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teshamerkel · 3 years

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Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

[Chapter 8] (17 Pages)

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Nia and Tobias officially form their Seekers team and run into a Pokemon familiar to the both of them. Nia is thrilled about this development. Tobias? Not so much.

Nia can hardly believe this is happening. She’s part of a Seekers team now, and one with Tobias at that! The charmander leads her back out of the tunnels, stopping only briefly at a shallow pool of water emerging from the cave wall at a bend.

“You need to wash off your mouth,” he explains, pointing at her bloodied nose. “If we go back with you looking like you mauled someone, Maggie’s definitely going to have questions.”

Nia uses the cool, clear water to gently scrub the dried blood off her face, biting back a whimper at how sore her nose feels. When she’s done, she sniffs and turns to Tobias. He tilts his head and scrunches up his nose.

“I think you’re good, but clean up your fur a bit. You’re all ruffled.”

Nia almost laughs. What is he all of a sudden, her mom?

Mom.

A lance of pain shoots through her chest. She gasps, pausing in the middle of smoothing her fur as tears spring to her eyes. Mom. When she thinks the word, her heart definitely reacts to someone, almost drowning her in a wave of sorrow and longing. But she can’t place a face, can’t remember anything about her mother other than the fact that she must love her dearly.

“Uh.” Tobias is giving her a weirded-out look.

Nia opens her mouth to explain, but doesn’t want to risk the charmander just scoffing something cruel at her. Not when she’s suddenly feeling this off-balance.

“I-It’s nothing,” she mumbles, hurriedly wiping her eyes and going back to cleaning herself up. Tobias doesn’t push, rubbing at the scuffs on his own skin. Within a few minutes, they look at each other, deeming themselves satisfactory. At least they don’t look like they just…well, fought through a mystery dungeon.

The two exit the cave and climb the staircase, up and up to the medical floor. Nia’s exhausted. Why does it have to be so close to the top? From the openings in the guild walls and the few Pokémon they pass who look like they just returned from their own missions, Nia realizes that the sun has already set, dusk painting the forest in shades of gray and purple. With how tired she feels, aches in her muscles and feet tripping over themselves more than usual, she feels like it should be midnight.

“If Maggie asks, I was showing you around the forest and that’s how we got all scratched up,” Tobias says.

“Do we have to lie to her?” Nia asks, already feeling guilty about it.

Tobias doesn’t answer for a moment. “Well, we can’t tell her the truth. She’ll freak out and probably have to tell August. No use in making her upset or getting us suspended before our first day.”

Nia supposes he’s right, but she still doesn’t like it.

When they reach their quarters, the older Pokémon is nowhere to be seen. Tobias walks over to the tiny alcove where Nia’s spotted a few berries stashed before, and pulls out an apple, taking it with him as he walks back to his nest.

Nia’s stomach rumbles. She eyes the cabinet, debating. Could...could she grab one too? This isn’t really her quarters, but Maggie did tell her to make herself at home. Nia hesitantly opens the cabinet and grabs an apple of her own, glancing at Tobias and relaxing when he doesn’t even look her way. She feels like a friend at a sleepover too afraid to ask for a snack!

Nia shuffles past the charmander to grab a book from her stack and sets her new scarf beside her bed. Then, she returns to the main area where there’s more light to curl up and read.

That’s how Maggie finds them a bit later, a smile touching her face as she catches sight of them co-existing peacefully in one room. “There you are! I’ve been wondering where you two went today.”

Nia snaps out of her reading and feels her ears pin back. “S-sorry, we, uh—“

“I was showing her around the forest,” Tobias cuts in.

“Well, next time tell an old woman if you’re heading out, all right? I was starting to get worried.”

Nia nods and Tobias grumbles, “Fine.”

Maggie opens her mouth to say something else, but pauses, leaning closer to squint at the two younger Pokémon. “How in Virizion’s name did you get all scratched up?”

Nia freezes and prays that Tobias will answer. After a moment he does, rolling his eyes and jabbing a thumb at Nia. “Genius here got stuck in a huge bramble patch. Only found one oran berry to patch us up.”

For a heartbeat, Maggie doesn’t look entirely convinced. But then she smiles, leaning back. “Well, I’m glad to see you’re being civil with each other, at least.” She turns to arrange a few items on her desk, casually asking, “So did you two talk about anything interesting?”

Subtle, Maggie. Nia fights back a smile. “Y-Yeah. He said yes.”

“Oh! Good, good!”

Tobias shoots Nia a confused look, so she answers, “I-I wasn’t sure I was cut out to be a Seeker, or if you’d accept. So I asked Maggie’s opinion before talking to you about it.”

Maggie turns back to the two of them with a wide, pleased smile. “I’m happy it all worked out. Have you chosen a team name yet?”

“I don’t really care as long as it isn’t stupid,” Tobias grumbles, shooting Nia a pointed look. She ducks into herself, embarrassed all over again.

“No, we haven’t.”

“That’s fine! You have some time. You look like you’re about to fall asleep on your feet, though, and I suppose you have a big day tomorrow. Why don’t you both get some rest?”

Right on cue, Nia yawns, taking her advice and turning to go to the nests. She pauses to look back when she hears Maggie murmur, “Just a moment, Tobias.”

The meganium reaches out her vines to gently grab the charmander’s shoulders, an unbearably loving look on her face. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispers, craning her head down to touch her snout to the top of the charmander’s head. Nia expects him to wrench away, yelling. Instead he leans forward to hug her leg, just for a moment.

Nia suddenly feels like she’s intruding on something special, and hurriedly makes her way back to her nest. She settles down into it as quietly as she can, already feeling sleep drawing heavy at her eyes. A nest of soft straw and leaves isn’t the comfiest bed in the world, but right now it feels like heaven. Shortly after, Tobias follows and curls up in his own nest for the night.

“So any name ideas that aren’t awful?” He asks, yawning. Nia takes a second to admire his sharp teeth and blue-gray tongue. Is that from breathing fire? Or because he’s sort of like a lizard?

“N-No, not really.”

“Well, get thinking. We need a cool one by tomorrow morning when we go to register.”

Nia doesn’t answer, looking up at the ceiling as silence descends on the two of them. Within a few minutes, Maggie covers up the window and the brightest crystals in the room with leaf shades, leaving the space almost entirely dark aside from Tobias’ flickering tail.

Names, huh? Didn’t Nia used to have something that would help her with that? Something that she could look up information on, a small device or something? Oh! A phone. Yeah. Man, what she wouldn’t give to have a phone and some service right now. Maybe then she could do some Googling on the Pokémon world, see if any human has a clue about these amazing creatures.

Heck, maybe she could even call her family.

Nia feels a lump in her throat, tears springing hot and wet to her eyes. God, she doesn’t remember them, not really, but her heart sure does. It aches. Feels heavy and painful in her chest, like it might physically be tearing in half. In all of the excitement today, she’d almost forgotten the end goal of her agreement to partner up with Tobias. She needs to get home. As amazing as this world is, she knows she has people waiting for her. A life to return to.

Nia forcibly calms her breathing and tries to think of something else before she starts crying. Team names. What could their team name be? It needs to be something good. Something that Tobias won’t argue with. She’s exhausted, but she rolls over onto her belly, grabbing her stack of books and dragging them closer. She eyes Tobias, making sure he’s asleep before scooching closer to his tail flame for light. Let’s see here...ah! There!

Nia pulls out the book of important historical figures that she adopted her own name from. There has to be a section for Seeker teams, right? Maybe she just needs some inspiration. Or at least to see what a “normal” team name would be. She flips through until she reaches a section detailing Seeker teams and members who apparently made a huge impact on the Pokémon world.

Team Bloom was a group of grass types who were the first mono-type team to reach platinum rank. Hm. Okay. Team Poppy started with a...simisear and an electrode? Were they red Pokémon, maybe? Or maybe they just really liked flowers. Team Adventure was the first team to discover a place called the Crystal Cavern in the Arabalis Mountain Range...Team Ellis was created by two Pokémon named Elliana and Kris, so personal names aren’t out of the running either. Team Ignite, Team Blue Sky, Team PokePals, Team Hawthorne, Team Maximum, Team Flying Fury...

Okay, Nia thinks she sees the pattern here. So something that sounds good with Team and is fairly succinct. Something that describes the two of them in some way, or maybe their goals. Nia quietly closes the book and pushes the stack against the wall. She checks to make sure she didn’t wake Tobias (not that he’d be quiet about it if she did) before curling back up in her own nest.

Names, names, names...

She’s asleep before she can think of a single one.

__________________________________________________

“Hey, wake up!”

Someone shakes her, and she buries her head further into bed, huffing. She’s warm and sleepy and getting up sounds like the last thing she wants to do.

“C’mon, we have to go get registered!”

Now recognizing Tobias’ voice, hushed but impatient, she finally opens her eyes as he shakes her harder.

“‘M awake,” she mumbles, trying to sit up. Tobias is crouched at her side, looking entirely too alert for how early it feels.

“We’ve got a lot to do today, and I’m not gonna let you laze around and sleep all morning.” He rushes out of their little alcove, and as Nia yawns and stumbles to hurry after him, she realizes the crystals of their dim room are still covered. The few patches of the walls and ceiling open to the sky are black as night. No wonder she’s so tired! How early is it?

“What time is it?” Nia asks, rubbing at her eyes and following Tobias’ tail flame to the doorway of the room.

“Shh. Maggie’s still sleeping,” he whispers back.

