#Alight motion is so hard to figure out but it’s so worth it

[lucraven]

Had to hop on this trend it’s so cute

[electrasev5nwrites]

Ninja Daily: Clarity 12

"Have you ever decided what you want to do about your old boss," Obito called out over the irritatingly chipper sound of summer cicadas.

Aiko glared, not even trying to respond. That was too hard with a lungful of fire. She pushed the flames out, pursing her lips like her intention was to go in for a kiss. The small spray that she forced past her teeth came out in a thin, high-arching plume.

(and that heat hurt, if this was a C-class jutsu she didn't know how Obito's teeth hadn't splintered from the heat of higher level jutsu).

He dodged it easily, alighting on the pock-riddled ground with a butterfly's grace.

In comparison, she felt like an eighty year old smoker. She wheezed for a moment, tilting her head back to optimize oxygen consumption. "You tried to trick me into breathing in to speak," Aiko accused hoarsely through a hot, painfully dry mouth.

That would have hurt.

All she got in return was a surprisingly wicked grin, before he telegraphed the motions of a water jutsu. Her chest was still aching from the last chakra she'd filled it with, but she mimicked his motions anyway, letting him teach her another jutsu.

He'd become a much less gentle teacher since her eyes had changed. Admittedly, that appeared to be because he was sharing his formidable repertoire of elemental jutsu. Learning that way was paradoxically effortless but time and labor-intensive. Seeing him perform a jutsu was enough for her to mimic it and reproduce it, but she still had to practice everything he showed her when alone later to truly master it.

With a little too much glee, Obito had taught her the lesson that being able to perform a jutsu was unrelated to being able to control it by allowing her to copy an A-level earth ninjutsu, and then saving her only at the last moment when she nearly killed herself with it.

Maybe that hadn't been kind, but she wouldn't forget or complain again about it being dull to have to learn D- level ninjutsu before he'd teach her anything more impressive. At least she was past the really low level stuff now.

The water jutsu he demonstrated (in a mirror, really, her motions so closely followed his that it was nearly impossible to tell he was leading) turned out to form a slick of two-inch or so water that coated the ground.

'Meant to make it easier to track opponents I can't see?' Aiko theorized. He didn't spoon-feed jutsu to her. Figuring out their use was her job. 'The splash should allow me to find anyone who was too surprised to water walk in time. If I can sense through the water, or force someone to use chakra to stand on top, I can use that chakra expenditure to keep track of their movements.'

"I was serious, you know," he brought up when they finished. Aiko didn't look up, bent over as she was to dab at her face with the hem of her shirt. "I tracked down your civilian coworkers when I realized what had happened. I may have jumped to the conclusion that there was a reason you were down for the count and they were fine."

Aiko looked up sharply at his sheepish tone. "Judging by your phrasing, they weren't responsible."

"No," Obito admitted, breaking eye contact. "I don't know about the woman who employed you all, though. I thought you might like to know, for peace of mind if nothing else." He frowned audibly. "That doesn't mean that they don't still present a danger to you, mind. They saw you activate your bloodline. If you think there's a chance they might talk, we'll have to do something."

She sucked on her lower lip, considering it.

'I had fun with that job when it lasted, but it wouldn't really be worth it to go back to Ando-san and try again. Then again, it would be polite to talk to her instead of just wandering away forever. I wonder if she ever got her cart back?'

After a moment, he reluctantly added, "We could kill them. The decision is in your hands, but I don't see much point in taking care of them forever."

Aiko blinked, honestly taken aback. "No, I don't think that'll be necessary," she waved him off. "I don't think they knew what was going on, certainly not enough to sell information. Besides," she decided, "we could just…" her voice trailed off, as she tapped a finger meaningfully against her temple.

Obito snorted, rolling his eyes. "You mean me," he groused. "You'd probably fry their brains."

She shrugged, unbothered by his lack of faith in her abilities. He was right, after all. Who did she have to practice genjutsu on? No one, that's who. All she knew was stuff that worked by altering and distorting areas near her person. Hypnosis was entirely different.

"We may as well take care of that today," Aiko decided, giving a stretch. "You drop me off with Ando-san, I'll see if she's guilty and give my resignation if she's not, and you pick me up after an hour or so?" Her voice lilted in question.

"Of course," he indulged. "And I'll take your former co-workers home."

"Lovely." She leaned back so far that her back cracked three times, nearly collapsing in a puddle of sore muscles. "It would be kind of rude to just stop by, though," Aiko mused. She frowned slightly. Maybe she should bring a peace offering.

("I heard you were dead," Ando-san said tonelessly, staring at Aiko with an expression she couldn't quite sum up.

Aiko shrugged, not knowing how to feel about that. "That was for a limited time only. May I come in?"

The older woman's mouth moved silently for a moment. Apparently unable to verbalize anything, she stood back and held the door open.)

Team Kakashi had nearly returned to Konoha after the three men tracked away from the spot where Raidō had nearly been killed into a dryer forested area. Not because they were unsuccessful, per se.

"Located traces of both Aiko's scent and that of unknown Uchiha," Tsunade read silently from the scroll she'd been given by a dog in a blue cape. "Gone to reinvestigate clue from previous mission, suspect that woman known as Ando-san had been in contact with Aiko after all."

What? She furrowed her brow, not seeing the connection, until Kakashi's scribbles spelled out the logic- "Oh, I see." Tsunade blew air out of the side of her mouth.

Funny. It had taken Genma to point out something that one of them really should have seen before.

She hadn't released a photo of Aiko with the subtle call for their contacts to keep an eye out for her. It would have been too dangerous, considering the intention had to keep the information that she was missing quiet. The only internationally available photo of Aiko was the one in the bingo book.

'And that picture is old,' Tsunade confirmed for herself when she flipped open her copy to verify Genma's information. How lucky that he'd gone to look after she had attacked Raidō (and wasn't that a can of worms, shit). 'Far too old to be in use now, it should have been replaced. If anyone other than incompetent Iwa had put out the bounty, it would have been. This might even be her graduation picture.'

The girl in that photograph still had baby-fat cheeks, a choppy home haircut, and a truly obnoxious dimpled smile. She was much cuter than the pointy-elbowed teenager that Tsunade had first met years ago.

Kakashi had scribbled down the description the unpleasant civilian in Grass had given him for point of comparison. It did describe Aiko accurately: the Aiko of about age sixteen and up, when her face had thinned out and her big baby eyes seemed to fit her face better. The twins looked more alike now than they had before they'd lost their respective baby fat that disguised the fact that their bone structure wasn't that disparate.

If Ando-san had learned Aiko was missing, she wouldn't have known to describe her that way unless she had either seen Aiko recently or knew far too much about Konoha shinobi.

Assuming the first was true, Kakashi would get information out of her. If the second was true and Ando-san was a spy, she'd be coming back to Konoha in chains.

Tsunade actually smiled, leaning over to scratch the canine messenger behind his floppy ears with much more cheer than she ever treated Jiraiya's summons. The nindog allowed her touch, and after a moment dissolved into a gooey puddle of doggy love. His chin was laying on her knee and he was staring up at her adoringly through shining brown eyes when Sasuke pushed the door open and strode in, wearing a grumpy expression and mission clothes.

The look he gave the dog was truly withering.

"What's Kakashi done now?" Sasuke prodded, amusement tilting the corners of his eyes just slightly when the hound stiffened in offense.

'How petty does he have to be to taunt a dog?' Tsunade wondered. Out loud, she lazily replied, "He's found good news, actually. I'd tell you all about it, but I want your report first."

When Kakashi returned with Yamato and Genma three days later, she was relieved enough to nearly cry. Naruto had been trying her patience. Naruto practically bounced on his former teacher, mouth running a mile a minute. He peered over Kakashi's shoulder, deflating slightly when it became clear that his sister wasn't following.

Tsunade wasn't too cold to deny that she shared a little of Naruto's disappointment.

Gently, Kakashi pushed the blond away and patted his shoulder. He centered between his two teammates, slouched slightly in what wasn't quite his usual attitude.

"Any news?" she prompted.

Hatake glanced at Naruto for a moment, before directing his voice to her. "Genma was right," he admitted, a strange twist in his voice. Irony, perhaps. "Ando-san opened the door and greeted us with, 'I thought you said she was dead'," he mimicked, pitching his voice up slightly. "We'd missed her by about four hours. Apparently, Aiko came by with apology cookies for letting all Ando-san's goods rot and her wagon get stolen."

Naruto let out a surprised laugh, eyes glittering with relief. At least she sounded like she was doing reasonably well, if a bit confused. They'd been so close- next time, they'd work things out. They just needed to talk to her and she'd see.

Tsunade cradled her face in her palm, suddenly feeling a headache. "Should we be sending someone to wait around Ando-san's house?"

Kakashi shook his head regretfully. "The cookies were also an apology for quitting without notice."

And now for something completely different

"It is time to take our next jinchuuriki."

Five shadowy figures flickered in the dim light of a gaping cavern. Suigetsu, the only person who was physically present, rapped his fingers against the handle of his sword in boredom.

He heaved a beleaguered sigh and sneered. 'Dramatic old men.'

This whole thing reeked of theatricality. The heavy uniform cloak on his shoulders matched that of the projected participants. From their perspectives, his face was probably cast in as much shadow.

He'd never even seen his fellow Akatsuki, aside from the asshole that had recruited him. Not much for camaraderie and hugs, these guys. He told himself that was fine. There was no point in bonding with anyone other than a fellow swordsman of the Mist.

Their apparent leader's deep baritone rung out again, distorted through static by the projection jutsu he was using. "We will be hard-pressed to acquire all the jinchuuriki in time once the great nations are at odds. We must be ready to strike and seal the last bijuu in rapid succession. However, there is one jinchuuriki that can be obtained before the critical moment. My partner and I will do so. If all goes well, we will perform the jutsu tonight."

It was hard to believe that the prick had a partner. He didn't seem the type to play nice. Curious, Suigetsu let his eyes wander over the figure standing closest to the leader. They could be standing in the same location or miles apart for all he knew, but their apparition-like projections were perhaps only two feet apart.

Even if they'd been in person, the high collar would have obscured the vast majority of the person's face. As it was, the only physical characteristic Suigetsu could pin down was that the person was short in comparison to the leader. Very few men were that short.

That meant either a child or a small woman. His gut told him it was a woman, especially considering her proximity to the leader. His logic wasn't rock-solid: the leader could be a pedophile. But it seemed less likely.

If he was a pedophile, of course, Suigetsu'd have to kill the disgusting bastard. He would kill leader eventually regardless of what happened, of course, but still.

"Be ready."

With that, the jutsu cut out. Suigetsu irritably pulled his sword over his shoulder and used it to cut through a hanging wall of moss in the decrepit, damp shithole he had to wait around in all day. "Useless fuckface," he grumbled. "Better hurry that slow ass up."

Obito seemed to shrink a bit when the jutsu faded, leaving them staring at the front yard instead of a dark cave. "I think that went well," he said to himself in an undertone, apparently bemused at that.

'This is sort of exciting.'

Aiko finally felt free enough to bite down on the hard candy she'd been nursing while Obito monologued. Sharp chips of green apple flavor fell across her tongue and melted nearly instantly. She may or may not have let out a slightly gratuitous moan of long-delayed pleasure. Oh yeah, that's the stuff.

She could all but feel Obito consider giving her a wearisome look, and decide against it on grounds of pointlessness. When her mood was this good, she just couldn't be stopped.

This was going to be her first time using the ridiculously long jutsu, so he was going to have to excuse a bit of fidgeting and silliness. He'd cautioned her that it was an incredibly trying technique, but that made her feel more excited than anything.

Perhaps she should be worried, but at worst Aiko was feeling butterflies in her tummy. She grinned to herself while pulling off the distinctive outer uniform. She could do this: she could do anything. She didn't know where her talent for ninjutsu had been hiding before her eyes got all sassy on her, but the fact that it had come out was thrilling.

Perversely, she was sort of falling in love with her ugly eyes. They truly were awful to look at and they contributed to her fatigue, but they made her combat repertoire so much better that it was downright unfair. What element she was using didn't even seem to matter: breathing fire wasn't any harder than hiding in the earth.

Besides, the ugly eyes weren't a half-bad chakra exercise. The concentration required to change them was significantly less than it had been when she had first started. Obito was more irritated by that than she was: one than once, he'd implied that she shouldn't mess with them if she didn't have the automatic ability to turn them 'off' and 'on' in the way he did. Worrywart. Aiko chose to believe that she was the one who was better off, because deciding otherwise would be depressing.

"Ready to go?" Obito glanced back at her, apparently preoccupied with checking his equipment for the last time. "Chakra pills, hydration? We're not going to come back before we do the jutsu, and it can take the better part of a day."

'This is not the first time you have asked me that.'

Aiko blew air out through her lips in what was too forceful to be a sigh. "Yes, mom. I have a change of socks too. But you know we have to come back," she reminded wearily. "You don't want me wearing the cloak there, remember?"

Honestly. It was his plan; he could recall it for an hour or two.

He made a sound of vague comprehension, apparently only now realizing that she had shrugged it off and piled the hat on the table.

Their mission wasn't going to be that hard, frankly. She was still itching to get started. Hopefully, they would find their target quickly once Obito took them to the village. Most of the plan was up to him: he was going to hypnotize the jinchuuriki into fleeing the village, whether through stealth or violence didn't matter much. The point was that the blame wouldn't be on them when no one could find it. It'd just be another missing nin, albeit a demonic-powered one.

Sensible? Yes. That was the worst thing about that plan. But Aiko had to acknowledge that it suited their purposes a lot more than challenging the village of Waterfall to a glorious battle for control of their beast.

'Although I would totally kick ass, were that the plan. I can't believe he didn't want me to be a front line fighter. Ninjutsu and taijutsu are so much more enjoyable than throwing things.' Aiko flicked her eyes to purple, and then back to red. Purple-Red-Purple-Red-

"Stop that." Obito reached back and gently swatted at her head, ignoring the indignant sound that she made. "The chakra fluctuations are very distracting. You'll remember to suppress that?"

At that, she couldn't help but roll her eyes. Of course she knew how to go unseen.

And that was exactly what she did, while Obito transported them directly in the village that had apparently been hidden behind a waterfall.

'Some people take the 'hidden village' thing much more seriously than others,' she mused philosophically, carefully leaning into Obito's side to avoid colliding with an adorably tiny child who was appropriately incapable of seeing through his Sharingan genjutsu. 'I don't think any of the others are really hidden. Spectacularly inconvenient and remote, yes, but not hidden per say.'

Props to Taki for committing to the name thing, then. For all the good it did them. As far as she could tell, Taki didn't have a single person capable of realizing that two invisible ninja were in their midst.

That was almost a pity, because she might have liked a fight. The vast majority of her new toys had only been used on Obito in spars.

Aiko swallowed that awful thought and wrapped her hand a little tighter around Obito's bicep, tugging in the direction she thought most promising. 'This isn't a game,' she berated herself. 'If we have to fight here, it won't be a fun spar to test out my abilities. It'd be a massacre. I don't want that, what the fuck am I even thinking?'

There was something frightening and insidious about just how easy it was to forget that other people were real and their pain mattered in the way that hers did.

She couldn't let herself think that way. Rationalizing fighting for her life and killing people who were in her way was a necessity of doing her job. Bringing that violence to civilians and people who weren't her enemies was unacceptable.

'I'm such a child sometimes. A brawl in the middle of Taki wouldn't be fun for these people. It'd be terrifying, even if I didn't kill anyone.'

Mood dampened, she didn't try to work up enthusiasm when they actually managed to locate the jinchuuriki via process of elimination. Taki was small, after all, and there were only so many things that shinobi did in their off-time. Since a jinchuuriki was likely a shunned loner, finding it on the training grounds wasn't surprising.

The thing itself wasn't exactly what Aiko had expected, though. The picture Obito had shared was of a tanned girl with eerie orange eyes and hair that reminded Aiko of her base level eyes. As with all shinobi mugshots, it was neither flattering nor expressive. The thin-lipped girl depicted looked ready to reach out and hurt the viewer.

In person, the jinchuuriki seemed almost disconcertingly normal: cute and perky, and as preoccupied with training as any other shinobi.

For all the good it did. It never stood a chance.

'There's something artistic about watching Obito use genjutsu.' Aiko sucked on her bottom lip and watched the chakra move with purple eyes, transfixed by the illusions he was pulling together. The first three layers slid smoothly around the jinchuuriki, distorting its reality and interfering with inhibitions and thought process. There was a worrisome moment as Obito spun a compulsion into the mix when thin, teal brows came together as if the bijuu was trying to shake it off.

She pursed her lips, impressed when her friend soothed whatever objections were roiling in the target. Obito might have been onto something with his claim that the Sharingan could control bijuu.

Point one to him, then.

From start to finish, the jinchuuriki only stood still for about seven seconds while Obito flipped its worldview and made it realize that a walk outside the village would be quite nice right about now. Smoothly, it bent to slip the large, red cylindrical device on its back and took off at an easy gait, round-cheeked face smooth and untroubled.

It looked disconcertingly adorable. Aiko pressed a hand against her tummy, irritated that the tactic she used against others was kind-of-sort-of working on her. She knew that a pretty face on a petite girl could be disarming. She should have immunity or something.

'Apparently, it doesn't think sneaking is the way to go,' Aiko noted, tilting her head in mild interest as they trailed their target across streets full of people that pushed to get away from the beast. 'And no one looks interested in stopping it. Is just walking out seriously going to work?'

That just seemed too easy. Weren't villages supposed to have tight control and regulations? Perhaps the jinchuuriki was so habitually agreeable that the sudden turnabout had them all stunned and unable to react appropriately. That kind of whispering and pointing couldn't be the normal state of affairs.

There was clearly no love lost between Taki's monster and the slightly chubby man posted at the gates. As the three came closer, Aiko had to classify the expression on his face as 'cruel disdain'.

'That really can't be an intelligent way to react to a powerful village weapon,' she thought doubtfully. 'Either you're frightened, or you're not. There's no circumstance in which taunting the demon makes any amount of sense whatsoever.'

People were surprisingly stupid sometimes about the simplest things. She did enjoy the slight break in his expression the moment he realized that 'Fuu' was still smiling and walking towards him en route to leave the village.

The confused scowl that turned to flat-out befuddlement when the jinchuuriki walked out the village without a word was a memory that Aiko would treasure.

At her side, she suspected that the shaking of Obito's chest meant that he was hiding laughter as well.

'I can't believe they're really going to let their most powerful weapon just walk away,' she marveled silently as they followed past the namesake waterfall and a mile into the countryside without a hint of pursuit. 'Are they really so weak?'

Obito elbowed her after a few minutes, which she took as her signal to go. She shook off Obito's cloaking genjutsu with a concentrated blink of her purple eyes and strode up to the jinchuuriki, trusting that whatever illusion he'd put the beast under would keep her relatively safe.

If it had fought, the plan had been to use chakra chains to subdue it. Since that hadn't happened, it hardly seemed necessary. It would probably be enough just to keep the other shinobi calm. The jinchuuriki smiled docilely at her, apparently accepting Aiko's appearance without a second thought.

(Jinchuuriki were not very bright, were they?)

Then again, Obito had expected that it wouldn't find her to be particularly fearsome. No matter what conditioning was pounded into someone's head, shinobi still found it much easier to be wary of a tall man in a lurid mask than a pretty teenager.

She interlocked her arm with the jinchuuriki's companionably, giving a cutesy smile of her own. Aiko was oddly surprised at just how soft and warm its skin was. She didn't know why she had expected anything different, but it just seemed off. A heartbeat later she was drawn from her contemplations by the sensation of Obito wrapping a firm hand around her shoulder—they were about to Kamui away. "Ready to go, Fuu?" Aiko asked warmly.

For whatever reason, the taller female form all but melted against her at the small kindness. She felt a prick of guilt—it was terribly sad that the creature had been treated so poorly that she was vulnerable to this.

"Aiko," it greeted in a much higher conversational pitch than Aiko's near contralto.

It was an effort not to let her smile falter.

'Obito, you told it my name? Very creepy.'

Effective, but still disconcerting. She could have lived without that. On the other hand, if the jinchuuriki thought they were friends, of course soothing it would be easier. The tactic was an intelligent one.

"Where are we going?" Fuu followed up, turning her head slightly.

Aiko let her gaze wander westward, to the isolated locale in the Wind Country's great empty deserts that had been selected for this operation. "Nowhere special." She nudged the taller kunoichi (and it was disconcerting, just how human it seemed up close). "I think my house for a bit," Aiko shared easily, keeping her tone light. "We're going to go see some of my friends later, but they won't be ready for a while."

That extraction had been much easier and timelier than their worst scenario estimates. Obito would probably flit ahead to take care of last minute arrangements like putting out protective seals and traps to keep them from being disturbed while they worked while the other Akatsuki filtered in.

That was when Obito pulled them through what she privately thought of as a void to a safehouse with that same sick, twisting motion and eerie blankness. Fuu seemed a little motion-sick, but not nearly as disturbed as Aiko had been on her first few trips via Kamui.

Without ever letting the jinchuuriki know he was there, Obito tapped his fingers against Aiko's arm in the Konoha code he'd taught her.

Hour or less. Use caution.

