he has a good feeling about me."

"It sounds like he wants a taste of the honey pot to me," Max teased.

"I have nothing to taste. Being only a few hours removed from a relationship can make anyone dry out for a while." And seeing the aftermath of not one but two relationships that had blown up, she wanted to steer clear for the time being. She had a lot to prepare for in the upcoming months.

"It's the opposite. Most people get under someone to get over someone else."

"When have you ever known me to do that?" Nayeli asked.

"Never because you wanna be Mother Teresa so bad." Maxine rolled her eyes and unmuted the TV as the commercial ended and Wicked Tuna returned.

"I just don't believe in creating soul ties with random people."

"But it's fun."

"Toxic."

"At least I'm real about it!" Maxine was always honest. Sometimes too honest, but Nayeli preferred it that way. She knew he could always get the real from her big sister, "How are you holding up?" she asked because despite Nayeli seeming calm, she knew the family baby was likely reeling on the inside. She rubbed the top of her back.

"I'm hurt, but I know I did the right thing. You were right in telling me that I had a choice to make. I chose myself."

"As you should. Every single time." Maxine wished she had her sister's strength. There were many times she should've walked away, but she was hard headed. Stubborn. Determined to see things through even if they were bound to fail. Nayeli had the balls to choose herself. It was admirable, so when Maxine heard sniffling and saw a few tears drop, she wrapped her arms around her sister and held her tight, "You're gonna be okay," she promised. She would see to that.

☼☼☼

Empty. Her home felt empty. Artwork was gone. Pictures were gone. The TV in her bedroom was gone. His clothes were gone. His shoes were gone. The bathroom was void of his razors and body wash.

One toothbrush remained, hers.

All traces of Jalen were gone. Just like she wanted. Nothing left behind but a hole in her chest. Truly alone for the first time in twenty-four hours, Nayeli walked into her bedroom and changed out of the clothes she borrowed from Stella into a loose t-shirt and a tattered pair of sweats. Stepping into her solace, she walked to her planter boxes and gently brushed her fingers over the leaves.

The sun warmed her skin as she spent time in her garden, breathing through the pain in her stomach. She watered her trees and veggies, allowed some tears to escape. Breathed some more until she needed to sit because she felt light headed. Tears fell faster as she sank to the grass and braced herself against the side of a planter box.

Her hand brushed across a scratch in the wood, and she looked down to make sure she didn't get a splinter. The scratches were prominent, along with the memory. They came from her nails, grooves carved from feelings of ecstasy flooding her body while Jalen plunged in and out of her on the grass.

For the third time that morning, she burst into tears.

[thomine]

apricity - thoma

thoma / reader | 936 words | general audiences

apricity: the warmth of the sun in winter

tags: near death experience, not proofread.

links: prompt list

notes: requested by @andromeda-nova-writing (thank youu <3)

.　⁺ . 　 ˚　✦　.　　+ ⁺　 　 . ✦

Let it be known you will never plan to sit across Thoma while waiting for your meal to arrive at a highly acclaimed eatery of Mondstadt, the Good Hunter.

It was also never in your plan to fall—almost head first—into a thick layer of snow when exploring Dragonspine.

But life never goes as planned, and if it wasn't for the gentlemen sitting in front of you, you would have been resting in a very cold grave.

You lift your head to peak at your saviour who is observing the citizens strolling past. His gaze is hazy, and you wonder if you've inched a way into his mind or you're just participating in wishful thinking. He made a space for himself in your thoughts since his act of kindness at Rintou, and he never quite left even if you did.

It is pretty selfish to believe after your farewell—or the lack of one—that he'll still think of you. Or maybe he does, but bitterly.

"Thank you, for saving me back there," you squeak, knowing it's a horrible starter. "I would have died if you were any later. And, I'm sorry about the mess I caused to your shirt." You point at the darker blotches on his black shirt, evidence of your tears and snot. Was the emotional high from being saved or was it for seeing him again or both? You can't tell.

He waves off your apology with a shake of his head and chuckles.