Nia blinks and nods, following him as they walk into the hall. Even with the dim lighting of the luminescent leaves and crystals, she’s grateful for Tobias’ flame, easily giving them a halo of light to see where they’re going. Plus, it’s slightly warmer near him. The night air is a bit chilly even through her fur.

The charmander leads them out of the medical ward and down the staircase without any other preamble, and Nia doesn’t question it. She just appreciates that the walk gives her time to wake up and smooth the worst ruffles out of her pelt. They spiral down further and further until they must be near the bottom of the guild, and they still haven’t passed another Pokémon on the way.

“How early is it?” Nia asks again, whisper sounding loud in the stillness.

“A little before dawn. We need to get an early start today.”

Soon enough they reach what must be one of the last floors before going underground. They follow it inward just as the sky outside appears to be lightening to a pale blue-gray. The floor is mostly dark aside from a few crystals, but Tobias quickly leads them past a few smaller rooms where Pokémon are beginning to stir and move about.

“What floor is this?”

Tobias glances back at her with disgruntled expression, like he wishes she'd shut up. “Administration area.”

Nia doesn’t ask any more questions, looking around as Tobias leads them to a particular room. Once or twice he looks like he’s not sure where he’s going, but Nia certainly isn’t going to question him aloud. Finally, they reach a doorway lit up brighter than most they’d passed. Tobias knocks on the door frame before entering.

A cutesy plant Pokemon sits at the desk inside, using slender white hands to write information down onto a stack of papers. She looks oddly human, but with large pink eyes and “hair” made of two long leaves and a stem. She glances up with a bright smile as Nia and Tobias enter, but it falters as she sees the charmander.

“Oh! Hello, Tobias,” the Pokemon chirps, clearly surprised despite her impressive Customer Service Voice. “What’re you doing here?”

“We need to register as a Seeker team,” The charmander answers, stopping in front of the Pokémon’s desk and sounding maybe the smallest bit proud.

The plant girl blinks first at Tobias, and then at Nia. The riolu takes her focus off of the luminescent vines and leaves lighting up the room to smile at her.

“Hi,” she says, offering an awkward wave. “I’m Nia.”

“O-Oh! Yes, the human staying with Maggie. Pleasure to meet you. I’m Riley. So…you two are creating a Seeker team together?” Riley asks, dainty hands folding over her desk, not moving to grab a form or anything. Instead, she gives Nia a worried look. “You realize you will be partners in almost every sense of the word, right? It won’t be easy.”

Nia gets the feeling that Riley isn’t talking about the job itself and more the difficulties associated with her partner.

Before she can respond, the charmander growls, “I didn’t force her to make a team with me.”

He looks like he’s barely holding himself back from lunging over the desk to claw at the flowery Pokemon, and for once Nia can’t really blame him. The implications make Nia bristle a bit too. Sure, she’s a bit of a pushover sometimes, but it’s not like anyone could force her into this big of a decision!

“It was my idea, actually,” she says, trying to sound confident. She’s just glad she doesn’t stutter.

Riley looks away, face tinging a soft pink. Good, she should be embarrassed after that rude comment. “Y-Yes. Apologies. Hold on a moment.”

As Riley searches through the forms, gathering the correct ones, Tobias turns to Nia, clearly still miffed but trying to move things along. “Did you think of a team name?”

Nia winces. Oops. She’d forgotten to think about it on the way down this morning. “W-Well, I looked up some famous teams last night, but…do you have any ideas?”

Tobias rolls his eyes. “I told you I don’t care as long as it’s not dumb like the name you gave that teddiursa. You don’t have anything?”

Nia glances around, skimming past the glowing vines lining the room and landing on Tobias’ tail flame. “Uh...something with fire, maybe? Like team Spark, or Team Ember?”

“Original,” Tobias scoffs. “Besides, you’re not a fire type.”

Nia wrings her hands, thinking. They’re both pretty new at this, and they do live in a giant tree. “T-Team Sprout? Team Sapling?”

“Even less original. We aren’t sudowoodo.”

Nia doesn’t know what that means, but she can sense an insult when she hears one.

“Team Sunset?”

Tobias tilts his head at her, frowning.

“Well, you’re orange and I’m blue, so kinda like the sky?”

Tobias shakes his head.

Nia huffs out a breath. “Uh...” what’s something that they have in common? She tries to come up with something (surely there’s something!), but other than fighting in a dungeon illegally? Not much comes to mind.

“T-Team Cherry?” Nia suggests with an edge of desperation, thinking of that first day in the cafeteria and the soup miscommunication.

Tobias snorts. “More like Team Disaster.”

Nia isn’t sure whether she should laugh or be mad. “You could help, you know.”

“I am!”

Nia sighs, rubbing at her temples. This is a good start for their team. Okay, what’s something that’s important to both of them? Maggie? Team Magnolia? God, no, that makes it sound like she’s dead.

Nia looks up again, and pauses as she catches sight of Tobias’ red scarf. It’s definitely worn, a little dingy, but the charmander never takes it off. Not to sleep, not to fight or eat. She’s seen him tug at the scarf or scratch under it when he seems nervous or irritated, too.

“Is your scarf important to you?” She asks.

Tobias reaches up to grab it, leaning back as if Nia’s about to snatch it from him. “Why?”

Protective. Definitely significant to him. “I thought maybe we could make a team name with the color red. If it’s that important to you.”

For the first time since she has started listing off name ideas, Tobias looks interested. He rubs the scarf between his fingers.

“I could get a scarf or something to match, too,” Nia offers. She’d seen a few teams pass by with matching or coordinated team items, like scarves and bands dyed the same color. It looked nice.

Tobias doesn’t respond for a moment. “So...what? Team Red?”

“I-I was thinking more like Team Crimson? Or Vermillion?”

Tobias hums, apparently not absolutely hating her proposition for once. “Team Ruby?”

“I kind of like that one!”

They pause in thought for a few more moments, before Nia remembers one more catchy shade of red. “Team Scarlet?”

“Scarlet,” Tobias echoes, rolling the name around in his mouth. “Team Scarlet.”

“You like it?”

To Nia’s surprise, he nods, a hint of a smile on his lips. He looks ready to go again, determined once more. It’s nice, having the critical Pokemon look so approving of her for once. “Team Scarlet. Yeah, that doesn’t sound too bad. You got that, Riley?”

They turn back to the plant Pokemon and she jumps, having clearly checked out somewhere in the middle of their discussion. “Yes!”

Riley fills in the form, scratching an inky twig against the paper’s surface. Occasionally she asks one or both of them a question, but in the end they don’t have to do much aside from sign their names. Nia’s signature is incredibly messy, seeing as she’s still not used to writing with paws instead of human hands, but she also realizes she’s not used to writing at all in the rune-like language. She’s only read it in books. She still wonders how that all works, how she can read and roughly write in a language not at all her own.

“Well, you two are good to go!” Riley says, stamping the bottom of the sheet. She motions for them to put their arms up on the desk, stamping their hands as well. “Just go down a floor to the item dispensary and look for Rainer. You know him, right? Politoed?”

“Yeah,” Tobias says, already turning to leave. Nia hurries after him, debating on thanking Riley before she goes. She was kind of a jerk, though, so Nia just gives her a halfhearted wave on their way out.

Nia follows Tobias down the corridors to the staircase, looking at the top of her hand in the morning light. It’s a simple, inky emblem stamped onto her fur, just a bit smudged. It looks like...a little egg, maybe? Or a capsule? With wings on the sides of it. A badge, maybe?

Before she can ask, they’re heading downstairs and immediately turning into a hallway, then to a gathering area. This space is more open, with different “booths” lining the walls and a stall in the middle of the room. There are a few Pokémon at each station, chatting or moving goods about; Nia’s pretty sure they’re Seeker teams, maybe packing up for missions. They approach particular booths in groups of two to four, a bag looped around one of their shoulders as they order and exchange goods. Or buy them, maybe? She hasn’t exactly asked how this works.

Tobias pauses, looking around before setting off for a booth. An adorable, bright green frog with rosy cheeks sits behind the counter, shuffling through some slips of cloth.

“Hey, Rainer,” Tobias greets as they reach the counter, peering over the edge. “We’re a new Seeker team. This is where we go, right?”

Rainer, presumably, looks down at the two of them, breaking into a wide smile. “Sure is! Need the basic package?”

“I guess,” Tobias says, shrugging.

“Stamps?”

Nia and Tobias push their hands forward, and Rainer nods. “Good! Give me just a second.”

The frog turns and shuffles through his chests and shelves of goods, humming cheerily all the while. “So what name did you two go with?”

“Team Scarlet,” Tobias replies, sounding more sure of the name as he repeats it. Nia feels a bit proud.

“Mm. I like it! Tobias, I’m guessing you’ll want to keep your scarf, right?”

Tobias’ hands drift up towards his neck again. “Yeah.”

“Will you be needing one, Riolu?”

Nia opens her mouth to say yes, before suddenly remembering the attack scarf they’d found yesterday in the mystery dungeon. She’d put it right by her bed so she wouldn’t forget to wear it, but she’d managed to do so anyways. She remembers Maggie mentioning someone in the guild who could dye accessories, so she thinks she could just have that changed to a matching scarlet red later.

“N-No thank you,” she says. “I have something back in Maggie’s room to use.”