'Of course I'll be careful. It's cute, but it's still dangerous.'

She nodded slightly in confirmation, making the motion look natural. She wouldn't have been able to tell that he'd left if she couldn't see through his genjutsu with the purple eyes of funkiness.

Aiko glanced into the jinchuuriki's trusting orange eyes, wondering how she was supposed to entertain them both for an unspecified period of time. They hadn't spent much time thinking about the mundanities of this outcome. Aiko was torn. On one hand, it felt like she should be locking the other kunoichi up and feeding her gruel or something. On the other hand, watching Fuu lean her cylindrical burden against the wall and blink agreeably up at the ceiling almost made her feel like she had a girl friend over.

'There's no particular reason to be unkind,' Aiko decided, twisting the end of her long braid around her fingers. On the other hand, leading the jinchuuriki to the more private areas of the house like her room or the sitting area seemed too friendly. She compromised by indicating that the other should pull up a seat at the kitchen table. Aiko poured herself a glass of water- and after a moment's thought, did so for her (guest? Prisoner?) companion as well. Manners never hurt.

When she came back to the table, she leaned her elbows on the table and her chin into her palms, sizing up the placidly compliant girl-shaped demon obediently sipping at her beverage.

'I wonder what on earth Obito did to it with that genjutsu.' Aiko tilted her head slightly, trying to catch latent glimpses of intelligence flickering in hypnosis-dulled eyes. 'He convinced her that she knows me and trusts me, for sure. What would it take for something like that to trust a person? From what Obito said, I wouldn't have thought it was capable.'

"Fuu." Aiko let warmth color her tone. The jinchuuriki perked up, pathetically eager at the small hint of affection. "Do you remember how we met?"

"Of course I do. You stopped me from using my bijuu in Mizu, which meant that no one was mad at me for causing an incident." Fuu frowned slightly, and added with a bit of petulance, "I thought you were an awful showoff."

She felt a muscle under her eye twitch. An awful showoff? That seemed pointed.

'Obito, you jackass.'

"I later confirmed that my initial analysis was accurate, but you're not all bad," Fuu blithely continued.

'Why is it that Obito teases me even when constructing elaborate backstory?' Aiko wondered, feeling her pasted-on smile waver. 'Did he come up with this specifically to test if I would be nosy enough to figure out what he did?'

Well, he could suck on that. She wasn't going to let on she'd done what he expected. He'd just laugh at her.

"Actually, by my standards, you might be my best friend." Fuu gave a depreciating laugh, rubbing at the back of her neck in a gesture that looked much more genuine than her otherwise muffled body language. "That's pretty sad, isn't it? You haven't tried to kill me, anyway, and you were nice to me at the hotsprings. And then there was the whole thing with Grandmother Time," she continued, before descending into babble about an imagined adventure that made absolutely no sense – something about traveling with a Kumo nin on the lam from the leader of Ame?

She tuned out most of the fantastical nonsense; mind still arrested by the phrase 'you might be my best friend'.

Heat rose in Aiko's cheeks before she controlled herself. Her throat felt oddly right—and that was ridiculous, none of this was real. She shouldn't feel embarrassed or pleased by that bit of emotional frankness. Everything the jinchuuriki was talking about was artificially constructed.

So she shoved the wiggling sensation of bashful pride down and changed the subject to an inquiry about what it was like to be a jinchuuriki.

What she heard indicated that her deductions had been dead-on: there was no one there who could hope to physically keep Fuu under control. So they had resorted to bullying and attempts to cow her into servile obedience.

(If she ever went back to Taki, Aiko might not use as much restraint as she had today.)

'Why does it matter?' Aiko wondered uncomfortably, hooking her feet around the rungs of her chair and letting the conversation fade into silence. 'It seems a lot like a person, and it has a hell of an imagination if Obito was letting it fill in blanks instead of coming up with that all himself. But it's not. So why does the idea of Taki mistreating it bother me? It's not just the illogical nature of that decision, it's something morally motivated.'

Obito gave her a funny look when he came back and noticed that she and the jinchuuriki were sitting in amiable silence, but didn't venture to comment.

Aiko smiled weakly, tilting her face up in a moue of cuteness that hopefully communicated the phrase, 'I'm not getting attached to her.'

She blinked, a little disturbed at that thought. 'It,' she corrected hastily. 'What am I saying, it's not really a person.'

Even as she thought that, Aiko wondered if she was lying to herself. But she couldn't think of a reason that Obito would have lied to her about that. It didn't seem to serve any purpose. If she was willing to fight and kill people for him, why would he worry about this specific job? If Fuu really was a person, killing her wouldn't be any different from killing other people.

Obito must still have been veiled under genjutsu, because Fuu never reacted to his appearance. Light didn't reflect off of his mask when he tilted his head, which was a little creepy. Aiko shrugged it off and glanced down at his hand quickly signaling through a short message.

Immobilize target. We move out.

She blew air out the side of her mouth and turned back to Fuu as she stood and walked around the table, pushing down the odd feeling in her gut. Getting attached was unacceptable.

Trusting, Fuu glanced up. She didn't even move to stand.

Aiko told herself she didn't care at all, easily reaching an arm around Fuu's shoulder in a parody of a one-armed hug. The teal-haired girl leaned into it, and didn't even react when Aiko's left hand curled up through her hair to pulse chakra into the base of Fuu's skull.

She balanced the jinchuuriki easily enough to a hand on each of its shoulders so that it didn't fall out of the chair, wiggling her eyebrows at Obito.

'See,' she said silently. 'I don't care. No big deal.'

He snorted in amusement. "Here, let me take that so you can put on your uniform."

"I still don't see why I have to hide my face from our coworkers," Aiko groused without any real feeling, gratefully latching onto the change of subject. Reluctantly, she kept her face still as Obito easily took the jinchuuriki out of her grip.

It was probably lucky that the uniform covered almost all of her face and shadowed what was left, because letting Obito take her to the cave rubbed in the reminder that they were about to kill Fuu, even if it was inadvertent. The hideous oversized statue that Obito had summoned to crouch over them all seemed like some demon god, and Fuu the sacrifice when she was laid at its feet.

The contrast was odd. Fuu didn't look like the demon in that scenario. Fuu just looked like a little girl.

'It has to be done.' Aiko pinned her lip between her teeth and calmed her chakra. 'Obito told me that this part was hard, but it's necessary for his plan.'

Whatever the hell that was, anyway. Tsuki no Me made little sense to Aiko, but Obito was passionate about it and he was her friend.

Outwardly serene, she made her way to the high pillars that ringed the cavern. There were far more than they needed, as far as Aiko could tell. She didn't comment and instead left an empty space in between her chosen perch and Obito's.

'It stinks in here.' She swallowed, breathing shallowly through her nose. 'It stinks like mold and death. Has Obito used this location before?'

On some pre-arranged order, another Akatsuki –the one she didn't know- sauntered over to the low central point where Obito had dropped Fuu and pulled the massive sword off his back. Aiko grimaced at the almost sensual way he stroked the blade before he allowed it to drop on Fuu's belly.

'Ew. That man has problems.'

Problems like his supremely creepy sword, she realized a moment later as it convulsed through the white wrappings and latched onto Fuu with what appeared to be scales. That was just nasty. She stiffened but didn't let herself look away. It would be both immature and disrespectful to distance herself from what was being done today. It was real even if she ignored it.

'It also looks really uncomfortable.' Aiko bit the inside of her cheek, tasting iron-rich blood. Fuu was shuddering visibly, convulsing on the rocks, brutalizing her own body in an attempt to squirm away.

As far as she could tell, whatever he was doing involved draining Fuu's chakra. Aiko reluctantly admitted to herself that decision made a lot of sense. It was twice beneficial: it would allow that Akatsuki member to pour more juice into the jutsu, and it would decrease the amount of time they had to spend draining Fuu of demonic chakra by getting rid of her regular chakra.

The Akatsuki who could only be Zetsu (the only person present with giant plant fronds that prevented him from wearing a hat) arrived last and took point across from Aiko, on Obito's other side. As Fuu was left alone, Aiko gratefully turned her attention to the people she would be working with.

'Small group,' she noted interestedly. 'No wonder Obito was nervous. This'll take longer than he'd like with only five participants.'

Obito raised his arms first. In perfect concert, everyone mirrored his motion. Aiko licked her lips and concentrate, bringing the painfully long hand sequence she had memorized into the forefront of her mind and pushing away the impulse to look down at the small figure below.

Rat-Dog-Dog-Dog-Tiger-Dragon- {...]

The whimpers started below at almost the exact moment that the group hit and held the last handsign. In the sickest, strangest way, they were comforting: Fuu sounded like an animal in pain, and not a person. A jinchuuriki, not a human being.

It went on and on, dragging out the daylight hours into one long monotonous blur of slowly letting energy seep out. Aiko switched her eyes to red in an attempt to preserve as much chakra as possible. Even Fuu seemed to tire: her pale limbs thrashed less, and her voice quieted for minutes at a time when all she could do was gasp raggedly.

What must have been an hour or so of painfully careful boredom was enough for it to become clear that even with her partially occupied reserves, Aiko was the chakra tank of the group. The others were all relatively comparable with the exception of the lithe swordsman that had stolen from Fuu's chakra. Once his stolen energy was sapped, he drastically altered his output in an attempt to keep from being drained.

Aiko was both irritated by his inability to fairly contribute and sympathetic with his desire to avoid chakra exhaustion. That could kill.

There was a noticeable lurch in the upswell of chakra, and a horrible scraping as one eye began to move on the grotesque statue. She would have known that meant the end even if Fuu hadn't begun shrieking with a new vigor, slamming the back of her head on the rocks again and again in mad, stupid pain. In contrast to the darkening Fuu must have been experiencing, the cavern was growing lighter from the pure concentration of energy accumulating.

Fuu's body was actually being pulled off the ground by the sheer stubborn force of the energy being sapped out into the hideous statue.

It was clearly the end. The demon went out in one last hurrah of vivid white light and an inhuman croak torn from Fuu's abused throat.

She fell like a broken doll in the instant that the cavern darkened, supernatural presence gone. Then she was limp, blood spreading out from her head and dripping slowly down into the rocks she laid on.

Aiko sucked her lip in between her teeth, glancing down. She didn't need to check to know that there was no pulse and that the girl would be growing cold. She took a deep breath and buried any regret at having helped kill a lonely thing like Fuu. At least it was over.

"Good work, everyone," Obito rumbled, voice exceptionally low from being silent for so long.

Despite her determination to be professional, she cringed at that juxtaposition of positive reinforcement and her bleak mood.

'He did say that this was hard.'

She turned her face slightly to look at him, despite knowing that she wouldn't be able to see anything but the light hitting his eyes. She swallowed the urge to ask what was going to happen to Fuu's body. Judging by the group silence, Obito was the only person who should be speaking up in these meetings.

In the end, she didn't have to ask. Zetsu made his way down towards the body, slipping into out of the shadowy heights to the wash of soft light below.

Oh, good. She didn't want to have to ask. It would be a bit pathetic to make it so explicitly apparent that she'd gotten somewhat attached in a few hours. But really, Fuu had gotten a poor hand in life. She deserved a nice send-off. Fire would be alright, although really-

Oh god. What- what was he… Aiko gaped, feeling her stomach lurch at the sight of what appeared to be toothy protrusions extending from Zetsu's fronds and digging into Fuu, dragging her whole into the shadows hidden by Zetsu's cloak. Someone chuckled, but she just felt ill.

Inanely enough, the next coherent thought she managed was, 'I don't think I like my coworkers much.'

"That was well done," Obito repeated, letting go of her arm as the kitchen coalesced into visibility around them. The overhead light flickered three times before coming on when he lazily flipped the switch, washing them in clinical brightness. "I think we should-"

"Can it wait?" she interrupted, in a calm voice that did not sound like her own. "I need a shower. I feel disgusting." Aiko didn't wait for a response, shedding the hat and cloak as she left and tossing them on the counter.

Strictly speaking, she didn't need a shower. She hadn't done much in the way of physical expenditure, though the cave had been foul enough that she would have claimed that was the problem if he'd asked. She shed her uniform, kicked it under her bed, and went to stand under the hot water for a while to breathe in steam and think in peace.

'That seemed unnecessary. I don't really mind that we killed Fuu, but the body could have been treated with respect.' A moment later, she frowned. 'I… I didn't like the way that we killed her, though. That was cruel. Is Obito's plan worth doing this to six more jinchuuriki? I know that they've already been twisted, but maybe that doesn't justify what we're doing.'

She remembered the gist of his words at the time—that nine beings had to die in order to buy peace. In the grand scheme of things, that wasn't much bloodshed. Of course, she'd also never seen something killed like that. All Aiko's kills were fast and efficient. But it had taken Fuu the better part of a day to give up and die.

'I don't think she deserved that. Fuu didn't do anything wrong. We hurt her because of something out of her control—something done to her as an infant. I didn't think of what we would be doing in that sense.'

Akatsuki was a lot more cutthroat than she had supposed.

It was ridiculous, of course. But she couldn't help but remember the matter-of-fact way Zetsu had gone about what was obviously a habitual duty and wonder what would happen to her if she ceased to be useful.

No, that was crazy. Obito cared about her. He wouldn't let that happen to her.

Aiko thought she'd dismissed her paranoia, but she found herself making a note to look into a few things. Like excellent seals for keeping her room safe, and whether or not Konoha really had put out a bounty on her that would keep her from going home. Though she had no idea how to find that out, since her entry in the most recent bingo book had been so very out of date…

She'd have plenty of time to start poking around and attempting to fill in blanks, since Obito had been so much busier lately.

'I mean, I have to figure out something.' Aiko swallowed, carefully rubbing about twice as much conditioner as she needed into her long hair. 'I don't really want to do that to another jinchuuriki. At least, not until I understand why we're doing it.'

[aslitheryprinx]

Hello! Here is my mcyt g/t exchange piece for @blurrybunnie!

The prompt I decided to use was:

"cold nights are the best time for cuddles, but can it really be called cuddles when the giant is unaware of the tiny stealing their warmth?"

This was a really fun one to write, so I hope you enjoy! :D

Lonely Nights

-----------

Tommy clutched his ragged blanket around his shoulders, shivering violently. Winters had always been rough on the teen ever since he was shrunk by a vengeful witch as a child.

He'd been too terrified to be around people since the incident, knowing how easy it would be for one stray step or one cruel person to kill him. That meant living in the woods with what little supplies he could scavenge.

The blanket was made from the torn fabric of someone's discarded clothes he'd taken years ago. It had gotten him through many winters, but barely, and the years had made it thin and worn. This was possibly the worse winter he'd ever seen, as well, and as the night got colder, he was scared he wouldn't see the dawn.

Just as the cold was starting to make his body numb and heavy, the faint scent of smoke drifted past him. It didn't register for a couple of seconds. Then he was suddenly alert, adrenaline flooding his system.

Smoke meant fire. Fire meant his chance to survive the rest of the night.

Fire also meant people. Tommy felt anxiety curling in his stomach when he realized he'd need to get up close to someone, maybe the closest he'd been since he was shrunk. But it was worth the risk for the promise of warmth.

He sprinted through the woods, pushing past the blades of grass that stood in his way. He tripped over a twig, stumbling for a second before he recovered.

The running warmed him up slightly, but he was still shivering uncontrollably, teeth knocking against each other so hard he bit his tongue a couple of times.

When he saw a warm glow, he slowed. He stopped just before the clearing of dirt where the fire had been built, not wanting to leave the cover of the grass just yet.

His heart thudded far too loudly in his ears as he scanned, looking for the person or people who had made the fire. He wilted in relief when he realized there was only one man, curled up fast asleep on the other side of the fire.

He was still nervous at the possibility of the man waking up and seeing him, but the draw of the heat he could already feel from the fire was too strong. He walked forwards like a moth drawn to a flame.

The fire was old, more softly glowing embers than actual flames. He was able to go right up next to the fire. The warmth sank into his bones, and he sighed in relief. He sat down and curled up. Soon his eyes were drooping. He was close to drifting off, when a new shiver wracked his body.

He sat up quickly, alarm spiking. Another wave of chills hit him and he turned towards the fire. It had completely burnt out, and there was only a sliver of warmth coming from the smoldering wood now.

A gust of wind blew through the clearing, stealing all the warmth he'd gained from his short time by the fire. His eyes burned, though there was no smoke to sting his eyes.

He was going to freeze out here. He had no way to reignite the fire, and the man wouldn't be lighting it again anytime soon, he was fast asleep.

...The man was asleep.

A dangerous idea was forming in Tommy's mind. The fire was gone. If Tommy wanted to keep from freezing, there was only one source of warmth left: the sleeping person on the other side of the campsite.

The idea of it made Tommy's stomach churn with anxiety. But there really wasn't another option. It was either cuddle up to the giant person or freeze to death. A lump in his throat, he started walking around the burnt out fire, towards the sleeping figure.

He dragged his feet as he walked, stalling a little. While he walked, he took in the man's appearance. He hadn't paid much attention earlier, just glancing to make sure he was asleep. Now, he took in the man's features, wrapping his arms around himself as he realized just how massive he was in comparison.

The man was curled up in a sleeping roll. He might as well have been a mountain to Tommy. His hair was brown, but he couldn't tell what shade it was in the darkness. Tommy teen couldn't see what he was wearing, aside from the yellow sleeve of the man's sweater where his arm poked out. He slept with one arm curled in front of his face.

The last thing the shrunken teen wanted to do was get next to the man's face, and risk being seen. But the only exposed skin of the man was up by his face. There was no warmth coming from the safer options like the sleeping man's legs, he found out as he reached the area he guessed to be his knee.

Tommy just had to suck it up… and keep walking. Past the legs. Past the man's chest that rose up at least twice Tommy's height. He reached the elbow and his resolve wavered. The man was just so big. Just his elbow came all the way up to Tommy's waist.

But Tommy could feel the heat radiating from him already. Despite his fear, his shivering was too much, and he leaned against the arm. The warmth was intoxicating, and Tommy was climbing over the elbow, moving towards an even warmer spot before he knew what he was doing.

His heart was pounding with fear at the sight of the man's face. Every feature seemed impossibly large, and it just drove home how tiny and helpless Tommy had been for years now. But he pressed on, desperate to stop the shivering.

He crept closer and closer, feeling the warmth draw him in. As he walked, he could hear the whoosh of his lungs as he breathed. The noise was startling at first, far louder than it should be, but after a few moments, the steady sound became kind of relaxing.

Tommy found himself automatically matching the breathing of the sleeping man. His heart slowed down to a reasonable pace, and being this close to the massive person wasn't quite as intimidating. He could do this.

He passed the man's chest, feeling very envious of the warm looking sweater, and went straight towards the exposed skin of his neck.

Tommy set a hesitant hand against the neck, and instantly a wave of warmth was washing over him. He was pressed up against the man's neck, curling as close as he could before he could even think. His shivers slowly died down as the heat seeped into his core.

The relief from the cold made his mind slow to a crawl. He sat down, leaning heavily against the warm skin. He shouldn't fall asleep here, it was dangerous. But the warmth was making him sleepy, and his eyes started to droop.

Suddenly, there was motion in front of him and his eyes flew all the way open. He saw a hand twice his size coming towards him. There was barely a second to react. He looked around wildly, but there was no place to run to.

The hand brushed against him and he froze. It closed around him, and Tommy struggled, trying to escape. The grip was too tight, and he was terrified he'd been discovered. But the man was still breathing deeply, eyes shut. He'd moved in his sleep.

Tommy clawed at the hand, but he couldn't budge it. Eventually, he exhausted himself and laid back limply. The hand was radiating blissful heat, and he wanted so badly to just relax into it and sleep.

In addition to the warmth, each place where the massive person's hand brushed against his skin felt like the nerves were set alight. He hadn't been around another person in so long… since he was shrunk… when was the last time anyone touched him?

Against his better judgement, he curled into the contact. He was just so tired. Surely it would be ok if he just took a short nap? He could wake up early, and escape before the man woke up.

It only took another minute of the steady heartbeat, the delicious warmth, and the even breathing to lull him completely to sleep. He went limp in the firm but gentle hold, curling closer while he slept.

In the morning, a much more stressed Tommy would have to deal with a very curious, very large person who wasn't inclined to let him just run off.

But for right now? Tommy slept without a care, feeling more peaceful than he had in many years.

[marmolady]

The Fountain

Main Pairings: Estela x (f)MC

Summary: Post-EndlessEnding. A Broken Chains AU. The world has been restored, but at the price of Taylor's life. And Estela isn't ready to let her go.

Word Count: 2121

Warnings: Major character death.

Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, @greengroove

Hug prompts-- 29. group hug. Thanks @mauvecatfic! I'll make Raj's next hugs more cheerful.

Through the rumblings of an oncoming rainstorm, the silent figure of Estela Montoya limped and crawled through the thick La Huerta jungle, driven by a thought that had become a need… to see the face of her beloved again, to hear her voice.  It spurred her on, a tiny glimmer of something worth living for that she clung to with desperation that increased with every unsteady step.

