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[attr="class","bisc"]between an easygoing grin and frog swallowing—wasn’t making it any easier. Not wanting to feel left out, Scotti laughed too. Maybe this guy would think it’d been a joke all along. Not a tatally embarrassing misunderstanding.

“It’s not—I mean she kind of does the opposite, really.” She hurt him. Or, at least, patched whatever in his DNA didn’t let him feel hurt. Was it a BDSM thing? Not wanting to dwell on that for too long, he hastened to finish his explanation.“But I doubt I’d have made it that long without her." Or, at least, he’d have ended up down a limb or a few fingers.

The elder ghost’s center stone spun in greeting. She seemed amused by Clarence’s reaction. Its tendril passed through the bite to emerge on the other side, leaving only a barely perceptible chill.



“Dude! That’s a sweet name.” It was way better than being named after a random thing on a bakery menu. Still, he’d heard it all. “Biscotti.” At the offer to share, the young man seemed to debate for a minute. Did he smoke? He almost wanted to say of course; even though the only time that happened was when he caught something on fire. A million DARE presentations flashed through his mind. “Not the last time I checked. Thanks though.”


The disappearing Shuppet earned a jump. It was there one second and gone the next. Almost proud, the Runerigus moved to pat Clarence in an almost maternal way. For a string of rocks, its touch was surprisingly soft.

Seemingly looking to defend its friend, a pockmarked sword erupted from the brush. Not wanting it to suffer the same fate, Scotti clumsily lobbed a ball at it. “Is uh—do you know what ghosts taste like?”

Catching Honedge
Mage Maddox

☉

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[attr="class","bisc"]The brunette grinned. He put on his best salesman voice. “Vegan, huh?” He tried his best to sound judgmental. Forced his honey eyes to narrow even as a grin threatened to break out. His hands dropped to his hips as he gestured at the deli case. “Well, that’s no problem at Kingsley’s Confections.”

With a wave—another useless gesture—he vanished behind the counter. He tapped at the glass as he moved. “We’ve got vegan strawberry cheesecake bites, chocolate zucchini bread, and apple oatmeal cookies. The carrot cake’s Pokemon-free too.”


Just saying this stuff made him hungry.

How he didn’t weigh four-hundred pounds he had no idea. When it came to inclusive desserts, Cannoli was a total whiz kid. How she made zucchini sweets taste good Biscotti had no idea. But the family had always wanted everybody to be able to smile at this place. They might not be perfect, but they knew it made sense to be inclusive.


Biscotti sighed. “That sucks.” He’d have been a dead Ducklett if he hadn’t found Bubbe. With her, he began to understand the actual cost of putting his hands on hot stoves and driving sharp objects through his arms. His scarred shoulders lifted in a subtle shrug. “But she still has a lot of growing to do.” He turned to the red-eyed psychic type. Tried to imagine her as a Gardevoir. Bad idea. “No offense, Eos.”


He pondered the situation for a minute. How it felt to go without sight, he didn’t know. But he doubted it was a picnic. A bunch of scumbags probably took advantage of her too. “You know—” Again, a bit of hesitation. “Maybe we can have Bubbe try and help you out.” A shiver would run down both their backs as the old ghost appeared.


If she had brows to raise, they’d have been in the stratosphere. “So you can see the paintings.” He gave the Runerigus his best baby-doll eyes.

Notes

• Kingsley's got vegan stuff on tap
• Offers to let a ghost possess a small child; a totally non-sus thing to do

opal garcia

☉

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[attr="class","bisc"]The brunette—shivering—turned to her with a grin. “Careful? I’m—” He stopped as he struggled with what to say. He was often the opposite of careful.

Images of them dead flashed before him. Their bodies were obliterated by the pulsing light that permeated this place. Veluza and Sharpedo going first for one of Nilla’s stunning eyes. He saw it extended like the string of a party popper before squelch, he faced an empty socket. Get out! Get out The pulsating thing seemed to order. Biscotti shook his head, cold sweat dripping down his face. “--you’re one to talk, Nilla.”