Rainer just nods, entire body bouncing as he pushes a small satchel over the counter. “Good, good! In that case, I have you all packed up for your first mission tomorrow. Your badges are inside with a manual explaining how they work, so be sure to read up on that. You two go talk to Azami next, and be safe out there!”

Tobias grabs the bag and turns to go, Nia giving Rainer a word of thanks before rushing to follow. The charmander leads them towards the stairway, and Nia hurries to catch up to his brisk stride. At least his legs are shorter than hers.

“S-So what did he mean by ‘tomorrow?’ Are we not going on a mission today?”

Tobias sighs. “No, we have to wait. It’s mandatory for new Seeker teams to have a day of assessment first, to test their skills and knowledge, assign a trainer, and point out what the team members need to work on.”

Nia feels nerves flutter in her stomach. That sounds like quite the test. “C-Can you, uh...fail?”

The charmander snorts, voice lowering. “We won’t fail if we managed to beat a D-rank dungeon right off the bat. We’ll be fine.”

Nia feels less sure of herself, anxiety already bearing down on her. But she perks up when she sees a familiar face near the staircase. “Oh, hey! It’s Xander!” She waves at the blue and black lion Pokémon. When he notices her, he smiles, walking their way.

“Ugh. You know him?” Tobias growls, curling up his lip like the luxio’s presence alone is enough to make him sick. Nia doesn’t know why she’s so shocked by the reaction at this point.

“What? He seems really nice!”

Tobias rolls his eyes. “He’s an annoying goody-goody is what he is. Thinks he’s better than everyone.”

Nia frowns. That wasn’t the vibe she’d gotten from him at all.

“Nia! I’m surprised to see you down here.” Xander’s all warm smiles as he greets her, but when he turns to Tobias, his expression hardens. “Tobias.”

“Xander.”

The tension in the air is thick, but before any of them can speak, a graceful, bipedal Pokémon steps up next to Xander, looking curiously at Nia and Tobias with a gentle smile. They’re all delicacy and long legs, like a ballerina, green and white with startling red eyes. They remind Nia of a smaller Alistair, the gardevoir in the archives.

“Hello. I don’t believe we’ve met,” the new Pokémon says, voice incredibly soft. It’s almost hard to hear them in the open room. “I’m Avery, one of Xander’s partners.”

“I-I’m Nia,” the riolu says, torn between bowing and jutting out a hand to offer a handshake. She’s still not entirely sure which is expected in the Pokemon world. Avery has hands, so probably a handshake?

Avery laughs at Nia’s fumbling, a quiet but charming sound, and Nia feels herself blush under her fur. “It’s a pleasure meeting you. My father had some very kind things to say about you after your visit to the archives, and Xander mentioned running into you the other day.”

“Literally,” Xander adds with a small smile, looking visibly relaxed by Avery’s presence. “So what are you two doing here so early? Maggie roll you out of bed?”

“We’re forming a Seeker team,” Tobias says, crossing his arms and glaring at the luxio defiantly.

Xander’s ears perk up, star-tipped tail ceasing its casual flicking. “A Seeker team?” He sounds almost worried, gaze flicking over to Nia, and she hurries to speak up before Tobias can light the lion on fire.

“I-It was my idea! We both have reasons for wanting to join one, and, well, we already kind of know each other, so...”

That’s not 100% the true reasoning, and she suspects that Xander knows that, but the luxio doesn’t say anything else. Before anyone can respond, a blue-gray turtle appears on Xander’s other side, slinging an arm around his neck. “Yo! We’ve got the supplies, cap. Ready to go? Kry is itching to leave.”

The turtle notices Nia and Tobias, fluffy ears twitching as he offers a casual grin. “Hey. Sorry for interrupting. You Nia, I’m guessing?”

“Oh! Y-Yes, that’s me.” By this point she really shouldn’t be surprised every time a stranger knows her by name.

“I’m Felix. Been with this guy—“ here he takes a moment to jostle Xander. “Since the good old days.”

“The ‘good old days’?” Xander asks, amused. “We aren’t that old.”

“Eh, old enough. I know I sure could use a nap. Just wanted to let you know we’re ready when you are. See ya ‘round, Nia.”

Nia’s caught off-guard by the wink the turtle leaves with, once again feeling hot under her fur. What—did he just?

“Don’t worry about him. Felix is harmless,” Xander huffs. “A lazy flirt, but harmless.“

Nia nods, unsure of how to respond.

“I’d better go calm Kry down,” Avery says, fondly. They turn with a gentle touch to Xander’s shoulder and a wave to Tobias and Nia. “Good luck, you two.”

Xander watches the graceful Pokémon leave, and Nia fights back a smile at the warmth in the luxio’s expression. She doesn’t want to assume anything, but wow does he look the definition of lovestruck.

“I’d better go too,” Xander says, shaking himself out of his spell. He looks back to Nia. “You let me know if you need help with anything, okay?”

Nia nods, grateful. “Thank you.”

Xander’s piercing eyes turns to Tobias, and when he speaks, it sounds less like advice and more like a threat. “Be careful. Watch each other’s backs.”

Tobias scowls in return, not breaking eye contact as Xander turns and heads back to the staircase, where Avery and Felix wait beside a stocky gray dinosaur (dragon?) Pokémon with a green helmet and two tusks jutting from the sides of its mouth. They’re all wearing gold-colored cloths or bands on some part of their bodies, and Felix hefts a satchel larger than Nia herself up onto his shoulder before the group leaves.

“I hate that guy,” Tobias grumbles, white smoke puffing from his nostrils. Nia shifts uncomfortably. She doesn’t want to argue with her new, explosive partner before they even begin their first day, but she really likes Xander. He’s nice and he reminds her of someone that makes her feel calm and safe. Maybe from her human life?

“S-So where do we go next?” Nia asks, hoping to change the topic.

Tobias smirks, and Nia knows she’s going to hate whatever he says next. “The training floor for our combat assessment.”

Nia bites back a groan, already imagining how many ways she’s going to embarrass herself.

This won’t be good.

#pmd #pokemon mystery dungeon #pokemon #luxio #charmander #riolu #pmd seekers of soul #tesha writes #tesha draws

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grim-faux · 3 years

Text

2_2 _ A Stroll Through the Valley

First

The kitchen received another thorough examination. It was the same as the countless other times he rifled through, prying open cabinet doors and ducking in to check the same drab contents. Boxes and filmy plastic containers, overpowered by the stale odor of discarded refuse. He thought again, perhaps he should try climbing onto the counter and risk checking those cabinets. He wrinkled his nose at the thought and scratched the back of his head. Hurt.

He went into the empty pantry and spun around, his coat tail slapped against his knees. The food closet was empty, but it had a dark corner he should be mindful and check. One day the corner might disappear, and a dark, ugly thing would crawl along the floor. Rolling and swollen, blinking at the dull light.

Static buzzed within the narrow space, but he ignored it. He pulled up onto the lowest shelf and crouched there, trying to decide if it was a good idea to try for the next shelf. They seemed sturdy, he could reach the next platform with his fingertips, but would he be able to pull his body up?

“Mono.”

He kicked his legs and tried to heft himself higher. And also, look across his arm to see the figure peering in the doorway. The Thin Man was hunched over, giving him a look. Probably thought he was being a dolt. With some effort he got one arm over the side of the shelf and used it to leverage the rest of his body up, and get a leg fully over the surface. He kicked his coat tail out of the way, or he’d risk sliding over its surface and to the floor.

“We’re leaving.”

“Leave,” he echoed.

“We. You will come.”

“Look,” he insisted, quietly. He didn’t like being confined in the pantry, with the Thin Man blocking his exit. He shuffled toward the wall, crouched low and hugging his knees. “Danger.”

The Thin Man gestured the floor. “Then come. Stay with. No more to look. Leave.” He eased back, and the oppressive layer of static diluted.

It sounded all right, to leave. It was the preferred plan, Mono mused. Before he was incapable of escape at all, and all the foods gone, and he would have to say farewell to the treasures he didn't know, nor wanted. This place was bad, it hurt. It made him hurt constantly - not like the Tower - but it wanted to be a Tower. But still, go while still hurt and the foods collected, was not good either. The Thin Man planned leave so Mono would escape. He wasn't sure if he could play the game the way the Thin Man did. He wouldn't figure this out, sitting in a closet.

Mono scooted to the edge of the shelf and let himself down. Outside the door, the Thin Man was waiting. When the tall figure observed his emergence, he pivoted and ventured from the kitchen.

“I don’t know where we will arrive, and have no plans to return here,” he stated. “If there is anything you feel you need, take now.” He situated himself at the entry and addressed the child, with a slight tilt of his hat.

Mono looked from the Thin Man and then to the shut door, debating. Everything important he carried, his hats and everything. Oh, there was something. He went over to the end table and climbed up, to where the man in the hat left foods. He packed some of his favorite bits into his coat pockets, and a chewed away a few more scraps to curb some of his stomach ache.

With this task shuffled away, he plopped to the floor and inched towards the Thin Man. Without a word, the tall figure took the handle and swept through the unfairly short doorframe. And Mono followed, feeling an odd sense of vivid familiarity with the scenario.

Except this time, he was having a difficult trial of carrying after the Thin Man in the corridor. He's never turned the corner at the end, never ventured through the gloomy depths of this unknown. The resolve never existed, the dull lightening and the warped walls intimidating. Everything in the passage was massive, looming - the further he traversed, the smaller and smaller he became.