Estela’s last memory of her wife, of her beautiful Taylor, wouldn’t be that hollow shell-- bloodless, devoid of all the fire and spirit… all the easy warmth that should have been there-- that she’d laid sobbing next to the dark medical room. No. She was going to take her minute more. Everyone else… they had a world raised from the dead; a world that meant absolutely fucking nothing to Estela now. After everything she’d sacrificed… god, Taylor… the world owed her that moment.

The Fountain of Youth was a long and arduous trek from Elyys’tel at the best of times, but half-dragging a savaged leg, it was near insurmountable. If it weren’t for the promise of hearing that voice, of seeing those sapphire eyes alight with life… well, Estela would endure the harrowing journey over again if that was the end. Her knees, the heels of her hands… they were badly grazed and muddied from catching herself as she’d stumbled again and again. Her senses, usually alert to her surroundings, had been dulled by the haze of grief that preoccupied her every thought. She was lucky to have gotten all this way through La Huerta’s treacherous jungles without coming to serious harm, but it was of little concern to Estela. The worst that could happen was that she’d die. And that…. In all honesty, it would be welcome. What was there worth surviving for now? Were it not for all that had been sacrificed so that she might live, she’d end her fucking life herself and be done with it. There was no future… no future save for this time they had together. When their moment was over, Estela would be once again plunged into the abyss that was the depth of her grief, an abyss that would surely swallow her up. She couldn’t look that far ahead-- she just couldn’t. She had to keep it together for Taylor… one last time.

Estela fell to her knees as she came through the doorway of the abandoned temple. Dread flooded her body. All that was left now was for her to summon the courage to reach out to the woman she loved from across time… to do so knowing that she’d been setting in motion the last minute they’d have together. Once it was done it was done; that much she as certain of. She could keep going back to that tree until she drove herself to insanity-- but doing so would be to inflict that pain on Taylor, forever colouring her too-short life with a darkness she didn’t deserve. Just once. Just once in the rest of her life-- that wasn’t asking too much, was it? Estela’s stomach turned as she thought it out. There had been no thinking it out while she’d slogged through the jungle; she’d moved onwards robotically, her mind and body detached from one another while grief drove her to the last hope, the last scrap of her person. Only now did she doubt everything. She hauled herself back to her feet, her weakened leg trembling violently beneath her weight. And she kept walking forwards, all the while her mind whirred.

It wasn’t as though Taylor would see this future, see the heartbreak in her wife’s eyes, and be able to change the path she’d set herself on. This path had tortured Taylor. She’d sacrificed herself because she simply couldn’t live with the alternative. And she’d died with hope. A hope that had been for naught, a spark extinguished along with the life in her eyes, but a hope that had given Taylor the courage to give away her very life force. What right did Estela have to take that away?

But I need her. I need her!

She’s gone.

The minute would be over and… Taylor would still be… gone. Would Estela hurt any less? No, but she’d endure a world of pain for even a second of feeling Taylor’s presence there with her. She’d endure it again and again, over and over until it killed her.

If it’s gonna hurt her…?

Estela’s shallow breathing became even more rapid as she stood before the tree. Tears spilled down her dirty cheeks. Blind grief had gotten her this far, but she’d been so blind. She couldn’t do this. Not now, not ever.

Taylor was dead. Dead and gone. They’d said their goodbyes down beneath Atropo, before Taylor had touched that damned crystal.  She’d close her eyes and see the terrible, sickening way her sweet Taylor had writhed in agony… the way her face lost almost all semblance of her self as it contorted with the pain. As Estela had seen again and again, near constantly since she’d woken to a healed world, but a world without Taylor. It was more than she could bear.

With tears and snot rolling into her mouth, dripping from her chin, she stumbled toward the tree… toward the Fountain of Youth. If she was careful, if she thought it through properly, she could find solace elsewhere. Panting for air, Estela wiped her face hurriedly. She couldn’t be crying for this, no matter how much she was tearing up inside.

She’d told herself she wouldn’t do it. It was risky; she’d need to be certain not to say or do a thing that could alter the events that would shape, well, everything. But it was different now. She needed it; she needed her mom to tell her everything would be okay. Because the person she’d otherwise have turned to was lost forever, and… because it wasn’t okay…. She wasn’t… she wasn’t.

Raising her hand to the tree’s surface, Estela closed her eyes and imagined her mother’s face… the words of comfort that would come. Just enough… just enough to keep her from crumbling. But as her fingers were about to graze the bark, she hesitated. That face in her mind warped with shock and fear. Of course. That fucking scar. She wouldn’t even be able to get a single word out before it would be clear to Olivia that something had gone wrong… that she’d been badly hurt. Estela felt the cold weight of her heart sink down to her toes. She… couldn’t do that to her mama.

A tortured cry wrenched itself from Estela’s lungs as she threw her body forward against the hard, cold bricks. There were no more loopholes… no cheats that could give her even a moment more of an existence that wasn’t this fucking,��fucking nightmare. She screamed into the damp ground, and screamed until her throat and lungs were raw.

Why did she have to go on living?

It was like she was drawn to people who were like her-- people who cared too much, people who would die for a cause. They’d die and they’d leave her. She’d tried to warn Taylor off; ‘you get close to me, you’ll get hurt’. Bullshit. Because no matter how Estela might put her life on the line for what she believed in, somehow she ended up the one still breathing. But she didn’t fucking want to. She didn’t want to live anymore. She didn’t… want to….

She howled.

_________________________

A small party emerged at last from the thickest part of the forest, the ruins of No’ox Naj illuminated by a flash of lightning as if to welcome them to shelter.

Shivering from the wet that sent a chill to his bones, Diego huddled close to Varyyn, who guided him with a gentle steer of a long and muscular arm.

“You must watch your step. It would be easy to slip on the wet moss.”

Gazing around the temple, taking in the gloom that hung there, Raj shuddered violently. “Maybe it was all that talk of ghosts and the whole ‘dead Zahra’ thing, but this place just gives me the heebies….”

“Well, yeah. That’d… that’d do it.”

“Estela?” Quinn called out, her voice echoing off the stone walls. “Esteeelllaaaa…!”

No answer. Diego’s heart sank. He’d been so sure he’d been onto something. Not only was this place a strong connection to the Endless-- and by association, with Taylor-- but it held within a magic gift that could never be more tempting than it was right now.

“We should go further in,” he decided. If this ‘Fountain of Youth’ thing did work, maybe they could ask…? The thought made a hard lump rise in his throat. The thought of seeing Taylor again. But they couldn’t… they couldn’t.

“You’re right,” Michelle agreed. “As if Estela ever comes running when anyone calls her name at the best of times…. If she’s anywhere, she took herself there to be alone; she was never going to make this easy.”

Diego winced so hard he was certain it hadn’t gone unnoticed by a single one of the group. She’d have come running for Taylor. Every time. He cleared his throat. “We should at least check around the tree. Um, maybe check in with the others?”

Somehow, he’d found himself leading the search party. A role, he was so painfully aware, that would usually have naturally fallen to Taylor. That should still be falling to Taylor. His imaginary friend had left him, so… so it was time to grow up. To step up. He supposed it helped that everyone was handling him with kid gloves just as they were Estela; if Diego needed something to happen, everyone just about fell over themselves to make it happen. Right now, all he wanted-- all any of them wanted-- was to know that Estela was safe. If anything happened to her now….

Quinn checked her phone; still a bizarre feeling after so many months without such communications. Her face fell, even expecting no different to the response she got. “Still nothing on their end. But the Elysian could take days to check properly, even with whatever scans Iris has access to, and all the cameras-- just because they haven’t found her there yet, doesn’t mean….”

“We’re not losing anyone else!” Michelle said shrilly as she paced the floor. “I’ve just lost one sister and I’m not about to… about to….” She gasped and dissolved into sobs. “…Taylor would be losing her mind.”

There was a shuffling sound… stumbling feet. Everyone hushed, a joint breath held.

Limping into view, one hand-- stained with blood as were her forehead and knees-- propping her up with the wall as she came forward; Estela.

“It’s okay. I… I’m safe.”

Safe. Not ‘okay’, but safe. It was all she could give them.

She could have hidden away. Her friends--- though she loved them so much-- were living reminders of what had been torn away. She could not look at a one of them and not see Taylor.

“Oh, thank god!” Michelle exclaimed, and she rushed forward. She had a moment’s hesitation, holding back from taking her friend in her arms and squeezing her to within an inch of her life, not knowing if any physical show of affection would be welcomed. But Estela reached out, her eyes welling, and Michelle guided her into an embrace.

The feeling of being taken in a friends arms, of being held… it was wonderful, and yet it hurt, and all at once the dam broke and Estela could not have held back her tears if she’d wanted to. She collapsed to the cold, damp floor, eased down by her friend's steadying arms.

Raj was next in-- never one to hold back when a group hug was in the offing. As he got down on the ground, Estela flopped forward and cried into his chest. There was nothing to say, so he just wrapped her in a hug and squeezed her there, while Diego and Varyyn, and Quinn piled in too. There they wept together. Sharing in loss and relief and exhaustion and a deep and overpowering sadness.

In the centre of the mass of arms and bodies, Estela closed her eyes against Raj’s warm chest… surrounded in a scent so reminiscent of happy memories and better days when the world was not so dark… feasts and laughter and… her. Her Taylor. She sighed deeply… and let herself feel it.

The comfort she needed was right there. It wasn’t enough-- how could it be when her world had ended?-- but it was warmth and it was love, and her heart was not breaking alone.

[drabbles-mc]

You Came Back (2/3)

Juice Ortiz x Reader

Request from @ateliefloresdaprimavera​​: Juice has a special place in my heart, so I'm denying his ending on the show😭 I want to foccus on the nurturing,fluffy and romantic side that he deserves😍 maybe something about Opie and Jax childhood friend who comes back to charming( Gemma always thought of her as her own kid) and she's really closed of emotionaly, bit our boy is smitten from the second he has his eyes on her. so romantic Juice overdrive, and she starts to see this side of life that's worth, by his side

Warnings: language, cuties dancing around their feelings

Word Count: 2.6k

Chapter Index: Part 1 , Part 3

A/N: I’m a sucker for build-ups before relationships, which seemed to work well with this prompt. Hope y’all enjoy!

You fell into a routine at the shop quicker than you thought you were going to. Most of the time you were working with Gemma, helping her manage orders and appointments for all the repairs. Occasionally you were sent out on a pickup with one of the guys, usually Juice or the prospect. It wasn’t a strenuous work day for you, and you couldn’t deny the fact that you felt extremely comfortable at T-M, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

You were finishing up filing some things away when you heard Jax’s voice fill the small office, “Hey, Y/N.”

You turned to him with a smile, “What’s up?”

“You heading right home tonight? Or you got time to stick around?”

You shrugged, “Got no pressing plans, why?”

A smirk passed over his face, “You should stick around, then. Party at the clubhouse tonight.”

You sighed but couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. Even before you had never been one to go to the clubhouse parties. The only people you really wanted to hang out with then were Jax and Opie. In a way, that hadn’t really changed all that much, but you felt a little more of an obligation to go. You were more entwined with everything now whether you liked it or not.

“Fine. But the second someone says some weird shit to me or tries to touch me or something, I’m out.”

He chuckled, nodding, “Alright. But hey, you’ll have me and Ope. No one is gonna try and mess with you.”

“For your sake and theirs, you better hope not,” you tried to keep a straight face but you ended up breaking out in laughter.

As much as you hated to admit it, you were having fun at the party. You kept yourself close to Jax and Opie, knowing that they would provide you with a type of security blanket.  You were perched on the arm of the couch, Opie’s hand resting on your knee to provide you with a little bit of extra comfort. You took in the controlled chaos happening around you and it was hard to imagine that your best friends had grown up in this, that this is just what life was like for them.

“I’m gonna grab another beer,” you patted Opie’s hand, “You want one?”

He nodded, “Yea, if you don’t mind.”

You shot him a wink as you stood up from the couch, “I gotchu.”

You leaned against the bar as you waited for Kipp to bring you a couple beers. You felt someone come and stand next to you, and when you looked over you had to smile at the eagerness that seemed permanent in Juice’s eyes.

He smiled at you, “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

You laughed, “Me either. Jax extended a personal invite, so I figured I should show up to at least one party before swearing them off altogether.”

“Wanna step out for a smoke?”

You smiled, “I gotta bring this to Opie.”

Juice shook his head before flagging down the prospect, “Yo, Half-Sack,” he nodded towards the beer bottle, “bring that to Opie. Grab one for Jax, too,” he turned back to you with a smile, gesturing towards the door of the clubhouse, “After you.”

You laughed and shook your head as you walked, “And they say chivalry is dead.”

The two of you sat down across from each other at a table outside the clubhouse. It was nice to be out of the haze of body heat, smoke, and alcohol. Juice handed you a cigarette from his pack and lit it for you, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth the whole time. You shared a few moments of quiet, the only noise being the music drifting out from inside the clubhouse.

“So,” you looked over at him, “I gotta ask, how does a boy from Queens end up in a motorcycle club in fucking Charming?”

He laughed and shook his head, “A long string of questionable decisions,” he paused and took a drag from his cigarette and shrugged, “Was looking for some place to belong, and this fit the bill.”

You chuckled, “One of these days you’ll have to give me all the fun details of that. I missed out on a lot around here, apparently.”

“Apparently,” he smiled, “Where’d you run off to, anyway?”

You scoffed, shaking your head, “Doesn’t really matter, does it? Still ended up right back here.”

“How’d that happen?” he seemed genuinely interested.

You searched his face, trying to figure out how much you were willing to divulge. There were a lot of things that you weren’t ready to face yet, “I don’t think that anyone ever really gets out of Charming once they’re here,” you took a drag, praying for a shift in conversation.

He felt the coldness that was appearing to show in your tone. He let it drop, for now. He waited for you to meet his eyes and he smiled, “Well, if that’s the case, and you won’t be leaving any time soon, does that mean you’d be free for a drink sometime?”

The question stopped the downward spiral your brain was beginning to take you on. You looked over at him, trying to gauge just how serious he was with his inquiry. You weren’t in the mood to be anyone’s play-thing. You were more than just something to help pass the time.

“Maybe.”

He smiled, leaning his elbows onto the table, “Tomorrow?”

You laughed, “You don’t waste any time, do you?”

He shrugged, “Why wait?”

You sighed, feeling the persistence emanating from him. You let a small smile cross your face, “I’d be more than willing to get a drink with a friend tomorrow,” you looked at him, “I’m in no mood to get jerked around, Juice.”

You wondered if that grin was permanently etched into his features, “A drink with a friend sounds good.”

You drummed your fingers on the surface of the table, “I get off work at 5:30 tomorrow.”

“I know.”

You laughed, nodding, “Yea, that’s true.”

“Can I ask for your number? As a friend?”

Something about his smile was contagious, “Yea, as a friend,” you held your hand out for him to give you his phone, which he did gladly.  You handed it back when you were done, “I don’t want to be getting any late-night bail calls, okay?”

Before he could respond, Jax appeared behind you, resting his hand on your shoulder, “Thought you bailed without saying goodbye,” he laughed.

You looked up at him with a smile, “Nah, just getting some fresh air,” you stood up with a sigh, “Now that you mention it though I think I’m gonna head out,” you hugged him, “Tell Ope I said goodbye?”

He nodded, “Sure thing. See you at home.”

You walked around and rested your hand on Juice’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze, “See you tomorrow.”

Jax looked at Juice expectantly as he watched you walk away. He chuckled, lighting his own cigarette, “She’s gonna see you tomorrow?”

“Yea,” Juice shrugged, trying to contain his grin, “we all work together, right?”

“Right,” there was a hint of amusement in Jax’s voice, “Just be careful, Juicy Pants.”

If you had asked Juice, the next day seemed to drag on endlessly. Each time he’d walk across the compound he’d catch a glance of you in the office, and he instantly got the jitters. Five-thirty felt like it was forever away. A couple different times he caught a smack to the back of the head from one of the guys, telling him to focus or he wouldn’t be going anywhere with anyone anytime soon. You pretended not to notice the way that he’d linger for a few extra moments when he came to drop off paperwork for Gemma.

At five-thirty-one Juice came striding into the office, already changed out of his T-M shirt and into a regular t-shirt along with his kutte. You couldn’t help but to laugh as he leaned onto the desk, eyes alight with excitement.

“Come here often?” he said with a laugh.

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress the laugh that was creeping up inside you, “Well, considering I work here? Yes.”

“Still up for a drink?”

You nodded, “Yea, sure. Just gotta finish filing a few things.”

You were expecting him to leave to wait, but he sat back in his chair contentedly. You chuckled to yourself as you wrapped up the last few things that you had to do for the day. When you started to gather up your purse and keys, Juice shot up out of his chair.

“You ready?”

You laughed, nodding, “Yea, are you?”

When the two of you walked out of the office, you turned to walk to the clubhouse, assuming that that’s where you were going to be grabbing your drink. But Juice reached out and lightly put his hand on your arm to stop you. You looked at him, a confused expression on your face.

He nodded towards his bike, “You up for a ride?”

You chuckled, nodding, “Sure. Where to?”

He shrugged, “Nowhere fancy,” he handed you his helmet, “Remember how this goes?”

You laughed, “Just worry about driving, Juice.”

You hopped on the bike behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. It had been a while since you rode on a bike, but it felt like home. You missed it. You leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder. He peeled out of the lot and you laughed as he sped down the street. Your heart was racing inside your chest, and for a few minutes you felt like a teenager again. You felt light as you wrapped your arms tighter around Juice’s middle.

He slowed down and pulled up against the sidewalk. You looked around, trying to figure out where exactly he was taking you. You had expected him to pull up to a bar, but there were none in sight. You let him help you off the bike and onto the sidewalk, looking around for a few more seconds before finally caving and asking where you were going.

“I thought we were going out for a drink?”

He smiled, “Yea, but we never specified what kind of drink,” he motioned for you to follow him and as you continued down the block you couldn’t help but to laugh. He proudly gestured towards the ice cream shop, “Best milkshakes in Charming!”

“Is the dairy competition fierce here?” you laughed as he held the door open for you and let you walk through first.

The two of you ordered at the counter and Juice told you to go grab a booth while he waited for your drinks. You had to admit that the entire outing caught you by surprise. It was a nice change of pace, and you could tell that Juice was incredibly proud of himself for thinking of it. He stuck out in the small shop because of his kutte and tattoos, but that almost made you love it more.

He sat down across from you and slid your drink over to you. You couldn’t help but to laugh as you took a sip through the straw, “I gotta admit, this is not what I was expecting.”

He smiled as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, “Good. I know being at the clubhouse can feel like…a lot.”

You smirked, “I didn’t expect to hear that from someone who’s actually in the club.”

He laughed, “I’m half the reason it can be a lot,” he paused, his expression getting a little more serious as he toyed with the straw in his drink, “But I could tell even last night that it was a bit much for you.”

“Oh could you?” you were trying to casually play it off but you did feel oddly seen as you sat across from him.

“Just had a feeling,” he said with a slight shrug.

You could see it in his eyes that he had a million questions that he wanted to ask you. You saw it, and you were ready to try and maneuver around each one if necessary. But, despite all of your preparation for conversational gymnastics, Juice actually asked you very few questions about you and your life. Your body was tense as you waited for them to come, but they didn’t. Instead, he told you stories of what had been happening with the guys and with Charming in the past few years. It was interesting, and comical for sure.

Juice knew exactly what he was doing. Despite the fact that he had so many questions to ask you, so many things that he wanted to know about you, he stopped himself. He saw the way you clammed up the night before and he knew that bombarding you with questions wasn’t going to make you want to let him in. So, he did what he considered to be the only alternative, and that was to let you in. He hoped that if he was open and honest with you that someday down the road you would be comfortable enough to return the favor. The longer he sat across from you and looked at you, the more he realized that he would tell you just about anything if you asked.

You lost track of how long the two of you had been sitting there. Your cups had been empty for a while and neither of you seemed to care, too wrapped up in conversation to notice. You only realized it when you caught the street lamps outside turning on. You turned and looked out the main windows, chuckling as you saw how it was now dark out.

“Sorry I took up your whole evening,” you said as you toyed with the cup in your hands.

“Don’t be sorry,” his response was quick, “This was…really nice. Thank you for coming with me.”

“Thanks for the milkshake,” you laughed.

On the ride back to T-M you felt like you were melting into Juice. He was fighting to stay focused on the road, but the warmth that was seeping from your body into his was hard to ignore. Your arms rested around his waist and all Juice could think about was that he never wanted you to let go. The ride back to the shop wasn’t nearly long enough.

You hopped off his bike once he stopped in the lot, handing him back his helmet with a smile, “Thanks for the ride.”

He smiled, “Any time.”

“You’re alright, Juan Carlos.”

He laughed, trying to hide the fact that hearing you say his name like that made his heart skip a few beats, “Thanks for the thrilling endorsement,” he paused, wanting to choose his words carefully, “If you ever want to do this again, lemme know.”

You smiled and nodded, “I will,” you stepped in and gave him a quick hug before heading to your car. Juice couldn’t help but to stare at you as you sauntered away.

You walked into the house and were met with silence. You let out a sigh as you toed off your shoes and headed back towards your temporary room. Just before you crossed the threshold, you heard Jax’s voice call out to you from down the hall.

You poked your head into his room to see him sprawled on his bed with the TV on, “What’s up?”