"You were really lucky," Thoma replies, turning his head to look at you and offering a polite smile. You can't help but focus on his lips—the memory of pressing yours against them resurfaces. It was a bliss you couldn't ignore, so was the fear that tangled your stomach when he kissed back. Thoma continues, "I'm glad I gave you the omamori. I don't know how it managed to poke itself from the snow, but its red was hard to miss."

You weakly laugh, averting your eyes.

Then, a warmth surprises you. Thoma is holding your hands that are resting on the table.

"It must have been scary," he comments. His steady touch forces you to notice you are shaking. "But you were brave to have stayed calm throughout. You did well."

Brave?

You wish.

As you laid in your inevitable coffin, you were agonizing all the moments you fled because you feared. How you turned into an adventurer to escape inheriting your family's successful business; How once your requirements were fulfilled, you sabotaged your good relation with the team leader to travel solo; How you abandoned your Inazuma commission when you realized Thoma might like you back.

The world offered you what you taunted it to give: a lonely death.

You were not calm. You were accepting the consequences of running around Teyvat the way you wanted.

But somehow, despite your disagreement, you're touched by his words, and you heave a sigh that takes away the worries of your mind. It is reminiscent of the moment snow that piled on you grew lighter as someone dug with all their might. The apricity against your freezing face was the hope you needed to stretch out and grab the hand that never gave up on you.

Hope…

You look at Thoma.

Maybe you can be brave, as he believes.

"I'm… sorry," you say, trying your best not to let your voice waiver. "For kissing you and then running away. I played with your feelings when I abruptly left, didn't I?"

Thoma is the one who looks away now, but his grip on your hands remain firm.

"I knew you had a reason to leave so suddenly. I just thought that… you would have told me. Were you worried I would have stopped you?" At his question, he returns his sincere gaze leaking with hurt. You are confronted with the fact you made a really horrible move. You suck in a breath at your stupidity, readying yourself for what's to come.

"I was afraid," you confess. "I never had someone like me back. I didn't know what it would mean for us to like each other too. I-I don't think I can ever plant myself somewhere, or even see myself big enough of an influence to affect someone's life—so hearing you wanted to make it work… I was so scared you were making a mistake."

"I don't think you should be worrying about the decisions other people make. I'm not unable to think for myself, you know. The time we spent and the help you've provided when I was sourcing for information… they were all moments I enjoyed, moments I saw your charming side. You weren't putting up a fake, were you?"

It is a rhetorical question, but you still feel a compulsion to reply.

"What if I was?"

"Do you take me as a fool?"

You close your mouth since it's only embarrassing you. Guess you really are lucky Thoma isn't the type to be butt hurt. His maturity is one reason you admire him.

Thoma's hands rub yours, and the warmth reminds you of the moment you saw light charting a path out of your unfortunate circumstance. It is a coincidence that Thoma has his once-in-a-lifetime holiday during the time you are in Mondstadt. It is a coincidence that he ventured Dragonspine the same time you did too. Perhaps the world is teaching you something.

You grip his hands and give it a squeeze. After amplifying your desire to reach out towards that warm light, you ask, "Do you want to walk around Mondstadt with me after lunch?"

.　⁺ . 　 ˚　✦　.　　+ ⁺　 　 . ✦

author's note: decided to take a more literal approach to this word because i was too lazy for anything more poetic, haha. i am glad you enjoy the way i write him, and i hope you like this as well!!! also, if there are people wondering "hmm... isn't this similar to another story you wrote with thoma--" UM. i have no creativity sorry lol.

[tournesunny]

Pokémon Freedom : Chapter 1 : Ella

Rain drops fell on the window as the others trickled down. I watched this never-ending cycle, half-listening to the teacher and betting on which one would be the fastest to come down. I looked up, dark clouds spotted the sky. I dreaded the rain; it was the reason why the battle studies class was relocated to a classroom instead of outside. If only they canceled it.

I focused back to the lesson and listened to what the teacher was saying. She was moving around frantically, ranting about the different types combinations. Nothing I didn’t know. I looked at the clock, only one minute left.

I couldn’t wait another second to pack my stuff. I quickly put my pencil case, my ruler, and my notebook in my bag. I looked at the clock: 15:00. It was time. I took my bag and began to leave with the rest of the class following me. I had to hurry if I wanted to see Sylvain.