The Thin Man waited when he stopped moving. Hat downcast, only his chin and the bright collar of his shirt visible - his outline intermingled with the shrouded fringes of the infinite void. "Come. Safe," the static whirred. Then, he was moving again.

This time, Mono hurried his steps after the man in the hat. And this time, the figure didn't flitter beyond reach or disappear.

Eventually, the Thin Man led the way to an elevator in one secluded corridor. The door creaked open upon his approach, and in a flash and a whirr, he was within the lit interior. Only his legs visible.

Outside, Mono dithered and paced side-to-side, checking the intercepting corridor one way, then the other way for potential dangers. Where should go? An open door was visible, not far from his point. If the Thin Man activated the elevator, he could hop onto the top and ride it down—

“I’m waiting.”

The scratchy tenure startled him. Mono inched back, confused and suspicious. He didn't know why. The metal door to much like the cages, and being confined in a space with the Thin Man didn't settle well with him. Odd as that was. There was no reason to be fearful now.

The Thin Man bent over, to see the child. “No stay. Come. Here. Here.” He indicator the floor, beside him.

Mono crept into the lift, bypassing the threshold. Once he was positioned by the Thin Man’s fine shoes, the lift activated and dipped. Throughout the carriage the lights flickered, as the cables bumped and hitched above. Mono still didn’t like the sensation, but he managed not to fidget around too much. When the cage dipped to the final floor and the doors squealed wide, he wasted no time in darting out and grapple with the air. Heavy and choking.

Where? He raised his head and examined the floor through, listening for shuffling feet or broken, distorted voices. The lift was loud, something would come. He withdrew to the doorway, eyes sifting at through vibrating shadows. Crushed furniture and a portion of the buildings interior overtook the ruptured floor, but his eyes hadn’t adjusted enough to see hollowed spaces. Gaps, a crack in the wall, or a hallowed out television - anywhere to hide if something came lumbering around, unexpected.

The dull thrum of static rolled from the elevator as the Thin Man paced by. Mono chewed his lip as he edged away. After a few of his short methodical steps, the Thin Man stopped and looked back. He made a short gesture with his hand.

Mono tugged his hand up to his mouth and chewed on the bandage. It would hurt. But he learned not to be disappointed.

“M'… follow?” he crooned, softer than the lashing rain outside.

The Thin Man tipped his hat down. “Yes.” Then, resumed his path.

It was still a challenge for Mono to detach himself from the digging frame of the elevator, where he pressed his back. His skin bristled and his muscles remained locked, painfully. All of this, he was uncertain why. Not even the thought of moving independent and dismissed from the idea of following the man in the hat, could overturn his reservation. The Thin Man wouldn’t stop, and he would be left. He wanted to escape anyway, but he was repelled to moving. Repelled from the world he watched from afar, dreaming of all the places he should go. The safety he should seek among the turbulence of warped, shattered fiends. He didn't want to languish in a corner, waiting for something obscene to stumble upon him.

With some effort, he managed to scoot his feet across the damp floor. After more coaxing and the dread of being lost and exposed, where unknown creatures lurked, he was able to get his legs moving along quickly. He stumbled somewhat, his weight unfamiliar and the texture of the hard floor strange since however long he spent on ratty carpet.

To his surprise, the Thin Man was waiting outside the collapsing entrance, holding the only viable door open a crack. His gaze was cast off, likely surveying the streets laced by endless threads of drizzle. Mono slipped through the opening and went across the sidewalk, to stand out on the side of the road. He was getting soaked already. With one a swift motion, he reached under his coat and slipped out a hat.

When the roll of static began to subside from his nerves, Mono looked over and observed the Thin Man walking away. He continued to explore with his eyes, taking stock of his surroundings and some of the unfamiliar landmarks. The loathsome gurgle of a Viewer croaked out, but that could be from anywhere the way sounds carried in the soft weather. Further to his left, he spied an opening between two buildings which might’ve been an alley – if not for the side of one structure being completely decimated. The air carried the thick film of grease and oils, the lights pellets slipped a soft whisper through his ears. These things are familiar, he knows this place. This is where he lived.

Turning back around, he saw that the Thin Man had paused in his stroll and was just watching him. Mono tipped his head and took a step back. Was flee now? Time for run?

Rather give chase, the Thin Man pivoted and resumed his walk. Indifferent, casual, unhurried, and in the open without a care.

Okay.

Mono walked after him, his steps carried swiftly on the cold pavement. He hopped onto the sidewalk and hastened his pace, the footfalls noiseless under the sharp clack of the man in the hat's rythmic stride. The Thin Man did not move with haste, but he had a stride that stole distance without meaning to. The voice made him stall, when the Thin Man spoke:

“I didn’t ask where you wanted to go.”

Go?

Mono thought to ask a question, but he wasn’t ready for the response. He strayed a safe distance from the Thin Man, now that it was an option. He was in the mood for space. Even if the tower of an adult blotted out some of the wind sheer and mist.

First glancing for movement weaving among the mist, he hummed, "Not." He didn’t think the Thin Man heard him through the sweep of drizzle, but the figure glanced back.

“Not? Nowhere?”

That was the short of it. He did have somewhere he wanted to go, somewhere far away. Not until later. If Mono was to go anywhere, there had to be intent and a gain from it. Scouting was always a priority, to know the area and know the threats. Eats and foods came thereafter, the task stumbled upon if not sought directly, and harder still to manage. But to go anywhere without a reason, a very good reason, invited despair and dangerous risks.

“Foods?” He prodded at his coat, hoping the water didn’t sleet too much down his collar and spread through his undershirt. Taunting was anticipated, but not the soft agreement.

“Foods then. I will show where we find.”

It didn’t invigorate Mono with much elation or optimism, though if he knew of a place or more that held foods he would be okay. He didn’t know where the Thin Man took foods from, but he clearly had a simple time of it. The loss of the food from the building was sad, but it was done now. He didn't leave completely empty handed.

Despite how the water soaked his coat and the way the breeze chiseled his face, it felt right to be back out in the weather and on the street. He would rather be curled up and dry in some dusty crawlspace anywhere, but for some reason he missed the oppressive weather. And the Thin Man. At least for the time, he knew where the Thin Man was. For a short time, he wouldn't follow the tall thin man in the hat. He would chase him.

#little nightmares #mono #little nightmares fanfic #the thin man #little nightmares fanfiction #the man in the hat #the tall thin man #fanfic #fanfiction #thin dad #canon divergence #au?

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elizapbrooke · 4 years

Text

A discovery of pancakes

This is my newsletter from Friday, May 22. You can sign up here.

I am disappointed to announce that the bird call I thought belonged to an owl comes, in fact, from a mourning dove. “One of the most abundant and widespread of all North American birds,” Wikipedia says. It’s an embarrassing but maybe understandable mistake. I figured this owl was out during the day because it was a creature of New York like the rest of us, its circadian rhythm all fucked up by early morning garbage trucks and the blue glow of the Chase Bank across the street. The mourning dove’s coo is low and melancholy, a distinctive series of five notes. I’d certainly forgive you for thinking it’s a hoot. As I was listening to mourning dove calls on my computer and having this horrible realization, one landed on the fire escape and startled me with the loudest, most intimate rendition of their song I’d ever heard. It may as well have pressed its beak up against the glass. (I assume it thought there was a dove in the apartment.) I crept over to the window to confirm with my eyeballs what AllAboutBirds.org had already told me, and, yep, there it was. It felt so special to have a mystery owl in the neighborhood, but I guess doves are lovely birds too, with their plushy throats and elegantly tapered tail feathers. Anyway, my friend Sid tells me he’s heard owls in Gowanus, so I’m keeping my hopes up. This week I published a story for Curbed detailing the history and recent evolution of the home office. As I was fact checking it, I realized I’d accidentally talked to ten hundred sources, so please do enjoy the fruits of my labor. I’m not here to talk about home offices, though. A few weeks ago, I woke up in the middle of the night and discovered I’d been brainstorming pitches in my sleep. I was thrilled. On account of pandemic depression and seeing very little of the outside world, I’ve really been struggling to come up with story concepts, which is problematic because that’s my job. Most of my dream pitches evaporated upon waking, but I managed to hold onto one, and in my sleepy haze I thought it was possibly the greatest idea I’d ever had. It was: PANCAKES ARE HAVING A MOMENT IN QUARANTINE. I decided I’d email the New York Times first thing in the morning. In the light of day, I realized that there wasn’t really a story there. When you’re writing a trend piece, you want to be able to point to, I don’t know, at least four really solid examples from the public sphere. My evidence was:

Alex and I had made pancakes recently

We were planning to make them again

I’d recently discussed pancakes with Molly and Vivian

I’d heard you can make pancakes from sourdough starter discard (which actually does speak to the zeitgeist)

But here’s the thing. Pancakes are a great topic for a newsletter. So here is my pancake article.