“How was your date with Juice?” he chuckled.

You rolled your eyes, “Wasn’t a date.”

“How was your platonic outing with Juice?”

You smiled, “It was fine. He seems nice. Had an awful lot to say about you boys and your antics.”

“Did he mention that he was the leader of nearly all of those antics?”

You chuckled, “It might’ve come up, yea.”

“Nice to see you makin’ friends, Y/N,” he looked over at you, “Maybe it’ll give you an extra reason to stick around this time.”

You shook your head, choosing not to respond to the comment, “Goodnight, Jackson.”

He laughed, “Goodnight.”

[charincharge]

Kiss and Cry, Part 8

jurdan figure skating au > masterlist

AN: Whoops, sorry this one took a while to get out. I’m hoping it was worth the wait, though? 

Madoc was in a foul mood, and Jude knew she only had herself to blame.

She sipped at her bone broth and slunk beneath the thick blankets on the couch as she ignored the angry whispers coming from the kitchen.

Jude had never taken a sick day in her entire life. She’d once gone to practice with a fever of 102.4, insisting that she was completely fine. So, she knew Madoc’s raised eyebrow at her claiming she needed the day off due to a stomachache was completely warranted.

She should have come up with a better excuse; she knew it was flimsy at best. But, she couldn’t stomach seeing Cardan again. Not when she still couldn’t stop thinking about his lips on hers. She must be ill to be so focused on something so appalling. She felt completely out of her mind. And she knew it wouldn’t be magically fixed by tomorrow when she’d absolutely be forced back to rehearsal, but at least she could have one day off to pretend. She burrowed further into her blankets as Madoc’s voice raised again.

“We’re losing an entire rehearsal day!” he hissed at Oriana’s insistence that Jude should rest if she needed to.

Jude knew she’d have to work twice as hard the rest of the week to make up for today, but that was a sacrifice she was willing to make.

“How are you feeling, sweetie?” Oriana asked, placing a mug of ginger tea on the side table, as she perched herself on the edge of the couch to examine Jude’s face.

“Just tired, mostly,” Jude answered.

Oriana’s slender finger delicately traced the dark circles beneath Jude’s eyes as a prominent frown appeared on her face. She shook her head. “I keep telling him he’s working you too hard.”

“He’s not—” Jude insisted, but Oriana’s stern glare cut her off.

“If you keep going at this rate you’re going to burn yourself out.” She paused, her eyes growing wistful as she whispered, “You need to take care of yourself.”

Jude nodded in understanding. Oriana’s dreams of being a skater had been cut short, just like Nicasia’s with an unexpected injury.

“Why don’t you take that tea upstairs and rest in bed?” Oriana asked, smoothing Jude’s hair out of her face in a strangely maternal move. Jude accepted the comfort wordlessly. She and Oriana had never been particularly close – why would they? When Jude’s step-dad had remarried, someone nearly half his age, Jude hadn’t thought the marriage would make it to the end of the year. She was content to ignore the blonde completely. But here they were, nearly a decade later. “I’ll keep Madoc downstairs,” she said with a wry smile, and Jude forced herself to return it. She wasn’t sure if Oriana was being kind due to guilt or to piss Madoc off, but Jude would accept it. If only to keep herself alone for the rest of the day.

She grabbed the tea and headed back upstairs to her room. She pulled her sweatpants off, content to get cozy in her bed in just an oversized t-shirt. If she was playing hooky she was going to try and enjoy herself as much as possible. She set up her laptop and put on some mindless comedy to watch. But despite feigning sickness, Jude could feel fatigue dragging her under. Maybe she had needed a day off. Before she knew it, her eyes shut.

“Jude?” a soft voice pulled her from her fraught dreams, and she blinked sleep away as her eyes fluttered open, squinting in the mid-afternoon sun filtering through her window.

The face from her dreams peered down at her with curiosity, dark and probing, and Jude felt herself tense as she realized that Cardan was sitting at the foot of her bed.

She pushed herself upright, attempting to tame her wild sleep induced curls while simultaneously wiping at her eyes.

“Creep much?” Her voice was still hoarse from her lengthy nap. “What the hell, Cardan?”

He held up his hands protectively and smirked. “Calm down, I just got here.” He cocked his head to the side as he perused her room. “Your mom?” He asked, not knowing what to call Oriana. “Let me in.”

“Traitor,” Jude mumbled under her breath.

Cardan rolled his eyes and pursed his lips – the ones that had haunted Jude’s thoughts for the last two days. “I just had to see it in person. The infallible Jude Duarte, felled by sickness.” He chuckled as he tugged at the neckline of his thick black sweater. “I have to admit, I was relieved to learn you’d fallen ill, and that my presence wasn’t what caused you to vomit.” His lips curled into a wry smile, and Jude felt her cheeks flush unwittingly.

She grabbed at the edge of her blanket and pulled it over her head, hiding her face away from his haughty gaze. His painted nails peeled the blanket from her, tugging it down to reveal her face to his again, and it was much, much closer than she was expecting. Jude’s breath hitched, her eyes flicking down to his lips and back to his curious eyes again.

He tugged at his dark hair and sighed. “I know you’re not sick, Jude,” he breathed.

Jude couldn’t be looked at like that anymore. There was something about his gaze that managed to see through her always. She reached down and pulled the blankets over her head again.

“Why are you hiding from me?” he asked, his fingers dancing along the edge of her shoulder, through the blanket, slowly creeping up, letting her know he was headed to pull it down again.

“Because I kissed you,” Jude finally grumbled from beneath her comforter, and she frowned as Cardan tugged it down again, a pleased smile across his face as he leaned even closer to her.

“Oh.” Cardan stated, leaning impossibly closer to her face, his nose just a hairs breadth away hers. “Is that all? I get kissed quite a lot, you know,” he smirked.

“Exactly,” Jude huffed.  “It’s embarrassing.” She sighed, scrunching her nose in discomfort. He was too close.

“Why?”

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” Jude admitted, her stomach swirling with nerves.

“Is that so?” Cardan asked, his eyes alight with desire as he let his nose brush against hers. Jude gulped. “I don’t blame you,” he said, his warm breath fanning across her face. “It was a very memorable kiss. One of my favorites.”

“Shut up, Cardan,” Jude said, and brought his lips down against her in a hard kiss. Their noses mashed against each other, until there was no room between them. Jude’s hand knotted in his dark hair, tugging him impossibly closer, and Cardan groaned, opening his mouth to her as Jude relished in the waves of desire that prickled across her skin.

This. This is what she had dreamed about. What set her on edge, feeling completely unhinged. What had kept her stomach in knots for the last forty-eight hours.

And when Cardan’s tongue softly brushed against hers, so starkly different from the harsh pressure of his lips against hers, Jude felt as if she’d been lit on fire.

She gasped for air, needing a break from the ceaseless feeling of drowning, but Cardan didn’t cease his affections. Instead, his mouth trailed across her cheek to wrap around the sensitive skin of her ear. She mumbled out something between an “Oh” and an “Ung,” – something so unintelligibly pleasure-filled that she could feel Cardan smile against her as he let his teeth nip at her skin.

Her hands trailed down his torso, pulling him closer until he was sprawled out above her, somehow kicking the comforter down until it pooled by their feet, revealing her bare legs and comfortable underwear, her t-shirt having ridden up around her stomach.

Cardan hovered inches above her body, and she inhaled deeply as his hand ran up her calf, bending her leg at the knee. His curious fingers swept in small circles down the side of her thigh, until they reached the band of her underwear. She shuddered softly as the tip of his finger edged beneath the elastic, just barely touching her where she’d never allowed anyone but her own hands before.

There was a pregnant pause between them, and Jude held her breath as his eyes seemed to ask the question, Is this okay? Is this what you want?

“I still hate you,” Jude said suddenly, breaking the thick silence that hung between them as Cardan’s hands perused her body. She expected his ministrations to pause, but he simply grinned, his eyes boring down on her, sparkling with amusement at her words. “And if you gloat about this, or tell a single soul, I’ll have you killed,” she added, heart pounding wildly at the gentle feel of his deft touch.

Cardan’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, a nervous tick that betrayed his outer confidence. “I don’t doubt that for a second, my sweet nemesis.” His voice was low as his fingers slipped further beneath the fabric of her underwear, never stopping swiping back and forth against the sensitive skin of her hip.

She took a deep breath as her legs widened, making room for him between them, and they both exhaled as he let himself fall against her, a lithe finger finally sinking fully under the fabric between her thighs and caressing the skin of her folds.

Jude bit her lip, trying to hold back a moan at the feeling of his finger just barely swiping against her most sensitive part. Her hips lifted ever so slightly, bucking towards his hand, wanting more, needing more, as her feelings overwhelmed her.

Cardan watched her with interest as she squirmed beneath his light touch, legs widening further and hips lifting for more contact, but his finger used the softest of pressure, teasing her until she was panting for more. His obsidian gaze burned darkly as his hand moved beneath the fabric of her underwear, slow calculated movements, until she was a mess beneath him. He loved to torture her; that much was evident.

His finger dipped in further and pulled out just as quickly, leaving Jude annoyed and unsatisfied. She refused to beg him. She just wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

Instead, she let her own hand slide between them and join his in her underwear. She pressed his fingers against her palm, pushing them against her with all her strength. His eyes widened in shock at Jude’s motions, but she didn’t have time to appreciate it, because suddenly his fingers were inside her, and she felt like she was going to burn alive.

She fought against the moans that threatened to escape her mouth, panting loudly instead, back arched off the mattress as Cardan’s hand moved inside her.

“Please,” Cardan breathed quietly as his thumb pressed against her clit.

Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her as her orgasm took her by surprise, legs shaking and hands clenching at her bedsheets as Cardan’s mouth swallowed her sounds of pleasure. His hand never ceased until her twitching legs fell against the mattress with fatigue.

Cardan’s lips kissed hers over and over until her heartbeat slowed and her muscles relaxed, feeling like jelly.

Jude was still in a daze when Cardan pulled his hand from between her legs and licked his fingers, looking far too satisfied with himself. But somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to care at this particular moment.

“Oh,” she breathed quietly, and watched as Cardan lifted a dark brow towards her.

“You’re not going to run away from me again, are you?” he asked, and Jude shook her head from side-to-side. She had a feeling if she tried to stand right now, her legs would wobble. She couldn’t run anywhere. “Good. Are you feeling better?” he asked, and Jude wasn’t exactly sure she knew how to answer that question. Was she feeling a sense of satisfaction and relaxation she’d never experienced before? Yes. Was she feeling a combination of confusion, self-loathing and anger? Also yes.

She couldn’t believe she’d let Cardan touch her like that. She’d never let anyone do that. Ever.

But with Cardan, she felt herself at his mercy, ready for whatever his hands and mouth wanted to do to her. She cringed, feeling a sudden pang of disgust with herself.

She pulled the blankets back over her, hiding her body away from his intense gaze.

“I still hate you,” Jude said again, but her voice was so breathy, she knew it rung false, even to her own ears.

“So you’ve said,” Cardan sighed, standing from the bed and straightening his sweater and adjusting himself within his pants.

A soft knock at the door interrupted their conversation as Oriana poked her head in with a relieved smile. “Oh, Jude. You’re looking flushed, I hope that means your fever broke.”

Cardan rested his hand against Jude’s forehead, which was clammy with the aftermath of their encounter. “You are looking better,” he said calmly. “I must be good for your health.”

Jude snorted far too loudly at that.

“Would you like to stay for dinner, Cardan?” Oriana offered, and Cardan shook his head before Jude could even bother to protest.

“No, I’ll let Jude dear get her rest.” Oriana smiled happily at Cardan’s kind words. “But I’ll see you in rehearsal tomorrow bright and early.”

Jude nodded weakly. “Can’t wait.”

~*~

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[mierinette]

chapter 03 - game night

see the thing you've been chasing, you'll never find it wearing a life vest. ​

tumblr month: @adrinetteapril​​

links: ao3 | ff.net chapter: previous | next

THE NEWS of Adrien’s apparent date with the new girl— no, that mermaid, spreads like wildfire.

(Not wildwater apparently, as Alya points out. Marinette has to scoff: how does wildfire make sense, then?)

In any case, it only takes a night and the morning after, before classes start, for the information to receive a certain group of students who are less than delighted over the news.

“Let’s just douse her with water as soon as she gets here,” someone whispers. “Can’t show up to date if she can’t even get up.”

A sudden whack on the forehead. “Ridiculous! She’ll have that guard girl of hers fixing that in a minute. Besides, she has all the time in the world to get ready after.”

“So what do you suggest, then?”

The girl smiles, a scheme already forming in her mind. “Leave it to me.”

(If it’s a game for Adrien’s heart, after all, Chloé Bourgeois and the Francois-Dupont Adrien Fanclub sure as hell aren’t losing.)

The look on Adrien’s face is nothing short of pure horror as they enter the restaurant’s interior.

Marinette is equally taken aback with the setting before her, before turning his way, offering a shrewd smile and the most dry tone-of-voice he’s ever heard. “Really? This is where you thought we’d have dinner?”

“I— uh,” he only manages to mumble, evidently panicked as they’re handed menus to browse through. Marinette flips through the pages, humming lightly to herself as she points at one of the picture. “Hey, I think he used to live at the coral reef near our place,” she starts. “Used to have dreams of travelling the world one day…,” she takes an excruciatingly-long second to take in her surroundings. “At least he got that part right.”

“I didn’t—!”

The aquariums grandly display all kinds of exotic fish and sea creatures, even reminding her of the aquadiversity back home. “The fishes are cute,” she only continues, swallowing down the amused smile that threatens to escape her as she watches her companion get increasingly more flustered. A sudden and loud chop! attracts their attention, as one of the chefs expertly cuts through one of the animal carcasses. “Desecrating the dead bodies of my family, not so much.”

“Your family?” He exhales, eyes widening at the revelation. “Marinette, you have to know that I— I never meant to—.”

“Yes,” she sighs, bowing her head down in apparent sorrow and respect. “Sebastian and Flounder… may they rest in peace.”

Adrien nods, immediately bowing down his head as well. “To Sebastian and Flou—,” he pauses, then narrows his eyes at her. “Wait.” 

At that, Marinette can’t quite stop the light laugh that escapes her lips, as his figure finally relaxes, looking at her in evident unamusement. “You know you deserved it,” she points out easily, before nodding to the waiter as they lead her to their table.

Adrien chases after her. “Okay, so you don’t mind the sushi?” He pauses, gesturing at the rows of sea animals before them, as he follows her pace. “Aren’t they your family or something?”

Marinette only rolls her eyes, before turning abruptly and pushing the menu to his chest. “Are all land mammals here related?” She points out, then grins. “Besides, what is it that you think mermaids eat?”

He opens his mouth to protest, pauses for a moment, then stops in his tracks. “You… have a point.”

(It’s only at that moment Marinette realizes the close proximity she has to her so-called date for the night, and immediately pushes back.)

“I know I do,” she only responds, a bit hastily taking a seat as they’re led to their table. “And you’re the one not making sense here. If you thought I hated sushi, then why would you bring me here?”

It’s a valid question, and Adrien’s eyebrows furrow as if even he’s not even sure of the answer.

“I’m confused myself,” he finally responds. “I was asking around for first date recommendations, and a friend suggested that I take you here. She said it was the perfect place for someone like you.” He pauses. “Well, I guess they know their mermaid lore more than I do.”

Marinette can’t quite stop the suspicion that crawls up her spine, but ushers it away. “Guess it worked perfectly, then?”

“Dolphinitely.”

(Somewhere in a far-off table, Chloé slams the menu on the table and stands to attack— blissfully unaware of the ‘CAUTION: WET’ sign upon the floor, and falling flat to the ground.

The tray of sushi soon follows, perfectly slipping over and falling atop her head. She bites back the need to scream.)

Marinette - 1, Fangirls - 0.

.

.

The attacks don’t stop throughout the night. They try to switch around the orders, mess with her meal, distract the waiters, get her wet (— There are literally aquariums everywhere. This shouldn’t be as hard as it is for them to complete.).

However, whatever they try to do, they fail spectacularly.

They’ve lost count of all the so-called activities and points that Marinette’s managed to win. They’re still at zero, even when their opponent has no idea that she’s even playing.

A formidable rival, they begrudgingly admit.

(Evidently, Marinette thinks something strange is going on. But she never has quite enough proof to make a scene for it.

.

.

It’s a Hail Mary when their dinner finishes, and the fangirls decide that there’s nothing more they can do.

Well, majority of them do.

As Adrien and Marinette walk down parking, Chloé Bourgeois sneakily runs indoors, aims, and throws a single water balloon in the air.

She shoots, she shoots, and it looks like she’s gonna make it…

Until surprisingly-quick reflexes result in the mermaid’s date immediately pushing her to hunch downwards, shielding her with his trenchcoat, and—

A human shield (or sacrifice, really— judging by the amount of water dripping off his clothes.)

The remains of the water balloon now on the floor, Adrien carefully moves from a protective stance to help Marinette up; and to the fangirls’ despair, completely ‘human’— legs and all. (They’re belatedly terrified in realizing that they just threw a balloon at their idol, and quickly scatter away as soon as they do.)

They escape, but the match is set:

Marinette wins.

(For this round, at least: as Chloé tells herself, this is nothing more than the beginning to all-out war.)

.

.

After taking a moment to collect himself, Adrien looks at the damage caused around him. Their college-mates have long since evacuated the scene, and all he’s really left with is the remains of a plain black balloon.

“What was that?” He finally asks, rubbing at his head in apparent shock. Marinette takes a handkerchief from her bag, then carefully wipes it across his face to help.

“Nothing new, at least,” she only says, rolling her eyes in evident irritation. “Didn’t expect them to follow me all the way here, though.” Marinette pauses, looking down at the bits of balloon on the floor, and slowly connects the dots for the strange events of that night.

Alya’s words (and warnings, really), from the previous day swim fresh in her mind: Ah. Fangirl club, then.

She looks at him unimpressed. “Dedicated fans you have.”

He looks absolutely clueless. “What do you mean?” Adrien asks, eyebrows knitting together. “You’re saying they stalked us here just to throw a single water balloon at you?”

“Not just the balloon,” Marinette corrects. “Everything else too. Didn’t you notice anything weird at dinner?”

“... I mean, I enjoyed it.”

“So did I,” she points out. “But something was fishy, right?”

When a flicker of recognition alights in her companion’s eyes at the pun, Marinette realizes exactly what she has to do.

She puts it in words he can understand. “All of this?” Marinette finally says, gesturing grandly with her hands. “This was no acseadent.”

Adrien looks like he’s holding on to her every word.

She pauses for dramatic effect (has no idea why, even), and stares him down. “This was… saboatage.”

He’d definitely be proud had the situation been any different. “You think my fans tried to ruin our date tonight?”

“No,” Marinette corrects again. “I know they did— tried, at least. You land mammals are so quick to act on your emotions.”

He hums thoughtfully, as the dots start to connect themselves in his head. “Ah, so this is the rebellion you didn’t want to start, huh?”

She shrugs. “I’d rather not incite the wrath of humans, thanks.”

“We are a pretty eelmotional bunch,” he agrees, before carefully taking hold of her hand through the handkerchief. “I hope tonight was worth it?”

Marinette pauses, looking from their hands to his expression. She tilts her head, as if in thought. The answer is clear to her, of course: and definitely to him, too.

“Too early to be sure,” she responds instead. “Whale see.”

(She can practically see his face glow whenever she puns.)

“And so we shell.”

[ewewheresmycar]

On the Road to Recovery

A single semi-truck made its way across the vast and empty landscapes of South Dakota, clearly having no fear for the high number of monstrous entities that traveled across the landscape. The creatures most likely respected that the truck was large, and not even worth much of a meal, so to engage it would be silly. Moronic even. 

Which was mostly the reason for choosing such a vehicle for this sensitive operation. 

Most people that made their way in this world felt as if keeping oneself small and unassuming was the way to go about things. This was not the case, however. Not in the eyes of G, at least. No, the way to keep this wretched place under your thumb was to apply pressure in whatever ways necessary. If you give it an inch, they’ll take your throat. No point in going halfway on anything. 

Not even for the transport of one small ram horned girl with magic powers. 

G was not the one driving the truck, of course, nor way he even inside of the vehicle. There was a different way to go about this meeting with Albert, and he wanted to give it some impact. 

So a spread of resources would be necessary. 

However, one of his top men, Petrel, was handling the transport. The likelihood of something going wrong was-

Suddenly, the bed of the truck is thrown high into the air, spiraling as smoke billowed out from it. A massive hole could be seen from one of the sides, though it was hard to tell where it had come from. It seemed to travel in slow motion, until finally slamming back into the earth with a clattering clanging noise. The truck itself spiraled and swerved for a moment to regain some form of control, screeching to a halt once it managed to steady itself. 

A man with shaggy purple hair and a lanky way about him came stumbling out from the driver’s side of the truck, brandishing one of the purple orbs that had been supplied to everyone back at the base. 

“Tch, really??” He moaned, seeming more inconvenienced than anything. “Boy, boss ain’t gonna like this. Better figure out what-”

In an instant, an intense heat zoomed in towards the man, Petrel, and took him by the throat. It lifted him from the ground.