“Don’t forget to train your team. All of your Pokémon must be at least level 30!” the teacher said loudly to drown out the sound of chairs scraping the floor.

I went down the stairs as fast as I could and headed towards the schoolyard. I put on my hood to protect myself from the rain. I could spot Sylvain, he was sitting on a bench under a tree, waiting for me.

“Hey, you”, I said sitting down next to him, putting my bag on the ground.

“Hi Ella, he replied, how was your class?”

“It was boring, I don’t understand why they just didn’t cancel it. It was pointless, really. The teacher kept going on and on about things we all already know.” I explained annoyed.

“That must’ve been annoying especially since battle studies always last 2 hours” Sylvain said comprehensively.

“I know!”, I sighed, “How was your free period?”

“Good, I was able to buy the handbook needed for biology. Oh, and I bought you that!” He exclaimed smiling as he took something from his backpack. It was a Treecko key ring, my favorite and starter Pokémon.

“Oh!! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I said ecstatically as I flapped my hands. “Where did you find it?”

“I found in a small shop in an alley. When is your next free period? We could go there together if you want.

“I’d love to, but I don’t have any free periods today” I said disappointedly.

“We could always go after dark” Sylvain suggested.

“Will it still be opened by then?” I asked. “I don’t know, guess we’ll have to see. Oh, and I have to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

“I might have to leave the academy…” Sylvain said softly. As he said those words the rain stopped, creating a twisted irony. The sun was shining bright as my world darkened.

“What? Why?” I exclaimed distraught.

“Well, you know how my parents have some financial problems so they might not be able to pay for the dorm.” He explained as he averted his gaze, ashamed.

“We could organize a fundraiser” I suggested hopefully.

“No, no it’s okay, I don’t want to bother you with.” Sylvain replied as he smiled softly.

“But it doesn’t bother me at all, I’d love to help you!”

He kept quiet before telling me he wanted to talk about something else, but I wanted to do the opposite. Soon after the bell rang announcing the end of the break. I had to go to my home ec class even though I didn’t want to.

“I have to go, or I’ll be late…sorry.”

“It’s okay” he said flatly.

I stood up, picked up my bag and left. I walked to the home ec classroom, our conversation still fresh in my mind, I couldn’t think about anything else. The trip from the schoolyard to the classroom felt extremely short. I entered and sat down in my seat. I couldn’t believe him! Why didn’t he want help? I could help him, and he knew it, maybe he didn’t want to go to school anymore. But it didn’t make any sense he loved being at the academy. I kept overthinking about this situation but couldn’t focus on the lesson.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, and it was almost time for me to go to the key ring shop with Sylvain. I went to my dorm to change out of my school uniform. It was a typical uniform with an orange tie and shorts. I liked it because orange was my favorite color. I put on a grey and red stripped sweatshirt, red shorts, and grey sneakers. I looked at myself through the mirror, my green eyes shining back at me. I was medium height with light brown braided hair. I noticed my braid was looking loose and decide to redo it. Once I was ready, I took my backpack and left my dorm.

I went down the stairs and arrived at Sylvain’s dorm. I knocked and waited for him to answer. He opened the door and greeted me. He was wearing a green hoodie with black pants and green sneakers.

“Are you ready to go?” I asked him.

“Yeah” he replied. He seemed to be in a better mood than earlier today. We left the academy to go to downtown Mesagoza. The sky was dark, the streets were empty, and the streetlights were flickering, looking like a scene straight out of a horror movie.

“So, where is the shop exactly?” I asked Sylvain. “We’re almost there don’t worry” he smiled.

We turned to a small dark lite alley, I could see the shining logo of a shop, probably the one we were looking for.

“There it is!” Sylvain said as we entered the building.

The shop was bigger than it looked. Rows and rows of plushies of different Pokémon, including starters and eeveelutions, were lined up. A large table was standing in the middle where many key rings were laid out, I could spot the Treecko one. I walked over to the table and saw a Totodile key ring. Percy would love that I thought as I picked it up.