***

I’ve always liked the look of a big stack of pancakes, but I never really got why people were so into eating them. I like a breakfast that is hyper-functional and maximally filling. Because I’m an aging hippie, my preferred breakfast is a double-sized bowl of Ezekiel cereal, which tastes like delicious cardboard and fulfills 42% of your daily fiber needs. Pancakes, like pastries, always struck me as glamorous but pointless. I was even somewhat distrustful of my mom’s pancakes, which are dense and nutty, not sweet at all. Her recipe came from a “chiropractor/health nut in San Diego about 31 years ago” and involves grinding your own flour from winter wheat berries, groats, rye, brown rice, and millet. I love them, but a family pancake breakfast still makes me feel very out of control. This all changed a few weeks ago when Alex and I decided to make pancakes for dinner. All I can say is that quarantine has a way of melting away the rigid little fucks you used to give. For once, the chaos I associate with pancakes sounded fun and freeing. Also we’ve been watching a ton of Parks & Rec, and I was feeling inspired by Leslie’s diet of waffles and whipped cream. We made buttermilk pancakes, extra fluffy ones that require you to whip the egg whites on their own for several minutes before folding them into the batter. Two with banana chunks, two with bits of frozen peaches, two blueberry, one bonus plain for me. I had mine without anything on top, enjoying the choking feeling of eating so much cakey carb. It felt like a hug. When I saw my friend Todd post a gorgeous stack of pancakes on Instagram, I asked him if he had any theories about why they’re such a good quarantine food. At first he thought I was trolling him, but when I told him I was dead serious, here’s what he said: “What I love about pancakes right now is that they feel both ordinary and radical at the same time. Ordinary because they are nostalgic, all-American, homey, comfortable, and approachable. Anyone can make them. But there’s also something really subversive about a stack of pancakes right now—the gluten, the non-plant-based butter and eggs, eating breakfast when Goop tells us we should be intermittent fasting, so forth. Eating pancakes in the time of coronavirus brings into focus how overwhelming wellness culture has become in recent years—celery juice and collagen smoothies will never, ever, ever beat a big, buttery, syrupy stack of flapjacks.” I would agree. Given my dedication to breakfast foods that involve sprouted beans—which predates our wellness moment but was certainly bolstered by it—I definitely find pancakes subversive. They make me feel nostalgic, too, but not for anything I’ve personally experienced. For weekends in high school that I spent ensconced in the television world of Gilmore Girls, maybe, where breakfast at Luke’s Diner is a comfortable routine. As I continued my journey into pancake reportage, I sought out the perspective of Sarah Jampel, an editor at Bon Appetit. While pancakes made from sourdough discard have their fans, Sarah is not particularly one of them. She’s also team waffle. I don’t really have a horse in the pancake/waffle debate, but Sarah makes a compelling case. “I have thought a lot about pancakes,” she emailed back when I asked if she had anything to say about the topic. “And yes, I have made them since isolation started—mostly because I'm ‘every woman’ and my fridge is overflowing with sourdough discard. ‘Put it in pancakes,’ I thought. The issue is that I need to add more flour (as well as butter or oil and leaveners) to sourdough discard to turn it into pancakes, so I ultimately end up using more ingredients for the sole purpose of not throwing some stuff into the trash or compost (but really, the trash). And even though pancakes sound nice in theory—why not start the day with a hot breakfast instead of the usual routine, eating a Clif bar with one hand while the other clings bare to the subway pole (huge sigh of nostalgia)?—in actuality they're inferior waffles. Unless you take care with your pancakes—loading them with lots of butter and separating the egg yolks and whites (this recipe's my fave)—they're too mono-textured.” Never fear: Alex and I loaded ours with an alarming amount of butter. I suppose it is to be expected that when you go out hunting for pancake insights, you come back with waffle testimonials. When I asked Alex’s high school friends to weigh in on the appeal of pancakes during a global shutdown, Nico said, “Waffles are the superior carb. They provide greater textural variety and are a better delivery vessel for condiments.” (Dylan has been eating toast all quarantine, and Dan “didn’t understand the question” because the only god he acknowledges is the Joy of Cooking’s pancake recipe.) My friend Molly has been eating a lot of savory pancakes under quarantine, for breakfast or lunch. She sautées a bunch of garlic and kale in olive oil, adding scallions at the last minute, and then sets the vegetables aside in a bowl. In goes the Bisquick, and she adds the kale mix on top of the pancakes as they cook; after a minute, she tops the pancake with shredded white cheddar so that when she flips it, the cheese turns crispy. She’ll eat that with a runny egg or garlic yogurt. I can’t wait to see her again so she can make one for me. Pancakes are one of the few foods that Molly has consistently been able to stomach during this period of immense anxiety. They have a strong positive association for her: in pre-corona times, she would make savory pancakes after playing soccer on Saturday mornings. Those games are one of the things she misses most right now. We talked on the phone while she made her daily trip outside to juggle a soccer ball. Molly likes to chat with friends during these breaks because bouncing a ball on your feet benefits from loose attention. “Cooking a pancake is similar,” she said. “It requires some focus but it’s not that hard. You don’t really need to cut anything. You just watch it.” Alex always says that cooking is meditative for him. I would respectfully disagree—to me, it feels more like hurtling down a mogul course—but I can see it with pancakes. You’re just systematically waiting and flipping, waiting and flipping. After making buttermilk pancakes, we progressed to Sqirl’s buckwheat pancakes for lunch on a Sunday. I can’t find the recipe online, but here’s a photo. For those who are lucky enough to have dodged my Sqirl talk thus far, it’s a phenomenal, semi-healthy breakfast and lunch spot in Silver Lake. Every time I’m in LA, I badger my companions into going right when it opens at 8 a.m. so we’re sure to get a table. When I was there to write about Dax Shepard in November, I high-tailed it to Sqirl right after our interview and embarrassed myself in front of the staff by inhaling bits of a particularly seedy cookie and having a loud coughing fit, after which I went around the corner to die in private. Alex and I thought we had all the requisite ingredients for Sqirl’s buckwheat pancakes, other than cactus flour, but the recipe calls for corn flour and it turns out cornmeal isn’t the same thing. We subbed in whole wheat, so they weren’t really Sqirlcakes, but they were still tasty in a restrained, earthy way. Alex convinced me to try one with raspberry jam, which I reluctantly admit was a great pairing. A week or two later, we made them again. I wasn’t really hungry because it was 2 p.m. and I’d already eaten lunch—Alex had just gotten up—but I pledged to eat my portion cold out of the fridge. Alex thought this was insane, but he sometimes forgets that I like my food a little squidgy. We went grocery shopping the next morning, which was as much of a bitch as it always is right now. Even though we’ve gotten the process down to a science, it still takes three hours from start to finish, with significant angst on my part about the cleanliness of the inbound goods. Finally everything was put away, and Alex headed off to take a shower. I was agitated and crazy hungry. I scrubbed my hands one more time, pulled the pancakes out of the fridge, and promptly dropped one on the floor while trying to get it into my mouth. I ate the rest in big, angry bites, one after another, standing in the middle of the kitchen. I didn’t want to sit down in my outdoor clothes. The pancakes were perfect, though. A shot of sweet, comforting carb straight to the heart.

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wellfic · 5 years

Text

Not a Single One

Written for @waywardsons-imagines Valentine’s Day Challenge

An AU where there are no things that go “bump” in the night and Dean Winchester has a happy life.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Language, sexual innuendo, fluff

Words: 1,661

Prompt: “How’s the meeting?”// “I want to stab everyone.” // “Don’t get blood on your dress. We have dinner reservations at seven.” // “I love you for enabling me.” // “Love you too.”

It was an unusually warm February day, but Dean Winchester had no complaints. It meant he could open the garage doors and let some fresh air in while he tinkered on a ’69 Mustang. It also meant he could set loose two 5-year-olds and German Shepherd in the driveway where he could see them, but they wouldn’t get in his way.

“When I’m 16, do I get Baby?” The voice of your 9-year-old daughter, Alice, piped up from above the hood.

Dean couldn’t help the hearty laugh that escaped his throat and he leaned out of the Mustang to meet the pouting face of Alice. “You’re weren’t joking?”

She sat up straight in her stool and held her shoulders back. “Why would I be joking?”

“Why would you expect to get Baby?”

“You get a car for your sixteenth birthday, right?”

“That’s debatable. If you have your license and you’ve earned it, possibly.”

“Well, you don’t use Baby much.” Alice motioned to the black Impala on the other side of the garage, glinting from a fresh wax for tonight.

“Your point?”

“I could put her to good use.”

“Yeah, no.” Dean closed the hood of the Mustang, deciding to be done for the day. “You’ll be getting an old, reliable car that won’t break my heart if you crash it. You’re getting a bumper car, baby-girl. Take it or leave it.”

“Will I at least get to drive her?” The mirror of Dean’s own eyes narrowed in on him and he could admit to himself it was slightly unnerving. While she had his eyes, everything else about her was you, and he was all too familiar with that look. However, it wasn’t from you, so he was in the clear.

Dean laughed again. “In 20 years.”

“Unfair—”

“I didn’t even let your mother drive it for 5 years, and she had 20 years on you.”

“But—” Alice was cut off by the sound of AC/DC’s Shook Me All Night Long in Dean’s back pocket.

He didn’t need to check the caller ID, it was your ringtone, but he always found himself pausing to admire the photo of you under the words “The Wife.” You were standing on the beach, grinning from ear to ear, and hair tousled from the wind and sea salt of the ocean as you held all the girls. Alice was on your back and you had a twin on each hip.

“Hey, what’s up?” Dean leaned against the car and looked to the twins to see them happily racing their bikes on the track they had drawn in chalk. Renegade followed behind them, tail swishing with every stride.

“I have bad news, but good news.” Your voice was calm, so Dean wasn’t concerned.

“Okay, shoot.”

“Our babysitter canceled, she got mono.”

“Son of a bitch—”

“Dad! Swear jar!” Alice triumphantly held out her hand, and Dean dug his wallet out and handed her dollar. She stuffed it into the already full, glass jug.