“wh0 are y0u???” screamed the ram horned girl, eyes alight with fiery intent. “y0u take my car?????”

The man gagged, the smell of smog choking his lungs. 

The girl spat, whirling around and throwing him down onto the highway. This was done with the extra flourish of rocketing him forward like a rocket, the impact on the road given an extra wet crunch as flames trailed behind him before causing him to rocket back up into the air. The girl took this moment to fly forward to deliver a kick to his gut, sending him shooting through the air a few dozen feet before he went skidding to a halt. 

Friend breathed heavily, her body lurched forward as if she was ready to come at him again. However, she didn’t want to kill him. Not yet at least. She needed to figure out how to get all of these bandits to come after her.  Spiraling around, the girl staggered about as she tried to get a read on where she could go. She didn’t have her phone, her shield, her crowbar, or anything really. Not even her crystal! It was the most vulnerable she had felt in a long, long time. 

Eventually, she spotted a sign mentioning some place called Kodaka. That might work, maybe? She wasn’t sure. But if she could get them to follow her there then it would be worth the effort. 

She was going to get everything back. She wouldn’t allow anything else to be taken from her. 

Not again. 

[rwbyremnants]

WARNING: Mild sensuality.

NOTE: Ever blink and a month has gone by? Happens to me all the time. Sorry about the huge gap, I have been trying to get another fic ready to post and time just ran away from me. Hopefully I won't let that happen again anytime soon!

=Chapter 13

This time, Yang was the first one to the depot. Weiss felt incredibly relieved when she saw her motorcycle stashed in the back; after having hung around the chilly abandoned husk of a building for an hour last time to no avail, it was nice to walk into the situation knowing that her efforts would not be wasted.

“Hey,” Yang breathed, standing from the couch when she saw Weiss approaching. She had already taken her jacket off, and underneath was a yellow tank top that definitely would not have been allowed in school. She smoothed her palms on the thighs of her jeans, lips twitching into an awkward smile. Again, Weiss was struck by how odd it was to see such a confident woman turn into a bundle of nerves. “Um… good, you made it.”

“I did! I made it here before, too, while we weren’t talking; I know where it is.”

“You did?” Her smile slipped a little. “Wait… oh. You came by to see if I would show.”

“Yes. But it’s okay!” she told her hurriedly, skipping forward to her side and alighting a hand on her forearm. “Seriously, I just… didn’t know what else to do. Anyway, it’s in the past.”

The nervous Dragon relaxed somewhat. “God, I just feel really, really dumb. I mean, getting yelled at by the fuzz was no fun, having all the girls snapping at me for bringing you along so much when none of us knew you very well… but I knew down deep that you weren’t the problem. Just looked like you were, and… and I didn’t know what to do.”

“Well, well, well. Maybe the great Yang Xiao Long isn’t always in total control of the situation, hmm?” They both laughed, Yang distinctly embarrassed. “It’s alright. I feel stupid for not realising my stupid brother might be watching us like a Peeping Tom!”

“Yeah,” she sighed, shivering in a most un-Yang way. “Creepy. But that’s both our fault for not thinking; we’ll just have to… do better. That’s all.”

Weiss sank down on the couch, wincing in slight pain from sitting on her brand. “Now I’m really up to my neck, though. I’m a Dragon. Me! How am I supposed to maintain this without my father figuring out and my whole life being ruined?”

“You could just drop out of school,” Yang said in an easy tone as she sat down next to her, sliding an arm around her shoulders. Weiss leaned in instinctively. “Live with one of us; Kali would take you in for sure, as much as she wants a piece of your cute little peach pie.”

“Oh, stop.” When Yang laughed, she elbowed her very gently. “And I can’t do that. Not yet, at least.”

“You can’t? I mean, I didn’t expect you to, anyway, but why not?”

“Salem wants me to keep an eye on my father. That was part of the reason she even inducted me into your, um, ‘social club’ in the first place, I think. Otherwise… well, I really don’t know why.”

Yang sat there nodding for a minute or so. Then she began, “Salem… sees things the rest of us don’t. I mean, she really creeps me out sometimes, but she’s also real smart, and understands how the world works. So if you walked in and seemed like you’d make a decent Dragon, she’d make you a Dragon. What she saw in you that told her you would be… I have no idea.”

“Me, either. I'm not very tough.”

“Well… you are, but not the way I am.” Her lips pulled into a slight smile. “You're actually really strong in your own way. Ever since we started hanging out together, I’ve been pretty impressed.”

Biting her lower lip and leaning a little more into Yang’s warmth, she purred, “Dragon-strong?”

“Maybe, maybe not. Guess we’re gonna find out, Schnee.”

“Mmm. Maybe we can find out right no-OW.”

Yang drew back to look at the pain in her features. “Burn still hurts, huh?”

“Yeah. I mean, they told me it would for a couple weeks, but it’s just… intolerable! How did you all go through with this?”

“Well, for one thing, mine’s not on my butt,” she snickered, though she was at least petting along Weiss’s back to offer some comfort alongside the teasing. “Gotta admit, I’m a little mad that Salem got to claim your ass before I did.”

“Where is yours? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Against all odds, that made Yang’s petting falter, and she was silent for a moment. Then she whispered, “Not sure you’re ready to see that.”

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,” she breathed, echoing Yang’s words from before. “Guess we’re gonna find out.”

Yang turned to look at her properly. Then, in one fluid motion, she yanked the tank top up and over her head, displaying her chest entirely. She wasn’t wearing a brassiere! Though Weiss did instinctively yelp and cover her eyes, it was only for a brief second before she began to lower her hands.

Normally, the sight of another woman’s breasts would have been enough to hold her attention. She was not used to seeing anyone underdressed, despite the brief demonstration from Velvet. This time was different. In the center of Yang’s chest, between the two sizeable mounds, lay the little dragon brand that matched the one she now owned. It was almost flawlessly in the center, and slick and white instead of pink or red as her own would be for some time.

“Ohhh… but isn’t that- I mean, if you ever wore one of those new-fangled swimsuits… everyone would see…”

“Don’t care. I wanted it right over my heart. The Dragons are a part of me forever. Even if I left, they’d still be close to my heart, y’know?”

She noticed Yang tense when she raised a hand toward her chest. But she only ran a fingertip over the scar, feeling how slick it was compared to the other untouched skin. This was a lot closer than they had ever been before, and her own heart was rocketing into her throat. The abandoned depot grew quite silent and still as they remained in that moment, Weiss stunned by both her dedication to the Dragons and to her willingness to let another person get so close to her so easily.

Then she smirked. “Liar.”

“Huh?”

“That’s not why you had it put here. You just wanted an excuse to flash any girls you got to come visit your secret lair.”

Blinking down at her for a long few seconds of shock, Yang finally snorted and grinned. “Yeah, you sure got me. But you fell for it the same as all the others.”

“Guess so. I’m a sucker for a tall, strong, dangerous biker.” Her hand smoothed up and down between the soft mounts, and Yang’s eyes closed. “But really… I’ve never known anyone like you.”

“Mmm… and I’ve never known anyone like you. Most girls from Atlas Heights… they’re comfortable there. They’d rather pretend not to see me than try and… figure out if I’m worth talking to.”

“Well, I’m not like most girls anywhere, from anywhere.”

“Very true.” Her eyes slid open, and they were dark now, heavy-lidded and gazing straight down at Weiss as her hand came up to lift her chin. Locking their gaze. Connecting them. “You’re… the best one.”

“What?”

“The best girl there ever was. Anywhere, from anywhere. It’s you.”

That stole her breath completely, and she felt her stomach disappear. Her lips parted to reply, but no words came; what could she say to that? Her eyes flicked down to the hand pressing into Yang’s heart, then back up to the eyes so sure of themselves, not blinking or wavering from her in the slightest.

“I’m in love with a brute,” she admitted, voice barely a whisper.

Yang took her lips right then, desperate, needy where Yang was so usually so confident and reassuring. Weiss had to be the one to reassure her this time. Her other hand came up to rest on her neck, grazing up to tangle in her hair and then back down to her shoulder. This time, when a tongue poked at her bottom lip she opened willingly, and only let out a groan of need when it entered her mouth, found her own. It was glorious. It was too much, it was not enough - it was Yang.

They shifted again and Weiss let out a grunt of pain. Yang parted from her mouth to whisper, “You alright?”

“Golly, no,” she answered honestly. “But… it’s my brand.”

“Right, here.” Yang leaned back, pulling Weiss on top of her.

“OH! Yang, what do you- th-this position is so unseemly!”

Laughing softly, she gazed up at Weiss with a huge smile. The waves of blonde hair pooling all around her, soft breasts above hard abdomen, alluring eyes… they were so inviting in a way Weiss couldn’t resist. Or at least, she was having a very difficult time doing so.

“You gonna make me yours, Schnee?”

“N-not that easily! I’m not a trollop!”

“You keep saying that…” Her hands alighted on Weiss’s hips, clutching very slightly. “And you also said you didn’t want me to be your brute. Look how that changed.”

Weiss smirked a little, leaning down until their noses were touching. “I said I didn’t want you to be a brute to me. And I didn’t. This is the only Yang I want; one who doesn’t try to push me around.”

“I didn’t push. I nudged.” Weiss laughed out loud at that, and Yang giggled along with her as she took her lips again, only toying with them for a moment. “Mmm, yeah. But you were right; I’m not Cinder, and you’re not Velvet. Nobody owns nobody. What we got, babe? It’s… everything I’ve ever wanted.”

This time, it was the princess who lost control, recklessly crashing their lips together as they breathed each other in, slid hands up and down sides. Once, Yang’s brushed her scar but she barely flinched and Yang was moving the hand again, keeping that one on her back from then on. Their hips began to shift back and forth, tongues sliding over each other more than Weiss would have dreamed herself capable of handling. It was all new, and insane, and wonderful.

Finally, Yang broke the kiss to whisper, “You like those?”

“I think so,” she admitted, squeezing her breast again, flicking her thumb over the nipple. Yang sucked in a breath and let it out shakily. “And you like that I like them.”

“Sure. When you’re not… twisting it like I’m a ham radio.” When Weiss pinched a little tighter, she hissed in through her teeth again before grinning up at the princess. “Mmm, feels good. Want me to show you?”

“What?” When a fingerless-gloved hand began sliding up her blouse, over the buttons, she pushed it away with her free hand. “Stop that, you cad.”

“Me? Cad?”

“Yes, you.” But the hand did fall to her waist instead, and she pouted. “Aww, you gave up so easily.”

“I did what my princess asked, okay? That’s what non-cads do.”

Grinning, she leaned down again to kiss her. “My favourite non-cad. And my favourite Dragon.”

“Funny, you’re my favourite Dragon, too.”

Being called that shot a weird thrill through Weiss that had nothing to do with their bodies being so close. The idea of being a gang member was still so fresh and raw that almost every time it was brought up, Weiss felt the fear all over again. An uncertainty about the future.

“It’s too new, huh?” When Weiss only blinked down at her, Yang nodded a little. “I get it. Seen that look in Ilia’s eyes. Emerald’s. Vernal’s. You’re allowed to be a little crazy from all this.”

“No, no,” she reassured Yang, kissing her lips gently again before laying down on top of her, head nestling next to hers. Instantly, both hands were on her back again. “Well… yes. But I don’t regret what I did.”

“You sure?”

“No.”

“That’s normal, too,” she said with a subdued chuckle. “But I’m gonna be here for you, okay?”

“Promise?”

“I promise, Schnee.” After a moment to think, she changed it. “I promise, Weiss.”

Her lips pushed into Yang’s neck. “Thank you, Yang. And… um…”

“What?”

“About what I said a few minutes ago. I’m sorry if it was too soon. Maybe we’re not ready for that yet. Everything’s going crazy, and it’s hard for me to keep track of all this, a-and here you are taking me back and kissing me when I only just barely convinced you that I didn’t rat on your whole-”

“I love you, too.”

“What? Really?”

Yang pushed her back just enough so they could look at each other. “Yeah. Sorry I didn’t say it back right away. Just… wanted to kiss you a lot more than I wanted to say it.”

Her shy smile was laced with a bright red blush. “Are we really in love? Us? This is kooky!”

“A little kooky, but in all the best ways,” she laughed.

“Look at us! We’re two girls, from completely different sides of town, playing back seat bingo - and we don’t even have a back seat!”

“Will you cool off, spaz? Everything’s fine! I mean it.” Her hands smoothed up and down her sides again, and Weiss scoffed, settling in. “It feels good. You feel good, and I like hanging out with you. That’s all that matters, isn’t it?”

Deflating on top of her, Weiss began to pet along her shoulder and upper arm. “I suppose… oh, you’re right. I promise, eventually I’ll stop flipping my lid over this. Someday.”

“And I’ll believe it when I see it, my squirmy little princess.” That earned her a hard poke to her side, and she yelped, “HEY!”

“RUDE! A rude brute! I can’t believe I like you!”

“You more than like me - you loooooove me!”

“I do not!”

“Too late, you said you did!”

“I take it back!”

“No takesies-backsies, Schnee! I’m yours forever!” But immediately after, Weiss was slapping both hands over Yang’s mouth, trying to get her to be quiet. It wasn’t working.

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

The time came for Weiss to report downstairs and check if Pyrrha was waiting for her yet. Yang had pulled her tank top back on when she started to feel a little chilly, and they had been talking ever since. It was nice to just talk with her sometimes.

“And that’s how you got it? A table?”

“Yep,” she sighed, scratching at the thin ribbon of scar tissue below her eye. “Pretty boring story.”

“Not boring enough,” Yang growled, grinding one fist into the opposite palm. “You bled, Schnee. I’d like to thump him on his stupid-”

“You’ll do no such thing. Don’t forget, Salem wants me to stay close, keep being Daddy’s Girl for a little while longer. You have to wait until after that mission is over before anyone thinks about any kind of ‘payback’, alright?”

Voice as helpless as could be while this angry, the Dragon snapped, “But he knocked you into a table! You had to get stitches! That’s not how a dad’s supposed to act!”

“Really? This coming from the woman who had bruises a week or so ago from her loving parent?”

“That’s different. I mean, everyone already knows Raven’s no prize mother.”

At that, Weiss deflated, curling a little tighter around Yang’s side. “I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought that up.”

“Nah…” Sighing to let out her lingering tension, she hugged her back. “It was fair. I’m all hot under the collar about your dad hitting you, when I was telling you to ignore Mom laying into me.”

“Very true. It is a double-standard. Still, I’m sorry.” They relaxed for a moment longer. Weiss didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to give up this one moment of respite from everything and everyone. “Is… there any way…”

“Hm?”

“Could I try meeting her again? On her terms, instead of… of how it happened last time. Just to see if we could be friends.”

Yang sucked in a breath through her teeth, sitting up a little straighter and encouraging Weiss to do the same. Seemed she had noticed her checking her watch so frequently, after all. “Not so hot of an idea, Schnee. Raven doesn’t want anything to do with my friends, or the Dragons, or anyone at all.”

“She’s the mother of my girlfriend. Shouldn’t I meet her at some point?”

They both gazed at each other in the same moment, realising what Weiss had said. Forgetting her train of thought, she smiled sheepishly and dipped her head lower.

“Maybe. For now, let me just get used to having a princess all to myself.”

“Stop,” Weiss murmured, smiling a little wider. The kiss on her forehead enlarged that.

In short order, she escorted Weiss out front to look for Pyrrha. Eventually, they saw the Studebaker idling around the corner, so she turned back to kiss her cheek.

“Same time tomorrow?”

“Well… is there any way your gal pal could drop you off near Shopkeep’s? Around the corner. She doesn’t have to come in with you again unless she wants to.”

Weiss shrugged non-committally. “Sure. I mean, as far as I know. But we’ll try for around the same time, okay?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Wonderful!” Another little kiss, and Yang hummed her gratitude before taking Weiss’s lips again. A thrill shot through her at the idea of anyone else seeing them, but she decided not to care in the moment. Then she reclaimed her voice enough to whisper, “See you then, brute.”

“Later, Princess.”

As she climbed into the passenger seat, Pyrrha was beaming widely at her, and Weiss felt distinctly bashful about the whole situation. However, even through that bashfulness shone her true gratitude and glee at having smoothed everything over. No dark shadow cast by her imposing father could truly outshine the Dragons.

[flashfictionforpittance]

Magic in the Archives.

Things Magic Can Do:

Hurt- Most common use of magic. Any living thing can be harmed using magic, though the strength of the demon who’s magic is being invoked is pitted against that of the target, so effectiveness ranges. 

Heal- Second most common use of magic. There’s a long history of people making deals with demons in order to save others, from loved ones to whole towns. Its effectiveness ranges based on demon, but overall it’s less effective than magic’s ability to hurt. 

Protect- Third most common use of magic. Powerful barriers permeate areas of the Archives, some of them decades old. In some cases, in order to maintain protection spells, the books containing the demon who’s power is being used, will be entombed in an area, or hidden in the home of the protectee. Often without their knowledge. 

Predict- Prediction is a far less common use of magic. Its possibility is VERY dependent on who’s power you’re invoking. Even then, the clarity of the predictions made will vary depending on the caster’s focus, and whether anyone’s trying to counter the spell. 

Detect- Pretty much a sixth sense for most magic users. Once you start using magic you get a sense for when others are using it. That said, there are plenty of spells for detecting the magic of someone who’s actively trying to hide it. 

Manipulate- This skill takes a lot of guts. It’s like lying on the spot- if you’re manipulating someone, unless you’re very good at it, you have to believe your own con, you’ve got to feel it, in order to get the other person to go along. Like heavy suggestion rather than hypnotism. When mastered, it’s extremely powerful. 

Communicate- The Archives are riddled with powerful items you can use to communicate long distance. There are spells too if you’re travelling light, but they’re a tad invasive. That said, if it’s sheer volume you’re after rather than range, spells are the way to go. 

Reveal- In order to reveal something, you need to know it’s hidden. If you go casting spells to reveal without knowing there’s something hidden, the chances of revealing something are way low, and your chances of wasting your time and spells are way up. Better to detect first, unless you’re particularly attuned. And even if you do, a powerful spell-caster's work is still hard to unveil.  

Conceal- Like any hiding place, you need to conceal your magic in the right place. Somewhere it’ll go unnoticed until it needs to be. But you’d still need at least a few months of casting under your belt before getting the knack of hiding it, mostly because you need to account for rando’s wandering into it or its sphere of influence. Hiding the fact that you’re casting? Near impossible around other spellcasters, though the seasoned magic user can deceive most normies. 

Repair- Magic can’t reverse or create, but it can build. It can alight on some fragments, and with some careful focus, figure out a way to stick them together. 

Understand- A very high level task. If something is beyond the understanding of the spellcaster, they can commune with the demon who’s power they’re using, and see what they make of it. Requires intense meditation, and can take days, so it better be worth the time. 

Silence- Dark magic. This one’s all demon. (Most) Humans or other sentient creatures don’t have the stomach to erase the empirical evidence of another living thing. You remove the voice. The echo. The person goes unnoticed until your death, or the revocation of the spell. 

Things Magic Can’t Do:

Create- Spellcasters are borrowing power from demons. Demons, in turn, are channelling the God that created them. But the God can’t physically interact with the Archives, and Demons aren’t powerful enough to create using that borrowed power. You can’t just conjure shit. 

Resurrect- Dead is dead is dead. The afterlife isn’t something the Archives are privy to- whatever happens when you die, the dead haven’t found a way to come back from it. 

Erase- Silencing is about the most a spell can do, and even then, it just revokes your ability to be noticed. You still exist. You can be killed, but the evidence of your existence can’t just be removed from the world. You’ve left indents on hundreds of people’s minds that couldn’t be accounted for otherwise. 

100% Brainwash- You can get to maybe 99%. Just like you can’t erase a person’s entire existence, you can’t erase them. If you’re controlling a person’s mind or manipulating them, even if they’re dumb as shit, there’s a persistent if small chance that they’ll break out of the trance. If you push them to do something that is deeply against their nature, the chances of them breaking out increase.

Extend Beyond Demon’s Range- You have a book. You hold the book, you cast spell. Unless you’ve got something really special living in that book of yours, you can’t extend across the entire Archive to deal with your problems. Spells are mostly short-range, aside from the odd projectile spell. 

Undo- What’s done is done. A spell can repair, but it can’t undo or reverse its own actions. It also can’t reverse time. If you wanted that building in one piece you should have either protected it or not blown it the fuck up dipshit. 

Invert- Spells can push limits, but it can’t break them entirely. Transmutation? Of course. Manipulation? Obviously. But if you turn water into wine it’s still probably going to taste watered down. If you turn a priest into a killing machine, they’ll still probably do it with God in mind. Powerful or defining traits can’t be erased, they can only have their direction/drive changed. 

Absolve- If you fuck the fuck up, if you renounce your humanity, or the lives of your loved ones, in favour of power or strength, if you turn against everything that makes you a person, you can’t get that back. At least, not with magic. Magic can’t fix your broken soul, dipshit. Go to therapy. 

Comfort- See above. You can use magic to help a situation as you please, but it can’t be used to erase or ease the emotional burdens left behind. 

Cost:

Life  Energy- Magic is like physical activity. It’s like getting tired really fast without actually doing anything physical, which can give you a kind of motion sickness in the early days. You’re more likely to pass out from exhaustion before it bleeds you dry though. 