I looked up and saw Sylvain by the counter, he seemed to be paying for something. I got closer and noticed he was paying for a Skarmory plushie. He looked so nostalgic, and I knew why. Skarmory was his sister’s favorite and ace Pokémon. She was a gym leader in the Kalos region before she died. She was sick.

We spent the next twenty minutes browsing the shop, talking, and paying for items. The shop was about to close so we decided to leave. The bell rang out as we passed through the door. We started walking towards the academy.

Suddenly, I could hear a ruckus, it sounded like a Pokémon battle. I looked at Sylvain.

“We should check this out” I said determined. “I agree.” Sylvain answered.

We started running and heading towards the noise. Once we arrived, we saw two men attacking a little Pawmi. This Pawmi was fleeing, trying to avoid the men’s Pokémon’s attacks. But there was something weird about it, it was pink. Pawmis were usually light brown, but this one wasn’t. Maybe it was a shiny Pokémon.

“It must be a shiny Pawmi” Sylvain said as if he read my mind.

“Really? I thought they were a myth” I asked, confused.

“We should help it!” he exclaimed as he threw one of his Pokéballs. His Skarmory, named Cui-Cui, came out of her Pokéball. I joined Sylvain and threw my Dragapult’s, named Ghost, Pokéball.

“Hey!” He yelled to get the men’s attention. “What do you want, kid. Don’t you see we’re busy!” the tallest of the men replied.

“Leave it Earl! We need to catch that Pawmi, or we’ll never get paid!” The shortest man said.

“You’re right Cam but I think they won’t leave us alone until we beat ‘em.” Earl replied.

“Okay then, you take care of them, and I’ll catch the Pawmi.”

“Alright, Seviper use bite on that Dragapult!” Earl ordered.

The Seviper lunged at Ghost, but she swiftly avoided the attack as she flew away. “Ghost use Dragon Claw!” I said as I got a Hyper Ball out. I let Ghost attack as I got closer to the Pawmi and threw the Pokéball in its direction.

“NO!!” Cam screamed.

The Pawmi must have been hurt because only one Pokéball was enough to catch it. “Ghost fetch that Pokéball!” I yelled. Ghost flew towards the Hyper Ball as she avoided Seviper’s attacks. She caught the Pokéball in her mouth and flew towards me, handing me it.

“Thank you, Ghost. Now, why do you want that Pawmi?” I asked menacingly as I put away the Pokéball in my bag.

“We don’t have to tell you, you brat!” Cam snapped back.

“Is it because of its fur color? Is it because you can sell it? Are you poachers?” Sylvain asked. He was probably right. I once read an article about illegal sales of parts of shiny Pokémon taking place in Mesagoza. 

“Why do you even care? It doesn’t concern you.” Earl replied calmly. “We care because hurting a Pokémon is illegal and we can’t just let you do it without doing anything!” I said angrily.

“If we win this battle, you’ll have to give us the Pawmi.” Cam negotiated.”

“No, we won’t let you abuse it! Why would you even propose that?” I replied confused.

“Have you never heard about the trainer’s code? If you don’t win a battle you have to do what the winner wants.”

“Well, that’s just stupid.” I said matter-of-factly.

“Ugh! That’s enough, Golbat use Cross Poison on that brat!” Cam ordered. He must’ve had enough of me disrespecting him. His Golbat lunged at me, towering over me as it readied itself to attack. “ELLA!” Sylvain screamed panicked, running towards me.

I felt its claws digging into my chest as I fell on the paved street. I could feel the poison going through my body as I got weaker and weaker. I tried standing up but couldn’t.

“Cui-Cui! Fly us to the nearest hospital!” Sylvain said as he carried me on put me on his Skarmory. “COME BACK HERE YOU BRATS!” Cam screamed as we flew away.

Sylvain took Ghost’s Pokéball and retreaded her to it.

“You’ll be okay, I promise.” He said softly, stroking my hair. I tried fighting the urge to stay awake, but I felt myself slipping. The last thing I saw was Sylvain looking worried sick. I’m glad I could catch the Pawmi I hought as my eyes closed.