“Way to go,” you chuckled. “But our plans aren’t ruined. Claire and I had lunch—”

“No—”

“Dean—”

“Last time Claire babysat we came home to a 9-year-old going on 21.”

“Alice starts middle school next year, we better get used to it. Besides, I made Claire promise to leave the makeup at home this time and she offered to babysit out of the kindness of her heart.”

“You took her to that fancy steakhouse, didn’t you?”

“And I told her she could order take out for her and the kids.”

Dean grunted, accepting the fact Claire was going to be in charge. He hoped this time she didn’t teach the girls how to have more attitude. “How’s the meeting?” Dean knew you had been stressing over work for the past week, it was part of the reason he was keen to have a fun night. That, and it was the 10-year anniversary of your first date.

“I want to stab everyone.” Dean could feel your eyes roll into the back of your head through the phone.

“Don’t get blood on your dress. We have dinner reservations at seven.”

“I love you for enabling me.”

“Love you too.”

“Ugh, Johnson is waving me back in. I will meet you at the restaurant. Give my love to the girls. Love you again.”

“Love you more.”

* * * * * * * * *

Dean stood outside the Italian restaurant that you loved for the handmade pasta, something that was hard to come by in Lawrence, Kansas. He shifted on his feet, checking his watch. It was five minutes to seven.

There was a tap on Dean’s shoulder and he whirled to come face to face with you. You had to keep from throwing yourself at him. Dean in tight, grey dress pants was a rare sight and it had you all sorts of riled up. “Excuse me, I’m looking for my husband. I can’t seem to find him. He’s usually sporting a canvas jacket and plaid, have you seen him anywhere?”

“I’m sorry, haven’t seen him. He sounds like a handsome guy though, it’s a shame he isn’t here,” Dean drawled. “May I offer my company?”

You pretended to give it a good thought. “As long as my husband doesn’t find out.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” Dean pulled you in for a lingering kiss. “Now let’s go eat.”

* * * * * * * * *

“This is bullshit!” Dean slammed his fist against the steering wheel. Baby’s headlights illuminated the highway in front of you.

“It’s okay, Dean.”

“No, I can’t believe they lost my reservation. It was going to be perfect.”

“Any night with you is perfect.”

Dean paused and sighed. “I know, but you love that place.”

“And we can go back on my birthday. Besides, I think I have a better idea.”

“What’s that?”

“Grub Off the Griddle. We haven’t been there in ages.”

* * * * * * * * *

“Oh my god, I never thought that not having to share a milkshake would be the most satisfying thing,” you groaned and took another large gulp of the Oreo milkshake.

“I look forward to not having to share my fries and settle any arguments.” Dean watched every single facial expression you made. You were as captivating as you had been on your first date exactly ten years ago.

“There’s a reason we only order take out these days.” You held a spoonful of whip cream out to Dean who gladly accepted it. “How many slices of pie are you going to get?”

“Oh, at least three. For sure.”

The waitress set your food down, and the two of you wasted no time digging into your thick burgers.

“So, you’re never going to believe what our daughter asked me this morning on the way to school?” You smirked.

“Which one?”

“The eldest.”

“Was it the dreaded ‘where do babies come from’ question again? Because I thought we had gotten her to leave that alone for a little while longer.”

“Apparently, her friend Lucy did a presentation on her grandma and about how she’s named after her. Alice wanted to know why we chose her name.”

“And what did you say?” Dean rose an eyebrow.

“That we just liked the name Alice.” You shrugged, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips.

“You lied to our daughter?” Dean’s smile mimicked your own.

“How do we tell her that we’re 99% sure she was conceived while listening to an Alice in Chains album, and we named her after that incident?”

“You could have at least said we named her after Alice in Chains, a band we both enjoyed.” Dean pointed his fork at you.

“If she brings it up again, sure. But I have a feeling when she brings it up again, it’s going to be with the question of why we weren’t married when we had her.” The thought of that complicated talk was starting to give you a migraine.

“Simple, because we wanted her so much and from the moment we met on that first date, I knew I wanted to have a family with you.” Dean was serious. It wasn’t an assurance for you. That Valentine’s Day ten years ago meant everything to him. You both had bad breakups prior and the date was forced between your mothers. But as the saying goes, mother knows best. Dean knew the moment you fawned over Baby and his classic rock collection that it was right.

“Maybe not as quick as we did though.”

“And I wouldn’t change it for the world.�� Dean reached across the table and took your hand in his. “I know it’s been said before, many times. But even though everything happened so fast between us, I don’t regret a single choice we made.”

Tears pricked the corner of your eyes, because no matter how many years went by those memories of feeling so scared and vulnerable never went away. You and Dean had been together barely three months when you found out you were pregnant with Alice. Dean panicked when you had told him, but he wasn’t angry like you thought he might get. No, he stuck by your side and the further along you got, the more excited he was.

The day you found out you were having a daughter was the first time you had ever seen him cry. He cried again at all your children’s births, your wedding, and when you two got into a bad car accident two years after Alice was born. You had been pregnant at the time when you got t-boned on the passenger side and you barely escaped with your own life. Dean had only sustained a concussion and broken collar bone. The only saving grace was that Alice had been with John and Mary that night.

“Me neither. Not a single one.”

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allthemonsters-yashka · 5 years

Text

Part 6/16 of 16 Glenya Commissions

Read them all here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16412702/chapters/40536092

Submit your own commission to [email protected] with Glenya Commissions in the subject box.

High School AU (Also I locked them in a closet)~

Anya tapped her fingers on the desk in front of her to the time of the bold handed clock on the class room wall and looked around the mostly deserted classroom. The room was empty with the exception of herself and the one other deletion-ee, who was diligently bent over the desk in front of him scribbling away furiously at their assigned work, work which Anya had already neglected and turned the page over, filling it with sketches of the Eiffel Tower, her sisters, and some nearly demonic half peacock half pig monstrosity.

Anya let out a huff of air as she looked back to the clock to see not even two minuets had passed since she last looked up at it. Looking over to her comrade she almost felt bad for him. The student, Gleb, she remembered, had obviously never served a detention before in his entire high school career.

Glancing back at the closed door Anya knew her suspicions were most likely true, their detention teacher, Mr. Glorinsky, had probably retired to the teacher's lounge to wait out the rest of their detention.

Smirking to herself Anya pushed back from her desk suddenly, scraping the legs of the chair on the floor, emitting a banshee like screech. Standing up Anya made her way over to the ground level window and began to fidget around with the latches, pulling her hand back sharply, cursing under her breath and shaking out her hand after pinching it on one of the latches.

"What are you doing?" Gleb hissed, turning around in his seat to see her.

"I'm trying to leave." Anya grunted as she tried hopelessly to open the seemingly sealed window.

"What?" Gleb asked incredulously.

Giving up on the window Anya turned and walked over to the door, peering out the rectangular square window to see if the hallways were clear.

"I'm leaving, common." Anya turned back to Gleb with her hand on the door.

"What? No way, I ended up here by doing what you said!" Gleb snapped.

Shrugging Anya pulled the door open and stepped out into the hall.

"Anya, no!" Gleb tried but the door had already closed, effectively locking her out. After a moment of mental debating Gleb jumped out of his chair and pulled open the door, propping it open with his foot. "Anya!" Gleb whisper-yelled.

"What?" Anya turned around throwing her hands out.

"Get. Back. Here." Gleb pointed to the ground in front of him before looking back over his shoulder to make sure no one was coming.

"No." Anya said stubbornly.

"Anya!" Gleb reach out hopping forward and grabbing her arm, careful to keep his foot holding the door open.

On instinct Anya stepped back, but Gleb already had his hand on her arm and fell forward as she moved, both freezing as the door slammed shut, echoing ominously through the empty hall. After a moment Gleb seemed to come back to his senses and rushed back over to the door and tried the handle.

"You know that won't work." Anya tried as Gleb pulled on the handle, trying desperately to get back into the classroom.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Gleb moaned running his hands through his hair.

"Don't blame me!" Anya took a step back holding up her hands innocently.

"I blame you!" Gleb ground out, stepping towards her just as the sound of someone coming down the hall caught their attention.

"Run!" Anya yelled and by the time Gleb had looked down the hall towards the sound and back to her she was rounding the corner. Nearly slipping Gleb sped off after her just as Mr. Gorlinsky came into sight.

"Hurry!" Gleb yelled as he caught up and passed Anya, turning and running up a flight of stairs, Anya hot on his heels.

"What are you doing!" Anya shouted as she pounded up the stairs after him.

"What do you mean?" Gleb asked as he rounded a landing and began going up a second flight of stairs.

"Why are you going up! This is the only flight of stairs on this side of the building! You're pigeon-holing yourself!" Anya reasoned.

"Wh- I" Gleb immediately began to look around for an exit, the sound of a door opening and slamming shut on the ground level beneath them echoed mixed with the voice of their teacher shouting.

"This way!" Anya mouthed as she ran out the door opening to the second floor. Gleb followed before quietly closing the door behind him.

Rows of lockers blurred passed him as they ran towards the other side of the building to get to the other set of stairs.

"There they are." Anya panted as the neared their destination.

Just as they were nearing the stairs the door flew open to reveal the angry face of Mr. Gorlinsky. Skidding to a stop the two turned tail off in the other direction.

"What are we going to do?" Gleb asked as they ran passed a supply closet.