Materials- Some spells, particularly protection spells, need some extra materials. This can be literally anything. Human material, buildings, precious items. You name it. Go nuts. 

Time- Powerful spells take a while to get out. Better find a safe spot to focus in for a few days. Bring a blanket. 

Sanity- All spells have an emotional weight. They burden your mind with the knowledge of what you’ve done, as does the voice of the demon who helped you accomplish it. Thinking too hard for too long, after doing too much, can pull the strings holding your mind together so taught that, without a rest, they’ll snap. 

Life- Yours and that of others. Sometimes as a consequence, sometimes in exchange. Sometimes to get the demon to reveal what you need to know. 

Debt- Most spellcasters take on a debt when they receive their powers. This is fully negotiable, naturally. Think it through, though. No backsies. 

Other Spells- The spells in your book will move and change from time to time. In order to cast one spell, a handful of smaller ones might become unavailable. So write them down in your own hand whenever you can. 

Spell Itself- Spells have limited uses. Use it enough times and it’ll either become indecipherable or disappear from the book, or your mind, altogether. So be moderate. 

Feel:

Like something wriggling inside your bones. A hundred writhing fingers passing through you like a ghost, shaping around you as it moves past. Like tentacles. Like one of these sponges, made of living flesh, moving under your skin. The texture and touch of its tendrils depend on the spirit you’re invoking. 

[waveridden]

FIC: too large for any moment

But it’s still there, in the back of Bacta’s mind. He knows what a good Kwoon fight is like. He knows what drift compatibility feels like, and even if he never does anything about this, he knows that he and Leenik could be compatible. (A Campaign/Pacific Rim AU, 1.9k, vaguely Bacta/Leenik)

AUcember || title lyric || more about the AU || read on ao3

#

“Bacta.” Leenik leans in, so close that Bacta has to pull back to keep looking at his face properly. “We should do the Kwoon room thing.”

“The Kwoon room thing,” Bacta repeats. He hasn’t been in a Kwoon room in years. He might’ve sworn to himself that he’d never do it again, but it’s hard to remember. It’s been years, and he’s drunk, and Leenik’s drunk, and he’s never seen Leenik this relaxed before. “Do you wanna… do the staff thing?”

Leenik nods, so emphatically that he collapses against the wall behind him, still nodding. “I think it’d be fun fighting you,” he says sincerely. “I wanna do the thing with the staffs and I wanna see what happens.”

“We should see what happens!” Bacta pushes himself to his feet, and he’s pleased to see that he’s steady enough to stand. Walking might be harder, and fighting to determine if he and Leenik are drift compatible will definitely be harder still, but if this is what Leenik wants, then damn it, Bacta is going to figure out how to do it for him. “Let’s do the staffs.”

“Staves.” Leenik frowns, but he takes Bacta’s hand and lets Bacta pull him upright. “Stavs?”

“Staves,” Bacta repeats, and tugs Leenik towards the door. “Let’s stave.”

There is no such thing as a night off in the Shatterdome, not really. But there are nights that are better to get drunk than others, and they’d decided that this is one of them. There are additional J-Tech staffers supporting them from other domes, and Bacta has been tired of… well, of being tired. He decided that he and Leenik, as heads of J-Tech, deserved a day off. So they’d gotten drunk, because they couldn’t leave the dome.

Bacta’s one of the newer people at this particular dome. He’d been transferred because his old marshal didn’t want to deal with him anymore - or because the dome needed more support in J-Tech, depending on which paperwork you look at - and it’s been a bumpy adjustment. He’s known Leenik for over a year now, and Leenik is still painfully reserved around him sometimes. Bacta had half expected him to say no when he’d suggested a drinking night. He hadn’t even been sure if Leenik drinks.

By the time they get to the Kwoon room, both of them still wearing pajamas and socks, they’re a little less stumble-drunk. Bacta’s pretty steady on his feet by the time he has a staff in his hand, looking at Leenik across the room. “You ever done this before?”

To his surprise, Leenik nods. “Been a while,” he says, and shifts his grip on the staff. “I used to be pretty good.”

“So did I,” Bacta says. Leenik cocks his head, looking curious, and Bacta shrugs. “I had a whole life before I ended up here.”

“Right.” Leenik grins. “New Zealand.”

Leenik also had a whole life before the Shatterdome that Bacta doesn’t know anything about. He’s never really asked, because Leenik is… cagey, to say the least. But he’s holding the staff like he knows what he’s doing with it, and he looks completely at home in the Kwoon room. Bacta wishes, with a sudden ferocity, that he knew Leenik, really knew him.

He lifts his staff to a ready position. “First to five?”

“First to five,” Leenik agrees. He steps back, and Bacta barely has time to anticipate his next move before Leenik charges at him and swings his staff for Bacta’s side.

Bacta side-steps it and jabs his staff behind him, towards Leenik, but Leenik is already sweeping around to Bacta’s other side, shifting his staff from hand to hand. Bacta wheels backwards and lifts his own staff.

Leenik sweeps his staff towards Bacta’s chest right as Bacta lowers his, stopping just an inch from Leenik’s head, and Leenik’s staff freezes just as the tip of it touches Bacta’s sternum. For a second, Bacta is too stunned to move or breathe. Judging from the look on Leenik’s face, he is too.

“Draw,” Bacta manages to say, after a few seconds of heavy breathing. “That-”

“Was really fucking good,” Leenik finishes, eyes wide.

Bacta’s face splits into a grin. “Thank Christ,” he mumbles, and Leenik only grins wider. “You think we can manage that again?”

Leenik pulls his staff back, miming the motion of sheathing a sword as he steps away. “We should find out,” he says. Every inch of him is buzzing with awareness, and Bacta feels drawn to him, like he can’t look away. He hasn’t felt this way in a long time.

Bacta copies the sheathing motion, old training taking over, and moves to an opposite corner of the room. He steps back, eyes scanning the room, and lands on the doorway for a second.

Marshal Luroon, standing in the door, arches an eyebrow at him. She looks like she was likely on her way somewhere else. Bacta considers asking why she’s stopping to watch, but then Leenik shifts his weight, and all of his attention is back on Leenik.

“Is a draw a point for each of us or no points?” Leenik asks, doing an idle figure-eight with his staff.

“Point for each,” Bacta suggests. “More fun that way.”

Leenik grins sharply. “Good,” he says, and lunges forward with his staff. Bacta thinks that he’s grinning back, just as face-splitting and raw, as he dodges.

#

They don’t do it again, is the thing. Not that Bacta particularly wants to - he hasn’t done a serious Kwoon fight in a few years, and he’s not sure he’s ready to do it again - but Leenik seems… worried about it. He’s a little cagey around Bacta the next day, and the day after that, and the day after, until Bacta makes a pointedly casual comment about not being interested in piloting again. After that, Leenik relaxes more than Bacta has ever seen him.

But it’s still there, in the back of Bacta’s mind. He knows what a good Kwoon fight is like. He knows what drift compatibility feels like, and even if he never does anything about this, he knows that he and Leenik could be compatible. It’s the kind of knowledge that comes without intent. He’s not even sure that Leenik realized how compatible they were, but he knows. He remembers.

The problem is that it turns out Marshal Luroon remembers, too.

It’s an emergency situation in every sense: all of their main pilots are on another continent for some ridiculous press junket. There are Jaegers flying in to support them, but all of the backup teams are deployed already and doing poorly.

Lyn must be getting desperate, because she turns and meets Bacta’s eyes across mission control.

He realizes what’s about to happen just before she opens her mouth. “Marshal-”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Lyn says, voice dangerously tight. She points at him, then at Leenik. “You two, get in a Jaeger.”

Leenik’s mouth drops open in shock before he regains himself. “I don’t think-”

“This isn’t-”

“This is life and death.” Lyn’s voice is deathly quiet. “Do you understand that? This is not about what either of you want. This is about damage control. This is about minimizing casualties. You are going to suit up, and we are going to calibrate you, and we are going to hope that it works. And either way we will deal with it, do you understand?”

Leenik looks away. Bacta has to unclench his jaw, with a monumental effort, but he grits out a terse “Yes, ma’am.”

There are lines in Lyn’s face that he doesn’t remember being there when he started at the Shatterdome. She turns around to say something to Tryst, who looks grimmer than Bacta has ever seen him.

Bacta sighs. He turns to Leenik, to say that they should get ready or ask if he’s okay, and is completely unsurprised to see that Leenik isn’t standing there anymore. He heaves out a sigh and leaves mission control.

Leenik is, as expected, in the J-Tech garage. He whirls around on Bacta as soon as he enters, with anger and betrayal and panic all flickering across his face in turns. “You told her?”

“She saw us.”

“She saw us and you didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t think this would happen.” Bacta has to fight to keep his voice low and steady - and it’s barely steady, with a tremor rocketing through it. “Leenik, you have to believe me, I don’t want to do this.”

“But you said yes,” he says, verging on hysterical. “You said yes, and I- I can’t do this, I said I’d never-”

“We don’t have another choice.”

“We have a choice! That choice is staying here, and saying no, and dealing with the consequences, because it’s not worth it.”

“Isn’t it worth it to you to save those people’s lives?”

Leenik’s face contorts into something miserable. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“I know it’s not.” Bacta has to fight the urge to reach out to Leenik. He knows Leenik wouldn’t want it, would say he doesn’t need it, but his entire body is alight with the need to be… closer. He puts his hands behind his back and clasps them, gripping as tightly as he can manage. “The last person I was in a Jaeger with died.”

Leenik visibly takes a step back, stunned. “You used to be a pilot?”

“A long time ago.” Bacta twists his hands, trying to keep himself grounded. “We only went on a couple missions together before kaiju attacked our dome. She was so focused on the evacuation effort that she didn’t realize-” his throat tightens, and he forces himself to swallow down the tears. They don’t have time for him to relive this. “She died. I was ruled not fit for duty, so I joined up with J-Tech. I never wanted to pilot a Jaeger with anyone else.”

“Wanted,” Leenik says warily. “What do you want now?”

Bacta huffs out a laugh. “I want to stop more people from dying.”

“I-” Leenik pauses and gulps. “My brother-”

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” Bacta says, and Leenik sags in relief. “If you really, really can’t do this, we’ll find an excuse. But I think we need to try.”

“I know we do,” Leenik sighs. “I just- I’m afraid.”

“Of being in a Jaeger again?”

“That you won’t like me after you really know who I am.”

“Leenik,” Bacta sighs, and he moves forward without thinking. Leenik stays in place, trembling as Bacta’s hands land on his shoulders. “You’re my friend. There is very, very little that could be in your head that will change that.”

Leenik stares up at Bacta, eyes wide and searching. At last, he nods slowly, and Bacta’s hands relax on his shoulders.

Bacta smooths his hands down Leenik’s arms and draws them back to his sides. “Okay,” he says, and Leenik takes a deep breath. “Let’s go suit up.”

“Let’s go suit up,” Leenik echoes. He looks tense, still, but he looks Bacta up and down and then relaxes. “We’re going to do this.”

“We’re going to do this,” Bacta agrees, like it’s a finality, a fact, and Leenik offers up a terse, nervous smile. It’s the best thing Bacta has ever seen.

[longingfreesia]

visitations | ao3 mirror

mad paradox visits the alternate selves he comes across wading through time every now and then.

note: once upon a time, before i saw his 3rd job advancement cutscene, i "entertained" the idea of dominator creating grace as part of his “perfect virtual world.” then i watched it and realized ‘oh, shit, he moved on actually’ and scrapped it all. this is kind of a result of that, and me going “hm. i wonder if he won’t do that for himself he’d do it for mp” which he probably wouldn’t but will that stop me? this exists so the answer is no

also i dont know how to tag “mp kinda beats up dom.” its not too bad i think but just be aware of that i guess

previous “chapter”

Paradox watches his counterpart in silence for a moment. Was it perverse to take an odd fascination in observing people when they thought they were alone? It didn’t matter to him, and no one knew about it in any case.

Either way, no matter how fascinating it was, it was boring. His counterpart usually had something interesting for him to mess with, it was worth a shot.

“You're open.”

Dom startles, then softens when he sees Paradox. “I suppose I am now. Hello, Paradox.”

“Hello.” Paras eyes seem especially big, now, staring down at his counterpart.

“Was there something you needed?” Dom asks.

“No. I just wanted to be here.”

“Mm. I suppose that's fine. Don't bother me, though, I'm working on something very important.”

Paradox frowns, nose scrunching up and only further accentuating his round face. This other self treats him more like a child. ...Sometimes it's alright, but other timesーlike nowーit irritates him.

“Tell me what it is.”

Dom chuckles. “Insistent as always. Well, it's…” he waves his hand in circles by the side of his head, as if thinking, “virtual reality. Of sorts.” He gains that ever annoying ‘I know something you don't’ tone of voice. “Do you want to see it?”

“Show it to me.”

Dom nods. “Follow me.”

Dominator leads him into a decently sized space off of his lab. This was new, but it hadn't been added to the building, just cleared out… What did he need such a large dedicated space for? And entirely empty, at that...

“Close your eyes.” Dom says.

“No.”

Dom grimaces and rolls his eyes. “Alright, fine, but don't blame me if it ruins the magic.”

His dynamos swirl around him, following each other in a perfect line as they form a circle spanning the empty space. The thin lines sought through them glow, brighter and brighter until they split open, a jagged, mechanical motion they all execute in unison.

A wall appears around them. It looks like the same type of hologram Dom uses for his keyboards, that kind of thing.

A landscape appears before them, and Paras eyes go wide. The ground beneath their feet turns grassy and soft, and the walls formed by the dynamos looks as if nonexistent now, giving way in favor of a lush expanse of green and a clear sky, seemingly infinite. A large tree thrives in the distance. So this was what his counterpart worked on so tirelessly? At the very least, it was an impressive show of skill.

“This part… is something I have worked on for countless ages. I'm particularly excited to show you.” Dom says, and his voice sounds odd in a way Paradox can't name. “I implore you to close your eyes now.”

Paradox shakes his head. “No.”

Dominator sighs, then, “...Please?”

Wow, please? He was truly desperate, then. “Fine.” Paradox lets his eyes fall closed, and he hears the sound of something shimmering.

“Don't open them until I say.” Dom instructs, and Paradox grumbles. He doesn't like being told what to do. This had better be spectacular.

“Hello,” He hears Dominator whisper. “Are you ready?” What is he talking about? More importantly, who is he talking to? No one else was with them.

“Open your eyes now.”

Paradox does, and feels his heart drop.

A woman with long, white hair and a gentle face stands in front of him, smiling. Her clothes and aura make her seem almost angelic. Her shoulders rise as she smiles even wider, and says, “Hello, Add.”

Paradox, suddenly, cannot breathe. His arms fall limp at his sides and he's fairly certain he looks like an idiot but oh god, he can't breathe.

“How is it?” Dominator asks, seeming satisfied.

It takes a long moment for Paradox to remember how to speak. “That's…”

The woman kneels down in front of Paradox, taking his hand in hers. “Your hair is all a mess... “ A light, tinkling laugh. “Do you need me around to take care of it, even now? It's alright, I will. It's always made me happy to care for you.”

Paradox feels a foreign feeling set alight in his chest, in his throat. He doesn't like it. He hates it. He wants it to stop.

“That's… not… mom.” He mumbles.

“Hm? Ah, no, it's not, but…”

“That's… NOT mom!” Paras voice suddenly raises higher than Dom has ever heard it go, and he tears his hand out of not-Graces. Her face remains unchanging, unfazed by his outburst.

“...I see. It's not good enough, thenー”

“That's not mom! How dare you! How DARE youー” Paradox feels rage seething through his chest, up to his face, bringing hot, angry tears to his eyes. “How COULD you? You'd disrespect her like that? You'd ever think some fucking HOLOGRAM could EVER replace her?” This wasn't good for him, he feels his emotions causing him to lose his focus, lose his grip on realityーhe didn't care. He didn't care, he didn't care, he didn't care.

Dominator throws his hands up, and the simulation dissipates, leaving them back in the empty room they started in. Paradox faintly registers not-Graces face melting into pixels and light, smile never fading in the slightest through it all. Too much. “It wasn't meant to replaceー”

“Bullshit!” Paradox cries. “What else could it be? What other purpose could that have?! Stop trying to lie to me! I’m not fucking stupid!”

“Calm down. It was just a simulation, nothing more. It could never replace her, and it never would. I just wanted to experimentー”

“Exー She’s not yours to experiment on! Is that what everything is to you? Something for you to screw around with like some kind of lab rat?”

Dominator snarls. “Where did you get that idea from? I’ve never insinuated anything of the sort. Maybe you should stop making things up, the time-traveling might be affecting you worse than you’re aware.”

Of course he was being snarky, even now. Even now, even now, after something like that. Paradox can feel his body fighting him, losing his cool and the thin web of will keeping himself together. He didn’t let his emotions run from him like this, not usually, but this wasn’t normal, and more importantly, this was unforgivable.

“Fuck off.” Paradox mutters, trying one last time to compose himself before his body decides for him.

Dominator shrugs. “I tried to do something nice for you. It’s your own fault you can’t handle it. I’ve tried to help you move on from her, but you won’t liー”

“FUCK OFF!” Paradox shrieks, flying for Dominators throat. His eyes go wide seeing Paras form change, twisted and messy the same way the man himself is. He barely registers long, mangy hair and sharp teeth before his back hits the ground and the air is knocked out of his lungs.

“I thought you knew anything. I thought you understood, I thought you knew anything at ALL about how I felt.” His tone lilts up at the end, trailing into near hysterical laughter. Dominators gaze frantically flits around the room, attempting to order his dynamos to assist him.

Paradox rips Doms earpiece out and can hardly hear it when the man beneath him screams. He goes the extra mile and brings clawed hands down on the fallen batteries on Dominators sides. A loud clattering is heard as the dynamos fall.

“Don't try that. I hate you. I fucking HATE you. I can't believe I ever thought you'd get it.”

Dom can see more of the blinding ‘glitch’ of Paras body, now. This close to him, it almost burns. His hair floats impossibly behind him. He grins, and sharp teeth flash and send fear shooting down Doms spine. He's pinned, and there's not much he can do about it. Piling onto that fear like painful rocks was barely being able to breathe, or hearーthe angry voice above him was muffled, as if they were underwater, and the ringing, god, the ringing... Even if he did try to respond, it would only come out a broken wheeze.

“I should kill you. I should kill you for hurting her.” Paradox mutters, then laughs. “Was that some kind of sick fucking joke? Do you enjoy tormenting meーbastardizing her?” Claws dig into Doms shoulder. He's sure he's bleeding, but not enough to seep through his jackets. He can, however, certainly feel blood trickling from his ears from his earpiece being torn out. Motherfucker.

“Were you trying to piss me off? Be honest or I’ll tear your throat out. We both know I’m not screwing around.” Paradox glares down at him, rows of deadly teeth grit hard.

Dominator blearily grasps at Paras hands at his shoulders, knowing he couldn’t shove the flickering mass of ‘man’ off of him if he tried, but figuring he’d be damned if he didn’t at least struggle. It goes about as well as he expected it to, and he winces when Paradox expectedly retaliates.

“Can you not even speak? Can you not even own up to what you’ve done?” He cackles lowly, looking as if he were staring down his prey at Dominator. “Did I hit you that hard? Are you that weak? I thought you were better than that…” His expression shifts to a twisted mix of amusement-turned-disgust. “The version of myself in this timeline is pathetic too. I should’ve known, shouldn’t I?” The claws dig even further into Dominators flesh, now, and all he can manage is a pained rasp.

Paradox suddenly jerks himself up from the ground, taking Dominator with him, only to throw him back to the ground once he’s risen. Dominator grabs at his chest, coughing. His attempt at rising to his feet, or even just sitting up, fails miserably.

“It won’t do any good to kill you, will it?” His gaze is back to being empty, as it usually was, butーbut his eyes were so wide and wild, they didn’t seem to belong on such a hard face as he was making now. It hardly moves as he says, “I’ve seen enough dead versions of myself. I’ll leave you to your miserable false world. You can rot there alone. Howeverー”

His body distorts, and seems to flash back to that of a child when Dominator blinks. No, that’s not right. “I want you to etch it into your entitled brain that if I’m ever unfortunate enough to cross into this timeline again, I won’t care anymore about needless death.”

Paradox is blindingly bright, and Dominators head throbs from the flash and the beating against the floor. When he opens his eyes again, there’s nothing there but a ragged scar upon the ground where he had been, and a clear mark of his damage evident in Dominators appearance.

His glove comes back bloody when he presses his fingers to his collar. He’ll have to repair his dynamos’ batteries, but before then, find some kind of medical care since they’re unavailable to take care of it for him… How bothersome.

[terraclae]

An Introduction to Court Paramo pt. 2

[Part 1]

In which Arodan gets told off by a book and meets some new people.

Lore pings: @cityofinoue @yuushanoah-fr

The door to the library seemed so intimidating now. Arodan shifted, scraping a little ice off the floor with the nails on his feet. Maybe it was the strange environment, maybe sickness, but it felt unlike him to be as nervous as he was. He could sense the day had already drawn to an end and cursed himself for not going earlier.