A few words about Dad, however, were far worse than anything this monster could conjure. “Just keep an eye on me then.” And, younger or not, he knew that she would. Sure, the Kingsley home often felt like a warzone, but it ended every night in a treaty.

Biscotti’s memories of that place might be fading, but the feelings stayed. He remembered the anguish he felt as Stella laughed for the last time, even if he couldn’t quite recall the exact sound. And, they’d only been able to stop those things—or delay them—by turning the monster’s powers against it. But right now they were unarmed. Tonight wouldn’t be the first time he woke up in terror—the hallucinated red and purple lights flashing off their windows.

He’d take this garbage, so they’d go into a potential battle armed.

Notes
Keep mining

Vanilla Kingsley

☉

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[attr="class","bisc"]The bats just squeaked down at the roadkill looking guys. But the earlier happier tones were tinted with confusion. They didn’t know what a zoo was. It wasn’t like they were some rare, endangered gemstone. They were a Pokedime a dozen. Honestly, they weren’t even sure that was a bad thing. The Hawlucha’s attempts to explain only ended in happy chittering. Free food forever!? Awesome!

Ooof! The crushing hug made it feel like his lungs had deflated. A wave of red covered Biscotti’s cheeks. The awkward teen could feel his embarrassment growing—the blush only deepening. “I’m—uh—not sure it’s heroic, really. It’s no skin off my back, man.” Sure, he helped make the stuff, but he also didn’t pay for the supplies. Besides, with the bats diving at everyone who stopped by, they had plenty of stock to giveaway. Hopefully, this guy liked raisins.

“Take care of—who’s Shirley?” Was this guy talking in the third person? A Pokemon? Some long-lost child? Either way, he really shouldn’t be taking care of it. He couldn’t take care of himself. Or anything else for that matter.

“I didn’t—” With a shout of alarm, Scotti moved to catch him. But he didn’t make much of a difference. It wasn’t like he was the first racer off the starting line. “I wasn’t going to charge you.” Shaking his head, he offered the guy a hand. “Come on in, okay?” He grinned. “

howard slayte

☉

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[attr="class","bisc"]Having a 13-year-old fret over you—like you were some invalid—was super embarrassing. But trying to get Nilla to change her ways was like trying to divert a river with cardboard. She was headstrong to the max. This is why, when he heard that they could explore Eternatus’s stomach, he reached out first. Knowing the ranger wannabe, it wouldn’t take her long to go back to the deep sea hellscape.

The journey itself went pretty well. He did spend a bit too long flipping backflips in zero-g, but a cuff from Jangle put an end to that. But they eventually reached the pulsing heart at the place’s center. Aside from a few distant Nihelego and a couple of Veluza, it’d been uneventful. Vanilla piped up next to him, drawing honey eyes away from a weird plant-thing.

Biscotti turned to his little sister. The compliment about his strength made him tilt his head away. His cheeks flared an embarrassed red. “It was dangerous when you came down here too. We’ll be cool.” Even if that assurance hadn’t helped with Sammy? Stevie? Gods, why was her name so hard to remember? His memory wasn’t usually that bad—they’d been married for Arceus’s sake! “Besides, I hate this thing.” The middle brother typically erred pacifist. He rarely experienced anger, but he wanted Eternatus to suffer.

But, first, he had to deal with this rock. When he volunteered, he was kind of disappointed she didn’t refuse.

“I’ve got this,” Biscotti reassured her as he reached for the conduit. He tried to smile. “I’ve got this.” It didn’t sound any more convincing the second time. With a deep breath, he The paranoia and anxiety washed over him in waves. They weren’t unfamiliar emotions. Jangle gently gripped his shoulder, grounding him to the here and now. As hallucinations danced in front of his eyes, he screwed them tightly shut. His body began to shiver. He leaned into his wrestler cat for warmth. “I’ve—I've g-hot this.” He repeated for the third time, aiming to reassure his nosy nelly of a sister.

Notes

Vanilla Kingsley

☉