"Hide!" Anya grabbed his arm and pulled him inside, the door shutting behind him and clicking in place.

"Anya." Gleb whispered.

"Yes."

"This wouldn't happen to be the supply closet on the second floor that had the broken handle they replaced it with the same ones they put on the classroom doors, only backwards so it only opens from the outside unless you have a key?" Gleb mono-toned.

The was the sound of a handle jiggling in the dark before Anya's reply.

"I think, this would be that closet."

"So... we're stuck."

"Yeah."

There was a long silence and Anya began to shift on her feet. Reaching up Anya moved to tuck a strand of hair that had fallen forward during the chase out of her eyes when her elbow caught something. What followed was a crash of buckets, cans, brooms, mops, and other cleaning supplied falling over, knocking her straight into Gleb's chest. Gleb managed to catch her in the dark stumbling back as she fell forward letting out a small yelp. They stayed frozen like that as they waited for the inevitable opening of the door, there was no way no one hadn't heard that ruckus.

After what seemed like five minuets Gleb spoke and Anya finally realized just how close they were.

"Anya, do you think you could manage a quiet step back?" Gleb put an emphasis on the word 'quiet'.

Anya thanked the heavens it was pitch black in the closet, though she was sure Rudolf the Red-nose Reindeer had nothing on her and her cheeks. Slowly she tried to shuffle back only to find the way blocked by something. Her cheeks only reddened and Anya was sure they would light up the room any time now when she realized the couldn't move from their rather intimate position.

"Anya?" Gleb tried again.

"I'm trying." Anya whispered. "But I can't move."

A new, almost uncomfortable silence settled over them.

"What do you mean you can't move?" Gleb asked quietly, the words coming out harsher than he meant.

"What do you think I mean, Gleb?" Anya hissed. "I can't move! Is there any chance you can?"

"I'm already against the wall." Gleb answered.

Groaning Anya's head fell forward onto Gleb's chest before she realized what she'd done.

"Sorry." Anya said quickly, lifting her head up.

"For what? Getting me a detention, locking us out of the classroom, or locking us in here?" Gleb whispered.

"Technically the last two aren't my fault." Anya pointed out.

"It was your idea to leave the classroom, and then your brilliant idea to hide in here." Gleb argued.

"First off, you didn't have to follow me, and the classroom door closing was your fault, because you tried to grab me, and second off how was I suppose to know that this supply closet was the one with the screwy door knob?" Anya's voice climbed in volume as she spoke.

"The only reason I tried to catch you is because you were leaving!" Gleb tried to reason with her.

"Well you didn't have to, so in all actuality the only reason you're here is because of you!" Anya lifted her chin in defiance. "Why are you so worried about me getting in trouble, hmm?" Anya pressed.

"I'm not." Gleb attempted to push her back only for the pile behind Anya to give away beneath her, causing both of them to tumble to the ground.

"I suppose this is my fault to?" Anya asked as soon as the noise settle once more and Gleb sat up quickly realizing he was on top of her.

"Shut up." Gleb said reaching out to find Anya's arms and help her to her feet.

"Make me." Anya shoved him off her before slipping forward and knocking him back to the ground, winding up on Gleb's chest instead.

"You know," Gleb teased, "If I didn't know better I'd say you liked it here."

Anya sat up ready to respond when the sound of footsteps coming down the hall stopped her. Quickly she fell back forward, so if the door was opened there was less of a chance of anyone seeing them. From her position she could clearly hear Gleb's heart pounding in his chest as they waited to see if their luck had run out and they'd finally been caught. After what felt like an eternity the footsteps passed and fell off into the distance and they were alone once again.

It was now when Anya realized three things in rapid succession: one, that she could feel Gleb's breath on her face, two: she didn't particularly feel inclined to move, and three: she wanted him to kiss her.

"Anya-" Gleb asked quietly, almost as if reading her thoughts.

"Kiss me." Anya whispered, cutting Gleb off.

"Wh- what?" Gleb stuttered.

"Kiss me." Anya repeated.

Slowly she felt Gleb's hands come up from their resting place on either arm to circle around her, one wrapping around her upper back, the other finding its way to the back of her head and gently pulling her down.

Somehow, the darkness around them made the kiss better than any other Anya had had, not that she'd kissed many people, mind you. Anya chalked this up to the fact that due to being blinded by the lack of light all her other senses were heightened, or maybe it was Gleb. Probably both. His lips moved gently against hers, and Anya let out a deep sigh, splaying her hands out on Gleb's chest. All too soon they pulled apart gasping for air before Anya bent down pressed a chaste kiss to Gleb's lips.

"That was..." Gleb started but trailed off, seemingly unable to find the words.

"I know." Anya finished, sitting up. In the dark she reached up and pressed a finger to her lips. Wouldn't this make a good story to tell her sisters, or maybe this is one experience she'd keep to herself, a private memory, just for her.

"Here." Anya startled back to reality and clambered up, quickly reaching down to pull Gleb up once more. Stepping back Anya leaned against the door, trying to catch her breath, her hands behind her back fiddling with the door knob.

Her thumb slipped on the lever and there was a sudden click and before Anya knew it she was stumbling backwards out of the closet into the, lucky, deserted hall.

Looking back into the closet she could see Gleb staring at her in disbelief.

"Figures." He mumbled before stepping out into the hallway next to her.

Quietly Anya closed the door behind him and stepped back, looking at the ground blushing furiously.

"We should go." Gleb touched Anya's arm lightly to get her attention before walking soundlessly in the direction of the east stairwell.

Wordlessly Anya followed him as they snuck down the stairs and out of the building. Neither of them said a word until they were off campus and walking down through a park in the center of town.

"Sorry for the whole closet thing." Anya mumble kicking a pebble with the toe of her shoe.

"It's not your fault." Gleb said before adding, "And I'm sorry for anything I said in the closet, except for the bit where you got me in detention. That part was true."

Anya reached over and punched Gleb's shoulder in response. Aside from the slight laughter the action emitted they fell into a companionable silence once more until Gleb spoke up again.

"Tea?" Gleb pointed in the direction of a small cafe across the street.

"What?" Anya looked up from the pebble she'd been kicking with her feet.

"Do you want to get some tea?" Gleb asked again.

"Yeah, tea sounds nice." Anya agreed.

"Good." Gleb took her hand and Anya's heart skipped a beat before she closed her fingers around his.

"The thing is Anya," Gleb spoke as they stepped off the curb after looking both directions for traffic, "I really like you. Like, really like you."

"Good, because... I think I really like you too, Gleb." Anya stepped closer to him, expecting to feel uncomfortable, or like she was invading his personal space, but instead feeling better that she had before.

"Good." Gleb echoed as they entered the cafe, leaving the brisk autumn air behind them.

#glenya #gleb x anya #high school au #commission #gleb vaganov #anya #gleb and anya #fanfic #ao3fic

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junker-town · 5 years

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Which team could steal the No. 1 pick from the Dolphins?

Photo by Justin K. Aller/Getty Images

Miami is clearly in tank mode, but it may have some competition in the race to the bottom. We debate the chances of another team finishing worse than the Dolphins.

The Dolphins’ plans for 2019 have been clear since the offseason; this team had no interest in contending.

Miami has been selling off valuable parts and accumulating young players and draft assets throughout the year. Out went players like Ryan Tannehill, Ja’Wuan James, Cameron Wake, Danny Amendola, Frank Gore, Laremy Tunsil, Kenny Stills, and Minkah Fitzpatrick. In came cap space — an estimated $117 million and counting — and draft picks, six of which are currently slated to fall in the top 65 next spring.

This has all but guaranteed the Dolphins a spot near the top of the 2020 NFL Draft, but they still have competition if they want to snag their quarterback of the future at No. 1 overall. The 2019 season has provided fertile ground for bad teams. Six remain winless through four weeks of the season. Miami will play three of those teams — including two dates against the 0-3 Jets — before their race to the bottom is finished.

Who could usurp the Dolphins’ claim for the top pick of next year’s draft? There are a handful of candidates, but maybe none as sad as ...

Which is the saddest non-Dolphins team through four weeks of 2019?

Christian D’Andrea: The Bengals, who are a cauldron of regret. Cincinnati was supposed to change its culture after firing Marvin Lewis after 16 years and zero playoff wins. Then the franchise set new coach Zac Taylor up for success by ... re-signing shaky Lewis holdovers like Bobby Hart, C.J. Uzomah, and the oft-injured Tyler Eifert. The Bengals have few positives along an offense that’s been torturous to watch in 2019. Joe Mixon has run for a mere 3.2 yards per carry, Cincinnati has turned only three of its 11 trips to the red zone into touchdowns, and Andy Dalton currently has his lowest quarterback rating since his 2011 rookie campaign.

Three of the team’s 10 drives in a Monday Night Football showcase against the Steelers ended in negative yardage. Dalton was sacked eight times for -69 yards that night, leaving him with an average net gain of 2.26 yards per dropback. Dalton is not that bad, but his offensive line, hoooo boy, certainly is.

The defense isn’t appreciably better. In the past two weeks. the Bengals have given up 48 total points to teams quarterbacked by Josh Allen and Mason Rudolph.

Morgan Moriarty: The Arizona Cardinals, who we were hoping would be more fun than this. The Kliff Kingsbury experiment is, well, not off to a great start. Despite showing promise in an opening-week tie against the Detroit Lions, Arizona has lost its last three games by a combined 41 points.