'Well, damn it all.'

He pushed the door open which halfway started to move on its own. It swung open to reveal a library that was more vast than he could have ever imagined. By the way at least three floors worth of books were arranged in large shelves it seemed as if the room went on for miles and miles. Although a little dusty it  the library wasn't as decrepit as he had thought it to be.

'Hey stranger, you're going to let the cold in.'

He jumped to close the door before even questioning who had spoken. When he did he stood pressed with his back to the door, eyes darting around the room until he saw someone sitting on a railing on the second floor walkway, next to a shelf above someone had hung a banner that said "Books on Magic". 'Uh… Who are you?'

'Depends on who you ask, but looking at your scraggly appearance and dead eyed look I'm...' The presumably female figure held a finger to her lips in thought. '... A witch. Care for a spell to fix you up?'

'I don't look that bad.' Arodan snapped, all the while self consciously running his fingers over his developing beard. From this distance the figure didn't seem like a witch, she seemed too young and too carefree. Maybe he just had an outdated view of what a witch exactly was. 'Get out, I have work to do here and I don't care what or who you are.'

'I wouldn't advice you speaking to my sister in that tone, stranger.'

'There's two of you?!' He whipped around and spotted someone sitting on a pile of pillows that had been dragged into a corner of the room. 'Don't make me get my broom.'

'Judging by his behavior-' The witch spoke, immediately followed by her brother down below. 'He's the new librarian then.' They turned to look at Arodan. 'How interesting.' They said in unison.

'Stop that.' Arodan said, shrinking a little. The witch was the first to fly down on big spotted wings. Now that Arodan could see her closer she must have been an imperial. She was at least half a head taller than him. Instinctively he backed away. 'Your king will hear of this.'

'If he wasn't a habitual troublemaker himself he would probably punish us but no.' The witch's brother joined his sister's side, leaning against her. He was as tall as she was and looked like he could be her twin. 'We don't mean to be of any trouble but you must forgive us for messing with newcomers at least a little.' He bowed his head. 'We most often do with the ones that don't have the courtesy to introduce themselves.' Although he spoke mostly in a monotone there were hints of sourness to his words.

'Ah, don't be like that.' She nudged her brother's side, and extended her hand towards Arodan. 'I'm sure my liege introduced me as just a witch but I'm known as Carmen. I'm the head of magical defenses here, basically.' She gestured to her brother with her free hand. 'This is my brother Epoch. He's an ambassador.' She grinned. 'It's nice to meet you, librarian.'

'My name is Arodan.' He said, grimacing a little. His gaze scanned over Carmen momentarily and fixated on her hand. When he finally reached out to shake it, it might as well been as if he decided to grab onto a red-hot iron. He said nothing, and instead focused on her eyes. There was something strange to them, now that he noticed. While the iris leant more to a deep brown color, with occasional blotches of orange her pupils were alight in a fierce orange. Epoch shared the same quality to his eyes. '... Where are you two from?'

'Ashfall Waste.' Epoch quickly answered, seemingly having caught on to what Arodan was focusing on. 'But raised in Dragonhome, if you were wondering.' His eyes narrowed. 'Nothing weird about that.'

Okay, they were definitely hiding something. 'I've met plenty of dragons raised in other places, 'course it's not weird.' He pulled his hand back and pushed it into his coat pocket to examine later. 'So, what are you doing here because I kinda need you to...' He threw a glance around them. '... Leave.'

'We're just studying, we're not going to be in your way.' Carmen said, shrugging and her wings mimicking the gesture. 'And besides, don't you need a little help?'

'If I am tasked to do a job then I prefer to do it alone.' Arodan said. Not because he feared anyone messing it up, mostly because it was already hard enough to keep himself on track. He had grown too soft. 'So, no, I don't want your help.' He elbowed himself around the two to pace towards a desk on which a few stacks of books had been neatly arranged. He opted to set down a few on another table on a distance so he could leave his own things on the desk. 'Scram. Fly off. Go read elsewhere.'

The pair was momentarily quiet, with only Carmen breaking the silence with a giggle. 'Okay then dork, have fun with the books.' Epoch didn't say anything but Arodan could feel his stare burning into the back of his neck as he set up his things. Soon the two disappeared out of his sight and left the library eerily quiet. Arodan liked places that way and sat down at the desk, flipping his journal open. Out of it fell a detailed job description of what had to happen on a daily basis, written in a scratchy font that belonged to Atlas. Next he surveyed his hand for any burns and found none, pleasantly surprised.

'Why did you send them away?' Popped up in his Journal in gold, this time the entire page turning black. Arodan pulled out a white piece of chalk. He wrote down 'Because I need some peace and quiet.'

'Isolating yourself will not soothe your fear.' Appeared in gold under Arodan's response.

'This is not a discussion.' He crudely wrote under it. He slammed the journal shut and put it aside, the thought occurring that it was strange how it already knew what had happened before he had written it down.

… Must have been his imagination. He scanned over his list, cataloging the books available being at the top of the list. As he got up, he pondered upon whether his letters would even arrive properly. The one meant for his brother should be easier, but he feared for the ones he wrote to the crew of her Humble Majesty in particular, due to their often unpredictable location. And now with the recent attack on the boat he couldn't even be sure if they docked at all. His sulking persisted as he ran his fingers alongside the rows of books in a shelf behind him.

Why would there even be dust in a library if they were underground and it was clearly frequently used?

He was shaken from his thoughts as a familiar burning returned to the back of his neck, not daring to move. It had barely been ten minutes. ‘Which of the two fiends is it?’

‘Ooh, touchy.’ Carmen’s voice rang from the opposite side of the hall. Arodan instinctively shushed her. ‘I forgot something, I won't be long.’

‘Okay, just… Grab it.’ Arodan turned to see her quickly trotting across the library, flying up to the second floor walkway again. ‘Do you guys hang around here often?’

‘Me and Epoch? Twice a week.’ She rushed through something and revealed it to be a hefty looking bag marked by countless stains. ‘King Balam is here every day though. He comes here late at night, you know it's a bad day when he's here during the day though.’

‘Huh, strange.’ That thought struck him a little harder considering Balam had been late to his audience because he supposedly had been here. ‘... Who else frequents the library?’

She narrowed her eyes at Arodan and her lips curled into a big grin. ‘Getting nosy, are we?’

‘Is it a weird question?’ Arodan asked, growing agitated. ‘Just give me an answer, witch.’

‘So, basically-’ She jumped over the railing and flew down, settling down with a little spin in the chair by Arodan's desk. ‘I'm sure Balam told you about this castle having its secrets, and the spirit of the library happens to be one of them.’ She folded her hands together with a strange triangular motion. ‘It is a being that embodies the thoughts and words said in this library as a whole, and it's well, a bit of a messy being sometimes.’

‘Wait, how is that possible?’ Arodan asked, incredulously, only to close his mouth very quickly as soon as he glanced at his journal on the desk. ‘No, wait, I can guess. Magic?’

‘Duh.’ She giggled. ‘It leaving a thin layer of dust on everything just means the library is y'know, healthy, happy as is. Still, I wouldn't advice attempting to talk to any strange figures that'd might roam this place that you don't recall coming in.’

‘What happens if I talk to them?’ Arodan asked, shuffling closer to the desk.

‘Well, they'll lull you into a false sense of security and then proceed to feed off your energy. Before you ask, it probably won't kill you if the spirit of the library perceives you as a beneficial person.’ She threw a slightly cautioned glance into the library. ‘Maybe you'll be fine.’

‘Probably? Maybe?’ Arodan didn't dare ask further, and instead remained where he stood now, next to the desk, maybe a little dumbfounded. ‘I'll-I’ll keep it in mind.’

‘Good.’ She glanced up at him. ‘So, now I've told you a secret, you have to repay me with one of yours.’

‘What, no?’ He shook his head nervously. ‘Is that just a thing you're making up?’

‘Relax Danny. That's just how we do things around here.’ She leant forward, her eyebrows raised in quirky fashion. ‘I’m not gonna hurt you or anything, what are you afraid of?’

‘The fact I'm stuck here, and I have been through a lot. A metric ton of things. Also don't call me Danny.’ He shot her a look that was clear he wasn't willing to tell her a lot about himself. ‘You're clearly hiding something too, so why should I answer?’

‘Because I thought it was fun to get to know you if you're here anyway?’ Carmen tilted her head curiously to the side. ‘So what can I ask you about?’ She rubbed her chin with one hand, while the other drifted to the desk and came to point at Arodan’s journal. ‘What's this?’

‘None of your business.’ Arodan reflexively snapped, flinching at his own remark. ‘I mean… It's a journal. I keep records of my travels in it, I've been a lot of places.’ He held up his hands in a pleading gesture. ‘I'd prefer you'd not touch it.’

‘I'm not going to.’ Carmen pulled her hand away. Now her gaze was fixated on the book. ‘Huh. I thought it was a magic tome of sorts actually, with how much energy clings to this thing.’ Well, she kinda wanted to touch and flip through it. ‘What did you do to it?’

‘I uh… Had a sort of accident.’ He picked up the book so it was away from Carmen’s potential grasp. ‘I met a magic user on a boat I developed a friendship with that went very…’ It was as if his throat seemed to slam shut painfully and he clutched the book a little closer to himself. ‘Sour. Those things happen.’

Carmen scanned Arodan momentarily and as soon as she met his gaze again she gave him a knowing look. ‘You know, my brother and I were actually not raised in Dragonhome because we wanted to be. More or less abducted.’ She shrugged. ‘We were raised under a rigorous regime and little love, learning not fire magic but earth magic. It isn't your situation perhaps, but hey, I can understand a little.’ She hopped up, still optimistic. ‘So, Dan, if you need to talk, let me know.’

‘... Yes.’ He nodded, and he righted himself, having found he had sank into an uncomfortable slouch. ‘I like Dan by the way. You can call me Dan.’

‘Nice.’ She reached out to pat his shoulder. As soon as her hand made contact however she jumped back and retreated her hand, her gaze frantically darting between Arodan and the book in his hands with a look as if she just had gotten struck by lightning. ‘Woah, that's freaky.’

‘W-What?’ He pat his shoulder down as if anything on his person felt weird. ‘What's wrong?’

‘I swore for a moment you just…’ Any other time she might have called the feeling that just surged through her pure unbridled malice. From Arodan who eyed nothing but very tired and distant it was strange, and it wasn't that. ‘... As if my power just got pulled into you.’ Her gaze now settled firmly on the book as the suspect, and finally shook her head. 'Must be my imagination.'

Arodan stared down at the book in his hands but didn't get the chance to ask about this any further. The door was opened with a creak. ‘That doesn’t sound like work is being done in here.’ Balam poked his head into the library. ‘Carmen?’

‘My liege.’ She bowed, smiling at Balam with a strange fondness. ‘I take you need me to leave?’

‘No, Epoch was just growing impatient and fidgety.’ He marched in and pat her shoulder. ‘So, don't make him wait. That's an order.’ His tone was too jovial to be taken seriously.

‘Yes sirree.’ She said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. She threw Arodan a mystified look which drifted down to the book in his hands, then promptly left. ‘Bye boys.’

‘... Bye.’ Arodan meekly responded, turning back to his desk. He waited a moment until he felt certain that Carmen had left and then grew hyper aware of Balam’s presence. ‘Can I get to work now?’ After all he had already wasted the day away before he had any courage to enter the library.

‘I won't be disturbing you.’ Balam said, suppressing a small laugh. ‘If you consider the tapping of feet on these floors to be a disturbance.’

‘No, not at all.’ Arodan quickly said. He dropped his book back on the desk in favor of grabbing a clipboard and quill to start cataloging. He heard Balam settle on the pile of pillows Epoch had bean sitting on earlier, and put talking out of his mind for now.

‘You do seem rather eager to get to work.’

Arodan said nothing and let the feathery crests by his ears fall in knowing manner. The books before him required a little more focus at the moment. He managed to get one bookshelf worth of books done before he noticed a shifting behind him and looked up to find Balam leaning over him, immediately freezing where he stood. ‘Sir?’

‘I am just looking for something.’ He said, reaching over Arodan. He pulled a book from the highest shelf with ease. ‘Also, do you not have an answer?’

‘I'm not fond of sitting around and doing nothing and I have already wasted most of the day anyway.’ He averted his eyes to the floor and wondered why exactly Balam had to stand right behind him. ‘I could ask why you are here when you are king, don't you have more important duties to fulfill?’

‘Forgive me for wanting to take a little time off in the early hours of the night.’ Balam said, this time a laugh escaping him before he could stifle it. He stepped back and Arodan breathed a sigh of relief. ‘There are too many frightful things out there after all, so I tell my people to do the same. To breathe calmly and devote what free time they have to emotionally enriching oneself.’

‘You speak as if the end of the world is at your doorstep, it can't be that bad.’ Arodan said, moving over to the next bookshelf. He threw a quick glance at Balam and then promptly got stuck staring. What was that strange look he had to his eyes? ‘... Wait, is it that bad?’

‘I'd like to think there's a possibility everything will be alright but… Yes, it is that bad.’ Balam answered, cracking an awkward smile. ‘We’re working on figuring out a plan however, to defeat the enemy headed for us. It's shaping up to be a formidable battle strategy.’

‘So… You allow people to be at peace just in case this city falls?’ Arodan asked. Balam nodded, and walked back to the pile of pillows. He looked like a man lying to himself about what to expect. ‘That sounds a little like you are simply resigning to a cruel fate.’

‘I'll admit the very first plan me and my strategists made was one where we evacuated the city swiftly. Move to another hideout further in the mountains.’ Balam quietly started, flipping open the book before him. It seemed to be a storybook. Arodan returned to his work and listened. ‘That plan still exists. But now we have decided we should attempt to strike back somehow, test our fate. All I am saying is that there is the very real possibility we might not win this battle.’

‘... Fair enough.’ Arodan found it was easy to scan over the shelves and see in one look how many and what books were present once he found his flow. As he neared the end of his current row of shelves a pang of guilt settled in his chest. Once he finished and Balam had remained far too quiet, he turned back to him. ‘Sir?’

‘Yes?’ Balam glanced up from his book with a telltale little smile. ‘Are you going to just stand there asking any questions?’ He pat besides him. ‘Sit.’

Well, he had tomorrow to try again to actually do any cataloging. He hesitantly walked over to Balam and settled down next to him. ‘Forgive me for asking this, I have been here only a day… But is there anything I can do to help?’

‘Well, attempt to not threaten and scare away the good folk around here.’ Balam answered, leafing through his book. ‘Carmen and Epoch are good kids, that I promise you can trust. Atlas is, as is Langdon, even if you haven't met him yet. Caer is distant like you are, but she's dependable.’ He threw a glance around the library and thought, yes, even the library had a good spirit. ‘Kindness is the best quality you can practice within the boundaries of this city. My father often said so.’ His gaze met Arodan’s. ‘They have all been struck down by the world in some sense, which I will not allow to happen a second time.’

‘Then what struck you down?’

Balam quietened at that and pondered upon Arodan’s question, eyes drifting off elsewhere. ‘The idea that I can't protect what I love and this.’ He rolled his shoulder and two grand webbed wings stretched into being. One however was tattered as if someone had attempted to rip it to shreds. ‘Got that when I was still learning to fly. I was a little more brash back then and I wanted to prove myself, so I jumped off a cliff. I misjudged the distance however and although I survived one of my wings got pierced by a rock below.’ He folded his hands and wings. ‘The loss of flight didn't hurt me as much, it was how people looked at me after that.’

‘That… How do you deal with that?’ Arodan asked, incredulously staring at the remains of the wing. ‘Does it hurt?’

‘It was years ago!’ For some reason Balam couldn't help but laugh, loudly, a deep sound that reverberated through the halls. He fell backwards into the pile and near sent Arodan flying in the shift of weight. ‘There are so many more pressing matters at hand and the people who thought less of me for that at the time are gone!’ He turned to Arodan with a big grin. ‘I'm busier with temporarily imprisoning people like you these days.’

‘Gee, thanks.’ Arodan grumbled, getting up from the pile. ‘So… You would have someone like me around?’

‘Of course, you've only just started your job here. You are not malicious it seems, so you can stay for the time being.’ Balam answered, getting up in a similar manner to Arodan to thread after him. ‘Or are you referring to something else?’

‘No, I have not been myself lately, more distant. I'm not asking you to forgive me for my behavior, but I want to try.’ He looked over his desk with a weary glance and didn't desire to meet Balam's eye. Carmen had noticed it earlier, so no doubt he'd have to tell them sometime soon about his sickness. ‘I will try to do my best.’

‘Your best is good enough.’ Balam held up an assuring hand Arodan didn't notice. ‘Just do your job.’ He moved to another shelf, and put back the storybook in favor of one of a similar kind. ‘And keep in mind this place is an open sanctuary.’

‘Yes sir.’ He glanced up, eye first focusing on the door. For a moment he swore it was ajar, a few bright orange petals clinging to the frame. They seemed to flicker like flames and wondered if Epoch or Carmen were eavesdropping. ‘I'll… Get back to work.’

‘I won't bother you then.’ Balam chimed. He returned to the pillow pile in quietness, only stopping to throw a look at the door. It slammed shut immediately and he marched on with a satisfied smile. ‘Carry on Librarian.’ And that seemed the end to their conversation. Not as much to Arodan’s thoughts however, who continued to mull over the advice granted to him until he reached the last shelf.

[brettanomycroft]

Kneadful Things [VLD, Hance oneshot]

Hunk has always been good with his hands: he can assemble an engine in less than a day, whip up a perfectly creamy pot au chocolat, and fly a massive alien lion ship through outer space. And, as Lance knows well, he can also give a mean back massage.

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Pairing: Lance x Hunk, Hance Rating: T, for mild sexual innuendo Words: 2178 Tags: Fluff fluff fluff everywhere, back rubs, cuddling, Pidge being Pidge

Read on Ao3

An almost totally-not-late Valentine’s Day fic for the precious @sockdilemma I LOVE UUU

Hunk knows what Lance wants well before his sidles up to the open doorway of the lab and leans against the frame. He’s already powering down the soldering gun and saving the data from his system readout when Lance does finally ask the question.

“Hey, Hunk, you got a few minutes?”

He loves how hard Lance tries for casual, even when it’s just the two of them. There were a lot of words Hunk might use to describe Lance - bold, caring, wild, handsome, loyal, downright ridiculous - but right now, the only adjectives he has for him are painfully transparent. Still, Hunk plays along; given the beating he’d seen Lance take at training earlier that day, he doubted Lance’s ever-fragile ego could tolerate much ribbing.

“Sure thing man, what’s up?”

As he slips of his work apron and does a quick rearrangement of the tools at his workstation, Hunk watches Lance from the corner of his eye. Waffling, Lance rubs the back of his neck and shifts from one foot to the other.

“Well, you see…”

Why Lance was so hesitant to ask, Hunk would never really get. Unlike with the other paladins, there had never been a place for pride in the relationship between him and Lance: even before they’d been shot into space in the cockpit of a giant blue lion-bot, they’d understood that they could find safety in the other. The best he could figure, Lance just really hated seeming like a waste or a burden.

Lance rolls his shoulders, then stretches his arms above his head with a groan. The motion is stiffer than it should be, and Lance’s accompanying wince raises a red flag. Maybe he’d gotten roughed up worse than Hunk thought.

“Sounding like an old man there, Lance,” Hunk says. He keeps his voice in the sweet spot between amused and concerned, and Lance, thankfully, picks up on what Hunk’s trying to get at.

“Yeah, actually I’m pretty sure I tweaked my back kinda funny earlier today during practice,” Lance admits. “It was right after I got Keith by the waist and flipped him over my shoulder that everything started getting pretty sore.”

The smooth confidence with which Lance spouts stuff like that never ceases to amaze Hunk. Hunk and everyone else had been there. He’d watched Lance grapple Keith by the waist, start to lift him, lose his balance from Keith’s flailing, and then topple backwards. Not a tick later, the bulk of Keith’s body weight had followed the pull of gravity. Hard. Straight into Lance’s prone form. The two recovered from their inglorious flop pretty quickly, but still. It wasn’t like they hadn’t been wailing on each other before that.

Just replaying it over again in his head makes Hunk’s muscles twinge in sympathy. No one could ever say Lance didn’t fight hard, and he often felt it afterwards.

“Dude, that’s brutal. Sounds like the kind of thing a Hunk Special could fix up pretty easy, though,” he says.

Lance melts at the words. His shoulders slump forward and a smile lights up his face.

“Please, that would be amazing,” Lance says with a relieved exhale. “Your hands are magical.”

Hunk’s been waiting for Lance to cross into the lab and nestle up against his chest since he showed up, and it’s just as rewarding as he’d pictured when Lance does. When Hunk wraps his arms around Lance’s waist and gives him a tight squeeze, it’s as much to pull him close as relieve the tension in his back. Letting his head rest just below Hunk’s chin, Lance returns the gesture and doesn’t let go.

“You didn’t even do anything and I’m already feeling better,” Lance murmurs into his shirt.

Since the top of his head is close enough anyway, Hunk brushes his lips over the swirl of soft brown hair, then plants a kiss there. His hair still holds a hint of dampness from an earlier shower, and it mingles with the fruity, near-coconut scent of the soap Lance had dragged Hunk all around some on-planet alien bazaar to look for.

“That’s the magic,” Hunk says.

He smiles into Lance’s hair and moves his hands up his back until he reaches the bottom of Lance’s shoulder blades. His fingers rub circles, small but firm, all along the middle of his back and spine. After this many years training and fighting in space, Lance is all muscle under his shirt, and despite Hunk’s continued efforts, most of that muscle is quick to tense and knot. Sometimes, Hunk wondered if being a paladin put more strain on Lance than the others: internalizing the unreal notion that somehow, Lance wasn’t as cut out for the job as anyone else, he tended to work himself longer and harder. The rest of the team didn’t notice it as much, thinking Lance’s constant calls for training floor rematches and extra patrol shifts were just part of his competitive streak (and, well, they weren’t all that wrong), but Hunk could always feel the truth of it in the tension Lance carried in his back and shoulders.

Switching his hands from Lance’s back to the tops of his shoulders, he palms and pinches the flesh at the junction of his neck and collar. Lance leaves even more heavily against his chest, and a low groan wells up the longer Hunk massages the muscle.

“You’re amazing,” Lance mumbles.

Hunk drops another soft kiss onto the crown of Lance’s head, and Lance returns with a happy hum.

Without warning, Pidge swans into the lab and over to her workstation. Through the transparent hologram of her data screen projector, Hunk can see her nose wrinkle.

“Gross, get a room, you two,” she teases. Her eyes flick back and forth between her screen, them, and the jumble of tools scattered around her work area.

“My lab is a sacred space for scientific endeavors,” she continues, “not some kind of Makeout Point.”

Lance leans away from Hunk just enough for Pidge to get to full brunt of his eyeroll.

“Since when were backrubs and necking even remotely in the same category?” Lance protests.

“They’re both PDA,” she says, “and displays of affection that are public have no place in a lab environment.”

She’s kidding, of course: no one in the Castle had ever raised legitimate complaints about Lance and Hunk’s minor public intimacies, nor anyone else’s. On a cramped ship that’s been hurtling through space with the same seven people for almost five years, hugs and kisses and hand holding were commonplace. And it’s not like Pidge was one to talk.

Still holding the data screen, she shifts through her mess of tools. Under normal circumstances, Hunk might offer to straighten her workstation up for her - more for his sanity than hers - but she’s not even aware she’s given him an opening, and he’s petty enough to take it.

“Oh, but like, me going to use the kitchen only to walk in on you and a certain someone about to put some buns in the oven is totally cool, yeah?” he says, voice casual.

He's got to admire Pidge's poker face: she keeps from cracking a blush for a good ten seconds, even as Lance's eyes just about bulge from his head and his strangled questions fill the long pause before Pidge’s response.

“Carry on,” she says, blindly grabbing for one of the tools at her table. Her eyes fix straight ahead, she hides her flushed cheeks behind her data screen, and she darts out.

Much of the exhaustion has faded from Lance’s face at the prospect of new gossip. The rapt attention with which he’d watched Pidge leave shifts to Hunk.

“Who’d you catch about to do the do with Pidge?” he asks. “Did she check ‘mullet’ or ‘muscles’ off her list?”

Trying not to snort in laughter, Hunk shakes his head and makes a zipping motion over his mouth.

“They both asked me not to say anything. My lips are sealed on the matter.”

Pouting, Lance trails his fingers up and down Hunk’s sides. The sensation is nice, but he knows it’s in part a tactic to soften him up to Lance’s questioning.

“Come on, you can tell me,” Lance whines.

Hunk shrugs and lifts his hands, doing his best to look contrite. While it had been worth it to tease Pidge back some, he’d known he was going to have to deal with Lance’s insistence. Fortunately, for some reason, all of them on the ship acted more like children than adult defenders of the universe, so he already knew how to shut the rest of this conversation down.

“Sorry,” he says, “but no can do. She made me pinky promise not to tell, you know I can't break it.”

Lance shifts from foot to foot, then crosses his arms over his chest. Disappointment crosses his face, but he sighs and nods.

“That's totally fair,” he concedes, “I can respect that.”

Mischief alights in the corners of his lips as he grins a tick later. “I may not be able to ask you, but that doesn’t mean I can’t eventually pry it out from Pidge. She’s always been weak to my wiles.”

“Dude, she’s never been weak to your wiles,” Hunk says with a laugh. Lance deflates back into a pout.

Shaking his head, Hunk wraps an arm around Lance’s waist and starts steering him towards the lab exit.

“That said,” he continues, “she does have a point about the whole ‘getting a room’ thing.”

Lance puckers his lips and raises an eyebrow. He loops his arm around Hunk as they walk towards Lance’s room. “Pidge’s public displays of affection giving you ideas about something you’d like to do in private?”

Hunk bumps Lance’s hip with his. “Well, I had been thinking you needed some more work on the pain in your lower back, but if that’s not what you want…”

“No!” Lance says, leaping a little. “I need more of your back rubs if I’m going to be in fighting shape tomorrow. But maybe afterwards…?”

“You should really take a break, man,” Hunk says. Lance shoots him a ‘yeah, right’ kind of look as the door to his room unlocks and slides open.

“I’m just saying, if you keep pushing yourself, not even my massages are going to be able to fix it.”

“Lies. Your massages fix everything.”

The lights in Lance’s room raise, comfortably dimmed to match the Castle’s evening settings. Boneless, Lance flops onto his bed, then scoots over for Hunk to join him. Hunk kneels on the bed, shifting so that he can get into the right spot to start on Lance’s back, but Lance reaches out and tugs on his shoulders. Hunk tips forward and catches himself on one elbow. It brings him close enough for Lance to crane his head up and press a soft kiss to Hunk’s lips.

“But even if they didn’t,” Lance continues, “your kisses would.”

It’s so sappy, but damned if Lance doesn’t know how to make Hunk blush. Joy swoops up through his gut and goes straight for his chest; he leans in closer to nuzzle his cheek against Lance’s.

“All right, flip over before you make me incapable of doing anything but swooning like a school kid.”

Lance winks but obliges. Sitting back up on his knees, Hunk shuffles around on the bed until he’s at the right angle to begin. His hands slip under the hem of Lance’s shirt, and he presses at the flesh just above his hips. Lance wiggles the rest of the way out of his shirt and settles back in.

The next half hour is filled with a warm chatter as they discuss everything from possible alien pizza toppings to the mystery behind Shiro’s seemingly ever-permanent eyeliner (‘If it’s not natural, then it’s gotta be tattooed on’ ‘Nuh uh, the man just knows his around a gel liner’). Hunk kneads at Lance’s lower back and works his way up. Huffs and groans of relief begin filling up more of Lance’s conversation than his words.

“You want me to keep going?” Hunk asks.

“Mmmhmmm…” is the languid reply.

It’s not long after that Lance’s breaths begin to slow and deepen, and his body goes even more lax under Hunk’s hands. Hunk smiles to himself.

“Lance, you conked out there, buddy?”

No response.

Hunk skims his hands over Lance’s bare back, admiring warm brown skin accentuated by the rise and dip of countless battle scars. The shaggy hair at the nape of Lance’s neck curls ever-so-slightly, and he wonders how long it will be before Lance asks him to trim it (‘There’s no way I’m growing out a mullet, I’m not Keith). He runs a gentle thumb along the line of Lance’s neck, following it up to his jaw, then sweeps his touch across his cheek. Lance stirs and whispers something nonsensical, but his eyes remain shut.

Shaking his head, Hunk carefully rolls onto his side, rests a hand on Lance’s hip, and lets himself bask in the comfort of the body next to his.

[theaiexperiment]

Man I have been working on this picture FOREVER. Thank goodness I’m finally done now. Anyway I bet some of you people that have role played with me see me either role playing or having Sardonyx mention my other Sonic oc, Gertrue Stripes on here right? Well like I’ve mentioned in a few rp’s in Sardonyx’s dimension Gertrue Stripes raised a large amount of the Freedom Fighters, when their parents were either robotisized or killed and even taught them how to defend themselves. Her husband Azubuike helped raised and train them at first too, but one day he just disappeared. So below the read more is a little one-shot concerning their beginnings to this decision, enjoy!

         It was a dark day in this vast forest belonging to the Acorn Kingdom, as clouds covered what would have been radiant sunshine with some veil of forlorn, grey cotton. What made matters worse was the situation ensuing between an egg-shaped, human scientist and two female mobians in a small village. These two individuals were tasked with taking care of some children whose parents were off to fight in the Great War, or had perished during it. As they shared their last moments of freedom scowling the so-called scientist, a quiet individual looked onto them from afar.

         Eyes of a deep, brown coloring witnessed events unfold around them a fair distance ahead in both silent horror, hatred and admiration towards those who had been captured. Surrounded by the safe haven that was an oak’s dense foliage their owner (a white, female lynx with black spots on the edges of her ears and muzzle) remained undetected by Robotnik’s bulky, metal soldiers... for now at least.

         A deep respect practically flooded the ivory and sable mobian’s core, towards those innocent caretakers refusing to reveal the children‘s whereabouts. They really were valiant allies and good friends indeed. The feline just wished that she could repay their brave actions, one day. Seeing the greedy, human scientist however caused a wildfire of loathing to arise within. She could not BELIEVE the Acorn Kingdom used to trust this man with their very lives, at one point! She vowed to never make a mistake like that again, as his betrayal and elimination of her dear comrades was completely unforgivable.

         As the lynx, Gertrue watched those people become emotionless, mechanical servants of that dreaded doctor frustrated tears rolled down her cheeks. In all truth she wanted nothing more than to fight through those robots and save her friends, but logic and reasoning kept the feline at bay, because other matters needed solving at this time. Descending downwards from her precarious position in an oak tree with nimble, quiet movements, it didn’t take long for the white mobian to land upon grassy terrain. After running across some disguised, forest path for a few minutes she then stopped in front of some dense underbrush. Making her way through the bushes and long grass, she then was greeted by a blaster pointed directly at physique. However once its owner laid golden hues upon her, that weapon was immediately stowed away as a relieved breath absconded from his lips.

         “Oh thank goodness you’re back. I was beginning to worry.” the blaster’s owner (a male tiger) expressed in airy drones.

         Gertrue’s lips displayed a quick smile, as she often adored it when her husband Azubuike expressed his sweet, genuine compassion, for it showed that he cared. She dismissed his previous actions, because BOTH of them needed to keep their guards up during these trying hours. Placing hands upon her hips she then portrayed a confident smirk.

         “Now now my dear Azu, hasn’t our time together taught you that it takes a lot more than some robots to destroy me?” Gertrue said with an air of brief confidence, causing the tiger to momentarily grin before her expression shifted into a considerate frown. “But never mind that, are the children safe?” As if right on cue, a little boy’s voice penetrated their surroundings.

         “Aunt-auntie, what’s going on?”

         Shifting their gazes the adult felines starred at a group of children with calm frowns on their facial features. The group of young ones consisted of a blue hedgehog, another tiger (who was in fact their own nephew), a chipmunk princess, a rabbit girl and a baby fox. These small individuals were all children of people who Gertrue and Azubuike had become good friends with during their time in the Great War. Their protection meant the world to the older cats, as they not only were key components for a better future but also the only piece of their friends they had left. Walking up to the striped cub he held the youngest one in his arms, the lynx gently placed a hand upon his shoulder.

         “It’s Robotnik again, Felix. He’s finally found us so were going to look for another place to... hide now, okay?” Gertrue explained in the gentlest of tones (though it took all of her self-restraint not to hiss at that dreaded word, ‘hide’). She didn’t think concealing the truth to her little nephew about their circumstances was a good idea, for he would probably find out on his own eventually.

         As the lynx explained their predicament to Felix, Azubuike looked at them with a sincere expression of protectiveness, whilst hidden admiration flickered inside his core. Gertrue had always managed to be the most logical yet compassionate person in trying times, and it was one of the many things he loved about her. He just wished she didn’t have to use that ability of hers so often. Throughout these recent years it seemed like no matter how hard both of them tried, they kept facing one ordeal after another. Even as they both retired from the war early to keep an eye on their orphaned nephew, conflict eventually broke into their ‘protective barrier’. Granted the older, striped mobian sometimes wished that they could’ve kept fighting back instead, but he couldn’t leave his deceased sister’s only child unattended. Still despite all these austere, haphazardly events ensuing all around them, Azubuike was going to protect what remained of his family... even if he had to sacrifice his life for their sake.

         As these thoughts were strolling through Azubuike’s mind Felix gazed upon his aunt in uncertainty, whilst little hands held an infant fox with a surprisingly professional grace. One thing about the young tiger was that he often wanted to help people in any way he could. This included assisting the caretakers with their work, every now and then, as a result he eventually learned how to carry an infant properly. The baby he carried was named Miles Prower, though because of a minor... mutation most people called him ‘Tails’. As he slept peacefully in a blanket’s warmth, the striped cub looked at his aunt with concern whilst biting lower lip. Just then a small, feminine voice squeaked forth.

         “Miss... Miss Stripes, are Lilly and Rose... dead?” a little chipmunk girl named Sally asked, with trembling form and tears brimming the edges of her eyes. Since she had no memory of her mother and had little chances of ever seeing her father again Sally often looked upon Azubuike, Gertrue and the two caretakers as parental-figures, so loosing those individuals practically tore the young girl’s heart asunder.

         Seeing the chipmunk on the verge of tears, Gertrue got up once more so that she could focus attention upon her. Caressing her cheek in a motherly fashion, brown eyes gazed into weeping, sky blue orbs with sympathy alighting inside them.

         “They are not dead sweetie, they’re just... not going to be the people you and I know for a while.” she explained, before getting up with a renewed fire burning inside dark-brown pools. “This isn’t the end though... I promise that once we find a new base I will teach each and every one of you how to stand your ground. As far as we know we’re about all that’s left of Nigel’s Kingdom. All of you are going to be inspirations to the world I just know it, and know that I’m going to help you achieve your destinies any way I can.“

         At this speech Azubuike couldn’t help but frown in concern. Placing his hand upon Gertrue’s shoulder, he then motioned her off to the side for a bit. Once they were a few feet away, he folded his arms over each other and spoke in hushed drones.

         “Are you sure you want to do this, Gertrue? Raising these children is one thing, but now you’re offering to train them for battle. I thought you didn’t wan-”

         “I’m sick of running away, Azubuike!” the lynx proclaimed through an outburst of fierce drones. Seeing her husband’s worried expression, she then released a weary sigh and spoke in a softer voice. “I’m sorry, dear. It’s just that... I’ve been on the run for such a large portion of my life, and I’m sick of it. I don’t want to live in fear at all now. I want to set an example for these children, so that they can see that some things are worth fighting for.”

         Rather than become angry with his own wife, the older tiger nodded in understanding. Unlike most people, Azubuike knew the FULL story behind Gertrue’s past. The lynx had a very... difficult life. She entered from one conflict into another loosing both her parents and siblings in the Dragon Kingdom, then going off to another country right as it was in the middle of some great war. He could only comprehend how conflicted she must have felt, during those times. He just wanted to make sure that she was fully committed to this change, and seeing those embers spark alive into inside her brown irises proved was more than enough proof of the white feline’s determination. Now grinning from ear to ear at the sight of his wife’s seriousness, he then couldn’t stop himself from bringing her into a bear hug.

         “Thank goodness. I was starting to miss the days when you had that fire in your eyes, as we stopped the enemy.” he said spinning around in happiness, as he did Gertrue couldn’t help but laugh.

         “Hah! I should have figured you couldn’t go a few years, without getting into a scrap or two.” she teased, whilst he placed her down. Once he did however a thought skimmed across the lynx’s mind, causing her to frown again. “Problem is... I have no clue as to where we should go now.“

         At this confession the older, male feline placed his thumb and forefinger on lip’s edges, before countenance smiled from a long-forgotten memory.

         “Do you remember when we found that abandoned base, not too far from here?” he asked.

         Once his inquiry absconded into air’s currents Gertrue’s eyes widened in realization. “Of course! How could I have forgotten that?” she said, before turning towards the group of children with renewed hope radiating from facial features.

         “Alright kids, we may have been knocked down but we’re not out. I know things are difficult now, but we’re not going to give in.” the lynx proclaimed in authoritative drones, as all young eyes gazed upon her with newfound faith and admiration. “If it’s a fight Robotnik wants, than it’s a fight he’s going to get. Once we get to our new home I will personally teach the fighting skills I’ve learned throughout the years. However I’m not teaching you how to fight in order for you to just get revenge on someone. No, I’m going to show you how to fight... for your freedom.”

[mytangledweboflies]

A Visit To The ER...

I sighed, as I sat upright on the surprisingly comfy hospital bed staring at my heart rate monitor, wondering how it all accumulated to this. I honestly could not fathom how this was the climax. 

The emergency department itself seemed nice enough. It was clean, white and smelt like disinfectant. All things you’d expect in a hospital. I watched the staff. The doctors and nurses seemed friendly towards each other... This was oddly comforting even though I knew that there was no way of getting out of this situation without mild embarrassment. 

The was a doctor who caught my eye, she was gorgeous. Her hair was thick and a silky brown like creamy chocolate that had melted on your fingers. Her eyes, however, were green and piercing. I could see the kindness in them from across the room. She also walked tall and proud and people around her respected her. It was not hard to tell. She was treating an old man with knotted hair who looked like he had seen better days. Although the two were strangers he seemed to take comfort from her presence and she seemed to thank him for allowing her to help. At least that’s what I could make out. I was after all seeing this from across the room... And I did have the tendency to make something out of nothing. Suddenly, my thoughts were interrupted,

“Hey, how are you feeling?”, a ruggedly handsome nurse greeted me.

I was caught up in his eyes, a mix of sympathy and authority. I hadn’t had time to gauge how I was feeling. So instead I stared at him cluelessly, as if expecting (I squinted at his badge) Nurse Decker to tell me how I was feeling. 

“Do you remember what happened?”, his voice was gentle. Balancing on the edge of concern and boredom. 

In an instant, it all came flashing back and I felt I was going to be sick. Nurse Rugged (as I’d dubbed him) must’ve noticed me turning green and quickly brought forth out of nowhere it seemed a cardboard dish. And so I was. A few moments and a sore throat later I was sure I left my guts in that bowl. 

“Mrs. Brookes?”, Nurse Rugged’s voice brought me back from my self-pitying. “Are you alright?”, his eyes alight with concern. 

“It’s Miss Brookes, but please, call me Kelsey.”, I was surprised, startled even by the sound of my own voice. It didn’t sound like it belonged to me. I did not have a moment to let this thought roll around my mind. Instead, my attention was brought to another handsome man. I could only hope this one was a doctor so I could disappear before I lost any more of my dignity. 

“I’m Doctor Ruthers.”, he introduced himself. I could tell from the apprehensive approach and the lack of fluidity in his words and motions, this doc was not having a good day. Either that or he despised me upon first glance. Surprisingly this would not have been the first time. 

“Kelsey, we know that you have `a mild concussion and that you required 5 stitches when you came in, which we took care of. However, we need to know the circumstances of your fall in order to determine if perhaps there were any underlying medical causes.”

I looked at him wondering if I could bullshit out an answer that he would believe. “Did you see the heels I came in with? I just tripped, it happens all the time. Trust me.”,I said with fake confidence figuring that it was worth a shot.

All eyes in the room turned towards the right wall where my belongings had been haphazardly placed on a counter top. My black studded heels were standing proud and looking beautiful as ever. I felt a pang of guilt, putting all the blame on them. These shoes were precious to me, I had bought them on a whim as a gift for myself. And truth be told, they were one of my comfiest pairs and often my faithful companion on nights out.

“People don’t just trip.”, Doctor Ruthers stated plainly. “Regg and I do not care about your personal life. We are only asking so we can treat you properly.”. I could see the clear annoyance on his face and it pissed me off to the extent where I decided to screw my dignity and tell them what happened. 

“My husband died three years ago!”, I stated boldly and rushed. i hadn’t had to say that in a while. I looked at the doctors face and his expression had softened and I just knew he was willing to listen now. However, I was fully aware of the sympathy I would receive once I was done. 

“My husband died three years ago... And I grieved but I wasn’t ready to start again. But, last week I was standing in line in a coffee shop and this stranger who looked nice enough asked me out for a drink. I agreed because I thought if not now then when? The bar we went to was nice, it really was lovely. The guy, on the other hand, was such a bore and I just kept thinking to myself, this is not the kind of guy who is going to make me want to get back on the horse. So, I excused myself to the bathroom and I made a break for it. I climbed out the window... Or at least I attempted to, but I tripped and landed on my head. I used to be really good at climbing out of windows back in the day...”, you finished off apprehensively. 

Before Dr. Ruthers could comment another doctor, equally if not more handsome than the two men already standing in front of you burst through the  curtains, “That’s quite the tragic story there.”, he said with fake sympathy. 

You narrowed your eyes at this gorgeous man with raven hair and lake water eyes. Who the hell was he to judge me? Dr. Ruthers sensing the tension decided than an introduction would diffuse it. 

“Kelsey this is Doctor Telling, Dr. this is my patient, Kelsey”.

I met my second husband in that emergency room. And I was never more grateful for a horrible date.