The defense ranks 29th in the league, and the Cardinals are giving up a whopping 418 yards per game. Even the veterans are underperforming, as Revenge of the Birds pointed out after last week’s loss vs Seattle:

The defensive line has been pushed around all season: Corey Peters and Rodney Gunter have been as absent from the stat sheet as the highlight reels, and Andy Isabella has the same number of tackles as Brooks Reed (2). At linebacker, Jordan Hicks actually leads the leads the league in tackles with 48, but too many of them have been downfield and he’s been absolutely useless in pass coverage. Tramaine Brock has been another disappointment in the secondary, especially with his ridiculous penalty last week. Finally, two younger veterans—Budda Baker and Haason Reddick—haven’t made the leaps we need them to.

Sure, having a first-year head coach and franchise quarterback means there will be some growing pains, but there hasn’t been much to feel good about, especially now that the Cardinals have gone winless in September for the second year in a row.

Adam Stites: Washington, which is a mess. The quarterback disaster for the team was summed up by coach Jay Gruden when he answered a question about the plan for Week 5.

Jay Gruden on the Redskins QB plan for Sunday: “We don’t have one right now.”

— Nora Princiotti (@NoraPrinciotti) October 2, 2019

There’s Case Keenum, who had 37 whole passing yards and an interception when he was yanked in the middle of the second quarter in Week 4. He also threw three interceptions in the week prior and is dealing with a foot injury.

Rookie Dwayne Haskins replaced Keenum when he left, but threw three interceptions and looked lost.

The third option is Colt McCoy, a longtime backup who was 0-2 when thrust into starting duty last year. McCoy, who missed the first part of the season with an injury, will get the call in Week 5 — against, gulp, the Patriots and their No. 1 defense.

It’s a bad situation no matter what, because no quarterback fixes this. It averages 2.9 yards per rushing attempts, it’s still without left tackle Trent Williams, and the defense has allowed the second-most points in the NFL.

Washington is getting worse and could easily lose to the Dolphins in Week 6.

Sarah Hardy: Somehow, Washington’s quarterback situation could be even worse behind the scenes. The latest report is that Jay Gruden never even wanted to draft Haskins, something that’s not lost on the rookies.

In the early part of the season, there’s a lot of bleakness to go around. Sam Darnold is a walking Zoloft blob — he has mono! he hope he doesn’t die! — but once his spleen is good to go, the Jets should at least be able to compete again.

The Broncos could easily be 2-2 if not for blowing two games (with the help of some questionable roughing the passer calls) — and that was before they lost their promising young pass rusher, Bradley Chubb, for the season.

At the moment, though, it’s hard to beat the clown show that is the Washington franchise, though.

Is there any hope these teams could be just average bad instead of catastrophically awful?

Hardy: On the other hand, just because Washington has been ... let’s just say, the football equivalent of the political center of our country ... doesn’t mean the team is completely hopeless. Rookie wideout Terry McLaurin was out there setting records until a hamstring injury kept him out of Week 4 (which also cost his former Ohio State teammate, Haskins, a safety blanket to throw to).

Even if Haskins doesn’t play another snap this season, it’s too early to give up on a talented, but raw, quarterback after one half of football — especially when Gruden is likely out the door soon.

Maybe McCoy will give them a spark, or at least give them a little more competent play at quarterback. Keenum wasn’t even that bad through the first two weeks. Washington took early leads against the Eagles and Cowboys before losing by five and 10 points, respectively.

That gives them a sliiiiiightly better scoring differential than the Bengals.

D’Andrea: There have been some bright spots for the Bengals, but they’re only flash bulbs in a darkened arena. Cincinnati’s ability to find useful wideouts has only been rivaled by its ability to lose them. A.J. Green has yet to play this season due to an ankle injury and will likely take his time before returning for the tail end of his contract year. John Ross, who finally showed signs of life after two unproductive seasons in Cincinnati, is now on injured reserve with a shoulder injury. Auden Tate has emerged as a useful option, which means he’s got about two weeks before his teeth explode or something similarly depressing happens.

The defense hasn’t provided much more room for optimism. Any progress Sam Hubbard, Carlos Dunlap, and Geno Atkins have made on the defensive line have been wiped out by an ineffective linebacking corps and secondary. The Bengals have given up 6.7 yards per play since their season opener against the Seahawks, a mark only bested by the suddenly porous Ravens’ 7.8. Opposing quarterbacks — half of which, again, were Allen and Rudolph — have averaged a 116.0 passer rating against them, or the rough equivalent of Dak Prescott so far this fall.

If there’s any hope for the Bengals the rest of the season, it’ll probably have to come from his offense, which as been surprisingly lackluster under Taylor.

Moriarty: Kyler Murray and the Cards’ offense hasn’t been abysmal, (putting up 27 on Detroit seemed like a decent start), but it’s clear that there is some work to be done. Murray leads the league in sacks (20), but he’s been able to throw for 300 yards passing twice this season, and is on pace for 4,200-yard season.

Perhaps the most concerning fact about the Cardinals’ offense is how it’s been struggling to score late in games. In the last three weeks, Arizona has trailed in the first half and come out averaging just 10 points in the second half. You can’t expect to win many games like that.

D’Andrea: I’m not on the Kliff Kingsbury bandwagon by any means, but I think there’s more fight to the Cardinals than they’ve shown the past three weeks. That Week 1 tie against the Lions looks a little better each week, and it was a display of what Murray’s capable of as an NFL passer. If he can up his red zone efficiency — his team has just five touchdowns to show for 13 trips inside the 20 — he can provide enough to outshoot foes en route to a slight improvement over 2018’s lost season.

The bigger question is whether a defense that ranks 31st in the league in yards allowed can deliver Kingsbury the chance to turn his air raid approach into wins. Those opportunities will be limited, but still more plentiful that what we’ll see in Miami or Cincinnati.

James Brady: Dalton has has some high highs in his career, and we know he can make the big throws. Is he on his way out as the franchise quarterback? I honestly am not sure, but the Bengals have faced some tough teams.

While the 27-3 loss to the Steelers likely confirmed a lot of Bengals fans’ fears that the team won’t be good this year, they still lost to both the Bills (who are good??) and Seahawks by a single score, and played close against the undefeated 49ers early until things got out of hand in the second half. There are still pieces of a good team here, certainly not one that should lose every game remaining on its schedule.

Speaking of its schedule, Cincinnati will play the Cardinals next. The Arizona roster is just a mess and the offense feels like it needs an entire season of tweaking before it approaches viability on a weekly basis.

That said, the Bengals don’t have the easiest schedule. If “average team” means 8-8 or close to it, then maybe they can’t get there. But they’re better than 0-4, and could be the source of an upset or two down the line.

Which games are winnable on their schedule?

D’Andrea: Like the Dolphins, the Bengals have a handful of games remaining against currently winless teams. They were the Steelers’ first win of the season in Week 4, and now they can be the Cardinals’ first win in Week 5. If Monday night’s Sylvia Plath poem come to football life is any indication, they’ll throw a detour in the Cardinals’ road to the top of next year’s draft with another nigh-unwatchable performance.

Moriarty: Looking ahead at the schedule, there really isn’t a clear game the Cardinals should definitely win. But their upcoming game against winless (and banged up) Cincinnati is their best opportunity yet.

D’Andrea: Arizona has to fight through a very tough NFC West, but the rest of its schedule will provide plenty of soft defenses for Murray and Kingsbury to exploit. In their next three weeks, they’ll face teams that rank 27th (Giants) and 28th (Bengals) in yards allowed per play, along with a Falcons team that’s been unable to get out of its own way to start the season.

Brady: Washington already played pretty close to Philadelphia and Dallas, and an upset against any team in their divisional rematches wouldn’t be that surprising.

The Dolphins are coming up in Week 6 and that should be as trash as it sounds. There’s also the 49ers (we’re still not quite sure how good they are), and Minnesota (who can’t seem to find an offense).

Washington still faces some poor passing defenses on their schedule, including the Dolphins, Jets, and Giants. Finally, the running game, which has been among the worst in the league, could see boosts against the Dolphins, Packers, and Panthers, all of whom have lacking run defenses.

So what are your odds on the recipient of 2020’s first overall pick?

D’Andrea: Miami remains awful, but the 2019 season leaves no wont for bad teams. While Washington and Arizona can improve around young quarterbacks and provide some semblance of optimism, Cincinnati looks entirely screwed. Even the brief flash of excitement created by Andy Dalton throwing for 300+ yards per game appears to be snuffed out with few hopes of being reignited.

The Bengals are a bad, bad team. Bad enough to challenge a Miami squad that isn’t even trying in 2019.

The No. 1 pick is still the Dolphins’ to lose, though:

55 percent Dolphins 20 percent Bengals 15 percent Washington 5 percent Cardinals 4 percent Broncos (until they take Adam Stites’ suggestion and start selling) 1 percent Jets

Brady: The Dolphins are bad, and are clearly tanking, but they’re likely going to accidentally win some games on the back of having some young playmakers and extremely low expectations. Washington went from Alex Smith to Case Keenum to Dwayne Haskins to Colt McCoy, which should be enough of an argument for an 0-16 season. The Cardinals are in somewhat of a similar situation to the Dolphins in that there’s enough potential for big plays and upset wins. But not for Washington. I just don’t see it.

Let’s go with ...

65 percent Washington 30 percent Dolphins 3 percent Cardinals 1 percent Bengals 1 percent Broncos 0 percent Jets

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